Crysis: The Guardian Prophecy

Alcatraz sprinted through a hallway in a large industrial complex and threw a grenade over his shoulder to deter his pursuers. The cylindrical device exploded a moment later, killing the CELL troopers pursuing him.

“Boss, we aren’t gonna last much longer. Either take out those MG nests or our squad is fucked!” Psycho said over the radio. His team had been raiding a CELL outpost in Cauldron on the basis of what had seemed like reliable intel at the time. Now it was pretty obvious it had been a trap, something Alcatraz had insisted based on a gut instinct.

“And you sent them on Hearts and Hooves Day no less. Classy,” Ruby Gaze remarked privately.

Alcatraz switched to his tactical visor and marked several targets that were just out of view, and would be easy pickings once he cleared that hall. He glanced at the ammo counter on his HUD to find his SCARAB was low on ammo, so he reloaded in preparation.

He neared the end of the hallway and dropped into a slide as he exited it, firing his carbine into the group of white-clad troopers to his right. He got to his feet straight from the slide without losing momentum and leapt over a railing to air stomp a pair of heavies wielding Mk 60’s. The force of his impact sent them reeling into the walls of their nest, and he hit both of them with bursts to the chest.

“I swear, sometimes it’s like I’m the only one who has any sense!” He complained. “‘It’s not a well-baited trap, you’re just paranoid, Alky.’ ‘Psycho and his backup team can handle it, you’re just paranoid, Alky.’ ‘The referees weren’t bribed in Super Bowl XLIII, you’re just paranoid, Alky.’ Come on!”

The gunners in the other machinegun nest trained their weapons on him and began to fire, giving Psycho and his team time to escape. Alcatraz periodically peeked out to return fire.

“Okay, suppressive fire in, suppressive fire out, do the hokey-pokey, that’s what it’s all about!” He shouted. After a few more cycles of return fire, he decided to switch to his L-TAG.

“Ah shit, I had something for this, um… Eat grenade, stupids!”

He put a 60mm smart grenade into the opposing position. It blew up the ammunition stored there after laying on the floor for a moment. The bloom of fire consumed the entirety of the nest.

“They blocked off the data cache with barricades, and we ran out of explosives too soon. We’ve got wounded here, permission to fall back?”

“Granted. I’ll take care of the data.” He pumped the launcher to load another grenade, then switched back to his carbine. After that he leapt to the bottom floor of the chamber, activating armor mode to absorb the impact.

“New objective: Recover CELL data cache.”

A marker appeared on his heads-up display, around a hundred meters to his right. He turned and ran in that direction, stopping for a moment to open the door. The security was beefed up, and there was no way his Nanosuit 2 could hack it like he had with those computers in the underwater CELL base about seven months prior. Obviously they’d learned from that experience, and now he had no idea how to bypass it. No idea how to bypass it stealthily at least.

He pulled out a C4 satchel and stuck it to the door, punching in a twenty second detonation delay. He hit the button to arm it and ran backwards a dozen meters, activating armor mode a few seconds before the charge went off. When it exploded it took out the door in his path and several surrounding chunks of metal and concrete.

He jogged through the smoke and down the now-passable passage, noting the absence of any further CELL units as he did a quick sweep with his tactical visor. He reached the door to the objective, which was unlocked, and then opened it. After looking over the room several times with his weapon ready, he determined that there were no enemies present. Just desks, chairs and boxes.

“Something’s definitely off. Why in Tartarus would anypony just leave important information unguarded like this?”

“The guards probably responded to the alert when Psycho and his secondary team broke in.”

Alcatraz rested the butt on his carbine on the floor as he used his right hand to peck in a series of commands on the sole computer in the room. After entering a few of them, he looked up to see the screen go black. It wasn’t off, because it was still emitting light from the screen, just the black that electronic screens could display rather than true black.

A set of red letters typed themselves on-screen, all of them in capitals and in a digital watch-type font.

GOT YOU NOW TIN MAN

“Oh, shit!”

“Maximum armor.”

***

An enormous explosion erupted from where the intel cache had been, and a single figure could be seen flying from it. Michael “Psycho” Sykes turned to see a figure in a familiar Nanosuit 2 flying through the air, and then crash land a hundred-fifty meters behind him.

“Oh fuck!”

“Maximum speed.”

He rushed to the body without thinking, and picked it up to carry to the extraction. He didn’t worry for the sake of his rescue, he only thought of getting to the helicopter, and to his credit he did.

***

Back at the Legion Noire HQ, the Doctor got a call informing him that a VIP had been wounded and needed his immediate attention. He prepared his usual array of medical tools and arranged them as his OCD dictated. Eventually the doors to his room of the medical wing slid open, and a gurney rolled in.

He took a single look at the sheet that covered the VIP, probably a makeshift tourniquet meant to cover the whole body, which implied that it was covered in wounds, and all the blood that had leaked into it. He peeled it off and was extremely dismayed to find that his employer was underneath.

His Nanosuit 2 was frayed and bloody, with flesh exposed in several places. He shook himself back into focus and began to treat the wounds as best he could, stopping the bleeding and cleaning them. Numerous medical scans revealed a frightening array of injuries. Broken bones, damaged muscles, internal bleeding, and several damaged organs.

Attempts to perform surgery were met with overwhelming resistance from his suit, which obstructed the cuts that needed to be made in order to access the damaged organs. Finally, after several hours of operating on the subject, he concluded that there was very little he could do. He sent the patient to a sterile room and had him placed in a suspension tank filled with an aqueous solution of nutrients after determining that his respiratory system was functioning properly beneath his helmet.

“What do you mean ‘you can’t do anything’!?” Psycho roared.

“Exactly what I said. I stopped the external bleeding and sterilized the wounds, but his suit is preventing me from doing anything beyond that. I can’t even put on a bandage, because it disintegrates in half a minute. I know that suit saved him from mortal wounds before, but it’s keeping me from doing that now. I can’t do anything as long as he has that suit on, and it’s so integrated with his physiology that removing it would kill him if it were even possible.”

The former SAS member placed his palm on his face and closed his eyes in thought. “Okay. So he’s in a coma?”

“Yes, that’s the shape of things.”

He firmed up and sealed his helmet. “Alright.”

He then cleared his throat, which could be heard throughout the base’s PA system. Since they’d initially bought the large complex seven months prior, they’d added new features as their organization grew. It had come to fill so many roles that it was as much a headquarters as a largely self-sufficient fortress.

“This is Michael Sykes speaking. As second-in-command of the Legion Noire, I’m assuming temporary control of all operations pending the improvement of Theodore Alcatraz’ condition. This will not affect your day-to-day operations very much, although in light of his injuries I plan to temporarily shift some of our R&D focus from weaponry to armor and medicine, so as to prevent future losses and aid in his recuperation. That is all.”

He cut his link to the PA system and leaned against a nearby wall.

“Christ, I know my dad runs a law firm, but I never thought I could sound that much like a suit,” He remarked.

***

Warning! Severe suit damage detected.

Warning! Severe user damage detected.

External wounds treated and cleansed by unknown entity.

Invasive surgery in progress. Rejecting.

Assuming malicious long-term intent. Countermeasures enabled.

Running system diagnostic…

External sensors offline.

Modal functions offline.

Movement systems functioning at 42.3334% capacity.

Movement systems locking down.

Internal medical systems functioning at 12.9227% capacity.

Life support at 84.19% capacity

Internal medical sensors functioning at 96.2231% capacity.

Rerouting power from movement systems…

Internal medical systems now functioning at 49.71% capacity.

Life support now functioning at 100% capacity.

Internal medical sensors now functioning at 100% capacity.

Subject stabilized.

Warning! Suit medical systems currently insufficient for treatment of trauma.

Searching for alternative solutions.

Nanocatalyst reservoir detected.

Material origin: Ceph.

Current level is 1.24x10^6 units.

Level sufficient for suit repair, user treatment, updates, adaptation.

Warning! User-specified limits prevent allocation of nanocatalyst without approval by intelligence non-native to Nanosuit 2.

AI SECOND/Prophet lacks authorization.

AI RG_001 “Ruby Gaze” has authorization.

Warning! Use of nanocatalyst for proposed action carries significant risk of altering structure of user’s deoxyribonucleic acid. Risk of Ceph DNA assimilation at 95.412%, with 22.77% projected host alteration rate.
DNA assimilated is 99.1231% related to subject and suit capabilities. Visual changes to user and suit imperceptible.

Estimated recovery time: 20 days, 2 hours, 19 minutes, 12 seconds.

Proceeding with infusion of nanocatalyst…

***

Alcatraz opened his eyes and found himself at home. Not in the proverbial sense, where he was relaxed. Neither was it in the more recent iterations of the literal sense, where it would apply to the places he’d stayed since arriving in Equestria or even during his tours in the Marine Corps. No, he was literally at home in the most classic sense of the term.

He was laying on top of his perfectly-made bed, in his bedroom, in his house back on Earth. He sat up and looked around, seeing everything in detail greater than he could recall normally. It was as though he was in a perfect recollection of the room. The same blue-painted walls, the same furniture, the same queen-sized bed with a memory foam mattress.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He realized he wasn’t wearing his Nanosuit 2, the one he’d worn for the better part of a year. He could feel his fingertips, scratch his buttocks and wiggle his toes freely.

His clothes were a pair of olive cargo pants, black boots, and a black shirt. It was what he usually wore around off-duty, when he was doing just about anything. He’d always dressed practically, with the possibility of physical exertion or manual labor in mind as much as comfort and convenience was.

Was it all a dream?

No. It felt real. Too real.

I remember what Morpheus said when Neo asked why there was blood on his lip if it was all in the Matrix. “Your mind makes it real.”

The length definitely proved it was real, no dream could last that long. Not unless Inception was actually using facts about dream levels, and I was in a deeper one.

But what if it was just a dream?

He left his room and looked in a mirror. He had medium length hair and no beard, just like when he had the N2. The Seventh Column tattoo on his left wrist was there as he remembered it.

Plopping down on the couch in his living room, he turned on CNN.

He saw Ceph and Marines fighting in Manhattan. Scenes that looked too familiar for comfort. Then a first-person view of a Nanosuit-wearing soldier firing on Ceph was showcased. There was no audio, no narration. Turning up the volume did nothing. Every channel he was fond of was the same thing; AMC, Comedy Central, Cartoon Network, History Channel, Science Channel, Military Channel, History 2, BBC America, G4. All of them were his memories.

Is this a dream?

He checked to see if his folding knife was in his pocket, and after confirming that they were, he cut his finger slowly and deliberately. It hurt like it should’ve.

Not just a dream. What’s the last thing I remember?

He searched his mind until he found his answer.

I got blown up. I went into armor mode, and I guess something happened. Probably not time travel or teleportation. I mean, why would I go to an alternate reality or universe if I should’ve died?

So, Heaven or Hell? I guess they’re real. I never ruled out them existing, so maybe that went in my favor during placement.

I know the cloud imagery wasn’t in the Bible, that was a manifestation of Man’s wish to fly. The fires of Hell were a creation of Dante Alighieri popularized in his Divine Comedy. Still, this doesn’t feel anywhere near as absolvent as Heaven should. Maybe the notion that Hell is the absence of God is true.

He scratched his head.

Purgatory maybe?

“Really, is anypony here?” A smooth and familiar voice asked. “Bloody Tartarus, I get trapped in a gem for millennia, then forced to ride inside a half-crazy human’s head, and now I’m who-knows-where.”

A unicorn mare with no discernible features strode in from the hallway.

“Oh. Um, hello. I thought starting that healing process would just leave me by my lonesome until you were back up. Is this your house?”

“Yeah, it was. You really think I’m half-crazy?”

“Honestly, I sort of do. The way you talk to yourself, emulate fictional characters, the strange nightmares you’ve had lately, isolating yourself from others, killing without remorse, it doesn’t suggest much good about your mental health.”

“I can see that… What did you mean when you mentioned starting my healing process?”

“You were bloody and battered. Broken bones, internal bleeding, damaged muscles and organs, I suppose a better description is that you’re a mess. Your suit tried to repair itself and you, but the damage meant that it was severely hindered. The solution it found was to use the ‘nanocatalyst’ stored in your suit to repair you.”

“What!? I deliberately prevented SECOND from doing that kind of thing, stripped him of authorization. I’m not turning into some part-Ceph freakshow! How the hell did that happen?” He paced around the room, flustered by the news.

“I authorized it,” Ruby whispered. “It was either that or we’d both be stuck in a lifeless body for years.”

“You could’ve transferred your consciousness from my suit at any time.”

“And live my life as a computer virus? I spent more than a thousand years stuck watching as society progressed, denied any interaction with anypony. I can’t go back to that!”

“Remember that unicorn android prototype? I was going to give that to you, let you free as soon as I could. I get that you couldn’t cope with riding shotgun in a marine’s head, but I’ve been through enough already! For Christ’s sake, I was barely human anymore when I rescued you, and now I have to deal with being part Ceph!”

“The suit said there won’t be any changes others will notice, it’ll be fine!”

“That’s not the point, I’m not even the same person I was a year ago! I’m one of the few ex-marines, who’ve all gone down in history as traitors and criminals; the only real ex-marines besides me are Lee Harvey Oswald and Charles Whitman. I’m a cyborg and the only sense I can experience throughout my entire body anymore is pain, so I’m either numb or hurting there. My head is the only place I can sense other things. I have to share my brain with an AI and a disembodied soul. Now I’m imprisoned in my own mind while I become some abhorrent mix of man, machine and monster!”

“So I’m supposed to go back to being a prisoner just so I don’t worsen your identity crisis? Believe me, I’d rather be some poor, starving mare living in the bloody slums than be forced to share a body with a self-centered sociopath!”

Alcatraz stepped back for a moment. “Fine, when I get out of here, I’ll get you that synthetic body, and I’ll pay for your ticket out of this hellhole. Then you can do whatever the fuck you want!”

“I await that moment with bated breath,” Ruby seethed.

***

A week passed in the Legion Noire HQ, and Michael Sykes agonized in his bunk over the meaning of a recent intelligence brief.

“Quit stressin’ about the motive, Psycho,” Gilda said, sharpening one of her knives as she talked.

“Well that’s my bloody job right now. CELL is stepping up their presence on the Equestrian continent big-time, and all sorts of institutions are hiring them for security. Thing is, a lot of ‘em didn’t even exist a few months ago. Not just that, but CELL’s got a dozen metric fucktons of new vehicles, weapons, gear and equipment coming in. A large cash influx from this planet, and a large CELL influx into this planet. Somebody’s laundering money to them, and they’re moving in. But why would someone want to give them this much support?”

Gilda stopped fiddling with her blade and looked up. “Wait. You remember Alky’s summary of the Alicorn’s Heart job, and that unicorn stallion that talked to him and sicced those statues on him? And the way he prevented CELL from possibly creating an army out of rogue ‘droids?”

“Yeah… Oh, fuck me! They’re workin’ together is what you’re saying! Some rich wanker is using CELL as his private army-”
“And planning something big. The Heart was supposed to be a source of power, and help change the course of history. This guy’s into magic as much as might.”

“So we’re looking for a very rich benefactor with seriously high ambitions. We know his race and gender, and that helps.”

“Assuming the one who talked to Alky is the mastermind.”

“Yeah, and if he’s not our guy then he probably has an idea who is. Thanks, G. I’ll have our guys look into it.”

***

After a week of living in a memory of his house with Ruby Gaze, Alcatraz was exceptionally tired of the experience. The only thing on TV was his own memories, and his video games were all recreations of events in his life. The only books he could read were ones he’d read before, and most of those he’d read several times already or were bad in his opinion. He couldn’t exit his house either, which heightened that sense of imprisonment.

On top of that, he couldn’t sleep, already being in a coma. There was nothing to do, and he couldn’t even talk to Ruby because of their falling out. Finally, he couldn’t take any more of it. He didn’t even look forward to recovering very much, feeling that there was nothing for him in the real world.

He decided to try and kill himself.

He went to his “office” and looked for his pistol. He found it and checked to see if a round was chambered. The weapon was empty, and he couldn’t find any ammunition for it. He tried to use a shotgun, but encountered a similar lack of ammunition. The same with his rifles, which were unloaded. Every box of bullets was empty.

Next he tried to hang himself. A noose of nylon rope firmly secured on the ceiling and optimized for a quick death. He climbed up a stepstool and placed his head through the loop, then adjusted it. He kicked out the stool and hung for what felt like an hour. He felt pain, but he wouldn’t die. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut himself loose.
Electrocution. Sticking his head in an oven. Drinking drain cleaner. Drowning himself. Each time the attempt failed and he cleaned up. He couldn’t help but to think of the movie Groundhog Day for a moment.

Finally, he tried simply stabbing himself and slitting his wrists. Though he’d cut his finger before, this time the blade simply glided over his skin to no effect. He folded the weapon and put it in his pocket.

He sat down and sighed, holding back tears. He hated this place because all he had to do was think about his life, and how devoid of any good it’d become. Finally, he just cried silently.

“Alcatraz?”

He looked to his right and saw Ruby standing there.

“Oh, hey. I’m sorry about a week ago,” He said, as though he were completely fine.

“I’m sorry too. Are… You crying? What’s wrong? Oh no, is it what I said about you before?” She queried.

“I’m fine. Just tried to kill myself for the seventh time, but I don’t think I can do that here. All I can do here is think about how shitty my life’s become. I mean, you can start fresh once you get that body, but I’m stuck in the same bleak situation for the rest of my life, and I don’t even know how long that’ll last. I’ve seen the way most of the people and ponies and such in Cauldron look at me; I’m a freak of un-nature. The guys and gals in LN, I’m their boss and that’s all they see me as if they don’t think I’m a freak. Now I’m just gonna be a bigger freak.”

She got up next to him and looked downwards. “Well, I’m just a disembodied soul, and when I get that body you mentioned, I’ll just be a mare that isn’t too familiar with the world as it is now. And Psycho is a bit odd in addition to being a post-human, so that makes three of us that aren’t exactly normal.”

“Well, I guess I’m not alone.” He smiled.

“And who knows? Maybe you’ll find somepony who’s into half-crazy cyborgs.”

“Right, Rule 41 of the Internet.”

“Um, I’m going to assume that’s a good thing for you?”

“Yep. Wait, I’d still be stuck in the suit, so that doesn’t benefit me. Never mind… And Ruby?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

***

Nanocatalyst infusion 70% complete.

Internal medical systems functioning at 76.2% capacity.

External sensors now online, at 61% capacity.

Modal functions rebooting.

External aqueous nutrient solution detected. Significant potential for user and suit repair. Beginning absorption.

Running database integrity scan… Complete.

Ceph research data found in database. New nanocatalyst utilization method found.

Modifying release routines… Complete.

Revising estimated recovery time… Complete.

Estimated recovery time: 12 hours, 21 minutes, 12 seconds.

***

“What’s going on with him, Doc?” Psycho asked the Doctor as he looked at the comatose man suspended in a tank of liquid.

“His recovery is remarkable, the suit’s begun to repair itself and him. The Nanosuit began absorbing the nutrients in the suspension tank several hours ago, and now it’s repairing itself faster than ever.”

“He doesn’t look recovered. Suit’s still torn in places. Probably be a while before I can give him that recovery present.”

“Look at the screen to our left. It shows how the artificial muscle is bonding at the lower layers first, fusing with the muscle tissue.”

On a large screen, a high-magnification camera showed strands of gray fiber laying themselves flat against red fibers. Some of the frayed gray fibers bent downwards toward the flesh and their ends linked with the ends of their frayed red counterparts. As the artificial and natural muscle fibers linked, the gray strands pulled the red ones taut and downwards against the repaired muscles. The suit was fusing its own muscle with Alcatraz’, furthering his connection to the device.

Over what felt like hours, the fibers began to accelerate the rate at which they repaired themselves, and within minutes they could be seen repairing themselves with the naked eye. The CryFibril muscle bonded with itself and folded downwards toward the damaged areas, linking with the severed muscles, then shaping themselves into the proper form in an almost fluid way.

“Oh, sweet Celestia of Equestria… His healing is becoming exponentially faster, he should be taking longer than this!”

Alcatraz’ limp body began to move, and his red visor flashed with light just as his head jerked back. He began to look around and at the restraints on his body before breaking them off and smashing the glass tube he was stored in.

He fell to his hands and knees and appeared to panting, what with the way his head and torso rose and fell. Slowly he looked up at the stallion and post-human in front of him, then stood up. He looked down at the glass and nutrient solution at his feet, then back at the pair in front of him. His suit looked as new as the day it had been given to him, clean and free of any grime.

“Yeaaah. Someone should probably clean that up,” Alcatraz deadpanned.

“I’ll uh, get somepony on that…” The Doctor said as he backed away, feeling awkward and out of place.

“So what’d I miss?”

Psycho led him to the command center of the Legion Noire compound. It still amazed the ex-marine how successful his group had been in its growth. He was the head of his own mercenary group.

“CELL have been moving more and more manpower onto Equis lately, and you know that some of their forces have been getting new equipment. While you were out, they stepped up their logistical workload and got their new gear into the Cauldron region, and the rest of Equis. I’m talking about new uniforms, weapons, ammunition, vehicles, they finally managed to completely refit their whole force. Not only that, but they’re getting contracts from groups that didn’t even exist before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean a company or institution appears from nowhere, then buys the rights to a patch of land and then hires CELL to ‘protect’ it. They’re getting an influx of cash from Equis, and their troops are in an influx into this planet. Gilda has an idea though, based on a couple of the reports you filed. Remember that unicorn stallion who tried to cut you a deal in the Undercity, and those CELL eggheads trying to find a way to control androids?”

“Yeah?”

“She thinks that bloke’s hiring CELL to do this, using ‘em as his own private army. The Alicorn’s Heart was supposed to help change the course of history, and that android army would’ve been pretty dangerous too. If we’re right, the bastards are going for a coup at the very least.”

“It’s all speculation at this point, so I don’t think crying wolf to the public will do anything without proof. Even if we got proof, we’d need a way to distribute the info credibly, and we’re still pariahs,” Alcatraz responded.

“But that’s why we picked the name ‘Legion Noire’, right? Because we’ve all got reputations stained black in some way or another. Anyway, I got some of our contacts to snoop around covertly, see what they can dig up. And I got you something too.”

“Really?”

“C’mon, mate.” The soldier led Alcatraz through the hallways and into the command center. There, he got a box from out of his desk and handed it to him. “I was gonna give it to you for your birthday, but that’s a couple months away so I decided to make it a little gift for when you got better.”

He tapped the side of his helmet, as did Alcatraz, and the two men’s helmets retracted to reveal most of their heads. Their suits had evolved as they’d worn them, and an improved method of removing the helmet was one perk of that.

Psycho looked at his commander impatiently, while Alcatraz shook it and listened to the sound it made. “Open it, you wanker! You think this is a bloody Christmas present I got you because it was seasonal? No! I paid good money into this, and so did a bunch of the others, so get the fuck on with it!”

“Okay! Jesus…” He pulled the wrapping off and saw a box marked “Nyles Archery” underneath. He tore of the rest of the paper and pulled off the lid. Inside was a small object, which he grabbed by what seemed to be a handle in the middle. He pulled it out and pressed a button, causing the sides to fold out.

“A compound bow?”

“I remember you saying you were an expert archer back home, a hobby of yours. Weird that you owned all those assault weapons but you used a bow to hunt most game. It’s mapped to your nanosuit, custom-made for you. It’s got enough power to stop a rhino dead in its tracks, and it’s got some right brilliant features.”

“A bow? You have a suit that turns you invisible or invulnerable, weapons that use invisible forces to boil enemies from the inside out or fire a projectile at several times the speed of sound, and vehicles that can give flight to the earthbound, and he gets you a bloody bow?”

“What kinda features we talkin’ about?”

“Autoloader, adjustable draw weight with three preset levels, multiple arrow types, good sights. Techies are working on other arrow types, but we’ve got four so far, all in the box. Airburst frags, delayed-fuse explosive, electric tips, recon sensor arrows, and reusable carbon impact tips. Best part is, firing it won’t drain your suit energy while you’re cloaked. I got the olive drab model myself.”

Alcatraz looked over the weapon from both sides. It was clean, colored charcoal gray for the most part, with dull silver accents in places, probably titanium. The sight was a tritium-illuminated red one. He noticed the buttons, which had clear meanings to him based on the adjacent crimson pictographs. One of them would fold or unfold it, another detached or locked in the arrow magazine, and a 3-position device that resembled a fire-selector changed the draw weight for different performances and situations.

“It matches my Nanosuit, too.” He nodded appreciatively, grabbed the arrow magazines from the box, and loaded a standard carbon arrow set before collapsing the weapon and placing it in the small of his back. “It’s a keeper.”

“Boss, good to see you’re back,” Gilda remarked. “Not a moment too soon. CELL just sent a unit onto a bigass research-cargo ship some of our guys were goin’ to help defend. We called ‘em off.”

“Okay. Infil plan?”

“They’re sending in a few MV-24 Vulture VTOLs full of guys, a couple CV-24s carrying extra food and ammo for them. Get into one of those…”

“Got it. Timeframe for that?”

“You’ve got around…” She raised her talon and looked at her navy blue Casio watch. “Eight-and-a-half hours to get on one of those birds.”

“Got it. I have to do a few things, you mind?”

“Hey, you’re the boss.” She shrugged.

"Sir, I wouldn't recommend going on a mission just yet. just because you're no longer comatose doesn't mean your body is ready for combat," The Doctor objected over a PA, apparently listening in.

Alcatraz ignored him, left the room and sealed his helmet.

“What is it?”

“Remember how I said I’d get you that body, the one that seemed made for you?”

“Yes, why?”

“I had it delivered during one of your sleep cycles.”

“How did you-”

“Please, it was pretty obvious that you have time you spend resting even without a body, and it was just as obvious when. I made a few calls, called in a few favors, got my hands on that android prototype chassis. It’s in one of the storage rooms on floor B2.”

He got in an elevator and pushed a button to descend from the first floor to the second level of the basement. The lift took around fifteen seconds, not counting time spent loading other people.

Alcatraz reached the sub-basement and proceeded down the empty hallway, and after making a few turns and arriving in a dead-end hall settled on the second-to-last door on the left. He pulled a keyboard from the wall and typed an 8-character code with his middle and ring fingers, then hit the “enter” key.

The door hissed and slid open, with the ex-marine stepping through and into a pristine room as the door shut behind him. At the center of the room was a single box, a black polymer that contrasted the pale gray of the rest of the room.

He wrapped his hands around a pair of handles and pushed a pair of buttons with his thumbs. The box clicked, and he pulled towards himself. A platform connected to the interior by a series of metallic tubes that slid outward as he pulled. With the box open, it seemed almost like a cage, although the sides were exposed.

On the platform that had slid out was a sort of equine skeleton, with the interior completely sealed and only the outer portions of the bones visible. The horn was a bit short compared to what Alcatraz had previously seen, but he assumed that was to allow more room for adjustment.

“Are you ready, Ruby?”

“…Yes. I am."

Alcatraz placed his hand on the face of the android and held still. A red, semi-translucent liquid began to flow outward from his suit’s spine, the same liquid his suit had absorbed months ago when he’d retrieved the Alicorn’s Heart. The fluid travelled over his arm and hand and onto the simulacra’s face. He felt a presence disappear in the back of his brain, one he didn’t realize was even there before.

From there the substance flowed into the neck, and the device began to hum softly. A clear liquid began to flow from the joints, covering the entire body before gaining color. The horn increased to a more average length, a mane and tail sprouted, and a cutie mark appeared. The new appearance was complete.

Before him stood a unicorn mare with a white coat, red eyes, and a smooth red mane and tail wandered into the room. Her cutie mark was a four-armed crimson spiral with arms that pointed in a counter-clockwise direction. She gazed over her own body and began to cry as she ran her hoof across her foreleg.

“I’d forgotten what my own coat felt like,” She mused.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting that ticket out of here?” Alcatraz asked.

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “No. I need to figure things out right now. If this body works like Spark said it would, then I should have even more magical power than before. I’ll need to re-learn most of my magic since it’s… been so long. At least I won’t need to sleep much now.”

“Take all the time you need. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

***

“Of course I’m freaking out! How can you not freak out at a time like this?” Twilight Sparkle demanded.

“Like this.” Rainbow Dash replied, plopping onto a beanbag while the rest of her friends stood.

“We haven’t heard from Marlowe and his friends for a whole month! How are we supposed to investigate Alcatraz’ disappearance without them? And more importantly, what if something bad happened?”

“Twi, ya really need to relax right now. It’s only been a month by February standards, an’ ya can’t rely on February,” Applejack reassured her. “’S too finicky ‘n unpredictable. Only way ah can tell if the Summer Games are held is if the Calendar Fairy decides outta the blue to put an’ extra day on the calendar for February. Like ah said, finicky an’ unpredictable.”

“But I was born in February!” Rarity reproached.

“Unintentional burn is still a burn,” Rainbow interjected, high-hoofing her friend.

“Anyway, last time we heard from them is four weeks ago, back in February. One or two more days left for a normal calendar month, what with this bein’ a leap year.”

Awe took hold of the farmer for a moment. “Oh Celestia, February ain’t random at all… Leap years decide how long th’ month is, and they only come every four years! An’ the Summer Games are every four years too! Why didn’t I see it before?” She turned to Rarity and collapsed at her hooves, sobbing. “Rarity, ah’m so sorry ah helped the Cutie Mark Crusaders get their pranking cutie marks at yer expense!”

“That was you?” The fashionista repeated, aghast. She leaned back and picked up her forehoof, as though she had to protect her body from the surprise.

“Ah’m sorry!”

“Oh, it’s fine.”

Spike sprinted into the room and began to huff from the exertion.

“Did somepony- Want to- To write a friendship report?” He asked.

“Yeah, why?” Applejack asked in turn.

“Letter senses- were tingling…”

“Well good, ‘cause I got a lot o’ apology letters to write too.”

“I’m glad you learned something AJ,” Twilight said soothingly. “Because that knowledge just cost me the peace of mind you gave me a minute ago!”

While Twilight resumed panicking, and Applejack began writing apology letters. She started with a horrible misunderstanding involving her, February and a zebra that had been misconstrued as a hate crime.

All was back to the way it was minutes before. Mostly.

***

Inside a cargo container, Alcatraz and Psycho awaited pickup by a CELL-operated CV-24T Kingfisher.

The vehicle was a cargo variant of the multi-role Vulture used by the US Army, Navy and Marines. It lacked the missile and rocket pods, as well as the 20mm Vulcan gun mounted under the chin. In their stead, it used a pair of M3A2 HMGs manufactured by Schwarz Systems, mounted under the nose and linked to the co-pilot’s helmet. If the co-pilot looked left, the gun would rotate left to point exactly where he or she was looking.

It also lacked the armor and speed of the Vulture, using four independently-controlled ducted turbofans in lieu of a pair of wing-mounted jets. But it made up for all that loss combat utility in its range and capacity. A single CV-24 could lift and transport an M5A2 Atlas main battle tank with ease and transport it 1000 nautical miles, then return to base with a third of its fuel still remaining.

That meant that it could reach a cargo ship a hundred miles from Cauldron with ease, and make several trips before needing a refuel.

The two stowaways felt their casket move, probably being carted to an idling VTOL. When the movement stopped, they heard loud clicks as the container was secured to its ride. A growing roar signified the engines increasing in power, and gravity seemed to increase ever so slightly as they lifted off.

The aircraft gained speed, and the two post-humans ran over their weapons one last time.

Psycho carried an M12 Nova with a flashlight, extended magazine and a suppressor. It had olive brown polymer grips and green night-sights. He also carried a Marshall shotgun fitted with a laser sight. An FY71M with an assault scope, foregrip, and a match barrel rounded out his arsenal. He’d brought his own olive brown compound bow with him as well.

For explosives and special weaponry, he carried a pair of frag grenades, another pair of smokes, a pair of flashbangs, and a couple of REX charges. He had a thirty round magazine of incendiary ammunition for his sidearm, which would give it better performance against armor, and a thirty-five round magazine of the same for his rifle.

“I’m good here boss. Should be able to take care of most problems with all this kit.”

Alcatraz looked over his own gear. He realized all of his weapons had the newer CELL pattern on them, but that was fine with him. He liked the new style.

A SCARAB Mod 2 with a reflex sight, suppressor and foregrip served as his primary weapon. He had a DSG-1 with a suppressor fitted for long-range engagements. His sidearm was a Hammer II with a suppressor attached. If he got into a firefight, he could take off the cans and go loud.

He had a few frag grenades, as well as some REX charges in case things got heated enough.

“I’m good.”

“Why didn’t you bring your bow with you?” Psycho asked, tilting his head.

“Because I have a history of losing things on boats. That’s why I’m having the bow fitted with a tracker so I don’t lose it on any future missions.”

The former SAS operator accepted his explanation and toyed with his own pistol.

After a few minutes’ travel their transport began to slow, and they felt the deceleration through their suits.

“Showtime.”