Crysis: The Guardian Prophecy

Alcatraz sat in a posh chair, waiting outside an office. Gilda and Psycho were on a job, and Daring Do and the Doctor were just setting up in the building they’d picked out as their base. Right now he was waiting for a secretary to send him in, so he could meet with a client Mr. Grimwing had set him up with; a young wealthy weapons wizard named “Thermal Spark”.

He’d recently bought some clothes, nothing expensive or flashy, just functional and a bit stylish. He wore black cargo pants, a medium gray t-shirt, and a black trenchcoat, as well as gray coverings that fit to form around his boots and make them less conspicuous. While it was a bit clichéd as far as styles went, it still looked good in his opinion, and it was less conspicuous than if he wore nothing but his anatomically correct Nanosuit 2. Plus, it let him carry more ammunition in the pockets and conceal more weapons.

His helmet, which had retracted many of its parts to form a somewhat flat football shape for easy carrying and quick deployment if necessary, was attached to his hip. Passing the time, he smoked a cigarette. Alcatraz had never smoked often, never gotten addicted, just had an occasional drag. Of course, with the Nanosuit 2 being part of him now, he didn’t have to worry about addiction, or lung problems, or even cancer; the N2’s biowarfare suite was just as effective at countering ailments as it was at creating or altering them.

He had allowed his beard to grow back, although at this point it was merely stubble, and his thick black-brown hair remained combed back into a smooth wave that rested a mere inch above his scalp. His blue eyes calmly scanned the room.

“So,” Ruby Gaze began, her words in his ears despite his helmet being removed. “What do you suppose this bloke will have for us? I’m hoping it’s something that isn’t too objectionable.”

“Yeah,” Alcatraz whispered. “If this guy has us doing kidnappings to edge out his rivals, I’ll have to spike his drink and dump him outside the Afterlife club.”

“That bar you and the others went to to celebrate getting out of the Undercity? I think you should save that for somepony who really deserves it, even by the standards of this city.”

“True. Anyways, we need money and reputation. That complex we bought cost us 800,000 bits.”

“I’m not entirely sure it was worth it. I mean, that was 80 bloody percent of our funding, and you blew it all on a half-empty hexagonal structure next to the forests. Bloody stupid choice if you ask me.”

Alcatraz smiled. “Have some faith. The hex-plant design is modular, the courtyard provides a good landing pad and training area. It’s got lots of space, several levels of underground passages and chambers. The building itself was designed to resist explosions in case of gang wars on the doorstep, and it’s easy to defend. That base can do whatever we need it to. All we need is the manpower… Horsepower… Whatever.”

“Mr. Spark will see you now.” The secretary, a spectacled orange pegasus stallion with a black mane motioned him to head on in. Alcatraz got up from his seat and patted his stored helmet. He strolled into the client’s office, and the doors shut behind him. The room reminded him of Hargreave’s sanctuary, with hundreds of books lining the walls and display cases everywhere.

At the end of the room, a single unicorn male sat behind a desk, his left forehoof supporting his chin as he used a pen to type on his keyboard. The aura surrounding the pen was neon red.

He was a medium blue-gray, with a black mane spiked backwards in the popular style and streaked with some blue. His irises were a vivid vermilion, and a reflection on the glass behind him revealed his cutie mark to be an object of some sort, with a scarlet starburst behind it. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt and an unbuttoned black blazer, but no tie.

“Ah, Lieutenant. Sorry to keep you waiting, I was returning a marefriend’s email.” He didn’t look up at first, but he grinned mischievously when he did, lifting his head from his hoof. His voice was unaccented as far as Alcatraz could tell, although he could only hear a Canadian accent if they said “tomorrow”, or had a heavier accent. His voice was also a bit scratchy, but not dry.

“I heard about your rescue of my associate’s daughter; impressive. I managed to hack myself a copy of your military dossier, and given your unique talents and abilities, I think you’d be suited to help me with a problem I have. Take a seat.”

A soft chair with a breathable fabric emerged from the floor, and after a moment’s hesitation he obliged his host. Alcatraz shifted around some before settling back and putting his arms on the side rests. “How can I help, Mr. Spark?”

“As you probably know, I’m a weapons designer. Small arms, vehicles, aircraft, armor, seagoing surface and submersible vessels, missiles, electronics, etcetera. Recently I personally designed a new version of a popular product, one with civilian as well as government and military uses.”

“Alright, hit me. What is it?”

Thermal Spark leaned forwards. “An android. Not a metal automaton, but one with all the features of a real pony. Adjustable dimensions, mane, firmness of the artificial flesh, appearance. They have to be purchased in one gender-chassis or the other. The best part is that it has self-updating hardware; if a new device is created that’s included in newer production models, an older model can literally alter its own hardware to match the new models, although only to an extent. The other limits are authorization codes, and some models having a faster update speed and superior upgrade capacity. They can feel pain, touch, smell, and have emotions if the owner wishes. They’re artificial ponies, with most of the benefits that entails being real, and some that come with being a machine.”

“That sounds dangerous. You read sci-fi? Got Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics put in? Because a chameleon killing machine is dangerous, even if it’s as physically vulnerable as real ponies.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve literally created hundreds of contingencies. And that isn’t the problem. The models I’ve released previously had physical limits that couldn’t be exceeded, and they were all earth ponies. I recently created a third-generation prototype…”

“Has it gone rogue?” Alcatraz’ left hand clenched the chair’s armrest.

Thermal Spark shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What happened to it?”

“It was being transported here from a factory in eastern Cauldron, but the convoy was attacked en route. Only a few survivors, and no consistent descriptions of the attackers.”

“Damn.”

“Now, this model is the first that emulates a race other than earth ponies; it’s a unicorn mare chassis. It has a proprietary ‘Starburst’ thaumatic generator, allowing it to create its own magic like a normal unicorn. It can house 77 terabytes of data, with the capacity to store a sapient intelligence not originating from within. It can quite literally store a pony’s soul, allowing that soul to manipulate it. However, that feature is only in this prototype, and it requires a unicorn mare’s soul to operate. But the magical generator is supplemented by the soul’s magic, meaning that if a unicorn with the same thaumatic capacity as the generator took control, the power output is doubled. Add in a more powerful soul, and it's that soul's magic plus the chassis' magic.”

“So, any other features?”

“Yes, in addition to being able to pass for a real pony, it also, um, has… Realistic innards.”

“What, like blood?”

“No, those were on the first models. And not internal organs either. At least not most of them…” Spark looked embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his head.

Alcatraz broke into laughter, almost falling onto the floor. “You gave them the ability to piss and shit if they wanted to?”

“Um, not just that… And it’s on all the models in existence, not just this prototype.”

“You made it capable of sex in pretty much every way a normal pony could?”

“Yes…” Spark muttered. “I was bored when I designed the first models, and I put in what was exactly like the real thing, and then I put in some other features, like tightness and moisture modulators, the ability for both genders to ej-”

Once again, Alcatraz cracked up, but he fell on the floor this time, rolling around and filling the chamber with his mirth. Once again, he straightened out and returned to his chair.

“Look, these things were designed to do more than just things real ponies couldn’t do, or didn’t want to do, or when they were cheaper to use, like undercover work, bomb disposal, wetwork, increasing horsepower in military units. Sapience was a feature that could be toggled on or off. They were designed to be companions as well; friends, business partners, lovers. Whatever need the customer had, they were supposed to fill it.”

“Okay, okay. So it’s supposed to be able to think and feel like the real thing, right? How can I tell it apart from the real deal? Weight? A scan? Something that’s obvious in the right situation?”

“No. Nothing easy like that. Well, it would know on at least a semi-conscious level that it was not like the real thing, so you could possibly stimulate a realization. It also has several contingencies, small giveaways initiated by an unauthorized activation, same ones as all models. It won’t have a fitting accent for its ‘life story’; it could have a Manehattan accent but claim to be from a small rural village, or even have fluctuating voices and accents, which is one of the default giveaways for all models.”

“Huh.”

“Well, that’s one of the fail-safes that could initiated by an unauthorized activation. Another is a two-tone mane. Then they also have finicky tastes, both in cuisine and otherwise. Somewhat unbothered by heat, cold, humidity, dryness. Fond of water in general. Can seem inebriated at times, have unfitting cutie marks, tend to congregate together with other unauthorized units without realizing it. They can consume large amounts of alcohol before ‘passing out’ to maintain cover as a living being, which is a function of all units that’s designed to appeal to law enforcement or investigative use. They can be overly protective of foals, and have a tendency to prefer public service jobs like teaching or government.”

“Got it.” Alcatraz was recording this whole conversation for convenience’s sake. It was easier than hiring someone to write everything down. “Why can’t you just track them by implanting chips, or tracking firmware downloads?”

“Because a glitch I’ve been unable to fix despite my best efforts prevents effective tracking. They can be tracked to a ten-mile radius, but there’s nothing saying they’re in the center when they’re scanned. And considering that these androids are so commonly used, even that’s mostly useless. Even worse considering that over ten thousand out of the hundreds of thousands produced are unauthorized activations.”

“Okay. You want me to find the android, bring it back, and find out whodunit?”

“Exactly.”

“Got any leads?”

Spark nodded. “A rival firm is interested on getting into the market for androids. I have a monopoly, and I keep prices low to prevent others from making a profit off of the market if they try to wedge in; they have to spend lots of money to advertise an inferior product for a higher price, which is a suicidal business move. Now, I have a mole inside their firm, a guy who works security, and I can set him up to meet you and give us more info. I can’t send anypony of mine, because they’re watching our spooks’ every move. His chosen alias is ‘Rabbit’.”

“So you want me, a man not technically affiliated with you company, to hit up a mole for info and go from there? What if he’s a dead end?”

“I’ve got one other lead. A buddy of mine can put you in touch with a pony who fences high-end tech and goes by the name of ‘Toolkit’. Squeeze him and find me that prototype.”

A smart phone levitated into his hand, with a trio of numbers already on it; Spark’s, the mole’s, and Spark’s associate’s. It also had notes about the case stored. Alcatraz slipped it into his trenchcoat’s pocket.

“Anything else?”

Spark sighed. “Yeah. Somepony put a bounty on your head. Fortunately, it only describes your suit, your eye color, and has a picture of your helmet. With that getup on and no helmet, you should be less recognizable.” The stallion tossed him a pair of angular sunglasses.

Alcatraz put on the shades, which fit perfectly. “Sick shades, dig the angles. Hey, uh, how big is the bounty on my head?”

“I don’t think that really matters,” Ruby whispered into his ears via the nanomachines inside. Said nanomachines had been introduced to repair his eardrums when he’d first been given his Nanosuit 2 months ago. They could theoretically work like an earpiece radio, and considering it was nanomachines and CryFibril artificial muscle linked to his suit that had repaired his vocal cords, the capacity for a matching throat microphone was already there as well.

“About fifty thousand bits.”

“What? I should be worth way more than that! At least half a million!”

“Egotistical much?”

Thermal chuckled. “Given what I already know about you, I’d have to agree. I have some contacts who are working through discreet channels to get rid of that bounty, but it’ll take a while. And the whole thing stinks, too.”

“How so?”

Thermal Spark let loose a half-grunt, half-sigh, and rubbed his jaw. “Well, the degenerate behind the bounty is a local mob boss, and he normally supports the kind of divisiveness that a new faction, like yours, would breed in one of his rivals’ territories. All he knows about you is that you’re a new kid on the block and a human. I think somepony’s using him as a proxy to try and get to you.”

Alcatraz stood up. “Obviously someone who doesn’t want to be associated with me. Despite the pariah status I gained after I was framed for the embassy massacre, I’m not surprised they didn’t make the offer themselves. I doubt anyone would be impressed by a hit put out on an alleged terrorist; they’d probably just consider it a publicity stunt. And I think any state putting boots on the ground would polarize Cauldron and backfire horribly, even if it was only publicized after the extraction; I remember the consensus in Pakistan on the bin Laden raid was extremely negative immediately afterwards.”

“Well that doesn’t leave many,” Spark noted sarcastically.

“Yeah, just the world.”

***

“How’d you get all that stuff out? Won’t they look for it? And you?” Twilight Sparkle was more than a bit concerned about the weaponry their new friends had stolen, and them deserting. And them being in her home, considering all that.

“Nah, I falsified the equipment reports. And I listed us as part of a huntin’ party in that forest that died, so they won’t miss us.”

“Nice work on that, Sweets.” Sergeant Redford nodded approvingly.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe ya shoulda falsified us some more fuckin’ explosives! All I got is a JAW, an L-TAG, ten frag grenades and a dozen satchels of C4.”

“Haggard, you’ve got more explosives than the rest of us combined! I’ve got five frags, Sarge’s got five frags, Marlowe’s got five frags, four satchels, and six grenades for his underslung launcher. We can take on a half-dozen armored vehicles and a tank!”

“So, what’s the plan?” Marlowe asked, ignoring his friends’ usual bickering.

“We’re going to the Everfree Forest. There’s a CELL facility, and an old coltfriend of mine know a few ponies working there. We might not be able to find the evidence we need, but we can find at least part of an explanation for how they got to this planet in the first place. And we can definitely find something to help our endgame there.”

“Okay, but we’re gonna have to move by night, unless you’ve got a cloaking spell or some shit to get us to the forest undetected,” Redford responded. “How many of your friends are we bringing?”

“Me, Fluttershy and Applejack. Fluttershy can help us with indigenous fauna --animals—and Applejack can carry extra equipment, not to mention she’s apparently a good shot.”

“Alright then, we move at 2100 hours. I think y’all should get some clothes that’ll subdue your colors, since purple, orange and yellow stand out a lot.”

“Will do.”

***

“The Mile High Club, huh? Haven’t been there since I was thirteen.”

“What? You’ve only been in Cauldron for a few days, not decades.”

“Different Mile High Club. I was part of the SAS, trying to rescue VIPs from an airplane on Veteran difficulty. Eventually I decided to forget about it and play something else instead.”

Alcatraz walked to the elevator in the shimmering skyscraper’s lobby. His objective was still displayed to him, courtesy of the N2 streaming data directly to his visual cortex. While he lacked some of his abilities without the helmet on, he still had many parts of his HUD still displayed to him. Many of his suit modules related to awareness would be useless however.

Right now, in addition to the gray shirt, black pants, shades, gray boot covers and black trenchcoat, his helmet was stored in a folded state inside his coat, and he was packing heat. He had an M12 Nova with a suppressor and laser sight, a few frag grenades and C4 satchels, and an AY69 machinepistol with a reflex sight and extended 45-round magazines. And last but not least, he still had his trusty knife, which he’d killed so many CELL and Ceph with.

Armor mode would still work, though without the helmet it wouldn’t protect his head, and his cloaking would function as well, albeit with increased energy drain due to the clothing and lack of his helmet. His augmented strength was unaffected, and some of his miscellaneous abilities, such as air stomping, were still available. The suit modules that increased energy efficiency had become completely ingrained with the suit, so he wouldn’t need to worry about those.

After a brief wait, the elevator in front of him opened, allowing several ponies and other beings to stream out. A few humans were among them, arousing Alcatraz’ suspicion. With several others following, he entered the elevator and pushed the button marked “56”. Others pressed their own buttons, and the compartment began its ascent, stopping several times along the way.

After about ten minutes, he arrived at the Mile High Club and disembarked. On his way to the building, he’d had his suit’s integrated AI, SECOND, create that integrated phone/radio function he’d thought of a few hours earlier. So he used his N2 to contact his informant. He held the index finger of his left hand to his left ear, isolating the sound from the electronic beats of the club. A click signaled his contact had picked up.

“Hello?” A male voice with a noticeable Australian accent answered. He could hear the music of the club coming through, so he must’ve been nearby.

“Am I speaking to Rabbit?” Alcatraz asked. He changed his voice to sound dryer and raspier like a smoker’s, not by the N2’s help, but rather because of an innate ability to mimic and create voices and accents. He was imitating a fictional character who had, like him, been given technologically enhanced abilities while he was unconscious, but he couldn’t remember much else about him otherwise.

“Who wants to know?”

“A certain pony from Spark Industries sent me. Call me… Stone. Victor Stone.”

“Okay. I’m alone in a window seat, on the second floor of the club. Tell me if you need help.”

He removed his finger from his ear and walked around the crowd on the dance floor, which was extremely diverse, featuring ponies, minotaurs, griffons, zebras, and even a few humans. A few times, a dancer would bump into him, but each time they would ignore it. It took two minutes to navigate the mob of dancing patrons.

His finger touched his ear again. “Okay, not there yet. Had some trouble trying to get around the dancers. Gimme another minute or two.”

“Gotcha.”

He proceeded up the stairs, and as he did so he noticed that the majority of the exterior walls were windows. A quick knock revealed that they were bullet-resistant glass. Through the windows, he could see the skyscrapers of this district of Cauldron, and the slums to the south.

Alcatraz swept his vision over the window seats until he found his informant. A human on a phone sat alone at a window seat.

“I think I see you. I’m coming to sit down.”

So he did, slipping into the booth on the opposite side of the table. It sounded like fake leather, but good fake leather.

“So, Cyborg… Do you prefer ‘Cy’?” ‘Rabbit’ began. He had short, light brown hair, green eyes, and a tan. He looked plenty Australian to Alcatraz.

“You got the reference, huh?” Alcatraz had picked that alias as a tongue-in-cheek reference to the former identity of the hero Cyborg from the DC comic books.

“What can I say? I like comics.” Rabbit seemed fairly relaxed so far. “But you don’t look black, like the real Cyborg, just another white guy. Doesn’t matter, I reckon it’s just an alias.”

“Before I get to business, I’ve got a question. Why am I seeing so many humans here?”

“Well, a lot of governments found Ceph portals, and they all seemed to be tuned to this particular planet. So ever since Lingshan, three years ago, people from everywhere have been migrating to this planet. I wager that Marine Expeditionary Force didn’t have the need-to-know on that. I’d think in the last three years, about twelve million humans have come to this planet, and this city seems to have the highest concentration of anywhere on Equis. I reckon Equestria’s tight borders and introverted nature are the reason they never heard of humans before.”

“Thanks. Now to business. Mr. Spark said you could get me some information. He believes your employers, Mallet Industries, stole a design from him. Do you know anything that could help?”

“A few of my men were absent on the same day. It was a while ago… September 4th.”

“That’s the day of the convoy raid,” Alcatraz stated aloud.

“Anyone ever tell you that you sound like Adam Jensen?”

He chuckled a bit. “I forgot who I was imitating. I’m disguising my voice for this meeting, partly out of paranoia and partly because I like doing voices.”

“The blokes who got loaned that day were all killed within the week, so I figured they’d just pissed off some mob. But if they were part of a raid, then it’s a bloody cover-up. I don’t know what else I can tell you, Cy.”

Alcatraz leaned forward. “The design I mentioned was a prototype for a unicorn mare android. Very advanced. Do you know anything that could help me? Maybe it’s been activated?”

“No. Give me your number, and I’ll call if I find anything new.”

Alcatraz took out his phone and wrote down the number on a napkin. “Here.”

The two of them went their separate ways, leaving the club. Back on the streets, he called Thermal Spark up with his suit.

“Mr. Spark, Rabbit says that some of his men were absent on the day your transport convoy was raided. They all got whacked within the week though. Either they were working to supervise the rest of the muscle on the op for Mallet Industries, or they went freelance.”

“Check with Toolkit. He’d be the one to move any tech if they were freelancing, and he’ll have some leads if it was Joustin Mallet’s cronies. Have an alias you’re using?”

“Yeah. Victor Stone.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him to expect you.”

“Thanks.”

Toolkit was located in the warehouse district of Cauldron, which necessitated Alcatraz travelling through the fairly clean streets of the upscale district he was in now, and into the fields of warehouses that buffered the rich from the poor. He neared his destination at long last, as the ill-defined border between the slums and the warehouses approached.

“I remember this part of Cauldron used to be one of the most beautiful. Where artists from the world over would come and paint, sculpt, sing. This city has fallen. I don’t suppose many others know what it’s like to see a thriving city fall. A city they loved.”

“I’m sad to say I do. I fought in the greatest city on Earth as disease and disaster ravaged it, trying to stop an alien threat and survive the vendettas of CELL. Walking by the scattered remains of the most well-known statue, through shelters full of plague victims, and treading through sewers. Speaking of disease…”

“What?”

“You said a plague almost killed you before Tau put you in the Heart. If the Ceph portals led here, and they had an existing presence when I came here, then they could be waiting for an opportunity. It took them three years to go from awakening at Lingshan to revealing themselves in NYC. And they revealed themselves shortly after releasing a plague. I have to ask, what were the symptoms of your sickness?”

“The Spore, as we called it, wasn’t contagious. It began to spread in wet areas of the body; mouth, eyes, and open wounds. From there fungal growths appeared, growing from the origin points outward. They gradually constricted airways and liquefied flesh painfully. I don’t really want to talk about it.” Even without a body, it was clear Ruby would’ve winced when she said that.

“So the Manhattan Virus wasn’t tailor-made for humans. There must be a base strain other mutations are developed from.” He slowed and stopped. “We’re here.”

Alcatraz began to climb the stairs, and idly scratched at his stubble. The door to Tool’s lair was a large steel one. After rapping the object thrice, he determined the thickness to be between an inch and an inch-and-a-half.

I can punch through that. I’ve beat Devastators to death before, I can take some weak-ass door.

A peephole slid open.

“You are Stone?” It was a voice with a Russian accent.

“Yeah.” Alcatraz continued using his dry Jensen voice for conversing with those he didn’t know. “Toolkit?”

“Answer one question for me.” The golden eyes on the other side of the slit narrowed. “What is airspeed velocity of unladen swallow?”

“What do you mean? African or European swallow?”

“Close enough.” The peephole slid shut. The sounds of locks turning and clicking came through the door, continuing for several seconds before ceasing. It opened to reveal a red unicorn stallion with a brown mane, with a toolkit as his cutie mark. “Come in.”

Alcatraz walked into the warehouse, and the door closed behind him. Once again the numerous locks and deadbolts were shut. Inside was a collection of computers, tools, crates, weapons, and electronics. Most of it was probably specialized for specific tasks, because Toolkit was the only one inside; the other possibility was that he only had all of those devices for the purpose of redundancy.

“I was told to expect you,” The fence began as he turned around. “However, I was not told why. Now if you’d be so kind as to enlighten me.” A Majestic revolver slid into view, pointed at Alcatraz.

“I’m searching for a missing Spark Industries android prototype. I was told you’d be able to at least point me in the right direction,” Alcatraz answered calmly

Toolkit nodded and let his gun fall to the table. “I heard of this. A unicorn mare, yes?”

“Exactly.”

“Then I know who has it.” A flash drive hovered into view, surrounded by a gray aura. “Mr. Spark is a friend, and a good customer, so I’ll give this to you on good faith.”

Alcatraz snatched it out of the air and stuffed it into one of his suit compartments instead of his pockets. He needed it safe.

“It’s encrypted. The key to the cipher is-”

A bullet interrupted his thoughts, entering one side of his skull and exiting the other, with chunks of brain and bone coming out either side in a suspension of blood. A hole in a barred up window revealed where the shot came from. The bullet ended its flight in the adjacent wall, digging most of itself into the thick oak wood.

“What was that!?”

“A sniper. Probably a .405 light-match round, judging by the performance and resilience of the bullet. Light-match has a lighter core of hardened plastic instead of tungsten to give it an armor-piercing ability like normal .405 match rounds, but it’s less damaging and loses momentum faster after hitting a target. Flatter trajectory, higher velocity, less punch, less penetration.”

Alcatraz took cover and drew his AY-69, cocking it as he pressed himself against a wall. Flicking the safety off, he listened for any more sounds. And he heard them; the distinctive whine of an AH-50 helicopter followed by the sound of rockets being fired. He began to sprint away from his side of the building when the projectiles impacted, spreading an incendiary payload.

The building began to burn, and he looked for a way to escape. A section of the roof collapsed on the opposite side as the attack, creating an exit route for him. The ex-Marine power jumped to grab the ledge, his gloves squeezing the wood and leaving indents. He pulled himself up and leapt out of the building.

He cloaked and briskly walked away, heading for cover. Upon reaching a dumpster, he crouched and decloaked, eying his clothing. It was all unaffected, still in the condition he’d gotten it in. He wouldn’t have to worry as much about being recognized, but avoiding his attackers was still important, making staying out of sight still the best defense.

“Oversight, this is blue-eight. Target eliminated, snipers got him and his place is burning down. No way his data’s getting out, over.”

So, my N2 still taps into CELL transmissions even without the helmet on. Handy.

“CELL. They must’ve been after the data Toolkit gave us.”

“Meaning it implicates either them or a client in the prototype’s theft,” Ruby reasoned.

An HMLTV rolled by, marked with CELL colors. An idea clicked in Alcatraz’ head, and he cloaked. He then sprinted to the vehicle and rolled under it, grabbing onto the undercarriage and pulling himself from the ground. He tucked the bottom of his trenchcoat between his legs and squeezed them together to prevent it from catching on anything.

“Hitchhiking?”

“Yeah.” He called Spark, punching the numbers into a group of “buttons” illuminated his left palm using the thumb of his right hand, which still clung to the undercarriage.

“Yeah?”

“Toolkit is dead, a sniper got him, and a helicopter followed up and destroyed his building. They were after data, which might be on a flash drive he gave me concerning your missing android. He was about to give me the key to the encryption, but he was killed before he could give me any of it.”

“Why do I hear engines in the background?”

“I hitched a ride on an attackers’ HMLTV Bulldog. I know who these guys are, and why they did this. They either want to cover up their own implication in something, or a client’s.”

“Well, who are they?”

“CELL. I’ve got a less than friendly relationship with them, and I’ve seen them on Equis before, just not in Cauldron. I’m gonna find out where these guys are based, or at least where they’re headed. For now, I’ll transmit a copy of the data to you. I’ll use the GPS device in the phone you gave me to track this convoy. That’ll let me ditch this ride.”

Alcatraz slid the phone from his pocket and into a crevice in the vehicle’s underside.

“Then how’ll you contact me?”

“I haven’t actually used the phone to call you at all. My suit can take care of that.”

He cloaked and dropped from the Bulldog, then rolled to the side of the streets before decloaking.

“Okay, I’m tracking the convoy now. The decryption process will take a few hours too, so take a load off.”

“Got it.”

Getting up, he inspected himself again, and once again found his clothes to be clean and intact. Looking around, he found he was in the slums of southern Cauldron. That meant he wasn’t far from Jackrabbit Slim’s.

The destitute dwellers of this area were in a pitiful state. The crowded nature bothered him especially, and the stench even more so. But he couldn’t put on his helmet, because any one of these people could turn him in. Not that he’d actually get caught, but he preferred not to draw attention to himself.

So he forced himself to ignore them as he headed for the bar. He could practically, no, literally feel Ruby’s discomfort at seeing all these beggars. It was like tension that simply wouldn’t disappear, and felt foreign to him as well. There was nothing to compare it to.

When Alcatraz reached the bar, he was thankful. He felt that external tension dissipate, much to his relief.

“Slim?”

“Yes?” The glass-eyed minotaur turned around. Upon seeing Alcatraz he grinned. Although he might’ve been staring at the black and red alicorn mare at the other end of the bar. His eyes both looked like glass, as if they alternated. “Hah. Don’t think Jackrabbit Slim doesn’t recognize you; my good eye is still sharp. What are you calling yourself now?”

“Victor Stone,” He still used his Jensen voice. It was growing on him, actually.

“Well ‘Mr. Stone’, Jackrabbit Slim won’t turn you in, not after what you did for his friend.”

The Nanosuited fugitive gave him an appreciative nod and grin. “Four.”

“Your usual?”

“Did I mention I can actually piggyback your senses if-and-when I choose to? I’d appreciate a choice. It’d be sharing a drink in a fairly literal sense.”

“Uh, hold on, I’ve got a call,” Alcatraz blurted. He immediately put a finger to his ear and spun around on the stool. “Okay then, you’d share the feeling of getting drunk?” He whispered.

“Yes. I did it during that celebration you and the others had after getting out of the Undercity. I can’t say I share your fondness for tequila though.”

“Okay. What do you want then?”

“I think humans call it a ‘White Russian’.”

“Just like The Dude,” Alcatraz chuckled quietly. He turned back around “Okay, you know how to make a White Russian?”

“Are you kidding? The first human movie Jackrabbit Slim ever saw was ‘The Big Lebowski’, and now it’s his favorite movie. Been like that since the portals opened and the humans came in. Learned how to make one and served it to my customers ever since.”

The bartender whipped up a White Russian, which Alcatraz took some time drinking. It was okay in his opinion.

“Oh, Faust that was good.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna have five of the usual,” He deadpanned.

So he got the five shots, and he downed the first one.

Something about this whole thing bugs me. It’s the motive, I think. The prototype is advanced, so I know that. Whoever took it wants to reverse-engineer the tech.

But what if they don’t want to make their own? Maybe they want to ruin the reputation of Spark Industries by figuring out a way to make them all go crazy, start a big scandal.

Alcatraz downed two more shots.

Or maybe they want to make them all do something else… Spark said there are more than ten thousand that are rogue; what if there was a way to take control of them? That’d create a veritable army of infiltrators, some of whom might be in positions of power already.

Ponyville was founded by earth ponies, and if that attracted some of the androids, then it could be full of them. I already saw an earth pony with a two-tone mane and a New York accent. There’s an earthie schoolteacher, an earthie mayor… Two of Twilight Sparkle’s closest friends are earth ponies!

He had a fourth shot.

Christ, if someone found out a way to hijack all of the rogue units, never mind the registered ones, they could manipulate Equestria to their favor. Get some of the units into important positions, manipulate public opinion to the master’s benefit, maybe even create an uprising.

With every earth pony’s status in question, the puppeteer could victimize an entire population through a sort of Red Scare, culminating in the victimization of their kind and ethnic violence.

Alcatraz downed his final shot and slammed twenty bits onto the table.

“Keep the change.”