The Pony Of Vengeance

Chapters

The Call To Action
The Scene Of The Crime
Client 24
Theorizing And Preparing
The Attack
Captured and Afraid
Cold-Blooded Killer
Ultraground Escape
Bright Mind
Ironheart
Reunion
Inferno
The Manehatten Project
Events Set In Motion
Pressed For Time
Betrayed
An Abused Privilege
Step Into the Light
Catastrophic Warfare, Part 2
The Only Power That Really Matters
Epilogue
The Author's Note on The Pony Of Vengeance
The Night Terror
Who Could It Be?
Catastrophic Warfare, Part 1

The Call To Action

Princess Celestia paced worriedly in the throne room. The sound of her gold shoes on the cold floor echoed throughout the spacious room, lighted by the early morning sun. Her guards looked to each other in concern. Celestia had not been this concerned since Discord had returned several years ago. And then, they were aware of the danger they were facing.

But now...

Now it was even worse than normal.

The doors of the throne room opened, and Celestia looked up. There, in the doors, were six of the most reliable ponies she had ever known. Twilight, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie, with Spike the dragon tailing them. Twilight looked confused as she came forward. "We got the letter you sent us, Celestia. But I'm still not exactly sure why we were all called here, or why we were called in the first place. Is there something you want to talk to us all about?"

Celestia nodded gravely. "Indeed, Twilight. I have called you here to address something that threatens the safety of free ponies everywhere."

"Oh boy," Rainbow said sarcastically. "I guess that's what we do, huh? We take care of these threats all the time. Just another part of our daily lives."

"Let us talk somewhere not as public," Celestia said to all of them, looking around. "The walls have ears."

"They do?" Fluttershy asked in surprise. "Wow. I guess I've never known that before."

"It's an expression, Dahling," Rarity clarified. "What she means is that there might be ponies listening that aren't meant to hear what she's about to tell us."

They sat around a rectangular table supplied with a multitude of breakfast foods. The girls and Spike ate greedily, for the letter had arrived at 6:00 in the morning and Twilight had hurriedly taken them to Canterlot without any breakfast first. Laid out for them were pancakes and eggs and orange juice, which they all devoured.

Celestia sat at the head of the table, next to her sister Luna. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I know you had just arrived from a little village with an absence of Cutie Marks and a pony ruler over all of them with a rule of an iron hoof. We would like to say thank you for that first."

"It's fine, Celestia," Applejack said, taking a bite out of an apple-covered pancake. "We're happy ta help Equestria any way we can. Ah suppose we'd jus' like a bit o' breathin' room in between duties, is all."

"And it would be an easy thing you ask of us, if the danger ever rested," Luna told her, circling her hoof on the table. "But evil doth not sleep, nor doth it flee, simply because the good is tired."

Twilight put down her utensils. "You said there's something that threatens the safety of free ponies everywhere. What is it? Is it Tirek again? Or has Starlight Glimmer come out of the mountains to take away more Cutie Marks?"

"Or has somepony decided to throw a party and forgot the balloons?" Pinkie asked in horror, then dove into her plate of straight whipped cream and chocolate chips.

Celestia shook her head. "I'm afraid the danger is far more evil than any of them--even the balloons." Celestia allowed herself a small chuckle, then took out the newspaper that had arrived that morning from behind her and levitated it over to Twilight. Twilight cleared a space in front of her by removing her plate and utensils, and the paper plopped down in front of her as Celestia cut off her magic.

The headline was the first sign of bad news.

TERROR STRIKES - EIGHT DEAD GRIFFONS FOUND IN WAREHOUSE ON FIFTH AND HAY

Twilight's eyes bulged. "Terror?" she whispered. She looked to the side. Rarity and Rainbow, who were seated next to her, were looking at the newspaper in shock. "Eight dead griffons?"

"D-dead?" Fluttershy asked in horror. "They-" She gulped. "They were killed?"

Rainbow snatched the paper out of Twilight's spot and began to read aloud. "Yesterday at 10:00 at night, a loud explosion in an abandoned warehouse rocked every building in the downtown area of Manehatten. While it is true that no bystanders were harmed, when firefighters forced their way inside, they found the corpses of at least five griffons, all badly mutilated with the wounds of death in their bodies. It is easy to suspect that the explosion was the cause of death for these griffons. But after the fire was extinguished and the bodies were studied by autopsy analysis expert Dr. Brainstem, he concluded that the marks of their death suggested murder instead."

Rarity gasped at the shock. Fluttershy whimpered.

Rainbow cleared her throat and continued reading. " 'The bodies had multiple lacerations, punctures from long metal objects, and had several mysterious inch-deep holes in their bodies in many cases. This is undeniable. This was murder,' claims Dr. Brainstem. An analysis of the crime scene is now underway by forensics expert Case File, who entered the scene with trepidation. And he was right to do so, for he discovered three more griffons that were found hanging from the rafters by their necks with heavy chains." Her voice grew strained by the time she finished, and her face was nauseous. She set the paper down and took a few deep breaths while the rest of the mares listened in horror.

Celestia's face was unreadable.

Finally Rainbow picked up the paper again and shakily finished. "It is unclear of what exactly happened that night, and there are many unresolved questions about the event. Who assassinated these victims, and why? How was it all accomplished? And where will this killer strike next?" Rainbow looked up from the paper. She looked apprehensive.

"This is what I wanted to speak with you about," Celestia addressed all of them. "A new, elusive dark force has arisen that threatens the citizens of Manehatten. We do not know much about him, but we do know he is ruthless and has reason to be feared."

Luna spoke up. "Lord Tirek wanted to steal magic and rule Equestria. King Sombra hath only wanted to enslave his subjects. Queen Chrysalis wanted to steal love. Discord hath only wanted to wreak harmless havoc for his amusement. And even I, when I was Nightmare Moon, wanted only to cover the world in darkness. The outcome of such an event would have eventually caused massive loss of life, but as a secondary intention only. But this faceless figure...he killeth with impunity and at his own will. He careth not about love, or magic, but on the loss of life only. He acteth like a monster. He threateneth the welfare of everypony who hath life in their bodies. It is not just magic, or love at risk, but instead it is life itself. If he is not apprehended..."

The ominous statement hung there.

"And you want us to go to Manehatten to confront him?" Twilight asked numbly.

"Know that if it were up to my desires only, I would refrain from throwing you into such danger," Celestia kindly said. "I do not want to see you in a situation where you could be hurt. But I know that you have saved Equestria time and time again from ruin and extinction. If there is anypony that can do this, it is you, my little ponies."

Twilight smiled.

"Is there anything more we should know about this faceless pony?" Rarity asked. "I do so hate going into situations blind."

Celestia sighed, then lit her horn with magic. A strange device materialized out of thin air with a swirl in the air and a loud pop. It levitated over to Twilight, and the device was taken into Twilight's aura of magic. Twilight looked at the device strangely.

"Do you know what this is, Twilight?" Celestia asked.

Twilight turned the device over to further examine it. "I...can't say, Princess Celestia." It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It looked like a black uppercase L, but had a trigger where the two sides met, and the longer end was hollow. "I...I've never seen anything like this before."

"It is a good thing you have not," Luna told her. "It is an evil object, full of the promise and intent of destruction beyond anything Equestria has hitherto seen. It is called a-" She gulped. "A gun."

"How?" Applejack asked. "Ah don't see what's so dangerous 'bout it."

Celestia motioned her head forward, her horn glowing. A cake that had been on the end of the table lifted into the air. "Let's say that this cake is a pony, or a griffon, or some other living being." She levitated the bowl of chocolate chips over to her. "What do you think would happen if I threw a single chocolate chip at the cake?"

"Nothing?" Applejack guessed.

Celestia put a single chocolate chip on her hoof and lightly tossed it at the cake. It landed, sticking lightly to the frosting on the cake. "You're right, Applejack. Now what if I threw it a little harder?"

"It'd hit the cake with more force?" Twilight said, catching on.

Celestia repeated the toss. The chocolate chip embedded itself a little bit deeper into the cake's frosting.

Celestia then lifted a whole assortment of chips out of the bowl with her magic, each chocolate chip surrounded by a yellow aura. "Now what if they struck the pony at the speed of a mile per second?"

And before anyone could answer, the chocolate chips sped forward, faster than anyone could see, and they passed clean through the cake and struck the wall on the opposite end of the hall with so much force they dented the wall. As they ripped clean through the cake, chunks of cake flew out, splattering the walls and ground with pieces of the dessert. The relentless barrage continued for fifteen seconds, with the cake getting progressively mutilated and destroyed as the barrage went on. When Celestia finally stopped, the only thing holding the cake together was her magic that suspended the cake in the air. Celestia set the battered remains of the destroyed dessert down, and the cake collapsed into a shredded pile of crumbs.

Everypony was looking aghast at the graphic scene before their eyes. Pinkie's eyes watered, and she rushed over to the remains of the cake, splattered on the walls and floor. "NOOOO!" she wailed. "YOU WERE SUCH A GOOD DESSERT!" She began to mourn the fallen dessert, gathering some clumps of frosting into her hooves and starting to bawl over it.

Everyone else's eyes reverted to Celestia. She had a face that suggested reluctance at the demonstration she had laid before their eyes, but she spoke clearly. "That is what that...weapon is capable of. The gun has made it easier than ever to take the life of another in cold blood. This weapon was used in the attack in Manehatten, for the wounds described match that of the weapon's effects."

Twilight couldn't believe her eyes. She rubbed them, then looked down at the suddenly dangerous capital L lying before her. She felt afraid to touch it now. She gulped and said, "Who made this? Why?"

"The weapon was a top secret development by ponies here in Canterlot," Celestia explained. "Nopony outside of the top developers knew of it. Ponies researched for years and years until a pony called Bright Mind discovered the secret of a substance called gunpowder."

"Bright Mind was...not a pony who was popular amongst scientists," Luna added. "When his colleagues found out he was the one who had discovered the substance, they discredited his work and passed off the substance as their own. Bright Mind was enraged, but he couldn't do anything about it. He was low in class, as scientists go. One day, just before the weapons were to be sent to be distributed to the military...an accident in his lab made the entire wing of the study building explode, killing him."

"Wh-why does there have to be so much death?" Fluttershy asked, quivering. She looked depressed and scared.

"After the accident, for a long while, we hesitated. Selling these weapons to the market would have catastrophic results for the welfare of Equestria. And eventually, we decided not to, and keep this land unstained with blood. But when we tried to destroy the prototypes and leave no trace of its existence, we found out that Bright Mind's laboratory had been raided and that all the weapons had been stolen."

The mares gasped.

"The weapon you have in front of you is the only surviving relic that we knew of, " Celestia continued. "We searched and searched for them all, but the weapons and the pony who had stolen them had simply disappeared off the face of the land. And we thought they were gone for good. But now, it appears they have made a resurgence."

Luna grabbed the metal L with her magic and it floated over to her. "And that is another task we must ask of you. If possible, we need to find out what exactly happened to these weapons, and who stole them. It is imperative that the pony who is terrorizing Manehatten be apprehended and captured."

Twilight stood up. "Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, we'll go to Manehatten to stop him before he attacks again. I hope we won't let you down." Her voice had an edge of determination in it. The rest of her friends also stood, some hesitating a bit more than others.

"I know you won't," Celestia said, in the most reassuring tone she had.

The train pulled out of Canterlot with six ponies and one baby dragon on board. The mares in question all had different feelings about the whole thing.

Applejack was nervous about going to a major city. After all, she was only a country girl, and the fact that there was a faceless killer loose in the city did not help her nerves about it all. If she had to be honest--which was her specialty--she didn't want to go all that much. But Twilight was going, and so that meant that she would stick with her like caramel on a candy apple. She relaxed her head on the side of a window and looked out with boredom.

Rarity was a mixed bag. On the one hoof, she was going to Manehatten! One of the most populous cities in Equestria! But on the other hoof, there was a murderer on the loose that was possessing top-secret weapons that could crumble the city if he really wanted to. She was a little nervous about that, because she had plans to put in a new boutique in both Canterlot and Manehatten, and she couldn't do that if the city was under an iron hoof, could she? She laid down her saddlebags on the train and pulled out a magazine for the journey.

Fluttershy was totally and completely scared. She could barely handle moving to such a scene change as Manehatten, where the ponies were always in a hurry and they bumped into you and didn't say excuse me. But coupled with that they were under pressure from Princess Celestia, and that there was a murderer on the loose, and every feeling she had was screaming at her to just run away home and never bother with such big, important things as saving the world again...or, at least, Manehatten. When she got on the train, she stretched out on a couch and curled into a ball.

Rainbow Dash was confident, as usual. She had faced plenty of worse stuff than a pony acting alone, hadn't she? They all had faced down Lord Tirek only a little bit ago, and had removed Starlight Glimmer from her position as a despot just a few days prior. Taking down one pony, even a pony with terrifying experimental weapons, was going to be nothing. And yet as she thought about this, she still felt just a twinge of doubt nip at her, a small bite of fear of the prospect of facing down a murderer. Granted, she had had to hurt a few ponies before, but she had never before actually killed anyone. When it came down to a confrontation between her and this terrorist, who would have more conviction to kill the other? Trying to get the offending thought out of her head, she began to do wing-ups until her body hurt.

Pinkie was putting on a happy face, as she normally did, but behind it all was a grim realization. The cake had been mutilated! Destroyed before she could even have a bite! It was super unfair. And now they were going to take down a pony who could do that kind of stuff if he really wanted to? He had better not harm any cakes, or pies, or strudels while Pinkie was in Manehatten! And if he- -or she--did, Pinkie would have something to say about it! She wasn't really concerned about her own life- only the welfare of the cakes! Pinkie pulled out a cupcake from her mane and begun to eat, slowly relishing the taste of it. What if it was the last dessert she would ever eat? Not because she would die, of course- though that might happen. What if the pony terrorist destroyed every last dessert in Manehatten? Then what would she eat?

Spike was uncomfortable. All he wanted was a good night of sleep, but with Twilight, that was never an option. It always seemed like there was something to do, somepony to help, some friendship that needed reparations. It was just too much, really. Spike flopped on one of the couches in the train and began to snore as his head hit the sheets.

Twilight was filled with determination. She had never disappointed her mentor before, and she wasn't ready to start now. She was ready to face the danger. She and the rest of her friends. But as she looked around at all her friends, her loyal, honest, kind, generous, funny friends, she knew that what they would be facing would be...different than anything they had ever faced before. But different in what way, she could not say.

She preoccupied herself by relaxing on the couch in the train and started with thinking over what Celestia had told them. The terrorist was using weapons whose capability was far beyond anything Twilight had known previously. He had raided the lab of the scientist who had died in order to use them. But how could he have known about the weapons even existing in the first place? If it was a top secret experiment, then the only way for them to know about it is if...

She gasped.

"What is it, Twilight?" Fluttershy asked, poking her head up.

"Girls, I think I may have already had a breakthrough!" she announced. All the girls stopped their activities and looked at Twilight.

"Girls, the pony who made off with all of the weapons- he had to know about them first! He had to know that there were these guns being made in the first place! So there are only two ways that he could have known about it. He was either spying on the weapons while they were being made and when the lab was destroyed, that was his chance to take them and flee..."

She left a gap in the air, waiting for somepony to piece it together.

Rarity was the first to get it, and she widened her eyes. "Or..." she whispered, "He was one of the fellow scientists that was trying to create them in the first place!"

The Scene Of The Crime

Manehatten is an island, a bustling, sprawling network of communication, situated in the northeast corner of the great landmass of Equestria. It houses no less than twenty-five million ponies, all involved in their large, interconnected jobs every day. Construction workers, bankers, sales ponies, entertainment and media tycoons, tourist guides, park managers, restaurant owners, and city administrators- all are connected, brought together by close proximity and interdependence. Manehatten is consequently one of the richest cities in Equestria, behind only Las Pegasus and Canterlot.

Some of its most notable landmarks are the Chrystaller Building, the tallest building in the city, topped by an enormous statue of a horses head, and the Mare Statue, a tall green statue of an Earth Pony mare wearing robes and a crown and holding a stone tablet in her left hoof and holding a torch in her right, located on an island near the city. The city's central square, Bridleway, is the place of many musicals, including Hinny Of The Hills and My Fair Filly.

Usually the city is alive with activity and happiness in the streets, the buildings, and the transportation systems. Usually not a care exists except from the normal activities of the normal life. But now, though...

Now...

Now there are whispers of fear in the streets, furtive glances into the darker parts of the city, a nervous look behind the back. A faceless, nameless terror, as insubstantial as the air but more real than anything anypony could imagine, was in Manehatten. It was always there, hunting and searching, seeking for its targets with an unseen eye. Nopony thought they were safe completely. Everypony from Bronclyn to Bridleway, from Equis Island to Manehatten Park, was whispering. Only whispering, not talking, because what if the unseen evil saw them talking and attacked them next?

The Maneway is the underground railway system that transports ponies all across the city every day. It is also the primary way into and out of the city. It was out of the main station that six ponies and a baby dragon emerged, blinking in the sudden sun as they descended down the white building's front steps. A crowd preceded them, fanning out as they entered the city.

Rarity sighed. "Ah, Manehatten! Where dreams come true and life is fulfilled!"

"Or life gets taken away," Rainbow said darkly. "Remember, Rares. We ain't here to sightsee and gawk at buildings. We're here to kick some flank!"

"And find out what happened to all of those weapons taken from Bright Mind," Twilight added. She looked down, lost in thought. "I don't understand," she admitted. That was always a hard thing to say for a pony like Twilight. "Why would the terrorist attack griffons? Does he have a vendetta against griffons?"

"It's too early to say anything at this point," Applejack observed, glancing her eyes around the large city nervously. "If we're gonna find things out, we need ta git ta where he attacked in the first place and find some evidence." She placed a hoof atop her brown hat and pushed it down as she saw all the ponies in the city going about, in their normal hustle and bustle. Applejack shuddered. "Ah can't believe it. The one place in Equestria where Ah didn't want ta go, and now it's where Ah have ta be. Ah jus' hope we find the terrorist quick and we git ta go home."

"Why, Applejack," Rarity said, looking hurt, "Whatever prompted such a negative attitude? Granted, you're more of a country girl, but there's nothing wrong with the city!"

Pinkie interjected. "Except for the confusing streets and the crowds and the expensive retail and the loud noises and the disgusting food and the criminals and the-"

Rarity shoved a hoof in her mouth, stifling the flow of words. "Okay, we get it," she said, rolling her eyes.

Through the crowds a voice was heard. "Princess Twilight? Princess Twilight?"

Twilight stopped. "Hold on," she told the others, putting a hoof to the side to stop them. "Somepony's calling us."

The crowd parted to reveal a pony rushing towards them. He was a white, balding unicorn with a dark brown mane and short brown tail. He wore a white coat and green tie, and had bright green eyes hidden behind his thin-rimmed glasses. He looked to be about forty. He pushed aside the ponies in his way, eliciting protests from the crowd he pushed through, until he was directly in front of Twilight and her friends.

"Princess Twilight," he gasped. He had a scholarly, intellectual voice. "Thank goodness you're here! I was sent to meet and greet you as you got off your train."

Twilight tilted her head to the side. "What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

The white balding pony drew out a furled piece of paper that was tied with a red ribbon. "Princess Celestia sent word ahead telling us you'd be arriving," he explained. "And it's a good thing you are here. Manehatten is in a worse state than ever. The ponies are afraid. The police are confused. The mayor is concerned. I have a feeling you ponies are exactly what the city needs right now." The six ponies looked at each other.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. The dragon doesn't get anything."

The balding white pony blinked his green eyes. "I'm sorry, mister, uh..."

"Spike," Spike grumbled.

"Spike. Well. Sorry, Spike." He shook his head politely, then turned his attention to Twilight. "The situation is more serious than you think," he said in a far graver voice. "It's terrible, Princess. It's just terrible." He took his glasses off his head using his magic and started to clean them. He put them back on his head when he was done. "My name is Dr. Brainstem," he introduced himself. "And you are the famous wielders of the Elements of Harmony. There really is no need to introduce yourself. Everypony in Equestria knows who you are.

"Hold on," Rarity said, narrowing her eyes in realization. "You're that doctor that performed an analysis of the victims. We heard about you in the newspaper, didn't we, girls?" At Rarity's words, a spastic round of head-bobbing went off among the girls there.

"Yes, Miss Rarity. I am the pony assigned to the case that is trying, at the moment, to find out how the victims perished. It's...not a pleasant job. I have tried valiantly to not be sick on many occasions." He smiled kindly, waiting for some reaction. When none came, he cleared his throat. "I was sent to, uh, escort you to the scene of the crime," he continued. "There's something there that we could use your help for."

It looked like a war zone.

The entire corner warehouse was dirty and pockmarked with residual damage. Part of the ceiling had collapsed in on one side. Blackened damaged debris vomited out of the side of the building and into the streets, which were blocked off. Yellow police tape surrounded the entire scene, with police ponies on corners directing the flow of traffic around the blast zone. There were a bit of onlookers that tried to peek into the action going on inside, but were being held back by the police with stern faces and a hoof on the batons on their hips. The bystanders were complacent, though they grumbled a lot.

The police melted out of the way, however, for Dr. Brainstem, who was leading the way to the scene. The six girls and Spike followed fearfully, glancing around furtively at the wreckage.

"It's...It's..." Twilight searched for words. The pungent aroma of smoke still lingered in the air.

"Scary," Fluttershy whimpered, stepping over a cracked stone brick.

What other word was needed?

Dr. Brainstem led them through the debris, looking up at the astounding wreckage of what was left of the warehouse. "It's remarkable," he said absently. "How could a single pony cause so much damage and get away with barely a trace? It's awful. Just...awful." He took a deep breath. "The worst part is, this wasn't even the first attack."

"It wasn't?" Rainbow asked in surprise.

Dr. Brainstem shook his head. "Just three days before, a train heading into the city carrying an unmarked cargo was hijacked. The train tumbled off the rails, and everypony inside was killed. Lucky thing the only ponies there were the ponies who had guarded the cargo, whatever it was. And two days before that, we received a call from a mare in Bronclyn. She reported that a street gang that had caused trouble for many ponies for two years was found eviscerated in a side alley. They all..." he gulped. "The sight of the...carnage gave me nightmares for two days, ending right when I had to investigate the train wreck."

They had reached the mouth of the hole in the side of the building. Peering inside, the girls gasped.

It was even worse than the outside. The entire inside looked blown apart by a massive explosion. Piles of stacked wooden crates were knocked over or blasted with black marks, the marks of an inferno. Debris littered the ground like it had been intentionally spilled. The entire ground looked scorched in some places, and in others it looked like somepony had peppered the ground with heavy dents. It was all dimly lit, the scant light provided by the lanterns barely marking out the whole inside. Forensics ponies were everywhere examining the whole scene, jotting down notes, searching for evidence, and sealing objects in tight-locked bags.

But what made the girls gasp were the bodies. Scattered on the ground were the bodies of five dead griffons, surrounded by dried maroon puddles of their own blood. They were outlined on the ground with white chalk. One of them was lying on his back with several long metal objects sticking out of his back that were tainted with dried brown blood. Another body looked like it had been shot dozens and dozens of times in the front, on his torso, and on his face that looked ripped to shreds by the impacts of invisible projectiles. Yet another body looked so burned beyond recognition it looked like a pie that came too late out of the oven. Another body, only a little bit away, had four round holes in his body- one in his thigh, one in his back, one in his shoulder, and one in the back of his head. The last griffon, next to him, had only one hole in him, but it looked like he had bled his life out on the ground, where the brown blood was now hard and flaky.

Fluttershy had trouble breathing right when she saw the corpses. She turned away and covered her face as she began to weep. Everyone else was just shocked at the horror.

"Oh...oh holy Celestia..." Rainbow whispered, feeling like she was going to throw up.

"Who could have done this?" Rarity asked somberly, avoiding a splinter of wood in her path.

Twilight kicked aside a bit of rubble.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Dr. Brainstem replied, grabbing a sheaf of papers from a nearby crate acting as an impromptu table. He started to shuffle between the papers using his magic, his white horn glowing. "And that's what we want your help for. The problem is, we know of next to nothing about the pony in question. He leaves little to no trace of who he is."

"Have you tried taking DNA tests on samples you collect?" Twilight suggested.

Dr. Brainstem smiled sadly. "And that right there is the problem, Princess Twilight. We've tried looking for DNA traces on the bodies and on the remnants of the damage he causes, but we can find nothing. Not a hair, not a hoofprint, not a flake of skin, not a thread of clothing, not a drop of blood that belongs to him. We tried looking for it with the gang he killed. We tried looking for it in the train crash he caused. And now we tried looking for it here. There's nothing, Twilight. Nothing."

"That's strange," Twilight mused, trying not to look at the grisly scene before her eyes. "No matter how hard you try, there's always evidence left behind. There's always little bits of skin or hairs that fall out."

Rarity shivered. "I cannot imagine my mane falling out! It would be simply awful if something like that ever happened to a pony like me."

Pinkie lifted her head up, suddenly sporting a detective's hat, magnifying glass, and bubble pipe. "Don't worry, Dr. Brainstem! Pinkie Pie is on the case!" She saluted, then started to sniff around on the ground like a dog, her tail pointing high in the air. After about ten seconds of sniffing, she came to the side of a pony wearing a dark grey suit over his light grey coat. He had a thick mane of bedraggled black hair, a five-o'-clock shadow stubble, and ruby red eyes that peered into a magnifying glass over the body of the griffon burnt beyond all recognition. Pinkie Pie circled around him a few times, then pointed a hoof at him. "I found him!" she announced.

Dr. Brainstem laughed. "That's Case File, Pinkie, not the terrorist. He's the head of the forensics experts team. He's not the Night Terror."

Case File paid no attention to Pinkie. Instead he finished looking, set down the magnifying glass, and turned to face the visitors. His face broke into a wide smile. "Welcome!" he said in a warm tone. The voice was marred and rough from the years he must have been on the job, though. "Princess Twilight, welcome to Manehatten. I wish you could have come under more pleasant circumstances, though. This is no place for the faint of heart."

"We've fought a whole slew o' villains," Applejack defended, "And fought off more monsters than there are apples in a bushel basket. We can handle ourselves pretty well."

Case File grew a thin grimace. "I believe you, miss Applejack. Out of everypony here, I would expect the Element of Honesty to tell the truth. However, the problem is more than just a monster. He attacks only at night, where it's hard to see and hard to discern who is following you. He's already attacked three times so far. Every time, he never leaves us a clue as to who he is. We ponies in the lab call him The Night Terror."

"Let's change that, then," Twilight announced. "We need to find a name for him- one that isn't an alias. Let's try to find out what exactly happened here. Maybe then we can identify who could be the terrorist."

Case File nodded, then led the way to the griffon riddled with long metal objects. As they came closer, they could identify what they were.

Rainbow flew close to the body and extended a hoof. "Are those...feathers?" she asked in disbelief.

Indeed, there were no less than half a dozen long, metallic-coated feathers deeply embedded in the corpse, sticking straight up out of him.

Case File reached up, grabbed Rainbow's colorful tail, and yanked her down to the ground. "Don't get too near to the bodies," he ordered her. "You might disrupt something vital." He then came over to the opposite side of the body, near the razor-edged feathers. "Based on research we conducted early on, we have determined that this is the first griffon down here to perish. His position has not moved since he first lost his life, making it easier for us to do our job. Judging from the direction he's facing, and from the direction the feathers stick, we can conclude that whoever it was fired these feathers in a projectile manner from this direction," Case File pointed in the direction behind him, into a darkened side alley between box stacks. "Ballistics teams are currently working on how it could have been fired at such a velocity to penetrate the skin."

"So that at least limits our options," Rainbow said. "For who could have been the terrorist."

Case File tilted his head. "Explain."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "It had to be a pegasus! They're the only kind of pony that has feathers, you know! So we now only have to look at potential pegasi that could be killing off these victims!"

"An excellent insight," Dr. Brainstem complimented her. "Unfortunately, this does not progress us much further. If the pegasus in question were to use these feathers, it would naturally give away the fact that he's a pegasus. Why would he use such an obvious weapon if he was trying to remain secret? No, Rainbow Dash. Our enemy is far more elusive than that. We have to keep the option open that he used these feathers as a way to distract us, to make us think that it was a pegasus when it could be somepony else, like a unicorn using his or her magic to drive these feathers into his back. We have to match him in elusiveness and never assume the obvious."

Rainbow grumbled a little bit. But Twilight remembered what Princess Celestia did with the chocolate chips and the cake, and kept the option of a unicorn open in her mind.

Case File moved to another body. This body looked torn to shreds, ripped apart by some mysterious force. Holes were absolutely everywhere on him. Most were on his torso, but some others chewed into his face, distorting it beyond any kind of measure Twilight had ever seen. She could see straight into his head. She felt something bitter in the back of her throat and tried to hold down the bile that was coming up. At the sight of the body, Fluttershy immediately turned the other way and tried to hold back a sob.

Case File's expression softened when he saw this. "Are you Fluttershy?" he asked her. His voice was softer, and kinder.

Fluttershy mutely nodded.

Case File indicated the makeshift laboratory set up near the front of the blasted-open building. "Would you like to be over there and away from the site? I know you're not really comfortable here. Do you want to be with the scientists in the lab?"

Fluttershy's expression brightened.

Case File indicated two ponies working on a research paper. "Mass Method, Reagent Rule!"

The two ponies working picked their heads up.

"Escort Fluttershy here to the sheet lab," he told them. "Make sure she's well taken care of and make her comfortable."

They nodded, and sat up on their hooves. They came to either side of Fluttershy and walked her to the laboratory, covered in white sheets. Fluttershy looked back gratefully.

Case File turned his attention to the other mares, who had seen what had just happened with approval in their minds of Case File. "Now this here is another interesting case. Observe the wounds made by the Night Terror."

Applejack wrinkled her nose. "Ah'd rather not," she muttered, but did so anyway.

"Notice how the wounds here are not like the ones found on the last victim. Before the wounds were punctures by sharpened feathers. In this body, however, they were caused by many smaller objects finding their way into the body, over and over again, at a speed only attainable by magic or by using a device capable of expelling a projectile at the speed of sound. The question is, which did he use?"

Twilight cleared her throat to get Case File's attention. "What I'm more interested in is, why did he switch methods of attacking? Why did he use feathers one time and guns the next?"

She realized that was something she should not have said.

Case File looked at her with confusion, his red eyes giving her a questioning look. Dr. Brainstem looked at her with shock.

"What's a gun?" Case File asked.

"How did you find out about guns?" Dr. Brainstem inquired quietly.

Case File's pupils contracted until they became as small as pinpricks. He turned his head to look slowly at Dr. Brainstem. Dr. Brainstem put a hoof to his mouth like he had said a bad word.

Case File quietly asked, "Is there something you're not telling me, Dr. Brainstem?" His voice had just a bit of anger in it, but his voice was so soft... "Why do you know something I do not? Why are you concealing such a vital bit of information from the case at hoof?"

Dr. Brainstem gulped. "S-sir, you...you've put me in an awkward spot here."

"You will tell me what you know about the subject of guns, Dr. Brainstem." His voice was so quiet, so calm, so patiently slow. "And why I, as the forensics expert, did not know about such a critical part of the investigation."

"S-sir," Dr. Brainstem shook. "T-that's top secret information! I-I can't just-"

"You will tell me." Case File's voice was so silky, so calming. "Now."

There was silence as Case File bore his ruby red eyes into Dr. Brainstem's emerald green ones.

Finally Dr. Brainstem broke the gaze and looked down. "I hope Celestia can forgive me for this," he muttered under his breath, but he straightened. "A gun is a tool that can kill with ruthlessness, beyond anything you've ever seen before. It's an explosive-based system that uses the force of a miniature explosion to propel an object at an unnatural speed- a speed high enough to penetrate skin and tear through bone."

Case File's gaze never faltered. "And tell me, Dr. Brainstem, why you know of such a weapon and I do not." His voice was still in that quiet, calming tone.

Dr. Brainstem gulped. "B-because I was one of the ponies that worked on the development of it!"

Twilight and Rarity exchanged glances, remembering what they had discovered on the train.

"I was part of the damage team- inspecting the weapon's effects on the body. But after a deadly lab accident where it killed the pony that had engineered them, the weapons were never authorized to be widely sold, and Celestia ordered all the prototypes destroyed. But before we could get to them, somepony had infiltrated the lab, stole every last weapon, and fled, where he has never been found. Celestia wanted the information to never reach the ears of those who never worked on the project," he continued in indignation. "It was supposed to be secret! And it's remarkable how these six," he indicated the five mares and baby dragon behind him, "knew of it before I had to reveal the work of hundreds of researchers to a pony that doesn't even know how it works!"

Case File made a small movement, a twitch of the muscles in his arms. It passed quickly without anypony noticing. He continued to say, in his agonizingly calm angry tone, "Then you will tell me how it works, Dr. Brainstem. We can allow no secrets to be kept from each other now. The cat is out of the bag now. There is no need to keep the development secret. You will tell us how it works."

There was a moment of reluctance.

Then Dr. Brainstem turned tail and went to the laboratory of white sheets near the erupted wall. Case File and the girls and Spike waited for two minutes.

Dr. Brainstem returned, carrying an object in a sealed bag in his white magic aura. The object resembled a black metal capital letter L, with a trigger at the intersection of the two sides. Twilight felt a chill just looking at the object, remembering Celestia's demonstration at the breakfast table and the weapon she had revealed there.

"This is a gun," Dr. Brainstem told them. "It was found next to the body of one of the dead griffons, probably the murder weapon. The way this weapon works is that you first load the weapon." He took the gun out of the bag and from his coat pocket he drew out an oblong pointed brass cylinder. It looked like a paperweight of some kind. Holding the weapon in the air with his magic, the scientist ejected a long clip from the bottom of the handle. "Like so." He then laid the brass pointed cylinder in the clip. He loaded the long metal clip back in the bottom of the handle, locking in place with a click.

"To fire the weapon, you must then turn off the safety mode preventing a preemptive firing." Dr. Brainstem flicked a small switch near the trigger on the side. "You point the weapon in the desired direction." He pointed the weapon at a spot of ground directly in front of him. "And you pull the trigger to fire it."

He did not pull the trigger.

"And that's it?" Case File asked. "Nothing else needed to operate the weapon?" He sounded interested, his voice back at its normal marred and rough tone. Twilight realized she had been holding in a breath, and she exhaled as Case File returned to his normal voice.

"Yes," Dr. Brainstem said. "That's all you need to know for now." He ejected the clip and drew out the bullet.

Twilight, however, had a question. "Dr. Brainstem?" she asked. "May I see that, please?"

Dr. Brainstem obliged by levitating the gun over to her, who took it in her own magic aura. Twilight examined the gun with a keen eye. "Dr. Brainstem, I believe you in your description of how it works, but I see one design flaw."

"What may that be?" Dr. Brainstem asked.

Twilight pointed at the trigger. "The trigger to fire the weapon is too small for ponies to pull. It requires somepony with digits on their appendages, like Spike over there." She indicated her assistant. "So if the terrorist used these weapons, there's no way he could have been a pony. He would have to be a creature who actually has digits and hands to hold it and fire it."

"Unless he modified the weapons to fit him?" Rarity suggested. "I know that for my clients, I often have to make certain adjustments to their dresses or suits in order to properly fit them. It can be the same here, in that the Night Terror modified these...guns...to fit the hooves of a pony."

"Rarity brings up a good point," Applejack conceded. Twilight admitted she was right, too, except there was something else...something she had left out.

Case File looked at the weapon suspiciously. "But if he modified the weapons to suit him, why is this particular gun designed for creatures with digits, and not for a pony's?"

That was exactly what Twilight was thinking of. "Maybe it was being sent to someone that did," she said.

"But..." Dr. Brainstem said. "But why was it being sent-" He looked at the griffon's hole-ridden corpse.

And the answer hit them all at once.

Nopony dared say anything for a long time.

"They were ordering them," Case File numbly said, completely astounded."The griffons have been ordering guns."

Pinkie turned to Twilight. "Are they ordering them for a super-secret surprise party?" she asked her. "Because if they are, they totally failed. I think they were the ones being surprised."

"Alright now, hold up." Applejack held up a hoof. "So lemme git this straight. The griffons are ordering top-secret weapons. But they were killed by an enemy terrorist using these same top-secret weapons, as well. So that means..." Her eyes widened. "That means somepony's givin' both o' them these weapons in secret! We ain't after this "Night Terror" at all! He's just a piece o' the game the pony supplyin' them is playin'! He's the real menace! He's the one we need ta go after! He's the one that's usin' both the griffons an' the Night Terror like gardenin' tools in order ta achieve his goals! He's the one modifyin' the weapons fer both griffons and ponies ta use alike!"

"But who?" Dr. Brainstem asked in amazement. "Who could be giving them these weapons when the only pony that has an access to sell them-"

And yet another answer was silently given. Another shock. A much more solemn, evil mood descended upon them.

"...was the pony who stole the weapons in the first place!" Rainbow realized in horror.

Author's Note

Heya guys! I'm totally amazed by how well this story is being received. This story was actually intended to be a side project, but now that I see how well it's being taken, I think I'll change my opinion on that. You guys are great, and I look forward to writing the next chapter soon. Until then, I think I've given you plenty to think over and plenty to speculate on. Make your guesses, state your hypotheses. Let the mystery properly start!

Client 24

Senator Count Privilege was a unicorn with an upturned nose and an aristocratic bearing. He ran the Committee of Internal Affairs, one of the most important ones in the city at the present time. His coat was the color of gold, with his mane a silvery color. His eyes were the color of diamonds, a light grey that sparkled and shone like the precious stone.

His image was one of disgust by the ponies of Manehatten. He had expressed a public distaste of the ponies who did not have it as good as he did. He ignored corner street beggars. He had called the ponies who had given to charity "self-righteous ponies who donated because they wanted to make themselves look good"- even though that was exactly what he did behind everyone's back. And to top it all off, he was now on his third marriage, divorced twice because his wives before had been pressuring him to buy more and more things for them, while Count Privilege wanted the money more for himself.

So when the senator burst the door open the door of the ragged-down corner street bar late at night, every eye in the room immediately turned to his direction. The senator panted in the door frame for just a second before he came into the crowded room. The nauseating smell of vomit and spilled drinks hit the senator's nose like a punch. He stumbled through the room regardless, ignoring the looks of venom directed at him by some of the residents sitting at tables spread throughout the room.

When he came to the bartender, the pony behind the bar scowled at him and did not ask him anything.

Count Privilege drew a crumpled slip of paper out of his elaborately tailored suit and laid it before the bartender. "I'm here to see Client 24," he told him in an impatient tone.

The bartender looked over the slip for just a second before gruffly nodding and motioning for him to follow. The Count put the slip back in his suit and followed the pony.

They came to a small, out-of-the-way back room behind the bathrooms. Count Privilege nodded politely, motioning for the bartender to leave. The bartender, after shooting him an irritated look, walked away.

Count Privilege hurriedly opened the door to the back room and slipped inside it and shut the door. The room was small, with only a fan and a single aging yellow light on a chain above them. The room only allowed room for a small table and two chairs.

Across from him, sitting in one of those chairs, was Client 24. He was the only pony in the room, apart from the Count. Client 24 was in a dark brown trench coat with black leather gauntlets on all four of his hooves and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face. He had on large sunglasses and a black bandanna on his nose and mouth, so Count Privilege could not see any part of him. The old yellow light threw most of his body into a dark shadow.

And then the Count realized that he had goosebumps. The room seemed much more colder than he had remembered the last few times he had visited his shady client. He grunted. Somepony had forgotten to turn on the heater.

"You are late," Client 24 told him. Client 24's voice was hard and deep, like a monster whose voice ascended through the depths of the earth.

Count Privilege shuddered and sat down across from his client. "The debate in City Hall took longer than I thought it would. I needed to wrap up the talk about allocating some of the funds to go to the school system. They already have enough as it is."

"The education of the young ones is always a necessity," his client disagreed. "If not reared correctly, they grow up in false beliefs... and teach others their false beliefs."

Count Privilege sighed and slammed the table. "I didn't come here to talk to you about education. I came here to talk to you about something that I'm mad about. I'm very mad about what's been happening recently."

Client 24 smiled under his bandanna; Count Privilege could see the motions his mouth made under the cloth. "Please enlighten me," he said in an evil tone. "I would like to know why I've been summoned."

Count Privilege ignited his horn in a silvery aura, and his briefcase opened. A newspaper floated out, and the Count slammed the paper down on the table. "This is what I'm mad about. Look at the paper. Now."

Client 24 did not take the paper. "I am aware of the news. Do not insist that I know nothing of what's going on recently." He sounded like a feral animal.

"There have been murders! Killings in the streets, after daytime! This is bad for the Committee of Internal Affairs. If I don't do something soon, I'll be lynched by Congress!"

Client 24 gave a harsh, evil laugh that sounded like a barking dog. "That would be worth seeing," he commented wryly.

"Don't play games with me, client. I know you've broken our agreement."

"How so?" he replied evenly.

"You've read the papers. You've seen the pictures. The pictures of the bodies. Do they look familiar to you? The wounds? Those are the marks of a gun."

"And?" he asked.

"And you are the only pony in the world that has uncontrolled access to those kinds of weapons! You are the pony that robbed that laboratory of that blasted scientist and took all of the weapons. So you are the only pony in the world that can give those weapons to somepony else. A week ago there was that gang that was found disemboweled in the side streets. And there was that train of guns that you were transporting into Manehatten that was crashed! And just yesterday, eight griffons were killed in that same warehouse I set aside for storage of the guns for the night. You want to know how they were killed? You want to know what happened? They were shot. And the Night Terror had to have gotten those weapons from somepony. That somepony is you!" His voice went up near the end of his rant.

Client 24 paid no attention to him. "Are you insinuating that I sold guns to the Night Terror?" he asked threateningly.

"YES!" Count Privilege bellowed at him. "Who else?"

"A criminal given guns that turned away from crime and is now working against his former criminals?" he suggested. "A thief who stole the guns from my storage? A pony that invented another prototype of the weapon?" He shook his head. "You are running a dangerous risk in blaming me for these murders."

"Did you or did you not sell your weapons to the Night Terror?" the Count demanded. His hooves were numb from the chilling cold all around him.

Client 24 sat forward. Underneath the sunglasses he wore, the Count could see a red, angry glow as his client's eyes burned. "I swear to Celestia I did not sell the Night Terror the guns."

"You'll have to better than that," the Count snapped. "I'm not all that inclined to believe you right now. I can always just fire you. You came to me with the promise of making me rich with guns, and I can send you away whenever I want."

Client 24's eyes burned a brighter red underneath the sunglasses. "I swear on the soul of my poor dead mother that I did not sell the guns to the Night Terror. I swear also on the soul of my sister that if what I am saying is false, that I will burn in Tartarus. I speak the truth, Senator. I did not sell guns to the Night Terror."

A moment or two passed while the two partners stared at each other fiercely.

Finally Count Privilege leaned back in his seat and broke off eye contact. "I really don't like how certain you sound about this."

"Our deal has not been broken, my dear Senator. I still sell you secret weapons that generate enormous profit when you redistribute them to crime leaders, and you look good in the senate because you're busy looking into the violent crime cases that result from them. I will not break the deal now. What if the Night Terror comes after me as a result of me providing criminals the weapons?"

"You're always concerned about your identity, aren't you?" the Count asked bitterly. "That's why you always dress like this whenever we meet?"

"I have to be. Otherwise, I would be captured and prosecuted. I did not kill Bright Mind and loot his work so I could get captured and rot in prison for the rest of my life. And I did not perfect the prototypes so I could listen to you whine about ending the deal." The dull yellow light made the shadow running diagonally across his face look murderous.

"And what will you do if I do decide to end the deal?" the Count demanded indignantly.

His arm shifted. "I have full access to these weapons, Senator. Did you think I would leave the house without one on hoof?"

The count examined Client 24's trench coat. It would be easy to conceal a weapon as small as a gun in there. A growing sense of uneasiness gripped him. "So what do we do about this... Night Terror?"

Client 24 tapped the table. "Guns were not the only thing that poor scientist developed. I stole some of his... more interesting toys, shall we say, after I killed him in that lab explosion. And I intend to use them. The next time he attacks, he will run into more trouble than expected when I introduce him to Bright Mind's more deadly experiments."

"And when will that be?" the Count demanded of him. "I ordered another shipment of weapons into the city two days ago, after the train accident. I want your guarantee that the shipment will not be hijacked or destroyed. I lost fifteen thousand bits when that train derailed."

"Tomorrow, after the docks close, a small private yacht will arrive at the piers. It will transport guns to the head of crime in the city, Amadeus. No doubt the Night Terror will strike there. But I will set a trap for him. I will kill him myself, if I have to. I will not rest until he is dead." He leaned forward. "And a tired, restless pony is a dangerous adversary to contend with."

Count Privilege gulped. The already chilly room seemed a lot colder. "I wanted your promise that the Night Terror won't disrupt it."

"I make no promises on if the Night Terror shows up. But I promise you that if he does, he'll be in for a world of trouble. He is the only thing standing in the way of your success. Just let me handle it. I will join the fight. He will not be a problem. At no extra cost to you."

The Count looked squarely at him. Client 24 made no movement of expression. One of the many advantages of having your face covered, Count Privilege thought. You can look like anything you want underneath the sunglasses and bandanna and hat. Anything.

Anything at all.

"I still only have to give you... that one mineral?" the Count asked. "Whatever you need it for, it had better be good. It's very hard to find, and very expensive. I'm losing money trying to find it. It's hard to get private scientists and miners and purifiers, and all that equipment."

Client 24 smiled under his black bandanna. The Count could see the motions his lips made under the cloth. "Don't you worry about a thing, Senator," he barked. "You will be rewarded for all of your hard work. That I guarantee you."

Count Privilege smiled then, the first real smile Client 24 had seen out of him that night. "And soon we will share in our reward. The Night Terror and his vigilante work will be dead. The crime business will be crushed when I expose them all. They'll be put in prison for life, and the ponies will be so happy that they'll elect me as mayor of Manehatten. We'll have Manehatten under our total control. I'll lead the city as the richest pony in Equestria, and you'll be a successful businesspony... with that other, strange element you need for some reason. Are you going to sell it?"

"Oh, no." Client 24 shook his head. "I have much better plans in place for what you owe me."

"I've held up my end of the deal." Count Privilege told him. "I've given you plenty of that... unpronounceable element. You still need to make sure all of the weapons get to where they need to be when I buy them and get them into Manehatten. So far, the guns haven't made it to all of their clients."

"Are you not even a little uncertain about this?" Client 24 asked him. "Have you truly thought about how dangerous this all could be? All those griffons and ponies down on their luck. If they decide to revolt against you..."

"Then I'll just take their money." The Count shrugged, then gave him a look. "But why are you asking this?"

"I simply wanted to know if you were truly prepared to advance with the deal. Are you certain you can handle things if something unexpected happens?"

"I'm absolutely certain I can. I am one of the most powerful ponies in the city."

"Next to the Night Terror?" Client 24 asked him.

"Don't ask that." Count Privilege gave a sharp intake of breath. "I wouldn't know what to do if he were to attack me."

The Night Terror smiled yet again. "I'll be there for you if he does." He stood up. "I think that's enough for tonight. They might get suspicious if you stay too long."

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you," Count Privilege muttered, though not enthusiastically. "Hopefully we can catch the Night Terror and end all our problems."

"We need a lot of luck with that. He's a phantom of the city. He seems to be everywhere at once. He permeates every private corner. He sees all. He hears all. He knows all. He's probably listening in on this conversation right now. He probably knows every word we have spoken. He's probably much, much closer than you think." His expression was unreadable under his bandanna and sunglasses.

Count Privilege's face was anxious and sweaty as he looked around the room, even though the room was biting cold. "You...did check the room for bugs beforehoof, right?"

"Of course I did," the Night Terror responded, all serious. "Nopony is listening in. I was joking."

The Count gulped. "I've never heard you joke before."

"I have to start somewhere." He shook his head in amusement. "Remember. The yacht will arrive at the harbor after hours. The guns will be delivered to the place I arranged. Now go. If you stay back here for longer than ten minutes, they think you'll either be banging a whorse again or making a secret deal with somepony. This has to be kept secret."

"I'll never say a word," the Count whispered, and he winked. He then picked up his briefcase with his magic and opened the door. As he left, he shot Client 24 a look. But the Night Terror motioned for him to leave, and Count Privilege left the small room.

The Night Terror leaned back in his seat, a small smile on his face under the black bandanna. "Oh, senator," he murmured in his normal voice- softly, calmly. "I almost feel sorry for you."

And he laughed. It was a haunting laugh because it was so brief and so soft and so hypnotizing, and the air dropped another few degrees.

Theorizing And Preparing

It was the day after the day Twilight and her friends had analyzed the scene of the crime.

Most of the girls had trouble sleeping after seeing the corpses strewn across the ground of the scorched warehouse. The bodies had been taken out of it for examination at the Manehatten Institute of Technology, one of the most prestigious places of scientific advancement in all of Equestria. The following day Twilight and the others ate breakfast and came to visit the laboratory at ten o' clock that morning.

Twilight and her friends were now in lab coats, at the Manehatten Institute of Technology located on the southern tip of the massive island of Manehatten. The laboratory itself was the size of a hoofball field, crowded with tables that were covered in objects like petri dishes, cotton swabs coated in griffon blood, microscopes, and pipettes of bodily fluids extracted from the crime scene. The room was a sterile white, with pure unfiltered white light from the overhanging fixtures reflecting off of the spotless whitewashed walls. At one end of the massive room, half a dozen ponies were crowded around a gun taken from a crate the griffons had, trying to dissect the weapon and see how it worked. On another wall was the body of a griffon who had been riddled with bullets and was ripped to pieces because of it.

Twilight and her friends were gathered around the body of the barely-recognizable griffon. Some of the more sensitive mares, like Rarity and Fluttershy, tried to hold their breath as an expertly trained medical unicorn used her magic to carefully, carefully lift a squashed brass cylinder out of one of the many wounds in the griffon's body. The bullet was the color of wet, raw clay, a result of being left in the body and soaking in the griffon's blood. The light green aura around the bullet shifted over to a spot under a nearby microscope and the aura settled the bullet down under the device.

"Let's clean off the bullet," Dr. Brainstem ordered the nurse. The nurse lifted a soaked cotton ball over to the bullet and rubbed the disgusting projectile down. There remained a bit of maroon staining in the crevices of the bullet, but it was otherwise clean.

Dr. Brainstem looked through the microscope with a scrutinizing eye.

"Whaddaya see? Huh? Whaddaya see?" Pinkie asked feverishly, bouncing all around the doctor. "Do you see any marks?"

"Pinkie! Be quiet!" Twilight ordered. "He's trying to do his work."

The doctor looked for a few more seconds, adjusting the bullet under the microscope as needed. Then he looked up. "It's as we feared. The logo on the bottom of the bullet matches the one found in the crate of weapons the griffons were carrying. The Night Terror and the griffons are getting their supplies from the same source."

"Looks like you were right, Applejack," Rainbow complimented her, slapping her on the back. "You figured it all out!"

"What does the logo look like?" Rarity asked. "I wonder if it has any beauty to it."

Dr. Brainstem shook his head in remorse. "It's a peace sign, Rarity. The worst possible thing that can be associated with such deadly weapons."

"Oh." Rarity's face fell. "My goodness. That's rather counterintuitive, don't you say?"

"Indeed." Dr. Brainstem looked through the microscope again. "But what's more interesting is that there are no hoofprints on the bullet anywhere. Undoubtedly, the Night Terror had to load the weapons into the gun in the first place, but he obviously did it with gloves, because there aren't any marks on the bullet other than the blood."

"Unless he loaded the gun with magic," came a hard voice. "Furthering my theory that the Night Terror was a unicorn." Case File came over to the work station and inclined his head. "Princess Twilight, I hope you're enjoying the Manehatten Institute lab?"

"I certainly am!" Twilight exclaimed, tapping her hooves together. "It's one of the most advanced labs in all of Equestria and I finally get to visit it!"

Dr. Brainstem chuckled. "The lab in Canterlot where we first made the guns was even more advanced than this," he told them. "I remember all of the advances we made...before the accident." His voice dropped. "And now the weapons I helped create are causing terror in this city," he whispered, and he turned away.

Twilight thought for a little bit. This would be a good time to ask about the initial invention of the guns. After five seconds, Twilight came next to the doctor. "Dr. Brainstem? Can you tell me about Bright Mind? The pony that first created the guns?"

Dr. Brainstem put a hoof to his chin in thought, his emerald eyes narrowing. "Bright Mind, you say? My goodness, that's a trip down memory lane."

"Please just tell us all you know," Twilight told him. "Anything helps."

Dr. Brainstem pondered before responding. "Bright Mind...was isolated. He wasn't the kind of pony that went out with other scientists on their parties on breaks. Sat by himself in the lunchroom. Pretended like nopony else existed or mattered to him. Focused completely on his work, never going home until everypony else was gone."

"So he was aloof? Mysterious?" Rarity asked for clarification.

Dr. Brainstem snorted. "Hardly. He was alone for a reason. None of the others really liked him all that much. They treated him with barely-concealed contempt."

"But why?" Fluttershy asked. "Nopony deserves to be bullied."

"It may have been that he was so much smarter than the other scientists," Dr. Brainstem theorized. "When you're smarter than other ponies, you stand out. And standing out makes you a target. A target for scorn and ridicule. Nopony likes ponies that are better than them. Whenever I saw the pony, he was being mocked by his coworkers because he was better than them. They liked to say he had a dirty mind instead of a bright one, and kept asking him, "Why are you thinking dirty thoughts? Don't you know scientists aren't supposed to think about that kind of stuff? Focus on your work, not on your dirty mind! Oh, right, nopony will want to bone you anyway. Those thoughts I know you have are all you'll ever get, so I suppose you'll have to enjoy them." One of their reasons for continuing their slander was, and I quote, "You're so smart. Figure out a way to stop us." Apparently you can be smart and incredibly thick-skulled at the same time." He shook his head.

"That...that's awful!" Rarity said to him.

"He was smaller and weaker than them, too," he continued. "It wasn't as though he chose to not hurt them back. He was physically incapable of it. In all my work experience, I never saw a more lonely soul. No friends to help him, because they thought he was arrogant enough to not make friends. But the only reason he never opened up to others was because he knew they'd just be in a position to hurt him further, to have him trust as a friend somepony who was in reality an enemy. I was in a separate part of the project, but when I saw him, he was either looking severely down or he was trying to work. He did it feverishly, like it was the only thing that mattered to him."

"But why?" Twilight asked.

"I don't know. But this went on for years, during which we were instructed to construct a weapon that could help easily defend Equestria from attacks. And all of a sudden two years into the project, he discovered an element called gunpowder, which is essential for a gun to function. After that, our project picked up speed. He became more and more isolated. The teasing grew at a more rapid pace. He stayed after work later and later. He practically lived at the lab, almost never going home. It became an inside joke of ours to talk about him. He was certainly the odd duck out.

"Finally, after six months of hard work, the first successful prototype of the weapon was assembled. Bright Mind was the one who had created it, because the other scientists he worked with were more than content to lounge back and let him do all the work for them. But after it was created and tested, the other ponies had reputably stolen his credit for it. He tried to tell them that, but they ignored him. He let them know that he had gotten so little credit for it when he had done all of the work, but they told him to shut up and let the big ponies work."

Dr. Brainstem wiped his forehead. "Then he exposed their fraud in front of everypony and denounced them as liars and thieves. And that night, as he went home for the first time in weeks, the ponies attacked him and beat him to a pulp. They bruised his gonads. Dented his skull. Gave him a scar across his face." He drew a line with his hoof from the top of his right forehead to the bottom of his left jawbone. The girls gasped in horror. "They spat on him. They knocked out a tooth. They broke two of his ribs. And they whispered, "What are you going to do about it? What have you learned? You've learned to stay out of our business." And they called his mother a Whorse, and laughed at him."

Twilight felt sick to her stomach at the descriptions. It felt terrible to learn about him, terrible to know the truth about the pony who had made the weapons in the first place. In a trembling voice she asked, "How do you know this?"

"I was the one that discovered him," Dr. Brainstem said morosely. "I took him back to the lab and patched him up. I did the best I could, but...the wounds stayed with him for the rest of his shortened life span."

"What do you mean?" Rainbow asked suspiciously.

"There was a period of time between the discovery of the weapon and the distribution of it to the military to use. During that time, Bright Mind came in to work as usual, but would not look at any of the coworkers that hurt him that night. He grew hard. Bitter. Cold. Silent.He worked harder than ever. He had that hideous scar on his face, but he never explained it to anypony who asked. "An accident," was all he said to questions as to how it happened. I have to say, I admire his courage."

"Courage?" Rarity asked incredulously. "If he had courage, he would have told somepony about it!"

Case File intervened. "And if he had told somepony, that would have told the bullies that he was weak, that he was too unstable to be worthy of being called strong. That he could not stand up to them without help. And it must have taken him some courage to not run and get help."

"The day before we distributed the early models to the military, Bright Mind was in his lab, locked in there alone with the storehouse of guns. And all of a sudden there was an explosion in his lab that ripped through the entire compound and killed him. When emergency crews got to the scene, we found Bright Mind's body. It was...burned and mutilated beyond my ability to describe it. It's so ghastly to recall. I felt such a pang of sorrow when I saw it. But when the body was shown to the others...well, they hid their pleasure well. I knew what they were thinking. I knew what they knew: that the annoying runt was no longer there to hinder them. I know for a fact that a few others, after work that day, went and got drinks to celebrate."

His voice grew hard, and dark. "I hated them for that. I hated them for treating another pony with such contempt. I resigned the next day in a fit of rage and moved to Manehatten after we discovered that the weapon stockpile had been pillaged. With two leading scientists on the project gone, and the weapons all looted and the pony who had taken them disappeared, the entire project had to be shut down. When that happened, the pony that had funded the project was furious. He didn't even know what he was funding in the first place because the details were to be kept secret, and when it shut down, he had lost hundreds of thousands of bits along with it."

"Who was the pony that funded the project?" Applejack asked.

A dangerous glint came into the doctor's emerald eyes. "The current head of the Committee of Internal Affairs for Manehatten. Count Rich Privilege, a pony with more bits than brain cells."

Case File looked at his watch and his scarlet eyes bulged. "I have to be somewhere," he whispered hurriedly. "I have to go. It'll close soon and I want to be there before it closes." He dashed out the door, flinging off his lab coat.

"Before what closes?" Rarity called after him, but he was already gone.

Dr. Brainstem shifted the work station over just a little. "He's just got an appointment. He didn't say anything about it, but you know how forensics experts are."

He gave a glance out of the window. The sunset lit the twin rivers on either side of Manehatten so it looked like a river of fiery lava. The sun itself was just above the torch held in the hoof of the Mare Statue on Equis Island, making the gold-plated torch look like it was really burning. The sun reflected off the glass-plated buildings, making it look like the whole city was burning, a dark foreshadowing of events to come with the Night Terror now on the loose in Manehatten. When the thought entered Dr. Brainstem's head, he rebuked himself silently for thinking such a jinxing thought.

"I think we should go to our apartment now," Twilight said after a lull in the conversation. "It's getting late, and we should be ready to work tomorrow."

"You do that," Dr. Brainstem said with a kind smile. "You're more precious than us. You need the sleep. We'll be wrapping things up here." He looked through the microscope again.

As the girls filed out, Dr. Brainstem looked out the window at the dusk sky, eerily apocalyptic in the bright orange color settling over the city. "May Celestia have mercy on this city," he whispered.

The Night Terror would strike again tonight. He just knew it, like it came naturally to him to know. There had been gaps in between attacks of about two to three days. And it had been two days since the griffons were found dead in the destroyed warehouse.

The Night Terror would surface again to wreak havoc tonight. He was certain of that. But where? He let his eyes travel around the city's many landmarks; Bridleway, the Chrystaller building, the Bronclyn Bridge. Where would he go? What would he do?

On the horizon, a small dot appeared on the ocean, unbeknownst to Dr. Brainstem. It was a private yacht, heading for the docks, which were about to close. It was loaded with weapons...and a special surprise for the ponies that would unload it at the docks.

The six girls and Spike returned their lab coats and goggles to the front of the desk where they came in. They then walked out of the massive building and onto the grounds of the laboratory. When the last pony, Applejack, filtered out of the lab, she asked Twilight, "Ah'ma guess we ain't goin' back ta our apartment, now are we, Twi?"

"No we aren't, Applejack," Twilight answered with determination. "We're keeping an eye out on the city tonight."

"What?!" Fluttershy exclaimed, leaping a foot in the air. "B-b-but the N-n-night Terror..."

"That's probably the reason we're staying out, Fluttershy," Rainbow patiently explained, flapping three feet in the air above their heads. "We're gonna catch this guy, whoever it is, and we're gonna kick his flank!"

"Well, maybe not in those terms," Twilight said, "But we are going to keep a watch for any suspicious activity tonight. Rainbow, I want you to patrol the skies above the city tonight and keep your eyes peeled for any loud noises or explosions. The Night Terror might show himself tonight."

"Twilight?" Rarity asked out of nowhere. "What was Case File late for exactly?"

Twilight craned her head to look at her. "Huh?"

"What was Case File so desperate to leave for?" she reiterated. "Was he going to leave somewhere for his forensics appointment, or was it for some other business?"

Twilight narrowed her eyes. "What are you suggesting?" she slowly asked.

"Nothing, Dahling. I was simply curious, that's all."

Unknown location

The Night Terror sharpened and loaded his weapons as he looked around the small space he was in. His body quivered with the anticipation of the fight ahead of him. He was like this every time he went out in the night. For it was in the night that he must operate. Nopony must see him. If they discovered who he truly was...well, he didn't want to think about what it would mean for him. So much of his life, undercut away from him in an instant, is what it would mean. So much work, so much secrecy, so much of his effort would be wasted if anypony...specifically, Dr. Brainstem or Count Privilege...found out the truth. He would be hated, and hunted to the ends of the planet.

But he loved it, the feeling of being almost caught. He loved the feeling of being a threat, of mattering to ponies who needed to recognize his power...

He smiled cruelly. Tonight blood would be shed. Tonight justice would be delivered. Swift justice. Fair justice.

Permanent justice.

He looked out of the small window next to him. Night was falling quickly. The sun had almost disappeared.

That was the signal for his game to begin. His game of warfare against crime.

He made sure all of his weapons were operational, then he sat cross-legged on the ground he was in. He settled down in the dark space and did his ritualistic breathing exercises. His calm before the battle. He whispered to himself, in such a calming voice.

Your anger must be cold. My anger is cold, and so I use it. Their anger is hot, and so it uses them.

I am stronger than them. I am faster than them. They are dangerous. But so am I.

I am the avatar of punishment. I am the angel of death.

I will never be weakened. I am free. My power has freed me.

He opened his scarlet eyes.

I am the Night Terror. I am the only power that really matters.

And every last traitorous soul shall bow in my shadow.

Author's Note

Okay, the next chapter will be an action chapter where the Mane Six confront the Night Terror. I promise. I swear on Big Macs.

The reason I didn't do it sooner is because I wanted to set up the story and characters and give an air of mystery to the whole thing. I'm just as pumped to write the action scenes as you are to read them. But hey, this means you'll come back for more, right?

I love you all and the support I get. Please consider reading my main story that I'm working on, A Rather Large Adventure. That could use some more attention than I have now.

The Attack

Amadeus, the top crime lord in Manehatten, tapped the wooden planks of the dock with a foot impatiently. Amadeus was bulky, large, and intimidating to be around. He was a black color with a short jagged mane and tail. There was a scar running from his right temple down to the base of his neck in a vertical motion, his most defining feature. Behind him were about twenty others who comprised his entourage- ponies and griffons alike, grasping weapons like wrenches, baseball bats strapped with barbed wire, and hatchets. One or two griffons even had guns in their talons.

It was dark and chilly; the sun had just gone down. His sharp eyes were looking out at the water's horizon, where a small silhouette was slowly approaching. It was the private yacht loaded with weapons that he had ordered from Count Privilege. Amadeus understood completely why it had to arrive by boat, of course. He wasn't stupid. With all of the attacks going on in Manehatten, everything was needed to be top secret and hidden, even more so than in normal circumstances without some creature of the night going out and killing criminals like himself.

Nopony had even seen him. All anypony knew about him was that he was the one killing off so many criminals. There was no description of him either; he left no survivors. No witnesses. Nopony to describe what they had seen. It was eerie.

His hand twitched thinking about this so-called Night Terror. Before he had appeared in the picture, everything had been going easily. Count Privilege had offered him new, innovative weapons that could kill more easily than anything he had seen before. The Count in turn had been supplied with these weapons by a mysterious pony identified only as Client 24. And nopony had heard of him before then, and nopony had seen what he looked like. But enter this Night Terror...and suddenly their lives were all in danger. The game had changed drastically. And so they had no choice but to arm themselves even more, and look to Client 24 for protection.

And Client 24 had risen to the task spectacularly. He had, for tonight, issued out four special devices called Rocket Launchers, objects capable of hurling an explosive with incredible range and accuracy. He knew that the Night Terror would show up tonight, since they were receiving more guns. And when he did show up, he'd meet four rocket launchers, ready to receive him, along with several of his griffons, who were the only ones physically capable of holding guns. They'd be swabbing the docks with his innards in the morning.

He had met Client 24 only once before. At the start of the secret deal between the corrupt Count and Client 24, he had been invited in to know what exactly was happening, and that he could trust the Count to not throw Amadeus in jail for buying illegal weapons. When he had met the shady client, he felt as though he had an ice cube run down his back. He just gave off an aura of coldness, all around him. He didn't know how he did it, but he knew somehow that there was something not natural about him. Something not real. Like he was some evil creature from the abyss of Tartarus, taking a pony form, except he did it so poorly that he could still sense that there was some kind of devil inside him that was only waiting for the opportunity to manifest itself.

And it was somehow rather cold now- much, much colder, in fact. And it got colder and colder as the yacht grew closer and closer to the docks.

Thump thump

Beside him, a pony shivered. "It's chilly out 'ere, in' it?" False Felony squealed out loud, rubbing his hooves together and blowing into them. False Felony was a seedy-looking character with stray hairs all over him and partially-dilated amber eyes. He was a tan color, with a dark brown mane. His teeth were sparse and crooked, and one of them was gold-plated. He was a professional con artist, though Amadeus sometimes wondered how he managed to sell anypony anything with his repulsive appearance and seedy way of talking. He despised him, but put up with him because he was rather profitable. But that would change soon, of course. His worth would come to an end.

Amadeus said nothing to the pitiful pony beside him.

"What the bleedin' Tartarus are we even doin' out 'ere?" False Felony complained. Amadeus groaned inwardly listening to the fool. "It's jus' a stupid cargo shipment, ain' it? Can't the bleedin' thing wait fer tomorrow?"

Amadeus let out a small exhale. "The cargo is too important to be unloaded in broad daylight," he explained in a deep, commanding voice. "It is not up to you to decide when or where the shipment arrives. Your job is only to deliver it to our base."

"Yeeah..." False Felony spat on the ground. "But we're the bleedin' leaders of crime 'ere! I gotta right ta know, ain't I?"

Thump thump

Amadeus's ears twitched. What was that sound? It was faint, but it seemed to grow closer. He tried to tune out the complaints of the annoying pony beside him and strained to hear the next noise. He kept his eyes on the sailboat drifting slowly to the docks. He could now see the individual ropes drooping from the top of the mast. The sails sagged; there was no wind to blow it. So whoever was piloting it was using the outboard motor to slowly maneuver it into the dock's space.

Thump thump

And indeed, the voice seemed to grow louder, just slightly louder, ever so slightly. The boat maneuvered into the space in front of Amadeus and False Felony. It floated gently for just a second before it tapped on the edge of the docks and bounced back a little. A few of Amadeus's underlings threw ropes onto the boat before it could drift away, and pulled the boat to the side of the wooden platform jutting out fifteen feet from the pier.

Once the boat was secure, Amadeus inspected the outside. It was about thirty or forty feet long and did not rise much above the height of Amadeus. There was no second deck, no pilot house- hay, as far as Amadeus could tell, not even a pilot at all. This was slightly unsettling to Amadeus as he scanned the long narrow boat for signs of life.

Thump thump

There was that sound again- but the boat had stopped moving. Was the outboard motor still running? Why hadn't the crew turned it off?

Or maybe it wasn't the outboard motor. Maybe it was something else.

Thump thump

And of course it was something else. The sound was muffled. It emanated from the insides of the boat like the heart of some hideous being, some kind of predatory monster that was waiting for anyone to enter near it and then snap its jaws shut and your life would be gone, it would be over in the snap of its claw.

Amadeus snapped his talon at the nearest four ponies that worked for him. "You there," he commanded them. "Inspect that boat and get our cargo out."

The four ponies nodded, though giving the boat a wary eye.

Thump thump

They gulped, but didn't want to risk upsetting Amadeus, so they steeled their resolve and boarded the boat. The boat listed slightly as the ponies boarded it, and one of them kicked the door to the inside open. They descended into the boat.

Descended into the belly of the beast, Amadeus thought.

Thump thump

The inside of the boat was dark; none of the lights worked. The four ponies looked around, gripping their weapons in one hoof each.

Thump thump.

"I'm scared," a mare whispered. "That sound...it's scary."

"Don't worry, Rosebud," a stallion smirked. "I'll protect you."

Rosebud slugged him in the arm. "Idiot," she muttered.

The stallion did not lose his smirk, but instead moved deeper into the confines of the cramped boat. The three other mares with them laughed and searched the boat in the darkness.

Thump thump.

The stallion, whose name was Game Player, felt, rather than looked, for the crates Amadeus needed. But he was less focused on the crate as he was on the other mares in the boat. He whistled out loud just thinking about them. They were curvy and sassy- just the way he liked them. He licked his lips just thinking about what he'd like to do to them once they were done here. He had had...colorful thoughts, to say the least, about all three of them.

There appeared to be a lot of blinking objects on the walls of the boat. They made a small blipping sound as they made their blinks. It was in this sparse light that Game Player moved and searched for heir target.

His shin bumped against a piece of wood and he swore under his breath. Peering closer, he discovered that it was labelled TOP SECRET DO NOT OPEN in bright red letters. He triumphantly used his crowbar that he held to pry open the top to try and make certain that it was what they were looking for.

The top snapped off after a bit of applied pressure, and Game Player peered inside. The crate was indeed filled with black rectangular Ls, exactly what Amadeus described their cargo as. Game Player leached inside and picked one up, turning it over and over.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump.

He turned, startled, and dropped the strange device. In a corner of the boat, sandwiched between two more crates, a pair of burning scarlet eyes looked straight at him. There was no other feature that stood out about it. Just a dark outline of burning, bright red eyes.

The pony to whom they belonged spoke to him softly, almost reassuringly. "You vermin," he spoke. "You detestable creature. You don't deserve to live. You've been sentenced to death."

It was his heart! The thumping was the sound of his hideous heart!

There was a small click as the Night Terror pressed a detonator. The blinking objects on the sides of the boat went out for just a moment. Then they broke loose their separate explosions, and the roar was the last thing Game Player would ever hear.

BABABLOOM!

The noise almost shook Rainbow Dash out of the sky. She fell for just a few feet before catching herself with her wings. Her eyes automatically traveled to the source of the noise, and her mouth fell open just a little.

There was a giant cloud of flame billowing up out of a boat at the docks. It stood out from the rest of the darkened skyline like a sore hoof. She could hear some screams in the distance, and a few lights in nearby buildings flicked on.

Rainbow wanted to help at the docks. Her entire being wanted to help the ponies in trouble. But she had promised to return to Twilight when she had heard something suspicious. And so, looking back at the docks, she sped off to their apartment building at maximum speed.

An eruption of flame and a massive roar came out of the boat, which suddenly cracked in half and just about capsized the low boat. The mast split in half like a pretzel stick, and the ball of flame that rose above the split boat was bigger than the boat itself. Amadeus and the rest of the entourage was thrown to the ground by the massive, concussive sound and the rumble under their feet that was bigger than any earthquake. Amadeus looked at the inside depths of the boat, which was slowly sinking in two burning halves into the depths of the docks.

They were dead. They had to be. Nopony could survive such an explosion. They had been sent to their graves. Amadeus's heart ached for the loss of his comrades, but he mostly felt a rush of fear. What had set off the explosion? Who had created it in the first place?

The answer hit him with obvious clarity. Who else would it be? It had to be the Night Terror. Now would be the time for the concealed ponies operating the rocket launchers to get them ready to fire. And he accordingly heard the shk-shk sound of the launchers being loaded, in the hidden positions the ponies were in.

As the burning wreckage sunk, the flames still licking up at the sky, a figure jumped ten feet above the wreckage, outlined by red by the fire behind him. It looked like the shape of an upright pony with a spiked mane and tail, with something long pointing out of his right front hoof. Out of his forehead jutted a long sharp object. He landed on the wooden dock jutting out of the concrete pier, squatting from the impact. His head looked straight at them, and from either side of him a massive pair of wings unfurled themselves, bigger than a normal pegasus's wings.

But there was something off about the wings. There was a sort of sheen to the feathers as well- almost reflective and sharp. The same quality existed on the pony's horn that stuck straight out of his head. His right arm snapped itself back, and the long object in his right hoof disappeared behind him. Burning wreckage rained all around him, the remnants of the boat.

Amadeus looked at the Night Terror, fifty feet away on the wide wooden dock. The Night Terror glared back with an equal ferocity. All Amadeus could see was his eyes embedded in his large silhouette. And oh, sweet Celestia...the eyes burned with an intense fire that radiated the promise of Tartarus to all he attacked. The red eyes narrowed.

Amadeus gulped and screamed hoarsely, "NOW!"

There came four separate swooshing sounds, and four red-tinged comets of flame screamed through the air at the Night Terror on the docks. One after the other, they slammed into the ground right in front of him or right into the Night Terror himself. The wooden docks he was on disappeared under the intense fiery explosions, and the Night Terror disappeared in the cloud of flame that billowed from the spot of impact.

All around Amadeus, several ponies and griffons cheered and screamed in victory at seeing their foe defeated. Smoke trails hung in the air from the trail the rockets had left. Amadeus got up, his legs shaking from the events that had happened in under a minute. He could still feel the rocking of the boom from the boat, which by now had completely sunk. Their cargo was gone, but the Night Terror was dead at last.

But as the flame died down, Amadeus had a chill run through him. The Night Terror was floating above the surface of the water. The massive pair of wings he had had folded themselves in front of the Night Terror, shielding him from the explosions. The wings didn't even look damaged from the massive impacts of the rockets, except for a residual burn on the edges.

And it was then that he realized that the wings were made of metal! That sharp sheen he had noticed on them earlier was because they weren't natural! They were made up of metallic feathers! And not one of them looked torn out of place from the damage they had inflicted on him! Whoever the Night Terror was, he had managed to create an artificial, indestructible pair of wings that he had obviously strapped to his body. Or he had put the extra pair of wings over the Night Terror's original wings, assuming he was a pegasus. And Amadeus knew that his horn was also just a blade attached to his forehead. While that detail meant that he was at least not an Alicorn, it did not make him any more comfortable with the Night Terror's appearance.

The wings held themselves in place for just a minute, then drew themselves out to the side, displaying their full wingspan. Drops of flame dripped off of the edges of the wings, giving him even more of a demonic appearance. The red unblinking eyes continued to look at Amadeus with a bestial ferocity. In the light Amadeus could see another detail about him: he had painted himself entirely black, either with ash or several coats of paint. Either way, when light threw itself onto him, the Night Terror could not be identified by sight alone. He just floated in the air with his metallic wings, drips of flame dropping off of his wings and into the water.

"My turn," came the whisper.

BANG

Twilight whirled around to see Rainbow Dash burst through the window to their apartment. She breathed heavily for a moment, just trying to catch her breath.

"Rainbow Dash?" Fluttershy asked, poking her head up from the book she had been reading. The rest of the girls swiveled their heads to look at Rainbow.

"Twilight!" Rainbow cried as soon as she caught her breath. "At the harbor- there was this explosion! The Night Terror's there! He's gonna kill somepony if we don't act quick!"

"Then we need to get there now!" Twilight declared. "We need to gather together now for a teleport, girls. No beauty sleep tonight. We haven't a moment to lose!"

Rarity grumbled, but reluctantly came near to Twilight as she charged her magic for a teleport.

The Night Terror reached with his right hoof to his flank and took something off of it. He held it at an angle to the ground and ignited the device he had taken off his flank.

BWOWWWWwww

A fountain of energy shot out of the device and solidified itself into a flat, white, four-foot long crackling blade of pure power. He whipped it up to his face in a mock salute, the blade making a low wubbing sound as it sliced through the air. Then he held it down and to the side, and sped forward faster than anyone could see.

Amadeus scrambled away before the Night Terror could reach him, and the Night Terror slammed into one pony who desperately tried to swing at him with a hatchet. The axe was knocked out of his hooves and skittered across the ground. The Night Terror took a massive swing with his sword, and the unlucky pony was cleaved in two across the diagonal. Both halves fell to the ground, sizzling and cauterized.

He then moved to the next targets. With one long swipe he sliced cleanly through three ponies at once, their limbs and what was left of their bodies falling to the deck. The blade made a sound similar to a type found in dubstep sounds; a deep, wavering sound that ebbed in a wubbbing noise. He twitched his wing, and a single bladed feather flew out of the back to hit a griffon clean in the throat that was sneaking up on him from behind. The griffon stumbled, then collapsed in a stream of blood.

A pony moved in front of the Night Terror and fired a crossbow at the dark murderer, but the Night Terror dodged the bolt by moving his head to the side, then jumped straight for him headfirst. The thin blade he had attached to his forehead acting as a horn sank into his chest with a sickening crunch, and both of them fell to the ground. The Night Terror extracted his horn from the pony's chest, making the pony scream in agony before he died. The Night Terror's bladed horn was now stained red and dripped with blood. He raised his head up, and some blood dripped off the horn onto his forehead above his eyes.

Three of the rockets fired at the Night Terror again. The Night Terror leaped above the missiles with his wings and the missiles flew into the dark inky waters of the harbor, then jerked his left arm at the hidden spots in the harbor. A red glowing projectile screamed at the spots where the missiles were being fired, and it detonated at the base of a cargo crane. A red blossom flowered at the base with the sound of thunder, incinerating a rocket launcher. The crane itself toppled over with an anguished scream of tortured metal and it crashed onto the docks.

The Night Terror fired another glowing red projectile at the gates leading out into the streets and it hit the corner of the street and the side of a building next to the gate. Debris burst out of the brick building and it collapsed, twisting the wire mesh gates into an impassible barrier. There was now no escape.

Another griffon ran as fast as his legs could carry him and tried to fly away, but the Night Terror intercepted him before he could get too high into the air. The griffon felt something grasp around his throat, instantly cutting off his windpipe. The griffon choked as he looked into the eyes of death itself. The eyes were the color of fresh blood, wild with rage.

The griffon saw the abomination swing his sword behind the griffon's back, and felt something bite into his flesh. It felt sharp, and so hot, so unbearably hot. It hurt him so much he almost blacked out. He could smell smoke, hurting his nostrils. And his back suddenly felt a lot lighter, like something was suddenly gone. He tried to flap his wings to get away, but for some reason his wings would not respond.

And then he registered why. The Night Terror had cut off his wings! He had cut them off!

A loose scream tore out of his throat, and the Night Terror smiled coldly at him. He relaxed his grip.

The wingless griffon plummeted to the ground three stories below him. He landed on his upper back, and he felt only a heavy jolt run through him before he died.

Pop came a noise to the side of the wreckage. And seven more figures appeared, with one of them being a baby dragon. Their appearance was unheeded by everyone, however.

Amadeus and False Felony looked up in terror at the nightmarish figure, the lord of death itself, as the Night Terror fired yet another bolt into a concealed spot. Another boom resounded forth, and the final two rocket launchers clustered in that spot were instantly incinerated. Most of the ponies and griffons had been killed by the explosions that had been fired by the Night Terror. But there were a group of five that spread themselves out so they weren't in one group ready to be killed. One of them was a griffon that fired one of the only guns at the Night Terror wildly, distracted by fear. But the Night Terror merely deflected the bullets with his metal-plated wings and pointed his left hoof at the griffon. A loud boom erupted out of the object in his hoof, and the griffon stumbled backwards with a screech, dripping blood from his stomach. He fired twice more at the griffon, and two holes appeared in his skull and shoulder. He collapsed and moved no more.

The remaining four ponies tried to scramble away, but the Night Terror, still floating in the air, trained his gun on all of them and a loud rapid-fire chattering filled the air. He ripped a line of fire across the docks, cutting across the paths of the four ponies and dropping them in their tracks.

The Night Terror turned once again to look at Amadeus. His eyes narrowed in amusement. In one hoof, a long object extended out, with a cylindrical sight on the top. In another hoof, a jagged bar of lightning crackled, making a deep, uneven hum. Beside him, False Felony trembled pathetically. He looked on the verge of peeing himself.

"Amadeus himself," the Night Terror whispered. Even though it was a whisper, Amadeus could still hear it as loud as if he had said it in his ear. He windmilled his white bar of humming power, making a deep fwub wubwubwubwub sound. "I have been looking forward to this for such a long time now."

"Kill me already!" Amadeus bellowed at the nightmare floating above him. "I'm no use to you alive! So kill me already! Do it now before your blood warms, so you can kill me in cold blood!"

The Night Terror chuckled. It was a haunting noise to hear, and it struck terror into all those that listened. "No, I don't think so," he murmured. "Not yet, at least. I have something special for you in mind." He fixed False Felony with a hateful stare. "As for him, however..."

False Felony yelped and, snapping out of his petrified stupor, leaped up and tried to run away. The Night Terror just coolly pointed his left arm that held a gun at the terrified criminal. The Night Terror fired.

False Felony flinched hard and closed his eyes, expecting a wave of pain to shoot through his body. But he slowly opened his eyes to find out that he was not in pain after all. Did the Night Terror miss?

But False Felony soon discovered why he had not been killed. Half an inch in front of his face was the bullet, with the promise of death on it, just hanging in the air. It was surrounded by a violet aura of magic.

All heads turned to see who had cast the spell.

Twilight Sparkle, surrounded by her friends, was looking straight at the Night Terror with a determined expression. The rest of her friends looked at him with similar faces, except for Fluttershy, who was hiding behind Applejack's tail. The Night Terror's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Twilight. He looked positively astounded. The aura coating the bullet cut off, and the bullet clattered to the ground.

"Surrender and lay down your weapons!" Twilight commanded the Night Terror in the fiercest tone she could muster. The rest of her friends nodded and got into fighting stances. "Or we will be forced to stop you!"

There was a silence. An uncomfortable silence, filled only by the snapping of the fires that existed all over the harbor. No party moved; not the Night Terror, not Twilight and her friends, not Amadeus and False Felony.

"Did you hear me?" Twilight asked the hovering terrorist after a moment. "I said, surren-"

"Duck," came the reply from the Night Terror, who snapped his long weapon to face Twilight.

Twilight gulped in fear. What did he mean? "For the last time, Night Terror," Twilight continued, not sure what else to call him, "If you do not lay down your weapons at once-"

"DUCK!" the Night Terror bellowed, and his voice was so sudden, so uncharacteristic about him, that Twilight instinctively obeyed. As she hit the deck, the Night Terror fired his long weapon with a BANG at a space behind Twilight. Something heavy dropped to the ground behind her, and Twilight wheeled around, still close to the ground. If he had shot any of her friends- Celestia forbid, if he had killed any-

But he hadn't. Directly behind Twilight was a griffon lying on the ground, with blood pooling out of a fresh wound in his chest. In one of his weak talons was a knife, aimed directly for Twilight's throat. Had the Night Terror not fired on him, Twilight would be dead, or at least seriously injured.

Twilight gasped in shock. The rest of the girls displayed similar emotions. The Night Terror had just saved Twilight's life. They all looked with amazement at the Night Terror, who was still hovering in the air as he flapped his metallic artificial wings.

Except for Rainbow Dash, who sped in between the Night Terror and Twilight. "Oh no, buddy. You want her, you gotta go through me!" she declared, putting up her hooves in a fighting stance.

Rainbow then remembered that he was bigger than she was, had a larger wingspan than she did, and had more weapons than she did. She saw that he had smeared himself with some kind of black material, paint or ash or something else entirely. She eyed the long gun in his left hoof and the lightning sword in the other. He would not be afraid to use them. He would not be afraid to kill. Rainbow, on the other hoof, had never killed anything before, and wasn't sure if she could now. She gulped in what she refused to admit was fear, and prepared to fight for her life.

The Night Terror looked from Rainbow to the figures of Amadeus and False Felony, still lying on the ground in front of Twilight. He looked back up at Rainbow's face. It was as if he was trying to make a decision.

And all of a sudden the Night Terror abruptly dropped three stories to the ground with a soft thud as he folded back his wings and ran away at a fast clip on his hind legs, which was not at all what they were expecting. Rainbow blinked in surprise before she cried, "Hey! Get back here, you!" And she sped off in pursuit of the shadow.

"Come on!" Applejack mustered to everyone else. "We gotta help Rainbow!" And she ran off after Rainbow and the Night Terror. Twilight paused for just a moment before running off after them as well.

Amadeus and False Felony watched them run off in pursuit. Amadeus looked at False Felony. "Come on!" he commanded him in a deep voice. "We need to leave now while we still can!"

And the two partners in crime scrambled away as fast as their legs could carry them. Neither one looked back.

The Night Terror was fast on the ground, but Rainbow was faster in the air. She managed to get in front of him and land about ten feet in front of the Night Terror, who skidded when he saw her. Then he abruptly sped up and jumped. He leaped clean over Rainbow Dash in a single great bound, somersaulting as he landed on the ground behind Rainbow. Then he continued to run.

Rainbow, slightly shocked at his physical prowess, sped after him again, flying close to the ground. The Night Terror had apparently discarded his long gun and put away his lightning sword, because he started now to run on all fours like a normal pony. He headed for the fallen wreckage of the crane that had fallen to the ground and jumped through the fire at the end of the fallen arm with no problem. He ran up its steeply slanting edge up to the remnants of the shattered glass pilot house.

Rainbow took to the skies again and flew to intercept again. She landed with a squat at the junction of the crane's arm and the tower it was on, cutting the Night Terror off. "Now I gotcha!" she cried triumphantly.

The Night Terror stopped his run up the crane's fallen arm and looked at Rainbow. He tilted his black-obscured head. Behind him, the rest of the girls had assembled at the end of the crane's fallen arm. He was trapped. He looked behind him, then back at Rainbow.

"I will not fight you," he told her softly, reassuringly. "I do not want to fight you. But if you get in my way I must remove you. Please get out of my way before I do something I'll regret."

"You're already gonna regret the day you were born, punk!" she told him fiercely. "You're not going anywhere! Now just give up now, and we might go easy on you!"

The Night Terror spread his wings and leaped off of the crane into the sky, catching everypony off guard. Twilight activated her horn, and the black shape of the Night Terror was suddenly encased in an aura of violet energy. He was paralyzed, unable to move in the air, as Twilight tried to bring him in.

"You...are going...to come...with us," she grunted as the pony was levitated over.

The Night Terror twisted his arm to face the slanting crane's body, aiming intentionally a foot in front of Twilight. Something long pointed out of his hoof. He fired his weapon at the crane's body, and a loud BANG and a sharp PING filled everypony's ears as the bullet struck the metal of the slanted fallen crane. The impact of the bullet was a foot in front of Twilight, who yelped in surprise and cut off her magic.

Now free, the Night Terror shot off into the air, and in a second he was a hundred feet in the air. "You'll never take me in alive," he called down to them. The voice was so soft, and so quiet, but they could all still hear him clearly for some reason. "I will never surrender."

And he blasted off into the sky at an unforeseen speed. In fifteen seconds he was gone.

Rainbow tried to go after him, but was restrained by Twilight's magic. She grunted with effort as she tried to get free of the aura binding her. "Hey! Twilight! Let me go!" She struggled some more. "I'll get him! Let me go!"

"No, Rainbow!" Twilight cried. "If you go after him alone, he'll kill you! He's already gone!"

Rainbow looked up at the dark sky, fogged by smoke rising from the flame surrounding her. There was no sign of the Night Terror anywhere. And she belatedly recognized that Twilight was right. If she were to go up into the sky, alone, at night, in the foggy smoke, against a trained and experienced killer, there would be no way she could survive. And even worse, if she were to die, her friends would be completely devastated. They would lose their Cutie Mark bond holding all of them together without even just one of them. She would ruin herself and her friends, all if she would lose herself in a moment of heat.

It took a moment for her to realize this, and even longer to accept it. Finally she stopped struggling and let herself relax. Twilight settled her down, and her magic cut off. All six of them looked up at where they had last seen the Night Terror rise into the sky. How had he disappeared so quickly?

Twilight remembered how terrifying he had looked, and yet how he had saved her life. He didn't have to do that. He was perfectly content with taking life. And yet he had chosen to save her. Why? Did he have some future use for her that made it necessary to spare her for now?

All around the harbor, flames of all sizes sputtered and flickered on damaged boats, loading cranes, and concrete slopes. Bodies lay strewn all over the place, in various degrees of harm. Smoke made the air thick, and some of the girls coughed hard as they inhaled some of the smoke.

Why had the Night Terror attacked? Who even was he?

What had he accomplished?

Authorities begun to arrive on the scene after a moment or two of reflection. They broke into the scene as if flooding it. As newspaper journalists began to snap pictures, police ponies began to secure the area, and firefighters begun to attach hoses to fire hydrants to put out the fires, a reporter came up to the six girls. "Princess Twilight! You were at the scene of the crime! The Night Terror has undoubtedly struck again. Tell us, who was it that made these attacks? Did you see his face?"

Twilight didn't answer.

"Princess Twilight?" the reporter asked again eagerly. "Did you see him? Who was it?"

Twilight finally turned around. "It's even more serious than we thought," she spoke. "But...I don't know what to do about it..."

And nopony else did either.

Author's Note

A sweet, sweet fight scene! And the story deepens!

Sorry if the ending kinda stinks. I didn't know how to properly end that scene.

I love you all and the support you all give by commenting and liking. You guys are awesome!

Captured and Afraid

The world was black and fuzzy for Twilight when she first opened her eyes. She couldn't make out most of her surroundings at first, and noises, slightly distorted, floated past her. She blinked groggily and opened her eyes. After a minute or so of blinking, she was able to see where she was.

She was in a small room made entirely out of metal. No windows let light in. She was lying on the cold metal floor with her hooves tied, her wings bound, and her mouth gagged. The knots were so tight they hurt her. Scattered across the floor were the rest of her friends and Spike, all tied and gagged. She could not see if they were awake as well, but they weren't moving all that much.

Twilight blinked eye crud out of her face for a moment and activated her horn. Using her magic, she loosened the ropes around her face and wings. They fell to the floor like discarded garments. She stepped out of her loosened bonds on her hooves, and stood up uneasily.

She came over to Rarity, who was starting to stir as well. Twilight used her magic to remove her bonds and tossed the ropes and cloth aside. She bent over her and shook her shoulder. "Rarity. Rarity, it's me, Twilight."

"Twi... light..." Rarity put her head up, blinking away her former state. "Where are we?" She looked around the room in apprehension. Her eyes spotted the rest of her friends lying on the ground, and her eyes bulged. She scooted backwards into Twilight, who held her up. "What happened, darling? I-I remember being hit rather hard, but..." She shook her head. Then she sat up suddenly. "Case File! What happened to Case File, Twilight?"

The memory came back with startling clarity. Twilight, holding Case File in her hooves, trying in vain to reassure him that he was going to be okay. Him trying to reach for her face, the look of hurt he had on with the bullet buried deep inside the flesh in his side. The slick, awful feeling of his blood as she staunched his wound. The life dying in him as another bullet found itself in between his eyes, him falling lifelessly to the floor. It made her sick, reliving the grisly, terrible memory.

She looked at her hooves. They were a dark maroon color, still stained with Case File's blood. It was hard, and had cracked in places. "Case File's dead." It was only after she had said the words that she recognized the fact. Case File was dead! Her colleague trying to find Ironheart, who could potentially even be Ironheart, the pony that took charge of the entire investigation, was now dead!

Rarity took an inhale of pain. "And we accused him of being the terrorist. It was the last thing we ever talked to him about. We... we left him feeling mistrusted, and he never got a chance to explain himself..."

Twilight felt even more awful than ever after hearing that.

The rest of the girls were stirring now. They were shaking themselves slowly, and making low groans, muffled by their gags.

"Help me get them out," Twilight told Rarity. She nodded in reply, and they spent their time releasing the rest of their friends with their magic. At last, once all of them were free and steady on their hooves, the talking started.

"Ah feel absolutely awful," Applejack moaned. She cricked out a spot in her back. "That hurt more than gettin' hamstrung by a Timber Wolf."

"Would it kill them to wash the bag they used for me?" Rainbow grumbled, scratching her face. She stuck out her tongue. "I can still taste it."

"P-please d-d-don't talk about k-killing," Fluttershy whimpered, settling herself on the ground and curling up in a ball. "I-I-I've had enough!" She started to sob. Pinkie laid herself next to her and began absently to pat her on the back reassuringly. Rainbow shut her mouth instantly.

"Were we right, girls?" Twilight asked, looking around.

Nopony replied at first, then Rarity said, "I think we shouldn't have outright accused him." She tilted her head. "Whatever do you mean, were we right? Do you mean is it right now that he's dead?"

"No! Never!" Twilight shook her hooves. "Especially since we don't know if he was even innocent or not!"

"If Dr. Brainstem was tellin' the truth, Ah'm sure Case File would've corresponded with 'im," Applejack affirmed. "There wan't any reason fer 'im ta lie ta our faces, was there?"

Twilight slowly nodded. "But now we'll never know for sure." She looked around at the room. "Where are we, anyway? I remember a griffon..."

"Those criminals!" Rainbow exclaimed all of a sudden, flapping three feet in the air. "They foalnapped us! Twilight, you gotta get us out of here! Use your freaky magic or something!"

"I can't just go blasting through walls!" Twilight pointed out defensively. "What if I hurt somepony?"

"Twilight, the only ponies you'll be hurting will be the ones that foalnapped us in the first place!" Rainbow exploded.

There came the chattering sound of a door sliding open, and a voice they recognized said, "How right you are."

It was the griffon that had shot Case File. He was leaning on his rifle, smirking at the cargo he had brought in.

"Princess Twilight," he said, as if he was speaking to a delicious meal placed in front of him. "Amadeus would like a word with you."

They were led at gunpoint by the griffon sniper through the tunnels. They varied at intervals, changing from metal, like the room they had woken up in, to brick and mortar, to mere cloth and wood nailed into the flimsy cardboard walls. They were at one point circular, like a tunnel, and at other times it was rectangular. It made Twilight dizzy trying to remember where they had gone. Trying to memorize their routes in and out was therefore out of the question.

The ground was always wet. There were small puddles to the sides that stank with an awful smell of stagnant water and what Twilight heavily suspected was urine. Pipes, as thin as a finger, ran overhead, dripping where they weren't connected well. A drop would land on Twilight's head from time to time, and she tried to ignore it and stay silent. She didn't want to give the griffon behind her any reason to be annoyed.

Rarity, however, was under no such restraint. She made periodic complaints about how much it stank where they were, how hot the air seemed, how it would ruin her mane, and other snippy comments to the side.

After what seemed like forever, they came to a sealed steel door with a circular lock in the middle of it. The griffon pushed his way to the front and twisted the lock. It popped with a click, and the door loosened its grip. The griffon swung the door open with a heavy grunt and ushered them all in without another word. When the last pony, Rainbow, had been ushered in, the griffon sniper shut the door behind them and twisted the lock on the other side.

The room they entered was more spacious than any room they had seen thus far in Manehatten, with the exception of the Manehatten Institute of Technology. It was at least thirty feet high. On the walls were shelves filled with various trophies taken from a long career of crime-- a tattered and torn cape, a golden idol, a priceless jewel, and a scepter with a top shaped suspiciously like Twilight's head.

Banners hung from the ceiling, ornately decorated and colored, which Rarity kept her eyes on while they walked down the room's single aisle. Tables and chairs were scattered all about the room. Keeping out of their way were about fifty ponies and griffons alike, in tattered and torn clothing, looking seedy and dangerous with scars and missing teeth as they leered at the ponies and the baby dragon that had just entered. They were playing cards and pool.

At the far end of the room was a low chair with plush cushions on the back and seat. Sitting in it, hunched over, was a griffon they all recognized immediately by the deep scar on the side of his head. It was the griffon they had seen at the attack on the docks.

And next to him was another seedy-looking pony that Twilight also recognized at once. It was the pony whose life she had spared. That pony glared at all of them as they came close and nudged the black griffon in the chair. " 'Ey! Amadeus!"

Amadeus looked up and saw Princess Twilight and her friends right in front of him. He gave a smile. "Ah. It's you."

And Twilight felt a rush of fear, and apprehension. This griffon, the one bent over examining some points on a graph, had hired the griffon sharpshooter to kill Case File! He worked for him! This Amadeus had killed Case File!

"Sir?" the griffon sharpshooter interrupted. "I think you owe me something."

"Shut up," Amadeus glibly said. "I'll talk with you later. I have more important guests to entertain."

The griffon sharpshooter licked his lips again and stepped back, looking a little miffed.

Amadeus settled his chin in his hands and examined Twilight and the others curiously. "Princess Twilight..." he softly said, as if to himself. "I never thought I'd see the day when I would entertain a princess." He stood up. They could see a sidearm holstered at his side. "I am Amadeus, the head of organized crime in Manehatten. What brings the Elements of Harmony to my fair city?"

"Ah think ya already know what we have ta say," Applejack bluntly put out. "We want ta be set free, fer goodness' sakes!"

Amadeus was silent for a bit, then spoke. "I promise, my intentions are only mutually beneficial. I have noticed that you worked on the case of the Night Terror. I also noticed that you spared the lives of me and False Felony, to the side here. And so I instead have a proposition to make."

"And what proposition would that be?" Rarity demanded. "I can't imagine striking a deal with a criminal." She "Hmmph"ed and turned her face away.

"I can understand that. You're apprehensive, and you want to be free. But the fact of the matter is, what will you do if I do decide to release you? Keep quiet about me and the rest of my motley crew? No, Princess Twilight, you will order us arrested instead. I can provide you with some bits of information I think you'd be happy to learn about."

"What are you suggesting?" Twilight slowly asked, tilting her head up a little bit.

"You and I exchange information. If we figure it out together, we can ascertain if Case File's death was in vain or not."

Twilight almost blurted out, It doesn't matter for someone like you! You killed him before you knew! And now we'll never hear it from his mouth, we'll never know for certain! But she nodded outwardly. "And if we exchange all we know..."

"Then you and your friends can go free. I will allow you to return to the surface, and we will not pursue you."

Rainbow looked uncertain. "And if we decide not to..."

Amadeus looked at Rainbow squarely. "The only way back up to the surface is if I allow you to," he replied. "If you do not comply with my wishes, you will stay down here until you do."

Twilight knew better. She could blast her way out of here if she really wanted to. There would be nothing to stand in her way. But in order to placate the leader of crime, and to make it so he would not pursue them after they broke out, she slowly, slowly nodded. "Fine."

"Twilight!" Rarity looked shocked. "Are you seriously getting along with this--this criminal?"

"I think it's for the best, Rarity," Twilight gravely said. "We can continue our work this way."

"You got any cake?" Pinkie asked suddenly.

Amadeus looked a little jolted by the out-of-nowhere request, but he shook his head. "Sorry, Element of Laughter. No cake down here." He sat back down.

"Oh." Her face fell.

Twilight fixed Amadeus a look. "Tell me, Amadeus, apart from the attack on the harbor, have you ever actually seen the Night Terror?"

"No, Princess Twilight." He shook his head morosely. "I had only heard about him from the newspapers." He leaned forward intently. "Have you?"

"No." Twilight said. "We've been trying to ferret out where he was and what he was doing, and why. But he leaves very little trace of his actions. Not any kind of hoofprints, or stray hairs, or skin flakes, or scraps of cloth. Nothing."

"That is interesting..." Amadeus stroked his chin. "It is pertinent we ascertain how he does it all. Has he left nothing else?"

"Weeelll," Pinkie interrupted. "He did leave behind a very threatening message at the harbor saying how 'every traitorous soul shall bow in my shadow' and that his name was Ironheart." She shrugged casually.

Amadeus's eyes got noticeably wider, and he sat up straighter. "Ironheart?" he whispered. "That is disturbing. Most disturbing indeed."

Twilight had a stroke of an idea then. She knew that Ironheart, whoever he was, and the griffons alike had been buying their weapons from the same source. If she could find out who had been supplying them, she could track down the supplier and talk to him. She could then find out who else he had been supplying weapons to, and from there she could track down Ironheart. In a friendly tone, she asked, "Have you noticed any, um, similarities between the weapons the two of you use?"

"Explain." Amadeus looked concerned.

"Ironheart uses bullets with a peace symbol inscribed into the bottom. And we compared that with the bullets you've ordered. They also have a peace symbol. So we think that both Ironheart and you have been getting your weapons from the same source."

Twilight immediately knew she had said the right thing. Amadeus jolted in his seat, and the room, full of idle chatter before, fell silent at once. The disbelief was in the air, so real it felt like you could reach out and feel it in the air. Nopony moved or said anything once Twilight had finished.

Amadeus's leg shook, and he buried his face in his palms. "We've been played," he whispered, indiscernible to the others. "We all have."

"We would like to know who your supplier is," Twilight continued. "It's the only way we can catch him."

Amadeus took his face out of his hands and stared at Twilight incredulously, mixed with shock. "If only I could..." he whispered. "What'll you do to him?"

"Talk ta him," Applejack said. "And hopefully try ta convince him ta shut down the market."

"Trust me, you want to believe her," Pinkie told Amadeus. "If there's anypony you can trust to tell the truth, it's her."

Amadeus didn't say anything for a long time. He just kept looking at the ground. Finally he let out a soft whisper. "Client 24."

"Huh?" Rainbow demanded.

"That's the only name he has," Amadeus clarified. "And he's made a deal with another pony. This other pony buys weapons from Client 24 and sells them to me. And with his profits, this business partner gives Client 24 support for a project he's working on-- a project to make even more destructive weapons. The only complication is that with this Ironheart out destroying shipments and killing the ponies accompanying them, this other business partner's lost enormous amounts of money. I can only imagine how the Night Terror must feel, shorting out the supply of the very tools he uses. He's either being duped, or he's the one truly in control."

Applejack and Twilight exchanged looks. They knew now how things worked. Client 24 was the real threat, not the Night Terror. Ironheart was just a pawn in the game Client 24 was playing. But how? What did Client 24 benefit from it all?

"But do you know who the business partner is?" Fluttershy asked politely.

"That's confidential information," Amadeus responded brusquely. "Classified."

"Beggin' yer pardon, mister Amadeus, but at this point, nuthin's classified anymore." Applejack told him. "We gotta know everythin' about this."

"I believe it's time for you to give some information to me now," Amadeus cut her off. "What requirements does the Night Terror need to satisfy?"

Pinkie shot her head up. "Well, we can say that we know whoever Client 24 is, he's a pony that worked at the laboratory where the weapons were first developed. He must have been somepony who really hated Bright Mind."

Amadeus looked confused. "Who?"

"Bright Mind was the name of the scientist that created guns in the first place," Twilight explained. The rest of the room was all listening with genuine interest. "What makes you think that, Pinkie?"

"Well, how else would you explain it?" Pinkie said. "I mean, he stole all of the credit for his invention, but Bright Mind exposed him. He must have really hated that. And after Bright Mind went KABLOOEY!, that pony must have felt like now was the time for him to take advantage of the situation. He could have stolen the weapons, feeling like it was the way to take revenge on Bright Mind."

All the mares stood with open mouths, staring at Pinkie. It wasn't often that she came up with an idea that was actually useful and not... well, normal for Pinkie.

Twilight was the first to speak, flabbergasted. "Pinkie? That was..."

"Yes?" Pinkie asked casually.

"Smart!" Twilight shook her head. "I can't believe it! You thought of something I completely overlooked!" She started to pace. "It makes sense! Client 24 could be somepony that bullied Bright Mind in the past, and stole his invention to claim responsibility for such a terrible invention! And he could get rich off of it on the side! It's a perfect hypothesis!" Twilight got excited, tapping her hooves together. "Now all we have to do is call up Dr. Brainstem and see who worked alongside Bright Mind so we can narrow it down!"

"I honestly have no idea of what you're talking about," Amadeus interrupted. "But it seems you don't know who it is."

"We definitely know who it wasn't!" Rarity exclaimed, getting in close to Amadeus. "We know it wasn't Case File! Which you, by the way, decided to kill!"

"I did not kill him," he responded. "Client 24's partner was the one that ordered his execution."

"And you went along with it?" Rarity demanded. "You allowed an innocent pony to be killed!" And as soon as she said it, she knew it was true. So did the other girls, who all suddenly realized their initial suspicion was incorrect, that it was somepony else.

"And now we know for certain that he was not the Night Terror," Amadeus responded coolly. "And even if he was, his hideous work would have stopped. Sometimes it's necessary to sacrifice a single piece in order to win the game."

But before Rarity could continue, a meek and timid voice spoke in place of hers. A voice that got progressively more aggressive.

"He... was... INNOCENT!" Fluttershy screamed. The girls recoiled and made way for the angry pegasus to have room. Fluttershy flapped up to Amadeus, outrage etched in her face. "It's never okay to kill innocents just because you have a suspicion that they might be a threat! What if that happened to you? If you were hunted down just because somepony decided you might maybe be a danger, would you see the big picture then? Would you be okay with being killed if it meant somepony else could be absolutely certain about something? Would you see the big picture, that your death was meaningless, and just accept that it was 'for the greater good?' No! You wouldn't!"

SMACK

Fluttershy flew backward, a bright red mark on her cheek where Amadeus had slapped her. She thudded on the ground, making a pitiful sound. She curled up in a ball, took a few short ragged inhales, and cried. She wrapped her mane around her and sobbed into it, making the most anguished wails the girls had heard.

Twilight immediately charged her horn, but Amadeus, fast as a whip, snapped the sidearm out of the holster at his side, aiming directly at Twilight's horn.

"We'll see which is faster," he told her. He cocked the gun. All around the six girls, the assembled ponies and griffons gathered around in excitement to watch the showdown.

Twilight looked from her horn above her head to Amadeus's finger, resting on the trigger. She wouldn't be fast enough to fire her spell. She knew it by just looking at it. Reluctantly, seeing Amadeus's finger twitch, she relaxed her horn's power.

Immediately there came a host of ponies and griffons alike into the group of six, grabbing limbs and holding them in place. Twilight and her friends resisted, but there were just too many. Twilight and her friends were held down by the full force of Amadeus's cohorts.

"I think that's all we're going to get out of them for now," Amadeus lazily said. "Take them back to their cell until tomorrow."

"No!" Rainbow struggled harder. She saw Fluttershy weeping on the ground, and was filled with rage against Amadeus. There were four small points on her cheek that were dribbling out small droplets of blood, from where he had made contact.

Amadeus had drawn blood from her closest friends.

Pulling hard, she yanked her arm free of the grasp of a pony and slugged him in the face. She then twisted away and punched a griffon in the gut, making him double over and drop the long curved saber pressed to her throat. Rainbow caught it in her teeth and spun, creating a wide circle in the middle of the group.

Amadeus pointed his sidearm at her, but found it yanked out of his grasp by a lavender aura of magic. The gun snapped itself in half and fell to the ground. Twilight had also broken free of her restraints, and was now staring down Amadeus with a hateful look. Rainbow Dash, right beside her, angrily clutched the saber in her teeth, the point directed straight at Amadeus's throat. The ponies and griffons fell back; Amadeus was in the line of fire, too close for them to attack.

Amadeus looked taken aback, looking at the two mares that were closing in on him. He was backed up against the back wall, next to an emergency exit. Then, incredibly, he smirked. "Well, this just turned itself upside down, didn't it? But even with this rather interesting turn of events, I still win. You have me cornered. But what now?"

"I should kill you," Twilight grunted through gritted teeth. Her horn charged again, humming with dangerous power. "I will kill you."

Amadeus laughed. "Then, Princess Twilight, you would prove yourself a hypocrite to the agenda you push as Princess of Friendship. If you kill me now, you abandon tolerance and love. Your hooves will be stained with my blood. You will be the one responsible for the death of another. Would you qualify as a proper friend then?"

Twilight looked down at her hooves, still brown with old blood, Case File's blood. How could she do it? How could she take the life of someone else, even Amadeus?

Amadeus sneered at Rainbow Dash next, the saber still tightly clenched in her teeth. "And you, Rainbow Dash. There's nothing stopping you from protecting your friends, is there? There's nothing to stop you from killing me. Go ahead. Do it. You'd be hailed as a hero by everyone." He took a sideways glance at Fluttershy, still lying on the ground. "Well, almost everyone."

The saber dropped down, just a bit. Rainbow's eyes widened, and she realized that she still hadn't killed anypony yet in her life. Would she start now?

Amadeus reached behind him and hit the release for the door. It chattered open with a clinking of chains, and it opened into a dark abyss beyond. "Now let's ramp up the pressure. If you cannot decide who will kill me first, I escape, and you will be left at the mercy of my lovely associates here. And even if you do kill me, what about them?" He indicated the ponies and griffons still in the room. He laughed again. "No option is harmless now. You made it that way, didn't you?"

Rainbow glanced at Twilight. Twilight glanced at Rainbow. Neither of them wanted to strike first. But there was a mutual understanding between them. They could not let Amadeus escape. They could not surrender, either. Something had to be done. Steeling their resolve, they both looked at Amadeus again.

Twilight charged her horn. It sparked and crackled with energy.

Rainbow adjusted the saber in her teeth.

"Come on, then!" Amadeus laughed, and stood on his hind legs. He spread his arms out wide. "Which of you is going to do it? Which of you is going to go first and prove yourself to be a cold-blooded killer?"

Cold-Blooded Killer

Rainbow's blood boiled. He had the gall to think she was being cold-blooded by defending her friends? What other option did she have? She got ready to thrust the saber into his throat.

But even as she prepared, she knew that she couldn't. Even to a griffon like him, she couldn't bring herself to summon up the willpower to do it. He was right! What would her friends think of her if she did something like that?

Twilight was on the verge of firing a deadly laser at the leader of crime. She was telling herself, This is the right thing to do. If I don't kill him, we'll be killed ourselves by his confederates. He can't live.

And yet she didn't fire. Amadeus was right. If she killed anyone-- even him-- wouldn't that mean she had failed? What would Princess Celestia say if she found out her protegee had committed a cold-blooded murder? If Amadeus had been killed--by her--on purpose?

The laser building up, however, was becoming too much for her to keep inside of her. It was almost going to fire. She strained against its power, but it was almost going to be unleashed. She let out an anguished cry of determination to keep it inside of her.

Rainbow saw this and readied the saber again, summoning once again the courage she needed. She couldn't let Twilight kill Amadeus. She would do this for her. She would strike first. She would save her friend.

The griffon sniper licked his lips satisfactorily, adjusting the angle of his rifle at the back of Rainbow's head, ready to fire.

False Felony grinned malevolently, showing his rotting, yellowing teeth.

Applejack struggled against her captor's grip more fervently than before. Pinkie was doing the same.

Fluttershy looked up at Amadeus with a look of pure outrage written all across her face, red and swollen from her crying and the slap he had given her. She inhaled and exhaled with furious strain as a scowl came onto her face.

Amadeus, in front of the opened door leading out, looked smug at the indecision on both of their faces. He had a triumphant look of satisfaction on his harsh, scarred face.

CRUNCH

And Amadeus let out an anguished cry of surprise and pain, and the six mares and the baby dragon gasped in horror. Protruding from his left lung was three inches of a slim, bloodstained blade. It had entered from the back, going straight through his heart.

A waterfall of blood cascaded down his front, soaking the black feathers on his torso. Amadeus squirmed and struggled, but weakly, and slowly. Finally his limp body stopped moving, and the blade slithered out with a small whistle.

Amadeus dropped to the ground, pooling in his own blood. Behind him was the cold-blooded killer.

The Night Terror, coated in that black substance, had his head bowed. His bladed horn dripped with Amadeus's blood. His wings, sharp and bladed, extended outward. And his eyes... They were filled with bestial fury. They were the devil's eyes.

"Get away!"

The command was harsh, and guttural, and deep, and it caused pain to all that feared him. The room instantly dropped twenty degrees. Twilight's magic shut off like a blown candle.

"IT'S HIM!" someone screamed in fright. A pony instantly ripped a grenade off a bandoleer around him and circled his arm. The small sphere sailed through the air towards the Night Terror.

The Night Terror made no movement except reach out with one arm. He caught the grenade and held it against his chest to shield Twilight and Rainbow from the explosion. And with a massive BOOM, it detonated in a fireball.

Rainbow and Twilight fell backward. The Night Terror was now enveloped in flame all over his body. His wings and horn were among the parts on fire, and he looked like an effigy sacrificed to some abominable god.

But as Twilight and the rest watched with horrified fascination, they noticed that he was not dead, unharmed by the fire somehow. He just stood there on all fours, tall and fearsome, burning like a bonfire. Smoke rolled off of him in clouds of darkness. The room did not move, but instead collectively watched the demon that had escaped Tartarus.

"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH THEM AGAIN!"

It was a feral, malevolent roar that came from the throat of the devil himself, thundering with the force of a volcano.

Someone made the mistake of opening fire. He immediately jumped over the heads of Rainbow and Twilight, who instinctively ducked, and he flicked his flaming wings. With several shrieking whistles, fiery flaming feathers found themselves in the bodies of several criminals next to him, who let out anguished screams. The Night Terror had leaped at the stomach of the griffon that shot him and sunk his flaming bladed horn to the forehead into his chest. They both fell to the floor with a thud, and the Night Terror, with a swing of his head, ripped his horn out of the griffon's body with a terrible crunch.

He spread his fiery wings again. He was now protecting Spike, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie, and Fluttershy, who was still curled up and whimpering in fright. All around him, several griffons started to shoot at him, but they mostly impacted on him. The griffons that had the feathers fired into them lay groaning in pain on the ground at his hooves.

They were still alive!

The girls scooted back in fright, Spike holding on to Rarity. The Night Terror still held out his bulletproof wings, seemingly oblivious to the bullets impacting on him. The griffons, obviously confused and frightened, just kept pouring fire on him until he rang like a snare drum with the metallic pings all over his body, still blazing like an inferno.

And then, suddenly, the air was filled with tiny clicks as the guns ran out of ammunition and they continued to click the trigger anyway. They desperately began to fumble for extra bullets.

"My turn."

He raised his hoof and a glowing red projectile screamed out of his hoof and slammed into a group of ponies gathered together. They disappeared in the fiery flower, and the air shook like a drunkard.

Twilight instantly felt a pair of talons grasp themselves around her neck, inexorably closing themselves so quickly Twilight could not focus enough power to free herself. Out of the corner of her fuzzy vision, she saw Applejack try to pry her loose from the griffon holding her, but the griffon gave her a heavy backhand and Applejack went sprawling.

"You're coming with me," the griffon hissed in her ear, dragging her towards the still-open door the Night Terror had come through. "Best to salvage all we can." His breath was stale, and smelled of tuna fish.

Twilight struggled, but her windpipe was slowly, slowly getting crushed, and she couldn't get loose and she couldn't breathe-

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"

BANG

And the griffon's grip relaxed all of a sudden. Twilight gasped in relief and pulled herself away. She was initially confused until she looked up and saw the griffon sway a little, a hole in his forehead dribbling blood. The hole in his head was so clear Twilight could see through it and see the opposite wall. He teetered to the ground, and Twilight was now free.

Twilight whirled around. It was the flaming deity pointing at the space the griffon's head had been. It was the second time her life had been saved by the Night Terror.

"Put up a shield, Twilight!" the Night Terror commanded her. Twilight instantly obeyed his directions, out of fear and desperation, with her magic.

He ripped something off of his flank and held it out to his side and triggered the device. A loud BwowWw emanated from it and a meter-long jagged blade of white electricity surged out. He then lunged towards the nearest griffon and cleaved him in two with an incredible cut. He fell to the floor, smoking from where he had been cut in half.

Everyone took that as a sign to retreat. They were scrambling towards the door Twilight and her friends had came through. The first ones to reach the door, however, found themselves slumped against the wall and leaking blood from holes that appeared all over them with every bang from the Night Terror, who was firing at them from a long cylindrical gun that had mysteriously appeared in his left hoof. The gun spun like an electric drill, firing yellow bursts of death at the ponies assembled.

Unable to stand up to the brutal assault, the ponies scattered. Most of the griffons had been gunned down, lying in puddles of maroon liquid. The Night Terror, still on fire, now ran at the largest group of fleeing ponies. They were fast, but the Night Terror was much faster. He cut their route off, and with one sweep of his humming sword, cut their heads off as well. He wheeled around and impaled another pony through the throat that had been sneaking up behind him with his bloody horn.

Somepony tried to run towards the door the Night Terror had appeared from, but just before he reached the door, he felt a crunch in his hind leg, just above his knee. He immediately fell to the floor, and he looked behind him, wincing and crying aloud. It was the tip of a harpoon that had been fired into his leg, and the Night Terror was reeling him in, the harpoon fired from his left hoof.

He screamed and scrabbled at the ground as he was pulled backward away from the door by the hook stuck in his thigh. As he was pulled he could see a trail of blood from the wound in his leg. Once he was reeled in like a fish, he looked up to see the Night Terror, in all of his burning glory, strike him down.

The griffon sniper that had shot Case File was cowered up against a wall, his wings flared, desperately pointing his long rifle at the Night Terror. "ENOUGH! Can't you see we surrender? WE SURRENDER!"

"If you surrender," the Night Terror slavered with awful hunger, "Then why is there still resistance?" A bullet impacted on the back of his flaming wings from another griffon across the room, and he quickly snapped off a shot in return, silencing the other griffon forever. Bits of burning black substance dripped off of him, leaving a burning trail on the ground.

"Then I surrender!" he pleaded. "Please! Spare me!"

"You took the life of an innocent," the Night Terror snarled. He sunk his sword into his gut. "Feel his pain."

"Please!" he sobbed, smoking from his wound. "Pleeee- "

The sword cleaved upward, splitting his head. He slumped to the ground.

Another pony saw that and started to pound on the door furiously, screaming for help. She continued to scream until she caught a bladed feather in the back of her head. She slid to the ground and did not move.

He came to another pony, who was pressed against the wall in a vain attempt to stay out of the way. He was shaking like a building without foundations. He stammered, "P-please! I want to live! Please!"

"Can you give a better reason than that?" he snarled in the voice of Tartarus.

"I never wanted to harm anyone! I just wanted to be happy! I just wanted a better life! " He cowered against the wall more.

"Wickedness never was happiness," he growled in the voice of judgment. With a lunge, he burned through his head with his sword. The pony swayed, and the Night Terror flicked his sword, cutting through his neck. His brain-burned head tumbled to the floor.

Most of the carnage had destroyed the rest of the room. The only beings still alive in the room were the Night Terror, Twilight and her friends, and one final criminal, huddled next to the case of trophies, the glass shattered and the wood pockmarked with holes. The Night Terror, on his hind legs, turned towards the last remaining survivor of the throne room that was now a tomb for so many others.

False Felony, trembling like a weak building, squeaked out, "Come on, ya bloody nut! Lemme live! I've go' a family! I- "

"You have no family," The Night Terror snapped in a voice colder than interstellar space. "I've looked into your files. You've lied to try to save your filthy skin." He leveled his sword, buzzing and crackling with energy. He was still burning, but some of the black material had dripped off of him. False Felony looked into his face and saw that the black lines had run off of him, revealing parts of his face. And what he saw made it clear that whatever he was, he was not a pony. He was something much, much worse.

False Felony whimpered in fright. "Y-ya go' no righ' ta jus-"

"I know who you are. You're a rat-soiled con artist that lives to trick others out of what they have to make your life rich. And- to further condemn you- I know that you also raped other ponies. Sally McColt. Daisy Shower. Coco Pommel. And you're proud of it. An unrepentant sinner, that's what you are."

He raised his sword. His eyes burned with intolerable wrath.

"The unrepentant are the unforgiven," he uttered with pure malice in every drop.

And he plunged the sword into his gut.

He convulsed for a little, gasping and shuddering. He then drew it out to watch him grasp at the wound. As he lay on the ground, wheezing for breath, the Night Terror kneeled down to his face level. It was so awful, to be so near that terrible face, that burning face right next to his, making his cheek hot.

"This is the consequence you chose," he spoke. "You- as well as I- have no redemption. I have no hope left for myself, I've done the most awful things to ponies like you." He sniffed and sighed in delight from the smell of his wound as if a pie had passed under him. "So I'll just take as many of you down with me as possible. I'll see you in the afterlife we've both chosen for ourselves."

He stomped on False Felony in his smoking wound, making him gasp and topple over, clutching his wound. After a few seconds of shaking and moaning, he finally stopped.

The mares and Spike were trying their hardest to not throw up. Rarity had passed out and Rainbow was now holding her steady. Fluttershy gasped and sobbed harder than before, still on the ground, not daring to look at the carnage around her. Applejack could only stare at the horrible sight of the bodies. Pinkie was hiding her head in Applejack's tail. Twilight was silent and did not move a muscle. She just stood there in abject fascination and fright at the Night Terror.

The Night Terror himself was burning off the last of the flames coating him. He shook the last bit off and turned around to face Twilight on his hind legs.

She was speechless. She couldn't move, couldn't bring herself to say or do anything. What she saw was beyond her ability to comprehend. It wasn't physically possible for him to exist- and yet here he was, right in front of her.

The Night Terror-- the archangel spreading the works of death, the pony who looked to no judge except for his god, if he worshiped one, and his conscious, if he had one-- was a machine!

He was made out of a strong, flexible metal that overlapped each other like a suit of armor, except that the suit was completely animated and was living, breathing, talking. His hind legs were clawed and oriented strangely, and his right hoof had unnatural dark grey fingers clutching his electric sword. His left arm ended in a massive rotating gun with eight wide barrels. His metal wings suddenly didn't seem so out of place on him. The long, slim blade on his forehead jutting out of his steel forehead suddenly made sense. The terrifying red eyes now seemed to be more artificial than devilish.

On his curved metal flank was his Cutie Mark. It was a peace symbol in dripping red paint.

He dropped to all fours, his hind legs readjusting themselves into a position natural for a pony. His left arm folded the tip of the Gatling gun back into his arm and replaced it with a hoof. He deactivated the sword in his right hand and put it back on his hip, and the fingers retracted back into his hoof. The wings folded at his sides, effortlessly shifting into his body and closing up, leaving no trace of him having them to begin with. His bladed horn shot backwards into his head. He was the normal shape and build of a normal pony, except he was made out of cold, unfeeling metal.

"Princess Twilight," he said softly, his voice not at all synthetic. He sounded, for all intents and purposes, like a normal pony. "You're not safe here. I can get you back to the surface." Ironheart extended a hoof. "Come with me if you want to live."

Ultraground Escape

For a moment, neither Twilight nor Spike nor her friends nor Ironheart made any movement. The only sound that could be heard was a steady thumping noise, coming from the depths of Ironheart's chest as his impenetrable heart continued its lifelong mission of supplying life to the machine.

Then Ironheart let out a soft chuckle. "I've been wanting to use that line ever since I saw The Termarenator," he explained.

"...Ironheart?" Rainbow Dash weakly asked.

Ironheart nodded. "In the flesh. So to speak."

"Yer a machine!" Applejack cried. Suddenly the name Ironheart made sense.

"I am," he said simply. "I was not designed to be organic."

"That's not physically possible," Twilight whispered. How could he possibly exist? Nopony had been able to create a fully developed pony-shaped machine before, much less artificial intelligence. "You're not physically possible!"

"I'm not?" He seemed surprised. "My goodness, I didn't know that. I'm sorry." He felt himself, clanging a metal hoof against his stomach. "But look at that-- it appears I am." His face became softened somewhat. "Are any of you hurt?"

"Not too badly," Rarity cautiously reported. "Why? Why do you care about us when you just killed," she indicated the room full of smoking and bloodied bodies, "them?"

Ironheart pressed his flexible metal lips together. "Because I care for you, Element of Generosity," he replied. "I wouldn't take the trouble to launch this rescue attempt if I didn't want to see you still alive."

"And why do you care for us?" Pinkie asked. "Are we important to you? Did we do anything?" She gasped. "Ooh! Maybe it's because you liked the fact that we were looking for you in the first place?"

Ironheart gave a jilt of his head. "Actually, that last one isn't all too implausible..." he said quietly, before raising his voice. "Because the world is better when you're in it. I don't want to see any harm come to the forces of good that protected the innocent." Her gave a foul glance over his shoulder at the ruined corpses. "But them... If I had not shown up and rescued you, what would you have done? Would you have killed Amadeus? Would you have become somepony like me? And if you had, they would have killed you soon afterward. I solved that problem. You are still untarnished by blood." He extended a hoof again. "Now come with me, before any more come. I know the way out of here." His red steely gaze softened again. "Trust me," he said.

Twilight didn't know what to do. Should they go along with this terrorist and potentially be betrayed? Or should they be better off with the criminals in the underground? And if they did that, would Ironheart attack them as well, seeing them in the company of criminals?

Ironheart seemed to read her thoughts. "Princess Twilight," he spoke firmly. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so a long time before. I had the opportunity at the docks to kill you. I had the opportunity five minutes ago, when that griffon was dragging you off. I could have held my fire, and you would have been separated from your friends indefinitely. But I didn't. Because you are the force of good. And I don't want to see the light taken away from a darkening world. Now come with me, unless you'd like to be left at the mercy of the criminal filth that are undoubtedly coming here soon."

"Twilight!" Spike tugged on her mane. "Don't do it!"

"What other choice do we have, Spike?" Twilight admitted.

Rarity gasped. "Twilight! You're seriously suggesting we go along with this... this uncivilized monster?"

Ironheart's bladed horn ejected from his forehead. "Miss Rarity," he thundered, a gleam in his eyes now. "I am not what you would call a civilized pony! I have broken off with the rest of civilization for reasons only I have the privilege to disclose. I therefore obey none of its rules except the pity of the innocent, and I suggest that you never invoke them in my presence again!"

Rarity looked severely abased. She looked down and did not answer.

Ironheart directed his attention to Fluttershy, who was still trembling on the ground in fright, not looking at the metal pony. Ironheart looked at her for a second with sympathy, then shot his horn back into his forehead. "You're scared," he whispered softly.

Fluttershy nodded, not saying a word. She looked absolutely dejected.

Ironheart slowly walked forward to her. The other girls fell back, except for Applejack, who positioned herself between Fluttershy and Ironheart.

"I will not harm her," he said softly to her. "I swear it on the souls of those closest to me I have lost."

Applejack looked at him, trying to discern the truth in his unfeeling metal eyes. After finding nothing wavering, she stepped aside with a grimace.

Ironheart continued to speak gently to Fluttershy. "You think I'm a monster who thinks life is an affordable commodity. Somepony that enjoys spreading the work of death. An unfeeling machine that doesn't understand the need to comfort others."

Fluttershy lifted her face up, her face soaked with tears and her mouth in an open look of grief. Her mane was disheveled.

Ironheart knelt down in front of her face, extending a hoof without a sign of a mechanical whirr, and touched her forehead. She tensed up at the unexpected contact, and froze in complete fright at the sight of a machine, a murderer, touching her face ever so softly, moving it down her jawline ever so slowly, ever so softly.

"Be not afraid," he encouraged so gently. "I will be by your side."

There came a pounding on the door leading out on the opposite end of the room, and the moment faded. Ironheart perked up. "Now come on. Let's get out of here." He went to the door behind Amadeus's seat and pushed aside his corpse, then opened the door leading into the dark beyond. He motioned with his hoof, the fingers retracted again. "Come with me. Now."

And after the slightest moment of indecision, they did. The last pony out, Rarity, slammed the door shut, and with a twist of the metal wheel, locked it.

The journey through the Ultraground-- for that was what it was called-- was wet and narrow and dark and fast, but it was free of ponies and griffons with guns, which was good enough for Twilight. She and Rarity had ignited their horns for light in the dark tunnel, but Ironheart insisted that they keep their lights down, for what if their light gave them away? So she and Rarity extinguished their horns, now fully reliant on Ironheart for their directions-- and their lives.

There were sharp turns and intersections, musky water lying in stagnant puddles that they had to splash though, and once, a ladder leading even deeper underground. Twilight was uncertain of this once they had reached it. The point was to escape the Ultraground, not go even deeper into it, after all. But Ironheart was absolutely sure of himself, and pleaded with her to follow him, and she automatically obeyed him, for a reason she did not know.

For an amount of time they couldn't measure-- it could have been fifteen minutes, or an hour, or fifteen hours, or an entire year-- they followed him, trusting that he knew the way. He knew what turns to take, when to stop and reverse direction, when to run into other tunnels, when to splash off the path in the circular tunnels and into the narrow alleyways in between large unseen objects they couldn't even guess what they were.

And finally, after a narrow turn and a hidden passage and what seemed like forever, they arrived at yet another door with a wheel in the center. Ironheart, instead of turning it, pushed on the wheel and it retracted into the door and the lock Ka-chunked open and it swung inward. Ironheart motioned them all in quickly, then closed it once the last pony was through.

Twilight gasped at the unexpectedness of the room. Out of all the things she could find in the Ultraground, what she saw was definitely the most unexpected.

It was a large white room, almost as massive as the largest room in the Manehatten Institute of Technology. At one side was a scientific laboratory. There were chalkboards with impossibly complicated equations, even for Twilight, who ran over to them and studied it with an intense fascination. They were long, and involved a lot of Xs and Ys and exponents. On a table were beakers, flasks, and containers filled with colored liquids. On a counter off to the side were stacks of papers, a sautering iron kit, a collection of wires, and a lump of a silvery-grey metal.

On the opposite side of the room was a deep vat of dark, bubbling liquid next to a table on which were laid an assortment of bladed feathers. There were five conveyor belts extending out of the wall. One had a timer of forty-two minutes going above the door flap. One of these flaps was swinging back into place; it had just churned out a little black object and dropped it into a small bin. It was small and metal and had a trigger at the junction of the two sides.

On another end was an assortment of couches, recliners, and magazines. Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Spike immediately went for them and flung themselves on them tiredly. And on the wall behind that were several long metal-and-glass tubes that stretched above the room's ceiling, large enough to accompany a pony or two, and went, Twilight guessed, up to the surface.

But what drew attention was the massive object in the exact center of the room, covered with a brown tarp. It was an oval-shaped object, like a giant egg, resting on a raised platform. Spare parts and tools lay scattered haphazardly all around the egg shape like an aura. There were socket wrenches and screwdrivers, half-welded pieces of metal and severed cables, nuts and bolts, crumpled pieces of paper and pencils, and chains and hooks, to name a few.

"What's that?" Rainbow Dash asked, pointing at the large, mysterious object.

"My Manehattan project," was Ironheart's reply. He said no more after that.

"I can't believe this," Twilight whispered, turning away from the complicated math on the chalkboards and observing a beaker of blue fluid. "You had this space to yourself this whole time?"

"Yes, Princess Twilight," Ironheart responded. "I needed someplace to conceal myself when not up and about. This place has all I need to sustain on. It's alone and out of the way. It's large and secret. It has a space for me to research more additions to my body," he pointed at the lab space, "A space when I need time to myself," he pointed at the couches Rarity and Fluttershy and Spike and Pinkie were on, "and a spot to manufacture weapons." He pointed at the machines churning out bladed feathers and guns.

Applejack looked indignant. "Wait a sec," she said uncertainly. She pointed at the machines again. "Ah thought you didn't need ta hold weapons-- they just pop outta yer body, right?" She was still uncertain as to how that worked, but she was trying to roll along with it.

"Correct," Ironheart responded.

"So why do ya need ta make these weapons? Do ya put 'em in yer body or somethin'?"

"No." He shook his head. "I just think about any weapon, and it appears in place of my hoof. I was designed to operate that way. I haven't tested the limits of it yet, but I'm sure I can be unstoppable without the guns I manufacture."

"So why do ya need 'em? And how do ya know how to make 'em?"

"I stole the blueprints of the weapons," he said.

"But why do ya even make 'em if you don't need- " She froze. She faced Ironheart with a face of disbelief. "If ya don't need 'em... then you make 'em fer others ta use?" She looked horrified at what it meant.

"Correct," he said.

Applejack dropped her jaw. After a moment she stuttered, "Yer Client 24!"

Twilight and Rainbow spun around in a heartbeat. On the couches opposite the room, all movement stopped.

Ironheart looked passive. "How did you know about that?" he asked.

"Our little buddy Amadeus told us before you killed him," Rainbow said, flying close to Ironheart. She immediately felt weak and nervous around a pony like him, though she didn't know why. She didn't like the feeling. "He told us that he had been receiving guns from a pony conspiring with you. You're arming the entire population with incredibly unstable weapons!"

"Not for long," he said darkly.

"What?" Rainbow asked.

Ironheart shook his head, making his metal mane sway. "Never mind." He turned away. "Don't make yourself too comfortable. You're going to be leaving soon."

"What do you mean? This is perfect!" Twilight looked around the massive laboratory. "I don't want to leave!"

"Then you have a choice, Twilight," Ironheart told her, idling up next to her. "Your friends will make it to the surface by use of the tubes over there." He pointed at the metal-and-glass elevator. "Will you stay down here and be with me? Or will you go with your friends instead?"

"Why not have us all stay down here?" Twilight pointed out, trying to tangle his logic.

"Because this place must be a place of security, of isolation! Were you seriously suggesting you stay down here while Manehatten's above your heads?" Ironheart looked surprised.

"We have to take you in," Twilight said. "And we're not going to go up to the surface empty-hooved. You won't separate us, Ironheart. We won't have some of us stay down here with a terrorist and have others go to the surface. What if we never see each other again? So you will come with us, or we will have to force you to come along."

"You'll never take me in alive," he said serenely. "I will fight to the bitter end."

"We have to stop your reign of terror, Ironheart. Innocent ponies are afraid!"

"Let them be afraid of whatever they will-- the criminals that they know I'm fighting, or me, the pony that gives justice to those who deserve it. If they are innocent, they have nothing to fear. Why don't you tell them that when you return to Manehatten?" Ironheart's voice was tight and patient.

"I can't believe you," Twilight said to him. "You slaughter ponies and griffons and call it peace, you-you spread terror to the ponies you don't like, you abuse the weapons Bright Mind developed-- "

Ironheart wheeled around, an brutal animalistic gleam in his eyes. His teeth were clenched; his horn was jutted out, the dried blood on it still tarnishing the metal.

"Never," he slavered like an untamed beast, "say that name in my presence again. Never will I hear that pair of syllables out of your mouth, do you understand? I despise that pony. He was unfit to exist on this planet, and so I killed him and took his work for a greater purpose."

Twilight was frozen; unable to defend herself from his furious outburst. "Are you insane?" Twilight gasped. "What did he do to deserve being killed?"

"It was mostly the fact that he existed, if you know what I mean," he snarled. "The accident in his lab that blew his chunks across the land... wasn't an accident."

"You... you're a hypocrite!" she stammered, leaning back away from his savage red eyes.

Ironheart clearly disliked that word. After a moment of pondering, he sighed in resignation. "You need to know before you understand," he breathed in her face. "Whether you like it or not, you will know it all."

He turned and violently ripped a drawer out. In it were some cards, a few pens, a few paper clips, and...a book. It was old, thick, tattered, and black, and had a few tears on the cover. There was no image on the front, or on the spine, or on the back. Ironheart picked the book out of the drawer, looking at it with reverence for just a moment, before he thrust it into Twilight's wing. Twilight, surprised, held on to it.

"That should tell you everything," he told her. "Read it and understand, Twilight. I can't explain it now in the best terms. That book should clear everything up better than I can explain right now."

"Come with us, Ironheart!" Twilight pleaded. "Give yourself in! Please! And cut your losses!"

"You're not leaving empty-hooved, Twilight," he pointed out, indicating the dog-eared book. "That'll be more worth to you than I am. As for myself, I will decide when and where I will surrender. I have more work that's unfinished. I must continue to remain hidden for the moment."

"You talk to us like we're your allies," Twilight said to him bluntly. "We're not."

"Then that is your interpretation," he conceded. "I will not fight you if you disagree with me. I will not fight you if you try to persuade me. But know this," he said in all seriousness. "That if you try to kill me, then I will see you as my enemy at last. When you descend to the depths of despair, when you become like me-- then I shall know that you have given up hope, and then shall I know that you are an enemy to my progress. But until then, I will protect you time and time again. When you decide to join the side of the filth I fight against, only then will I decide to fight you. But you won't. Knowing you, you'd never stoop to helping criminals achieve their purpose."

"I won't help a terrorist either!" Twilight indignantly fired back.

"Then you choose who to support," he said calmly. "Me, or them."

He indicated the girls on the couches. "Now come with me to your ride." He pointed at the glass-and-metal elevators leading out.

They all obeyed, though all with some degree of reluctance. They packed into the tubes two at a time, Spike on Twilight's back next to Rarity. Pinkie was next to Applejack, and Rainbow was next to Fluttershy, holding a wing over the tender pegasi's back. Ironheart pressed a few controls next to the doors, and the doors slid shut, and Twilight and the others could now only see him through a layer of turquoise glass. There was a small whine as the elevators powered up.

"I am sorry I couldn't have you stay longer," Ironheart said. He sounded sincere, his voice muffled through the glass. "You were very, very interesting to talk with."

And suddenly the lights went out and the seven of them were shot up through the tubes, Twilight clutching the book in her wing hard. She was screaming, and so was Spike and Rarity; the ride was fast and tight and disorienting, and seemed to go on longer than it actually was. Her head hurt and her throat was raw and it was dark and it was confusing-

And it stopped, and the glass slid aside, and they tumbled out in exhaustion. They were in a side alley, and the elevators were in the wall of the brick building. Twilight cricked her neck and looked to the side. There was Pinkie Pie stretching out her hind leg and moaning, "Wowee! Now that hurt!" And there was Rainbow, and Fluttershy, and Applejack, and Spike was on her back and Rarity was right next to her.

She looked behind her, but the machines that had shot them to the surface were gone; retracted back into the wall from whence it came. She tried to open the wall, to try to force the elevators back open, but the doors were invisible. It was like they weren't even there.

Why am I doing this? she asked herself. Why am I trying to see the terrorist again? Is it because I want to talk to him again? No, no, of course not. It's because I need to persuade him. I care for him and the outcome of his choices, and the outcome of the catastrophic effects already set in motion.

They were allies, whether Twilight bothered to admit it or not. But the alliance was shaky on Twilight's part. Ironheart was totally trusting with her. Why was she so hesitant, even if what he was doing was right, just in another way?

Twilight looked at the pavement, where below the hard street, Ironheart was preparing for war. And she was not looking forward to the time when she would have to confront him head-on. The time for that would happen, whether she wanted to or not.

Author's Note

Let me start off by giving a few points:
1. This is not a Terminator crossover.
2. This is not a Ghost Rider crossover.
3. This is not a Punisher crossover.

But this doesn't mean there aren't elements of him that aren't best portrayed in that source material. He's got the body of a Terminator with the ruthlessness and weapons of the Punisher and the moral outset of Ghost Rider- the innocent are good, murderers and thieves are not. I suppose that's why people think this is a crossover of some kind. It's not. I've had this kind of character in my head ever since late Elementary school. But that doesn't mean it's not awesome, right?

Bright Mind

The sky was darkening. The oncoming twilight entered uneasily through the heavy cloud cover, creating an uncomfortable cold atmosphere over the city and its inhabitants as they shivered in their coats and watched the skies, low and heavy. There was a mood of fear in the city, a mood becoming more and more common ever since the Night Terror's first attack. Ponies rushed home faster than normal, lights were left on, blinds were closed, apartment doors were locked, and security guards were awake and alert- and fearful that if the Night Terror so desired it, their lives would end that night.

High above the streets, Rainbow Dash watched the clouds from their apartment window, uneasy and tense at the sight of the potential storm above Manehatten. She was circling her hoof on the windowsill, replaying the recent events of the day. It made her feel sick to her stomach.

She was the one that pushed for incarcerating Case File. And she was the one that had stood next to Twilight, about to kill Amadeus. Her stomach lurched. Had she really been that close to killing him? She knew that if she didn't, then Twilight would have and Twilight would have been ruined of her reputation as a princess of friendship. How could somepony who believes in friendship commit murder, even justified murder? And then, just as she was about to, in her fear and anger, he had been killed anyway by Ironheart...

The worst part was, she could agree with him on some points. He was at least better than the rapists, robbers, murderers, and corrupt money exchangers that comprised the criminals in Manehatten. He showed mercy to the innocent. And he had saved Twilight's life before. He had the choice not to, but he still did it. What did that mean about him? Did it mean that he wasn't as cold-blooded as Amadeus had prophesied?

Rainbow was confused by it all. Was he a good guy or a bad guy? He had done some bad stuff, but what about saving the life of Twilight? What about leading them to safety, even though they had promised to fight against Ironheart? What about helping Fluttershy? What about his obvious emotions about the issue itself?

That part was also hard to figure out. He was a robot! He didn't have emotions! And adding on to that, how was it possible for him to even exist in the first place? He was more advanced than anything Rainbow had seen so far in her life.

Rainbow banged her head on the windowsill. Why was it all so obscure?

"Um, Rainbow?" came a soft voice. "Are you feeling well?"

Rainbow looked behind her to see Fluttershy idling up next to her. Rainbow sighed and rubbed her face. "...No, Fluttershy. I'm not."

"You were thinking about that mean griffon, weren't you?" she asked. "The one you and Twilight almost..." She gulped. "killed?"

Astonishingly accurate. "Yeah, Shy. When Amadeus slapped you... I dunno what came over me. I just wanted to... to kill him, you know? He hurt you."

Fluttershy felt her left cheek slowly. There were still small spots of dried blood on it.

"Fluttershy... I'm worried," Rainbow continued.

"What do you mean?" she asked, laying her hoof atop Rainbow's. "What's eating you?"

Rainbow looked into Fluttershy's eyes. "What if I'm becoming like him?"

"Don't say that," she whispered.

"No, no, no, just listen," Rainbow told her. "I'm scared."

Fluttershy tilted her head. "You?"

"Please, just listen!" she snapped in irritation, and Fluttershy drew back, uncertain of what she had done. Seeing her do it made Rainbow take a deep breath and look away from her. "Ironheart... I think I'm becoming like him."

"Rainbow," Fluttershy said to her. "Don't ever say that. You're not Ironheart."

"I think I actually agree with him on some points," Rainbow said miserably. "I want to help the innocent, but the ponies that deserve it... I'd want to see them punished. I mean, I don't want to kill them, but still... I can't help but think that's the way things are supposed to be. To make ponies afraid of doing bad things." She looked at Fluttershy again. "You saw me, Fluttershy. If Ironheart hadn't shown up... what would I have done?" She leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling like the room was lacking oxygen. She gasped a little and whispered, "I'm a killer, Fluttershy. I'm a killer in my heart."

She felt something pressing down on the back of her neck and she turned to see Fluttershy rubbing her neck and back comfortingly. "Now, now, Rainbow. You don't know that. You're too strong to fall to Ironheart's level."

"But what if I did?" she asked forlornly. The massage was working, but she felt no better at the same time. "What if I did kill him? Would I still be your friend?"

Fluttershy did not immediately answer that. But after a moment she responded, "You would have done what anypony would have done in that situation. I wouldn't hold that against you."

"What anypony would have done?" she repeated blankly. "Are we all really like that, Fluttershy? Is everypony like that? Are we always so... so ready to kill others? Are we always willing to just abandon friendship when we have no other option?"

Fluttershy was silent. Instead of answering, she continued to press gently into her back and press and rub and press and rub until Rainbow's mind had abandoned the thoughts she had about her weakened self and instead surrendered to the amazing sensations made by Fluttershy's pressing. She groaned. "Oh, goodness, how'd you become so good at massages, Shy?" she asked.

"Um... well, I just picked it up, I guess."

This reminded Rainbow of another aspect of the day. "Hey, uh, Flutters?"

"Hmm?"

She swallowed something in her mouth. "I just... I found it strange that he was able to feel sympathy for you. That even though he's a murderer and a terrorist, he still has room in his iron heart to feel emotion and that he wanted to help you."

"Well, I think he's not as bad as we put him up to be," Fluttershy responded. "Maybe he's just a big softie inside."

But why does he kill?" Rainbow pressured. "How can you be capable of loving others and killing others at the same time?"

And she realized that she was pondering that question about herself, and not Ironheart.

"Rainbow..." Fluttershy began. "I know very well the concept of getting angry, but I also just want everypony to be happy and kind to each other. I think it's very much possible for Ironheart to have both those moods in him, just like any normal pony."

"But he's not just a normal pony," Rainbow pointed out. "He's a machine."

"Maybe he is," Fluttershy said. "But I think the pony controlling him isn't."

Rainbow craned her head to look at her. "What are you suggesting?"

"He's only a machine," Fluttershy pointed out. "He needs somepony to program him and tell him what to do. It's not Ironheart at all that's the danger. It's the pony behind his controls."

Twilight was lying on her bed. She was thinking over all that she had seen and heard from Ironheart that day. There were so many things about him she didn't understand. His metal body, his morality, his weapons. And the Manehatten Project--what was that all about?

She looked at the pitiful dog-eared book she had placed on the bedside table. What secrets lay within?

Twilight slowly, hesitantly, activated her magic and the book floated over to her lap. It felt dangerous to the touch, like whatever lay inside would explode. Looking from the top, she noticed some pages were bookmarked with a red ribbon.

She then opened the book to the first page and looked up. "I'm reading the book Ironheart gave us," she announced.

"Ironheart gave you a book?" Pinkie asked excitedly. "I can't believe it! He's giving out presents now? I wanted a present!"

"You were on his couches, Pinkie," Twilight reminded her. "You weren't there to see it. He gave us this in hopes that we might understand his intentions and his... his murder of Bright Mind."

"He killed Bright Mind?" Rarity asked in shock. "So not only is Ironheart the pony that killed Bright Mind and stole his weapons, but he's also the Night Terror and Client 24 at the same time?"

Twilight nodded. "He's so widespread and dangerous that everything can be traced back to him."

"But why'd he kill Bright Mind?" Applejack asked. "Ah thought he only went after the ponies that deserved ta die. Why'd he go after an innocent?"

Twilight bit her lip and looked down. "I don't know," she replied. "But we're going to find out together." Outside, the skies had darkened completely, not a speck of light showing.

Spike came up first and sat in her lap next to the old book. And the rest of her friends gathered up next to her, one at a time. Twilight held the book out so everyone could see, and cleared her throat and began to read aloud on the inside cover page.

My name is Bright Mind, and this journal will leave a trace of what happened in my days as a scientist in the Royal Canterlot Lab under the development project known as Project 24- to create a weapon of such devastating power that it will render all previous power useless.

Twilight shut off; she was confused. "Why does he have this?"

"Jus' keep readin', Twi," Applejack said. Twilight turned to the first bookmarked page and read aloud. The date was in month-day-year format at the top corner of journal entries on the old paper. The year was 6/27/997, the last number referring to the number of years after Princess Luna's banishment to the moon.

6/27/997: Today was my graduation from Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns! Yay! Finally! After seven whole years of study, I'm finally out to explore my future as an engineer!

"He was in the school for Gifted Unicorns?" Twilight asked in surprise.

Celestia was very proud to speak on our behalf at our graduation. I think we'll be really good friends, her and me. She spoke to me when I first was brought in as a young colt and said that I was the best pony to be enrolled so far in the school, but there was another pony coming in that could show almost as much potential as me. Maybe I'll be her sub-tutor someday after she graduates!

"Are you seeing this?" Pinkie asked Twilight excitedly. "He knew about you! Bright Mind wanted to be your tutor! AAAAAH!" She hugged Twilight from behind in a bone-crushing grip, making the book fumble.

"Pinkie, git off," Applejack told her, prying off her hooves with unnatural strength. Twilight picked up the book again, thinking about the words written down. He knew about her, even though she didn't know about him? Well, of course, since he was supposed to be involved in a secret project.

Celestia also announced that we would all be selected to participate in a project to assemble an object that could help serve Equestria. Good! I love the feeling of mattering to her. She's the one that's built me up to be the pony I want to be. I just want to not let her down. And I swear I won't.

Fluttershy was smiling. "Oh, my! He's certainly got big dreams!"

Twilight went to the next page and started to read some more.

9/15/997:Today, me and the rest of the graduating class went to the official Canterlot Lab to start our work on the project. Given the outlines she gave to us in the months before, we need to construct a sort of weapon for the defense of Equestria. Not what I would have wanted, but still, if that's what matters, that's what I'll do. The pony that's funding the project is someone called Count Privilege, one of the richest ponies that came from northern Equestria, where there's Las Pegasus and Baltimare and Manehatten and all those rich cities. I don't know for certain, but I think he was looking at me with a bit of distaste. What did I do?

Princess Celestia put us into sub-groups of research and development. I was put into the best branch of the laboratory--the actual process of creating a powerful weapon that will advance technology beyond all current understanding. But there was a bit of bad news for me, the worst I could imagine: Alpha Nevada was also there.

"Who now?" Rainbow asked, squinting at the name.

Out of all the miserable luck in the world, I had to be put with him! Why? Anyone but him! My foalhood bully? And the worst part is, I tried to lodge a complaint to Celestia, but she was too busy with the dignitaries!

"So wait-- this "Alpha Nevada" was his foalhood bully?" Rainbow asked, her eyes more open than they had been before. "And he worked with Bright Mind?"

"This won't end well," Rarity predicted grimly. Twilight read the next entry.

9/16/977: The first official day of the project began with me getting ejected from the planning meeting everypony else was at. They didn't have to do that, you know. They could have let me contribute ideas. I had an idea myself, but nopony else wanted to hear it. They just sent me out and said for me to go get them some snacks from the vending machines or else they'd let Celestia know I wasn't working on the project; I wasn't in the planning meeting, after all.

What else could I do? I had to go and get them their snacks. And by the time I got back, the meeting had ended and they were packing up. Right off the bat, we're all not on the same page. Even then, I didn't want to even work with them anymore. I wanted to go out and go away from these guys. I wanted nothing to do with them.

But at the end of the day, I decided to have the courage to stay and keep my head down. If I were to leave the project, that would only mean I was weak, that I didn't have the courage to carry on in the face of adversity. I don't want it to be clear to everyone that Bright Mind is the weakest pony in Canterlot, that he was elected to carry out a project but he backed out of it because of his teammates. I will be stronger than that. But all the same, I wish there was a way to deal with them.

Outside, a sinister, deep, indiscernible rumbling noise emanated from the dark skies. Twilight turned her head to look at the windowsill. With a bit of magic, the windows slammed shut. "It's going to rain," she said quietly.

"He just let them bully him?" Rainbow asked incredulously.

"Well, he wan't the biggest of 'em all, ya know," Applejack pointed out. "How else could he have stood up to 'em without goin' ta other ponies?"

"He should have done something!" Rarity said. "Just letting them bully you does no good."

"Ah've seen this in Apple Bloom," Applejack told her. "She didn't want ta go ta me when Babs Seed was bullyin' her a while back. That'd be seen as a sign of weakness, that she could be broken and couldn't stand up ta Babs without help. In Babs's eyes, that'd be seen as a victory for her. Ah can understand his reasonin' here."

Twilight flipped to the next bookmarked page and read aloud some more.

10/23/997: I have been working on Project 24 for over a month now, and I barely matter to the ponies in charge. Not Alpha Nevada, not my supervisor, not the funder of the project, not even to Celestia! I suppose the reason Count Privilege doesn't like me is that I had to get in free on behalf of Celestia and he sees me as a piece of work that's not supposed to be there. He's probably the one telling everypony lies and persuading them to hurt me. My nickname to them is now "Dirty Mind." They tease me for having these weird vivid sex dreams in my head, that that's all I'm ever going to get, that I'll never find a mare for myself to love.

And they're right about one thing. I'll never find a mare for myself to love. Every mare in the research department either ignores me or hates me for getting in their way when I have to scurry away from my own abusive partners. And I'd hate to admit it, but the dreams they say I have... exist. But I'll never get a special somepony anytime soon. Why should I? I've barely got any money to impress them anyways. I've been living on my own ever since the house fire, ever since mom and my sister died in that fire.

I hate this project. But I don't mean I hate what I'm doing, I mean I hate the stupidity and pretentiousness that infests it. It means I hate the selfish and ignorant ponies there. I hate stress and high expectations. I hate being treated like garbage. I hate being treated like a failure all the time.

Twilight felt like her stomach was churning like a cement mixer. She felt awful and sick. Outside, there was a few plinks as rain started to fall on the window slowly.

"Man, this guy..." Rainbow shuddered. "This guy's got it bad."

"This isn't a very happy story, Twilight," Pinkie protested. Her ears were flat against her head.

"No." Twilight's voice was determined. "It isn't." She flipped to the next bookmarked page.

11/02/997: I hated today.

Today I was supposed to create a file in under ten minutes. And I'm good enough for that, I can do that. But there was a technological error that made it so the final part I needed was unavailable. I spent the eight minutes I had left trying to correct it, but it's hard when you get spitballs in the back of the head every so often. And the stinking machine was uncooperative and stupid, and I couldn't do anything to correct it, no matter what I did. When I had to present the unfinished file, Count Privilege yelled at me and said that I was stupid and lazy and inefficient, and that I shouldn't stay on anymore. And I felt so ashamed for breaking down in front of them, for letting tears show and having my stomach hurt and having my throat tighten in front of them and running out of the room so I wouldn't have to endure their taunts anymore. I slumped against the wall and I cried. I bawled like a little baby, like a broken-hearted child, like the child they insist I am.

And when I came back into the room, I noticed the title of my file had been erased and replaced with PORN in big red capital letters. I couldn't see who had done it, but I knew that it was Alpha, that he snickered and said, "Oooh, you're getting in trouble, Dirty Mind!" I tried to get rid of it, but it's permanent now, I can't delete it, I can't throw it away like Alpha and Count Privilege threw me away.

And Count Privilege, who I'm sure knows exactly what happened there, wrote me up and made me go in front of Celestia herself for my "Heinous crime." Standing there, in my outrage and sadness, Celestia told me that what I did was an act of shame against her and the Canterlot scientific community. I'm not punished this time, but if it happens again, I'll be kicked out of the project for good and I'll have to pay a hefty fine for it.

As I'm lying in my bed and writing about it now, just thinking of it makes a tear come to the corner of my eye, makes me ashamed and angry all over again. And I know that Equestria is supposed to be a land of friendship and equality and tolerance and love, but just by thinking about them... dark thoughts have entered my head. Evil thoughts, thoughts Luna should be glad she can't see in my daydreams.

I want to see them bleed.

"Oh!" Fluttershy recoiled slightly. "Oh my goodness, that took a turn!"

Twilight agreed. She couldn't even read aloud the next part. She could barely even look at it.

I want to hear them scream as I hurt them. I want to see their blood drip onto the ground and see them shudder in disgust. I want to castrate them with a rusty pair of hedge clippers. I want to feel their flesh break as I drive a knife into their softest spots and I want to watch them writhe in agony as they burn in front of my eyes. I want to hear their pleas for mercy, and I want to be the one to smile at them, and the last thing they'll see is my grinning face, alive with joy at last as they slump to the ground and get consumed with fire.

They say the world's not fair, but why isn't it ever unfair in my favor? Why is the world allying itself with the wrong ponies to uplift the powers of darkness? Why aren't they judged for their works of darkness? Why do they have to get away totally free, but I'm condemned for things I didn't even do? If I'm going to be condemned, why not do something to deserve it, and get revenge while you're at it? Why not? I can do that, can't I? I not only have the right, I have the privilege, to use the unflattering term. I can hurt them if I want to, can't I, since that's what they're doing to me? Why should I cripple myself by loving them?

Oh Celestia, what am I doing? Why do I have these thoughts? Why am I so murderous in my heart? Why am I so willing to hurt them and become like them all over again? It's like I'm descending into my own personal Tartarus, my own kind of torture chamber, where I have to choose for myself how I should torment myself! What do I do? Why am I a killer in my heart?

Rainbow Dash held a hoof to her heart, remembering the dark thoughts she had for herself. She caught Fluttershy looking with horror at the murderous paper, then turn to face her, both of them remembering the awful conversation they had.

The rain was picking up speed now, lashing against the windows with renewed vigor, the impacts on the glass sounding like the crackle of electricity. A wind made the rain flow to the horizontal, making it seem all the more unnatural.

The next bookmarked page was the most depressing of all.

12/25/997: Happy Hearth's Warming to me, I suppose.

There's nopony else to wish me it, after all. Living alone, there are no presents under the tree, nopony waking up next to you to whisper loving words. There are no children running to your room and jumping on your bed, excited for the goodness that awaits them. There's nopony to help you make cookies, and the smell of them is gone from your bare, limp apartment.

Oh, that I wish I had somepony to love me! Oh, that I wish I could love somepony back! As I'm resting here alone in my hard, dirty, empty bed, writing these words, I'm shaking with the cold in my empty apartment. Empty of love. Empty of cheer. Empty of life.

There really are no presents under my plastic tree that has dim, broken lights and sparse decorations. There really are no carolers coming to your house to give you presents, no lines of truffles and plates of food on your table, no warmth in your hearth. No Hearth's Warming spirit. None of it. Even now I can faintly hear the pathetic rain pattering outside, and the wind that lashes at my windows sounds like the howling of wolves. Friendship is dead. As dead as my hope for my future with Alpha. He will try to kill me eventually, I know it. But I want to do it before he does.

The light is gone from my world in winter. Their lights shine bright, but I'm not bright. I'm dirty. Everypony else says so.

A tear just ran down my face. I wiped it away and it dropped on the page, right there on the word dirty.

"Hey, uh, Twilight?" Spike asked, breathing heavily. "I want to go to bed now." He clambered out of Twilight's lap, off the bed, and walked out of the main living space to go to his room. Outside, the wind was howling like forlorn wolves.

"I want to go back in time and give him a hug!" Pinkie declared sadly. "If anypony needs it, it's him."

"I agree," Rarity said with her face distressed with sadness. "He truly does sound like a lost soul."

Twilight went to the next bookmarked entry and read aloud some more. Outside, a crack of thunder sounded, sundering the heavens.

2/22/998: They're starting on working with electricity and magnetism to control objects. After all, the point of the project is new and innovative weapons. And I can understand how electromagnetism could be advantageous. But I still want to try out some ideas of my own.

Not that Alpha Nevada wants me to, of course. Once, I was putting plans together for a weapon that utilizes pressurized gas to launch an object far enough that you could stand at one end of a Hoofball field, and it would hit a target on the other end. He came in when I was using the restroom and he saw it and he dumped it into the fireplace, and when I got back I could see the stuff crackling and shriveling up, and he swore to Faust that it was a mistake. But I knew better. I could see that smug glint in his eye, that malicious shine that indicates an unwillingness to change. And I couldn't lash out, I couldn't accuse him, because that would just prove that I was doing secret work behind his back.

Once again, I can't help the feelings of hatred towards them all. I mean, what, can I feel good about what they're doing instead? I've talked to a few counselors, and they say anger is a secondary reaction. Anger is just a byproduct of other feelings like disgust, or annoyance, or sadness. They also say that the choice is yours of how to respond to it. They say that I choose to feel mad at them, that it's my fault that I'm angry and humiliated all the time, because of a byproduct of being abused.

I choose to be mad or offended? It's my fault that I've been hurt? First the bullying at school, then the house fire, and now this?

But listen here, Bright Mind, you can control every single negative influence in your life, and there's absolutely no reason at all why you shouldn't be able to! Stop feeling those uncontrollable emotions like sadness and offense, Bright Mind! Stop feeling like you deserve to be protected from other ponies that want to hurt you! Stop feeling at all!

But I can't help these thoughts of hatred and revulsion and revenge. Why are these thoughts I'm feeling feel so good? Why are they feeling so good and yet so bad at the same time? I want to hurt them, but I just can't. I'm too small and weak and pathetic. And how can I? They're fellow ponies- like me! I need to try to love them, even though I don't want to.

I want to just be celebrated for what I do, even with me in the face of disaster.

I need to do the best I can.

I love them, even with all of the stuff they're doing to me.

I hate them. They must be punished. They must burn in Tartarus for what they did. And I will send them there myself, even if it's the last thing I do. Even if I have to go down kicking and screaming, I want to hurt them so bad! I want to watch their blood flow out of them. I want to spit on their corpses. I want to defile their worth as living beings in the most unimaginable ways possible.

Oh, Holy Celestia! What did I just write down? That was just an explosion of emotion; I didn't really mean it! What am I thinking anymore? Who even am I? Am I a good pony anymore because of these thoughts of pain and worthlessness? Am I worth keeping on the earth?

I know that they certainly aren't.

I'm stuck here. I don't know where to go, what to do, how to go on living anymore! I can't go to Celestia for help- she'd probably say no, and Alpha and Count Privilege will just go on hurting me even more because I will have proved to them that I'm too weak to stand alone, that I'm using Celestia as a shield. And I can't commit suicide, either, since I just know I'll end up in Tartarus for that.

But on the other hoof, I no longer fear Tartarus now that I have gone through these years at the lab.

But hold on! I was just struck with a thought! I can hurt them after all- I just need the capability to inflict pain on others. Right now I'm just weak, and small, and pathetic. But what if I could create something that can change that?

Not liking the ominous statement a bit, or the fact that he didn't cross it out, Twilight flipped to the next entry, a little further back.

11/9/998: I haven't written hefty entries in a while; you can observe my past entries and see for yourself. But I just wanted to say that I've not been better since. The harassment is as worse as before, except now the news that I'm weak has grown to outside spheres of influence and now the entire lab hates me for some reason. Ponies dump stuff on me at lunch; I've counted pudding cups, chocolate milk, and spare pieces of pizza. I've taken to staying in my private lab during lunch now, and go hungry every day rather than endure that. But at least it also means I have more time to work.

I've drawn up blueprints behind the backs of Count Privilege and Alpha Nevada. Blueprints of my improved weapon- and another, much more complicated bit of technology. I've been staying after my work hours day after day trying to ease out all the wrinkles, but I believe it can be done. I'm close now; I can feel it. The project needs a power source that needs little to no maintenance. And I think I've figured out something that might work for me. This is going to be hard work, but if it means a better life for me, I'm all for it.

Twilight flipped to the next bookmarked page, a greater sense of unease in her heart than before. It was further along than usual, halfway through the book. The writing was more slanted, and more shoddy, and harder to read.

6/15/999: My goodness, has it really been seven months? I am sorry for not writing more often. I've been too focused on my work. Not just work on Project 24, but on a more personal project of mine. One that I believe will give me an advantage over them after all.

It's been two whole years since I've been put through Tartarus and been with Alpha Nevada and Count Privilege and all of their cronies. I think the reason we've made such slow progress is actually because of them, because they have no real idea of how to make this kind of weapon. And they persecute the only pony that actually cares about the darn thing. Right now they're trying to focus on magnetism. But they're missing out on what's so plainly obvious in their faces! Because I have-no, I had an idea, all those months ago.

Explosions are just pushes of force. If you were to put an explosive device next to an object, the object would be sent flying. What if we were to focus an explosive device so it could push an object in the direction we want it to go? Magnets to push an object-- those idiots, missing out on what can be truly exploited- the raw, untamed force of nature! Explosions can push small objects at indeterminable speed!

But how can we create an explosion controlled enough to push it the way we want without blowing up the weapon in question? Observe the simple firework. The special kind of powder it burns up to push its way across the sky and explode can be used for a far better purpose. My purpose.

Only Dr. Brainstem, a pony that specializes in the damages weapons inflict, believes me. He's the only pony I've told it to, the only pony I know of that's had pity on me. I'm too afraid to give it to anyone else. But right now I'm trying to modify the powder and change it so that it can push out an object with the force to shatter bone and tear through skin and make blood flow down Alpha's your filthy body. The powder in fireworks makes it explode, but I don't want my projectiles to explode. I want them to be lodged in the target.

I've already created a prototype of the weapon, which I call a gun. But I'm going to present the image that I've only just discovered the capability to launch the projectile with a special kind of firework fuel, which I call gunpowder. I want to give off the illusion that I'm slow, that I'm further behind on it than I really am. Anything to allow them to not see suspicion. I need all the advantages I can get for now.

I've actually already created several models of the weapons in secret- several different types that I plan to use in my project. I can use the power in my secret weapons for my project.

A long crick-crackle of lightning tore through the sky, seemingly right outside their window, accompanied by a deep BOOM that shook the earth underneath them.

I call the project Ironheart.

Ironheart

All the mares gasped in shock. Pinkie Pie fell backwards off the bed. Twilight gave her a glance over her shoulder before returning to the dog-eared book.

Ironheart will be different than any other device in the history of the world. It will be an adaptable, independent machine with artificial intelligence. It will fly. It will kill. It will be invincible and unstoppable.

"Bright Mind created Ironheart?" Applejack asked in disbelief, staring at the pages of the old black book. "And he made 'im so complex, too?"

"It makes sense that he'd create Ironheart," Twilight said slowly after a moment.

Twilight could remember Ironheart's instant provoked reaction when she had mentioned Bright Mind's name. Ironheart would never be free so long as Bright Mind would be keeping him on a leash. He had probably killed him and robbed him of his inventions so he could be free to unleash vengeance upon the undeserving world.

And his other actions made sense too. Who was more likely to create a robot that could hunt down the ponies that deserved it than the pony that had been abused and maltreated for most of his life? Bright Mind had likely put instructions in him to kill ponies that were like Alpha Nevada and Count Privilege because he couldn't stand having them exist in the first place. And who else but one of the smartest ponies raised by Princess Celestia could even think up of an intelligent robot, much less create it?

But that still didn't explain the choices he made, his strange, pony-esque mannerisms, his eerie hatred. How was it that his thoughts were so similar to Bright Mind's? Bright Mind had created such a perfectly similar copy of himself in a machine that his moods were indistinguishable from Ironheart's. But Bright Mind was benevolent and a pushover. Ironheart was the other side of him, the one with the subconscious daydreams of hurting others, but manifested.

Another echoing BOOM shook the earth like a cannon had been fired, and a flash of white ripped through the sky, and the rain pounded harder against the windows, snapping Twilight back to reality.

"Well, if not Bright Mind, then who?" Rarity was saying.

Pinkie jumped off of the ground onto the bed again. "Is that the end?" she asked hopefully, peering over Twilight's shoulder.

"No, Pinkie," Twilight said. She flipped to the next bookmark.

6/16/999: I revealed today that I had created gunpowder. When I presented the results to Count Privilege, he curled his lip and said, "Bright Mind, I'm willing to ignore the fact that you deviated from the current work we have in order to create your own little side project."

I did it because the work was stupid and wasn't getting anywhere, you idiot! What else could I do, sit and watch while you bumbled up the work as usual?

"Are you trying to further develop this... gunpowder?" he went on to ask.

I've gone further than you can possibly imagine, you sick flab-bag. I bet your whore wife loves playing with your sacks of bits more than she's interested in your other sack.

Rainbow Dash held a hoof through her mouth and inhaled through her teeth. "Oooh."

Sorry. That last bit was involuntary.

I told him I was intending on exploiting its capabilities. The Count was reluctant, but after I had shown him that the powder could be weaponized, he gave a surprising nod and said, "My goodness, Bright Mind! I wasn't aware of your prowess! You shall have a team of developers to help you immediately!"

He couldn't hide his deception. I know what he really wants. He wants me to make the weapon for him, and then he'll exploit it like he's exploiting me right now, he'll let me invent it and he'll steal the credit. He has the, ah, privilege to do so. And I, meanwhile have no privileges for me to enjoy for myself. Not the privilege of privacy, not the privilege of having enough to eat, not the privilege of feeling safe- economically or physically or socially. This place has none of that, and sweet Celestia, I wish I don't have to be here any longer than I have to. If I do, I might start to go either go insane or kill somepony-- or both. I wonder how that would feel like? Would I even be in control of myself doing that, or would I be there mentally, would I know that I'm smashing them into the pavement?

"Man, this guy's got some dark thoughts," Applejack commented.

"You think?" Rainbow asked incredulously.

"I'm s-scared of h-him now," Fluttershy whispered, shivering.

"It's not his fault," Rarity pointed out. "Those thoughts are just the result of his environment. If I was him, I would get out of there as soon as I could."

"But then he wouldn't complete work on Ironheart," Twilight responded, picking up the book with her magic again. "And if he did, he'd be seen as a weakling to his coworkers."

"Let 'em think whatever they want," Rainbow said.

Twilight went to the next section and read aloud.

8/31/999: The work is going well. Since I already have the model of the guns developed, I just try to give off the appearance of working on the gun while I instead work on Ironheart's tweaks and power sources and internal workings. I swear it, when I'm done with him, they will be sorry they are acting like this all the time!

The ponies in my research group for developing a gun were hoof-picked by Count Privilege himself, which means it isn't a surprise Alpha Nevada's here as well. They do nothing constructive or helpful. They instead lie around, indulging in the most awful behavior. They just take whatever they want out of my fridge-- just today Misty Ice took a soda I was saving for myself in there, and I tried to get it back, but she just waved me off while she was taking a sip and told me to go play with my vibrators that I had probably made for myself. And so I just walked off and let that whore have her victory over me. And the other ponies are just as bad. The sheer amount of profanity in the air stinks like a dead fish.

I want to give examples of the utter disrespect they give to civilized language, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I don't have the courage to even write it down, let alone speak it. It's strange. I have no problem writing down some of the most sickening, demented, twisted, and dark thoughts I've ever had, but I get squeamish writing down swear words and bad language. Go figure.

They play cards and bet in their spare time, no matter how many times I tell them that they need to create the gun. Most of the time half of them don't even show up! Because I at least want them to try to be ponies that have some clue of what the project is about, I try to tell them they need to work on it, but they say, "Shut up, man! Can't you see we're busy playing a game?" Don't they realize that they- all of them, even the winner- are just losers to the game set in motion, the game of life? If you blow off this life, the time of your probation, your time here on earth, then who really wins? Nopony wins. And in response, they say, "The only real loser around here is you, Bright Mind," followed by whoops and cheers and a hoof-bump to the pony that said it. And I go and I stomp off in irritation and despair to work again.

"For being smart enough to be working at a science lab, those ponies sure are dumb!" Pinkie snapped at the journal.

Only one good thing's resulted from their unwillingness to work. They haven't been poking around and looking at Ironheart's unfinished body. At this point, he's little more than a corpse, but I can change that, given the time. I will need all the time I can get in order to finish him. I've taken to not even going home after hours, instead choosing to stay in the lab and work on my little project.

"Should I be rooting for Bright Mind or not?" Rainbow Dash asked. None of the mares responded, for none of them knew how to. Instead, Twilight went to the next part. The date for this particular one was significant.

1/1/1000: The skies were darkened today. The world went into a state of panic. The evil normally in other's hearts was now afflicting them. For Nightmare Moon has returned today. Princess Celestia was missing, outside was a fog of darkness, and the ponies were fleeing out of Canterlot and panicking.

I was calm and collected while they screamed, however. I simply worked on my project some more, in the darkness and the shadowy depths of the labs. I realized, a long time ago, that the power of darkness is not to be feared. Because it is fear that gives the darkness power. Do not turn your back to the darkness, because it will strike when you are not looking. You must always face it and let it in-- and then fountain it back out again. It's better and easier than trying to shut yourself out to those influences entirely, for that's an impossible task nopony can do.

Before the day-- or should I say, night-- was over, however, the sun rose and Princess Celestia had returned to her seat of power alongside her lost sister. We were all a little paranoid at first, but Celestia reassured us all that she wasn't to be feared, that Nightmare Moon was gone permanently and Princess Luna was here to stay, thanks to her protégé, Twilight Sparkle, and her friends. I couldn't believe it! Celestia's prize student, already accomplishing such great things? She's somepony I want to try to be like- abolishing the works of darkness from this earth. I believed her immediately.

The others, however, were suspicious and were heckling Celestia throughout her presentation of Luna at the lab. I hated them even more after that, for reviling the forces of good. I want to punish them for that, for if not me, then who?

The rain was falling like iron nails outside. The deluge was pattering so hard on the windows Twilight had to raise her voice near the end. Another rippling line of lightning sundered the heavens outside their window that caused elongated dark shadows to be made inside their apartment, accompanied by a cracking BOOM that sounded like they were hearing the firing of Ironheart's guns in their ears. Fluttershy jumped and hid under the covers of Twilight's bed.

"Holy Celestia, what was the weather schedule for today?" Rarity asked in shock, staring outside.

Twilight went to the next section, a growing sense of uneasiness lying at the pit of her stomach like she had swallowed a rock.

1/28/1000: I am writing this entry from the lab's hospital.

Twilight lurched. "That's not a good way to start a journal entry," she commented before clearing her throat and moving on.

The day before, I arranged a meeting to show Count Privilege the finished product. Before the meeting, I brought out one of my finished guns, a weapon that has a storage capacity of ten bullets. I showed it to the others I was working with and they "Ooh"ed and "Aah"ed over it before passing it around. It was truly one of the few times during the project I felt valued to others.

They told me that there were some props in one of the lab storage units that would be useful for the presentation. I therefore went out and rummaged through the storage units, looking for heaven knows what by now. It must have taken longer than I thought, for all too late I realized I was missing the meeting I had scheduled myself. I raced up to the meeting room only to find an awful scene.

They had erased my name completely from the presentation!

They had given no credit at all to me! I had walked in on them just as Alpha Nevada was talking about how the weapon he had manufactured could kill a pony from over eight hundred feet away. As I barged in I could see him look over the heads of Count Privilege and the rest of the upper-class citizens in the room and give this knowing smirk without using his mouth. I saw it in his eyes. "Bright Mind," he said to me. "Where in Equestria have you been? You were missing the presentation I was giving about my invention."

"That was mine!" I yelled at him. "You took that away from me! That's not yours at all!"

He walked over to my face. He was so close I could smell the egg-salad sandwich he had for lunch that day. "Then you tell me, Bright Mind," he whispered to me, "what are you going to do about it? It's your word against mine. Which do you think Count Privilege believes?"

I was then shoved in my seat by Alpha's magic. "Now sit, Dirty Mind," he commanded me. "And listen. The real genius here is speaking." And he turned back and I had to watch, in silent and abject horror, as Alpha Nevada proceeded then to plagiarize all of my life's work here by showing off my invention and passing it off as his own. When he was done Count Privilege commended him for his noble work and shook hooves with him, and promised him a reward of fifty thousand bits for his hard and well-spent work.

How can Count Privilege not see it? How can he not see this... this sin under his very nose? Unless he does see it and instead thinks Alpha Nevada's the better pony anyway, that he's better in life than me and therefore the one that's more responsible and respectful.

"You know..." Applejack mused. "Ah can how a pony can go all mad-scientist mode and create this Frankenstein's monster. Ah mean, look at 'em!" She slapped the book indignantly.

Count Privilege then arranged for Celestia to visit the following day and see the "Amazing invention Alpha Nevada created in the name of science." And Alpha thinks he's won, but he's wrong. I've bowed to him for far too long. I've eaten out of the wrong end of his intestines for two years, and I wouldn't let him get another advantage over me again!

Now, he's right about one thing- it's Alpha's word against mine. But I don't need a word. I only need proof. And I know where to get it.

The security camera footage. It's kept an eye on our public lab, but not in my private lab, where Ironheart is currently underway in construction. The cameras will certainly pick up any sign of Alpha's lying. It should show that Alpha and his filthy underlings were kicking back.

And so today, in the middle of Alpha Nevada presenting the weapon to Princess Celestia, I stood up in protest to Princess Celestia and told her to not believe anything Alpha was saying. When I did, Alpha looked back at me but said nothing. If he were to snap and lash out at me in front of Celestia, he'd lose his job. I took satisfaction in giving him a hefty smirk.

Celestia gave me a look. "Why were you interrupting this smart young pony?"

"Because he's lying," I responded fiercely. "He didn't create the weapon, I did!"

"Shut him up," Count Privilege told Alpha Nevada, and I saw him with a wild glint in his eye.

"Patience," Celestia said. "Let the charges be heard. If he believes he's been excluded from the project, I would like to know why."

I saw Count Privilege looking miffed at that. Alpha withdrew like a disappointed animal whose food had disappeared in front of him.

I drew out the security camera tapes from the past six months. I was lucky the pony in the security room was willing to lend them to me in the first place. "This should explain everything, Princess Celestia," I proudly announced. I was happy to see Alpha and Count Privilege dilate their eyes upon seeing them.

I then slipped the first tape in the player I had brought up and pressed play. On the monitor played a sped-up relay of the first day of the project. You could see me alone at the main table, my back turned to the camera, assembling the blueprints of the gun and drawing concept images, while in the far opposite corner were about fifteen to twenty other ponies idly lying around and lolling with no intent to help. Upon seeing this Celestia arched an eyebrow. "Who is that pony over there working on the project, and why is he alone?"

"That's me, Celestia," Alpha weakly asserted. "I tried to get Bright Mind to work with me, but he wasn't helping, he was trying to molest some of the other mares! See? He's all the way over- " He stopped when he saw the figure turn around and try to wave to the others with arm motions to try and come over. None came, however, and after a few minutes, he just turned around again and resumed his work. Celestia saw the face of the pony working alone, and it was not Alpha Nevada.

She turned to face him with the most stern expression I had ever seen her use. Alpha swallowed hard like he had taken a bite of cold soup.

"That is not you," she said softly. Behind her was the next day's footage, showing essentially the same thing. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

I noticed Alpha had turned a color akin to that of an old bowl of oatmeal. It was the only time I had seen fear on that face of his, the face that makes me so sick I will not even describe it here. "Ahh..."

"No need to defend yourself," she interrupted harshly. "Everything has been quite clear here, thanks to Bright Mind's interference." She looked at me. "I assume the rest of the videos are the same thing?"

"Absolutely," I responded warmly.

"Don't believe him!" Alpha rushed out. "He's deceiving you!"

"Is that so?" Celestia asked suspiciously. "In that case, I'll take these tapes back to the castle and look over them and see who really is lying." Ignoring his stricken face, she then addressed Count Privilege, who was looking almost as bad.

"Princess Celestia! I can explain!" he said desperately. "How was I supposed to know he was- "

"You disgust me," she said with every ounce of revulsion in her voice as physically possible. And she walked out of the room with the tapes trailing behind her with her magic, still looking at those two slimy pieces of rat-soiled filth with disgust. I silently cheered for her when she did that. Finally, you're doing something right for me, Celestia!

"GOOD FOR HIM!" Fluttershy yelled suddenly. The rest of the mares jumped in their spots on the bed, all looking at Fluttershy in shock. Fluttershy withdrew beneath the covers again. "Sorry," she squeaked.

"Actually, I'm not even mad," Twilight commented. "That's amazing!"

"Hooray Bright Mind!" Applejack cheered.

After the meeting I was packing up to go home. It had been a while since I had returned to the house for a proper warm meal. I think I've already said why, but I nearly always stay after hours to work on Ironheart. And it's a good thing I did, because I needed that extra time to work on his outer layer. Steel just isn't strong enough. It needed something to make it last much, much longer than steel. But what? Titanium? No, because even that can break apart and shatter.

So, left with little other options, I decided to create an entirely new metal on the molecular level.

Twilight broke off from reading instantly. "He WHAT?!" she demanded of the book. The book gave no answer.

"He made a brand-new new metal? Can ya even do that sort o' thing? Is it real, Twi?"

"Theoretically," Twilight uncertainly told Applejack over her shoulder. Then her voice went into a scholarly tone. "Atoms are the most elementary building blocks of life. Atoms are tiny-- hundreds of thousands of them are needed to be made into something as thick as a strand of hair. But the atoms themselves are made up of even smaller pieces called subatomic particles. Depending on the way they're arranged, they create certain atomic compounds- gold, copper, brass, titanium, iron, neon, and oxygen, to name a few. It is possible, theoretically, to strip an atom of the protons and neurons it's comprised of and add, subtract, or rearrange protons, neurons, and electrons to create an entirely new element. This process is called Transmutation."

"Care to explain for those of us that aren't as smart as you?" Rainbow asked Twilight irritably.

Twilight gave her a queer look before simplifying her statement with a roll of her eyes. "It's changing one atom to another by playing with the stuff it's made of."

"Like changing a muffin recipe to a cake recipe?" Pinkie Pie asked, raising a hoof.

Twilight smiled. "Yes, Pinkie. Perfect example. Like changing the recipe. Adding or subtracting the amounts of sugar, flour, eggs, or other stuff it's made of to create an entirely new treat. That's exactly what Bright Mind did. He played with atoms and subatomic particles to make a new recipe for a new metal, one nopony had ever seen before."

"But how in Equestria did he do it?" Rarity inquired. "How did he make those tiny little atoms change into what he wanted?"

"That's the mystery, isn't it?" Twilight asked. "It's really, really hard to go that small and make it happen. I don't know if even I could do that. But he was apparently one of the smartest ponies of our age and certainly the smartest pony in Celestia's school for Gifted Unicorns, so if anyone could do it, Bright Mind would have found a way." She looked back at the book.

I created a metal that was more heat-resistant than metal, and stronger, and more flexible, and denser than normal steel or titanium. It was designed to never break apart, tear, or be destroyed unless it was exposed to temperatures ten times hotter than the surface of the sun. I call it Infinisteel.

It took some time to create enough particles of Infinisteel to line the outside of the skeleton frame I created with spare metal pieces. It took about six months to get it all done. On a good day, after I had initially created the particle using magic, I could convert a good patch of steel into Infinisteel after the other ponies had gone home. It's actually really easy to copy the atoms into a new form once you have something to model it off of, so I have to only take a spare piece of steel and cast a spell at it to adapt into my creation of Infinisteel atoms. My lab contains all of the assembled pieces of Infinisteel, lining Ironheart one small piece at a time.

But today was different. I hadn't set hoof in my threadbare apartment for about three weeks straight now because I was so focused on Ironheart. I actually liked sleeping in here, because then I don't feel quite so alone. I'm building a friend! But I needed to make sure my apartment was all right.

It was dark when I left the main lab and started to head to my home, sweet home. About a fourth of a mile out, I rounded a corner to enter Canterlot Boulevard, with a large pile of bushes to my right. The lab was still right behind me.

And all of a sudden, the bushes rustled and out came several ponies that were wearing masks and disguises. They grabbed me and slammed me onto the concrete sidewalk. The impact was like a blast of white fire, the pain in my head like a hot nail. I looked up to see four or five of them start to stamp on me. One of their hooves caught me right between the hind legs and I tensed up. I started to leak tears.

Another one of them stomped right on the spot of my head where I had hit the concrete. It hurt as bad as the pain was in my groin, and everything else turned to a little throb as my body focused more on the pain, the awful pain in my groin and head.

Until one of them slashed me across the face from the top of my head diagonal to the left side of my jaw. That made new pain erupt all over my face, and I felt this warm wet liquid slowly flood out of my face and get into my mouth and my eyes. The taste was slightly metallic, and I recognized it as blood. I saw something lying on the ground in front of me and I realized it was a shard of my tooth.

"T-t-twilight," Fluttershy whimpered. "S-stop it! It's h-horrible!" She buried herself even more in the sheets.

"I can't, Fluttershy," Twilight said feebly. "We need to read it all. We need to understand it."

"We could at least not read out loud?" Applejack said to Twilight. "That's doin' more harm than good."

Twilight saw her logic. "Sorry, Fluttershy," she apologized sheepishly, then laid the dark book flatter on the bed for the girls to read for themselves. It was a good thing she did, for the next part was even worse, and it made the girls either gasp or clutch their stomachs uncomfortably.

They forced me to the side, off the sidewalk, and shoved filth into my eyes and mouth as well. Whether it was mud or manure I don't know; I was not acquainted with the taste of either. I tried to get out, screaming for them to stop, but they were holding me down by force and just shoved more of that filth into my mouth. Then one of them reared up and started to urinate gleefully all over me.

I don't know if there's a physical feeling in the world worse than getting peed on. It's warm at first, but after a few seconds it starts to turn freezing cold and stick to your clothes, and in turn stick to your skin. It was partly on my face, mixing with my own blood, but it was also on my neck and chest as well, and it soaked me before I could try to shake it off. But as bad as it physically feels, it's a mark that you're sub-pony, like you're less than a living being that deserves natural privileges like respect or love. Getting peed on was a mark that I had forever lost any sign of respect in the world.

When he was done the pony in question went back to all fours and put his face close to mine, but not close enough that he could be near the mess that was now my face. He whispered, "What are you going to do about it? What have you learned? You've learned to stay out of our business."

That voice was Alpha Nevada's. Of course.

"That whorse of a mother you had should have aborted you when she had the chance," he hissed, and he spat on me. It was slimy, and viscous, and dripped down my eye like I was crying. Which I was, in fact. I was crying and sobbing like a broken child, like I was in a nightmare, a special kind of Tartarus designed especially for me. After that they knocked my face into the ground again and walked away laughing.

I lay there for an indeterminate amount of time. Lying there, with my face covered in blood and mud and saliva and urine and tears, pain shooting from my groin and the side of my head, and my clothes wet and cold, I encountered a truth so utterly profound that it made me see clearly.

Ponies, by their very nature, just don't have it. They've never had it. They've lost before they started. They've lost before they were born. Flesh is weak. Flesh is pitiful and carnal and wants to do nothing but harm to others that are worse than them. I've been on the bottom rung of society for so long now that I understand it better than Count Privilege ever will. The only power that matters is the power to rip, and the power to tear, and the power to kill, and the power to destroy, because if you do not have that power, you will always live under the influence of somepony that does have that power, and if they decide to come after you, nothing and nopony will ever save you.

Twilight felt a tear build up in the corner of her eye reading the pain in his words and the obvious emotion displayed. The rest of the girls reading were making low, pained breathing sounds as they read his anguished thoughts.

Everyone is awful. The world is a rotten, wormy husk of what it once was. I've struggled for so long, felt so much pain, and I've gained nothing! The world has been darkened for me. No one loves me. No one cares.

But noooooo, Bright Mind! Just always, always remember- count your blessings, and the world will turn out fine! You can control every single thing in your life! Because your happiness depends on how you view the world, not the environment you grow up in! You can control how happy you are! You can stay happy and optimistic and happy-go-lucky, even when all of creation fights against you and wants to stamp you into a pile of goo. How dare you think you deserve better? The world is a bright place. A place where you can stay on the bottom for the rest of your life, where you never fight against your oppressors because that's wrong. It's right for them to hurt you because you're beneath them, but when you want to hurt them to get out from under their grip, then all of a sudden that's wrong. Remember to always treat others the way they want to be treated. Forget about the other ponies that act horribly to their fellow brethren and get no punishment for it, even though that contradicts the Golden Rule in the first place because nopony treats them the way they treat you, Bright Mind! Just ignore the Tartarus that's been heaped upon your back, and you'll turn into a pretty little butterfly that will just fly away and leave everyone behind! Your family, your friends-- you don't have any, so it won't hurt, will it, when you leave this world forever and depart for some miserable afterlife! You'll be fine! Just Count. Your. Blessings. The ponies that hurt you aren't to blame, it's your fault for feeling hurt!

NO!

When the girls saw that they reared their heads backward. It was as if he had suddenly lost control.

NO! NO NO NO! THE WORLD'S AN AWFUL PLACE, AND I WANT OUT!

Guh-doy, what are you talking about? You have sooooo much to live for! You matter! You matter as somepony for others to beat up so they feel better about themselves! But don't let that get to you! You can feel love for them, can't you? Feeling love is the whole point of living!

THEN I! DON'T! WANT! TO LIVE! ANYMORE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN THE SAME WORLD AS YOU! SO EITHER THEY DIE, OR I WILL!

Oh, Bright Mind! How dare you! You can't do that! The world is just a game! Stop whining over a game, Bright Mind! There is no situation so bad that whining about it won't make it worse! So just shut up about your protests of abuse and evil! Nopony wants to hear you wail and mope! Stop feeling like the world should treat you with respect, because that's just how the game works! You can't demand that the world treat you with respect- except if Alpha Nevada asks for respect, then he gets it all, he gets love and acceptance- but the instant you want to be treated like a living, breathing being, then you're asking too much! Some ponies are just better off! Some ponies just enter the game unequal, and that's fine, you've just got to accept that you will lose the game of life!

THEN I FORFEIT THE GAME! I DON'T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE! I DON'T CARE! I WILL NOT PARTICIPATE IN A RIGGED GAME! JUST LET ME EITHER QUIT OR GAIN THE ADVANTAGE I NEED TO PLAY ON EVEN GROUND! I DON'T CARE WHICH!

Pinkie Pie gulped. "What's the difference in those paragraphs?" she asked fearfully. "Is he talking to himself?"

"I think... that's him arguing with ponies that are trying to give him advice," Twilight said slowly. "Except the advice isn't doing him any good. He's tortured and in pain and he doesn't know what else to do or think."

Nopony knew how to answer that.

They say I need to forgive and forget, and my life will be made for the better. But the problem is, part of forgiving is forgetting. And I will never forget what they did to me today. Therefore, they shall always remain unforgiven.

I lay in the pile of filth and decay, bleeding from that deep scar I now have on my face, for some time; I wasn't measuring. It hurt. The pain and the humiliation and the lack of anything resembling love. Then, when I felt like I was going to pass out, a shadow fell across my face and I heard, "Oh my goodness! Bright Mind, is that you?"

I recognized the voice. It was Dr. Brainstem, the pony I told about my gun in the early stages of development. I felt lifted off the ground with his magic, and I trailed after him helplessly as he rushed me back to the lab's hospital. There he managed to work with the nurses and doctors, and they patched me up and made me rest in the hospital bed from where I am currently writing these words with my magic.

The scar I have on my face will never heal permanently, they say. How did this happen, Bright Mind? Oh, it was just an accident, I was playing around with some spare metal and it gave me this nasty scar on my face. Are you sure about that, wasn't it an assault? Yes I'm sure about that, it was only an accident, I was just being stupid. All right, then, if you say so.

Why didn't I tell them? To give Alpha Nevada his victory. To placate him, to make it so that he doesn't come after me anymore, to make him win and make him feel satisfied.

But he hasn't won. Not if I have anything to say about it.

All I see in others before I see what's good about them are their negative aspects. Their defects, their flaws, the things I find infuriating and annoying. I see them and I shrivel in disgust, knowing that those ponies are who I should not be like.

Nyeeh, but Bright Mind, look who's talking! You have problems too! You're weak. Why should you point out the flaws of others?

Because even though I'm not perfect, I know what it looks like, and because of my experiences growing up, I notice those first, I notice how snotty or prideful or malicious they are. Just because I'm not perfect, it doesn't mean I don't want others to correct themselves when they're doing something wrong.

Wrong! What, are you judging us? Only Celestia can judge us! You have no right to say the evil things we do are wrong! Except if you say that we're doing something right; then we'll love your advice and we'll accept it gladly. If you say that we're right in the bad things we do, that's acceptable, but the instant you say that we're doing something immoral and wrong, then your opinion doesn't matter and we'll only look to Celestia for approval! She would approve of the sin we're committing, Bright Mind, even though she's clearly said she doesn't like it!

Oh Celestia, your logic is stupid. If you have the right to judge others according to your own will, why shouldn't I? The world is irredeemable. How much of nothing you all are! Even the dust of the earth is more obedient than you all! See, if the wind blows, the dust, at least, moves according to the will of the wind. But not you! Not you stubborn and stiffnecked animals! I'd rather be with the dust! I don't want to belong to this race anymore, if that's our natural state!

Twilight took a peek at the next section of the book, on the other side of the page. It was the next day's events. Twilight cleared her throat and read aloud.

1/29/1000: Today I had to stay in the lab's hospital bed, which irked me. I had to finish Ironheart! I needed to complete it, and soon! I'm doing nothing just staying in this bed and counting the seconds ticking by on the clock opposite me.

Celestia came in for a visit at about noon. "Oh my, Bright Mind! Are you all right? Are you fine?"

I only nodded. It hurt to move my head because I had cracked my skull from the night before. I could still feel the mud and piss on my face from the night before. It just won't go away!

"Who did this to you?" she asked me.

I won't lie, I was on the verge of telling her it was Alpha Nevada. But I decided against that. If I had told her, what would she have done? Probably expelled him from Project 24. And then what? He'd no longer be under her jurisdiction. He'd be free to go, free to commit more atrocious acts against me in the future. Celestia hadn't done anything about him now. How could I be sure she'd do something now? This was between me and him. I would handle it myself. The matter was in my own hooves.

That's how it is. I tell you, the single biggest lie I've ever been told-- at school, the workplace, and in the real world itself-- is this: "Bullying will not be tolerated."

I mean, they say they care, and they say they're looking out for you by saying, "If anypony ever feels unsafe, please come to us. We care about you and we're here to help."

Then someone like me comes to them and says they feel unsafe and they want to have the ponies in charge do something, and they throw up their hooves in irritation and say, "Well, what the heck do you want me to do about it?" Or they put you in trouble as well, because apparently there needs to be two ponies in order to have a fight, and you get an equal share of the blame for no reason. Or they forcibly remove you from the other pony that's causing the trouble. I don't get it. Why not remove the troublemaker, instead of the victim? Or they say that you are provoking them, and you must take a look at yourself to see if you are being a good student first. The problem is with you, little victim. Your weakness is just too much for them. They can't help it if your face breaks against the ground from time to time. Or they prescribe medication that turns them into a frickin' zombie.

And so, distraught by their indifference, the oppressed pony in question commits suicide or starts to cut him-or-herself on the wrist or gets depression. And when that happens, the counselors throw their hooves up in innocence and bluster, "Oh my goodness, what a terrible catastrophe! You know, this tragedy could have been avoided if the pony had simply gone to us for aid! Remember, come to us if you ever have a problem!"

Oh my goodness, it disgusts me.

If there's anything I've subsequently learned, it's that you cannot rely on others to solve your problems for you, or you will grow up weak, like me. And so I will change that. This is not Celestia's problem. This is mine. And I will solve it in the way I want, not hers. Friendship does nothing for you in these cases.

"That's not true!" Fluttershy exclaimed, leaping out of the bed cover yet again. "What about me in Flight School, when I was getting teased by all those bullies and meanies? Friendship was the only thing that helped me then! Right, Rainbow?" She looked to Rainbow Dash for confirmation.

"Uh...yeah, sure!" Rainbow responded, rubbing her mane uncomfortably, thinking about his words and seeing the logic in them.

The way to deal with the ponies hurting you is to make it clear that you can stop them. Bullies never like being beat. So you need to win against them. You need to make them feel humiliated, and it will be made clear then who is the pony that is strong.

And if they continue to come after you? Then you need to make their fear of you stronger than their hate. Make their pain stronger than their hate. Which I intend to do as soon as I possess the capability. I will not stand on the lower rung of life and do nothing! That's all I've ever done! That's all I've ever done when somepony decides to hurt me! Nothing!

And so in response, I responded that it was an accident, that I had been caught in an overturned dumpster and I hurt myself and that was why my clothes were dirty and wet, and why I was slashed across the face. Celestia bought it and wished me luck with my recovery.

"Oh, and by the way?" she added. "I reviewed the tapes, and it seems like you were, in fact, the only pony working responsibly on the project."

At that I sat up. "That's good to know," I responded. "What's going to happen to Alpha Nevada?"

"He'll be put on probation of the project," Celestia said to me. "He's proved himself to be untrustworthy. He will be suspended from it."

I couldn't believe it. I guess I can say I called it. My face felt more numb than before, incredibly. "Why not send him to jail for lying and... and plagiarism?" I asked in shock. Oh my gosh, it hurt to talk!

"Because remember what happened to you, Bright Mind. Remember when Count Privilege caught you looking at pornographic images?"

Before I could respond in outrage, Celestia continued. "I gave you a second chance then, and I'm giving him a second chance now. It's mercy, Bright Mind. Mercy is the gift of all, not just the ponies accused falsely of pornography."

Well, at least she knows I'm innocent because of that.

But no, that's false. The merciful obtain mercy. If you don't try to become better than who you are, why should you receive that gift? You won't be forgiven of your crimes if you intend on repeating them! The unrepentant are the unforgiven!

Twilight immediately felt uncomfortable upon reading those words. Wasn't that the exact same expression Ironheart used before he had given False Felony a mortal wound?

Twilight flipped to the last section of text, the last bookmarked page in the book. Outside the rain was smattering against the window like it wanted to invade the apartment, and another cricking, crackling tear of lightning appeared and a BOOM resonated forth.

6/13/1000: This is the last entry I will ever make while I reside in my tabernacle of clay that is my physical body of flesh and blood.

Applejack gulped. "Is he gonna kill himself?" she asked fearfully. "That's what it sounds like here, and Ah don't like it one bit!"

"Of course he's not killing himself," Rarity said with her voice full of doubt. "Ironheart said that he killed Bright Mind, not that he committed suicide. Maybe Bright Mind ordered Ironheart to kill him, and by so doing, fueled Ironheart's lust for vengeance?"

"Come on!" Rainbow Dash groaned in exasperation. "So far we've had a lot of guesses about who's responsible here. First he was nameless, and then we saw the name Ironheart and we thought it was Case File. Then we knew it wasn't him when he died earlier today and we got taken to the Ultraground. Then we saw that it was a robot! And now we know that it's not Ironheart's fault at all, but instead a result of the pony that created him, who's a suicidal nutjob that wants to kill the ponies that hurt him when he was young! Which is the real deal, huh?"

Twilight had different thoughts about that, but she wanted to be absolutely sure before she voiced them. Her suspicion was worse than any previous thought they had about Ironheart and Bright Mind.

I haven't written in a while because I've been hard at work on the final result of Ironheart. The plan's changed. Ironheart will not be under my control anymore, because I'll be giving it a higher purpose.

I've been studying magic in my private lab now. I've snuck some of the more restricted books out of the Royal Canterlot Library, so no one else can know what's been going on here. I've been studying the physical and astral forms and seeing how they interact. It's a known fact that we all have a spirit. All living things have spirits. But our spirit is the part of us that is who we truly are, not our brain or our hearts. It's our spirits! Our spirits house our personalities, our thoughts, our emotions, our perspectives. It turns out that your body, if deprived of your spirit, is simply an empty shell, a pitiful being without form or purpose. A void. Like Ironheart.

But if you were to infuse your spirit with another thing, like another pony, another physical thing, that object is now where your spirit is, and that object is now where you are. You are not a body with a spirit. You are instead a spirit trapped inside a weak body.

Pinkie Pie narrowed her eyes at the page. "What is he suggesting?" she asked suspiciously.

Bright Mind shall no longer be myself anymore. By transferring my spirit into the machine, I shall become something greater. I shall become my own creation.

The words hit everyone hard all at once.

The tabernacle of clay shall become a tabernacle of steel for me. I shall rise above the limitations imposed by me by the natural world and become something stronger. Faster. Braver. All that I need to do is cast a spell that I've perfected in my solo time over the past six months. Nopony checks up on me anyway in my lab, so I've worked in even more secrecy than before. The spell shall transfer my own spirit into the empty shell of Ironheart. I'm not nervous about if it goes well at all. If it fails, then so what? At least I won't be on this earth anymore.

I now step into the unknown. I am charging the spell now. I am killing you, Bright Mind, for once I depart from your feeble weak body, I shall be something better than you. I've always hated you, more than anypony else, because of your weakness and your failure. I need to stop writing now. I need to focus on the spell. The output of energy produced by the spell could produce a massive explosion that could destroy my laboratory. And so much the better; I want nopony to exploit my inventions.

You should have understood that if Alpha Nevada didn't kill you, I would. Good-bye, Bright Mind.

"NO!" Fluttershy gasped out loud. She rushed out and gripped the two sides of the book, staring into its depths. "Please, don't do this!"

After a prolonged moment Twilight coughed. "Fluttershy... I think he's already done it."

Fluttershy feverishly turned the pages of the book, her eyes wide and her mouth open. On the opposite side of the page was more words. The hoofwriting was smoother now, and not as desperate and fast-written as the previous words.

It worked.

Twilight felt as though something had been ripped away out of her life upon reading those two words. He had taken that path. He had fallen that far. He had done the unthinkable experiment. He had done the impossible. And he had become an abomination of nature. She continued to read the straight words, done now by a precise metal appendage.

The greatest experiment in the history of the world worked! Ponies can rise above their natural limitations and create their own limits! We can rise above their awful and fallen state to become artificial, immortal angels possessed with almost limitless power!

Right now, in the wreckage of my former lab, in the remnants of my former life, I see through the smoke a limp body, covered with burns and cuts. That mortal shell is now empty, now only a broken pot that had its contents poured into some other vessel before it died. Because the vessel only matters in terms of strength of holding its contents. And so I grin in achievement upon seeing the pony that no longer matters to me-- Bright Mind. He is dead, killed by my own hoof.

Let the others gloat in their luck when they see my body. Let them celebrate and praise themselves for pushing him to the edge. But how far can you push a pony to the edge of a precipice before he starts to fight back?

They will discover that their fight has only just begun.

I wish not for power, or fame, or glory. Those are only for weak ponies that can't stand on their own. All I want is to make sure nopony will ever hurt me again. I will not give them the chance.

Or the choice.

I cannot die. I am immortal. I am Ironheart.

I will rise. I will exact vengeance.

And every last traitorous soul shall bow in my shadow.

Her friends gasped aloud. Twilight looked up, feeling shocked to her very core, remembering with clarity what was written on a piece of metal they had discovered on the docks. The words were the same, their meaning drastically different; from a taunting mock intended for Case File; to a declaration of war on the world itself from a pony irreparably damaged by it.

"It's Bright Mind," Twilight whispered. She set the book down. And all impossibility was now suddenly possible now that the revelation was spoken aloud. "The Night Terror... is Bright Mind."

And outside, the world resonated with the firing of a thunderbolt.

Author's Note

First off, props to Anti-Villain (Now Xanatos Speed Chess) for guessing it way before I was planning on revealing Ironheart's identity. And his guess made me a little nervous at first; what about spoilers? So I didn't respond to anything he said in order to conceal the secret. Anyway, good job, Anti-Villain! Give yourself a hand! (Begins wild round of applause on his behalf.)

This is one of the more emotional, angry chapters I ever wrote, and it took a long time. But hopefully you won't care. You can look over it and see clearly his anguish and his pain and his irritation and anger.

On a side note, Ironheart's name (and theme I played in my head whenever he showed up) was based on this music piece:

It's his theme! Every good character needs a proper theme for himself!

Reunion

The morning was grey and overcast when the sun failed to shine on Manehatten. The deluge from the day before had made the seas surrounding Manehatten Island choppy and uneven. The air was damp and heavy, and huge puddles of water lay on the sides of the street and on the sidewalk.

The newspapers lay on damp doorsteps, with the front image being a picture of a grey earth pony with stubble lying on the ground with a strange deep hole in his head and in his side, stained a maroon color. The headline above it read:

FORENSICS EXPERT FOUND DEAD ON MANEHATTEN DOCKS WHILE INVESTIGATING NIGHT TERROR ATTACK.

As a few ponies came out of the buildings in the slow grey morning, they yawned and picked it up with a sinking feeling in their stomachs and read the rest of the article.

Yesterday, the head of forensics in the city, Case File, was found dead on the docks of Manehatten while hard at work investigating the recent attacks made by the Night Terror.

"It is with the deepest regret that I informed his family," said Count Rich Privilege yesterday. "He has always been a loyal part of this city, trying his hardest to protect the city he loves. But even more disconcerting is that the Night Terror has struck again--this time, in broad daylight. This is telling evidence that he wants to only hurt ponies at random. How soon will it be before he makes an all-out attack against Manehatten itself?"

For it is of noteworthy interest that the wounds on Case File's body match those inflicted by the Night Terror on previous attacks. And the reason for this particular attack is still murky, according to autopsy expert Dr. Brainstem, who was put to the tragic task of performing the research on his body at the request of Count Privilege himself. For Dr. Brainstem and Case File had been friends ever since Dr. Brainstem had moved to Manehatten, according to an interview with the distraught doctor.

"He... he was my close friend," Dr. Brainstem tearfully told reporters yesterday evening. "He and I would go and get dinner together after hard work days. We would laugh. Joke. We loved each other. And now... he's dead. I... I'll never see him again."

Detective work is still deep in unraveling the mystery of the Night Terror himself. Who is this mysterious terrorist, this cold-blooded killer out for blood?

With those news, and a cold, dark morning, the city of Manehatten was uneasy and anticipating even more bad news. All over the city, ponies looked up at the dark skies and were plunged into a cold, sinister fear. Fear that Count Privilege was right... that the Night Terror would declare war on the city.

One of these ponies was the Night Terror himself.

Upon reading the news article in a small grimy side alley between a few brick buildings, Ironheart gritted his metal teeth so hard sparks flew out of his mouth and balled the paper into a tight wad. "Who does Count Privilege think he is?" he demanded of the paper indignantly. He set the ball to the tip of his hoof, and the tip of a flamethrower poked itself out and incinerated the paper. He tossed it aside after a moment, not wanting to set himself afire like the day before in the Ultraground.

He paced up and down the alley, covered in his deliberately-flammable black coating, thinking and thinking hard. How would things go now? Would he make an all-out attack on the city, with the way things were going now? Count Privilege was certainly asking for it. But that was something only done by terrorists without a shred of sanity left.

And how would the Mane Six respond to that? Would they try to stop him--if and when he did attack Manehatten? He had given them his journal, so they must understand what he was going through--right? They knew now that he was really Bright Mind, that despised, hated shadow of the past. So why shouldn't he continue with what he was doing?

His thoughts went to Dr. Brainstem. He was obviously going through a lot right now. He was depressed, and colorless. Should he go and cheer the doctor up? He had done the same for Bright Mind, all those years ago. So he needed to do the same to him now. He needed to let Dr. Brainstem know that there was one pony still there for him. Out of all the ponies that had worked with Bright Mind on Project 24, Dr. Brainstem was the only one that qualified as a friend.

Would the Mane Six agree with his logic? They had to, wouldn't they? He was doing what was right. It was better that a few bad ponies die than to allow them to continue to corrupt the natural order, the way life was supposed to be organized! The plainly obvious structure of How Society Ought To Be!

How was society supposed to be, then? It was supposed to be a world of life, and love, and order. The ponies that were low in station needed to be brought to an equal playing field to enjoy the full options and experiences of life. Like Bright Mind. And the ponies that were high in station... the ones that abused their privileges... needed to be brought lower.

The way society needed to be was to have everyone obey universal moral codes. For example, what if everyone obeyed the commandments regarding chastity? If everyone did, ponies would be a lot more honest. Marriages would be happier and completely certain of their partner's loyalty to each other. Ponies would live in a world where they didn't have to worry about abduction and rape, or infidelity, or harsh and dirty thoughts. Everyone would be safer.

Of course, half the movie industry would dry up overnight. Same with the porn industry. And the rap songs and the rock songs, and the incoherent whining in the news about promoting vice, degeneracy, whoredoms, and sodomy. Good. Let them all die. Let the forces of darkness wither and burn like the newspaper he had chucked to the side.

But Bright Mind! I don't wanna give up my life of debauchery!

All the better for you then.

But Bright Mind! You can't take away my freedom of choice! I can choose to live in this awful state of stupidity and bad decisions! The gift of choice is something you can't take away! You need to learn that I want to live in this fallen state! And by not allowing me that option you're hurting meeee! Get out of our business! Nyaaa!

You say I take away the freedom of choice? I'm not. I'm delivering to you the consequences of your shallowness and short-sightedness. You can make your choice, but you can never, ever, ever choose the consequences. Besides, I have the freedom of choice too. I am choosing to hurt you. And if you ask me to stop that, then why should I obey you? You're simply making me give up my freedom of choice.

It's strange, isn't it? I ask you to stop your treacherous ways, and you snivel and whine that I'm forcing you and that's against your freedom of choice. But when I choose to force you to stop, then suddenly the freedom of choice gets distorted in your favor again and you force me to stop.

Or how about the laws about being honest? Ponies wouldn't need lockers, because you don't need to worry about having somepony else taking your stuff. Deals would be fair and ponies needn't be robbed of their bits in corrupt exchanges. The city of Las Pegasus would lose almost all of its revenue, because nopony wants to be cheated out of money. The ponies operating corrupt deals would recognize their greed and make reparations. Drugs? Gone. Corruption? Done away with.

Ironheart was fully aware of the fact that he needed to stoop to their level in order to stop their problems. But that was the point, wasn't it? Stoop down to their level, so you're close to the base of the root. Snip the plant out from the root. Pull the root out and kill the corrupt plant that was strangling the rest of the plants in the garden. Destroy crime at its root by using their own tactics against them. Make them get a taste of their own medicine. Corrupt deals. Murder. Mass destruction. Humiliation. Fear. Blood and fire turning their bodies red.

He would stop at nothing until dissension against good would be silenced. Every last traitorous soul would bow in his shadow. He cared not for glory. He cared not for what the world thought of him now. He didn't want their compliments, or their fear, or their honors or condemnation.

He only wanted to hurt those that hurt others.

A splash on a shallow puddle nearby brought him out of his thoughts, and he pricked his metal ears up. Hurriedly, he went off to the side so nopony could see him in open light.

He turned his eyes inward and set his sight mode to the security camera footage all over the city. This way, he could monitor any and all activity in the city so he could respond to any problems in a moment's notice. It had taken a few weeks to hack into the city's main power grid and install himself with the same sights the security cameras had without all that unnecessary wiring and... cables. He had found a way to surpass the use of cables a long time before. He had so many advantages over everypony else, it was almost unfair.

Then again, life had been unfair to him before, hadn't it? Why was life never unfair in your advantage?

In the bees-view of security cameras set up all over the city, he swiped his mind over all of the tiny little squares in his vision. There was not much happening in most of them, but when he came to the third column, twelfth row, he enhanced the image mentally, and the square appeared bigger. This particular camera was set outside the back of a gemstore in lower Manehatten.

In it were three lank, raggedy ponies cornering a mare near the side of the darkened brick wall. One of them was wielding a knife in his teeth, and the others had feral glints in their eyes.

The Night Terror went back to his normal vision, and he was suddenly looking at the side of a dumpster in front of him. He narrowed his unnatural scarlet eyes. "Not on my watch," he swore darkly, and extended his metal wings with a loud chattering sound. The wings on the back lifted themselves up slightly and a slow whine emanated from it, and glowed red as the repulsors and engines in his wings powered to full capacity. He felt a slight rumble in his hooves as well, and they felt hot as the repulsors in his hooves got warmed up. Once he was sure the engines were at full power, he released the internal lock holding the thrust back with his mind, and he shot into the dark overcast sky with a blast of power.

"P-please! Get away!"

"Oh no, pretty... I don't think I'll be doing that."

"I said no! No means no!"

"Pin her to the wall."

The other two stallions did so accordingly. The mare with cherry red hair struggled hard against her captor's grip, but the two other stallions held on to her arms tightly and slammed her back into the brick wall. The back of the mare's head was flat against the brick.

"It's just this really hard morning wood, beautiful... it won't go away unless I do something about it," the lead stallion said, coming closer.

"D-don't!" the mare pleaded.

"Let's see...what do I have to work with here?" the stallion asked, leering in closer, admiring the underside of her. His eyes traveled to the space in between her legs, which was covered up suddenly by the mare's cherry red tail. "Oh, yes...this will work just fine." He then faced his friends holding her up. "Don't worry. You'll get a turn yourself once I've had my fill."

"HELP!" the mare cried. "HEL- "

One of them clapped a hoof to her mouth. "Scream, and you die," he hissed.

The other one took his knife out of his mouth. "Oh, don't...I like it when they scream." He gave a sinister grin.

The stallion in front of her lined himself up with her. The mare was breathing heavily through her nose, looking at the stallion in front of her with her eyes full of fear. He gave her a pair of half-lidded eyes and reached out a hoof to brush aside the tail covering her privates, when there came a swooping sound and a loud bump as something landed on the pavement.

SHING SHING SHING SHING.

Thud thud thud thud.

Both the ponies holding her to the wall released her with sudden cries of pain and dropped to their knees. Protruding from their knees were nine-inch metal feathers, embedded into the bone.

The would-be rapist spun around, widening his eyes in fear. "What- "

CRACK.

He got knocked backward and skidded on the ground for a few feet before stopping against the wall. He stayed there for just a second before putting a hoof to his nose and wincing sharply. It had broken. He could feel something warm on his face, and when he took his hoof away he could see fresh blood. Twin streams of the liquid ran down his nostrils, forming a red 11 on his upper lip.

Looking ahead, he could see a dark, looming shape over his two other friends. He was talking very fast to the mare he had tried to force himself upon. Listening closely, he could make out what he was saying.

"Run. Run away from them and get to the police station. Once you get there, tell them that you were about to be raped, but something saved you--you don't know what, exactly. Describe your assaulters and leave, and stay cautious. I'll deal with them." He pointed at the two writhing shapes on the ground.

The mare bit her lip and nodded, then turned tail and ran in fear from the dark shape.

The Night Terror! he thought in a desperate state. He tried to get up and run away, but before he could a sharp BANG cracked through the air and he stumbled and fell, clutching his leg and screaming.

In the flash of an instant, the dark shape flew over to the injured pony and clamped a hoof over his mouth violently, hurting his face even more. He weakly gazed into a pair of bright, intense red eyes that were narrowed in intense hatred. "Scream, and you die," the silhouette said in a calm, almost conversational tone.

The pony was taking deep breaths through his nose, unable to move or scream. All he could do was pray his end would be quick.

"Let's see... what do I have to work with here?" the Night Terror asked casually, spreading the pony's thrashing legs.

"Please!" the pony tried to say, but it only came out as an "Mmmmph!"

The Night Terror grimaced at the sight, then shrugged and smiled. "Oh, yes... this'll work just fine." He jutted a short, jagged blade out of his hoof. "You didn't have the balls to go to the effort to get a girlfriend yourself. You instead thought you'd be fine forcing your own pleasure out of her. You didn't have the balls.

"And now you're going to live with that proof for the rest of your miserable life."

"Sir?" the secretary said, coming into the city police commissioner's office. "There's something I think you need to see."

"Not now, Flitter Gust!" snapped the irate commissioner. "I'm dealing with all of this paperwork!"

"There's something outside the station, sir," the secretary continued. "A present for you."

The police commissioner looked up. "A present?" he asked.

"Yes, a present."

"Who'd want to send me a present?"

"Apparently, the Night Terror, sir."

The police commissioner bolted out of his seat, right in front of Flitter Gust's face. "He what?!"

"Come with me, sir."

"I don't want to get any kind of present from that... that thing," he said with a shudder. "I'm not risking it."

"Sir." Flitter Gust looked him in the face. "I swear, it won't harm you."

"How do you know that?"

"I've seen it. Trust me."

The police commissioner swallowed. "Lead the way," he said.

Flitter Gust led him through the police office to the front door and opened it with a jingle of the bell above the door. The police commissioner stepped through the door fearfully. And he stopped and stared.

Tied to the lamp post in front of the police office were three injured ponies. A zip tie was around all three of their necks around the pole, tying them all together. They were struggling to stand on their weak legs, for in their knees were either long metal feathers or deep bloody wounds made by some abominable object. There were rags tied in between all three of their legs like diapers, which were soaked with blood.

Pinned straight to the chest of one with a safety pin was a bloody notecard. It read:

Please arrest me! The height of my romantic career was trying to rape one girl with two other dudes. I want to step it up a notch and get shared with my cellmates!

The police commissioner looked at the card. He then looked at the would-be rapists. He felt a bit of bile rise in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it with immense difficulty. "Get them off that pole," he told Flitter Gust.

"Dr. Brainstem?" Twilight asked, pushing open the door to Dr. Brainstem's dimly lit office at MIT. "Dr. Brainstem?" she called again, coming in. Behind Twilight were the six other girls. "We want to talk to you."

The girls had been looking for him the entire day. They had first tried to find him at the docks, where he was working before. Then they went to the Manehatten Institute of Technology and asked around the place for him. Nopony had seen him for the whole day. Finally, one helpful nurse had explained where his office was, and the girls and Spike had rushed over promptly.

Dr. Brainstem's back showed to them. He was hunched over at his table, his head down in his hooves, piles of unfinished work on the sides of his desk. He was thrown into an unnatural shadowy light. On the window opposite his office, the oncoming dusk was making the city-island turn into a landscape of shadows and silhouettes.

"Dr. Brainstem?" Rarity called melodiously, coming next to the distraught doctor and shaking his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Dr. Brainstem picked his head up slowly. His face was red and sagged pitifully. His last remaining bits of mane on his balding head were out of place and drooped. He turned to face Rarity. "Leave me alone," he mumbled.

"We want to help you," Rarity encouraged.

Dr. Brainstem soured his expression. "You're not helping me. If you want to help me, leave me alone."

"Of course not!" Rarity disagreed.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he bellowed, and the mares recoiled in shock. The behavior was so unlike his usual attached, scholarly tone that the change of it was even more disconcerting than the scary face he had on and the loud volume he had used. He took a few deep breaths. "Just--just don't bother, okay? Go away." He placed his face in his hooves. "I... I'm not..."

"Is this about Case File?" Twilight asked, drawing near cautiously.

"Of course it's about Case File!" he snapped, making Twilight recoil again. "What else would it be about? I had to examine the body of my friend! Because I was forced to by that scum of Equestria, Count Privilege!" He took a few deep breaths. "And you ask me if I'm okay?" He slumped down again. "Don't you know how that feels like?" he whispered. "You don't know what it's like to lose somepony close to you, do you? And you can't do a thing about it?"

"Oh, there, there" Fluttershy cooed, coming behind him and rubbing his shoulders to try and relax his composure. "I know exactly how that feels like. I love the sick and hurt animals I have to bring in and make them feel better. But sometimes, every once in a blue moon... even though I've done everything I could to help them... they still pass away. And I feel awful about that. I feel my tummy get tight, and my throat closes up, and the space behind my eyes gets hot and wet. I..." She sniffled just thinking about it. "I don't want to see you get as hurt as I am."

Dr. Brainstem looked behind him at the dear shy pegasus pressing his shoulders tighter together. Then he let out an exhale and tapped his hoof on the table.

"Case File was brave," Twilight uttered. "If there's anypony that could have been a fit for a studious, hardworking pony like you...it was him."

Dr. Brainstem nodded. "I know...but saying those things about him won't bring him back," he said depressingly.

"It's better that we remember who he was and emulate what he wanted ta have us do," Applejack put in. "And he would have wanted us to finish the job he started."

Dr. Brainstem was silent as Fluttershy helped massage his shoulders. The physical therapy was obviously working, because he took a long, deep exhale through his puckered lips. "All right," he agreed finally. "I will be strong. I will...I'll be with him. Whether he's by my side or not, he'll always be a part of me."

Twilight breathed a breath of relief. "Thank you, doctor. We came here to actually talk with you about something we found out about the Night Terror."

Dr. Brainstem jerked his head to the side. "I don't want to hear anything more about the pony that killed my best friend," he muttered darkly.

"It's true, he did," Applejack said. "But not directly."

Dr. Brainstem looked at her. "Explain."

"He was the one that sold guns ta the criminals that did kill 'im," Applejack said. "But he wan't involved in it at all! He didn't want ta have 'im killed! It was the griffons that took it upon themselves to target 'im. And when he found out about that, he went and killed the griffon that did it right in front of our eyes!"

"Wait, he sold the guns to the others?" Dr. Brainstem asked in shock. "Then that means..." He mused for just a second. "What does that mean? Why would he give powerful weapons to the ponies and griffons he's fighting against?"

"I think to give them a fighting chance--or to prove that even with the most advanced weapons on the face of the planet, he still couldn't be defeated."

"But who is it?" he pressured them. "Do you know who it is?"

Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack all looked at each other uneasily. Should they do it? Should they deliver the news to him and let him know what happened to Bright Mind? Nopony knew for certain, but they knew that the truth shouldn't be concealed for longer than necessary.

Finally, Rainbow Dash spoke. "Ironheart's the Night Terror. But do you know... where he came from?"

"No," he said.

"He had to be created by somepony that wanted to create a machine of terror and destruction. But..." Rainbow looked back at Twilight, looking for confirmation.

Dr. Brainstem kept his gaze on her. "He had to be created? How do you know this? Did you meet him?" he asked her.

"Well.." Pinkie started. "We diiid kinda sorta got foalnapped, and Twilight and Rainbow got into a moral problem until the Night Terror himself showed up and helped break us out of the Ultraground."

Dr. Brainstem got out of his seat. "He did what?" he asked in disbelief.

"He's a guy that's trying his hardest to do what's right," Rainbow expounded. "He thinks we're the good guys, so he helps us and he's saved our lives before."

"And what about me?" Dr. Brainstem asked indignantly. "Am I an ally of his as well? Or am I just another one of his toys?"

Thump thump

"I think you are a friend," came a soft, soft voice, and the room dropped a few degrees. The girls immediately froze any activity they were doing.

Dr. Brainstem whirled around in fear. At the front of his office stood a bipedal creature blacker than the darkest midnight. His joints were angular and thin, and his scarlet red eyes stood out against his silhouette. Behind him was an open window, and the wind was blowing in behind him.

"AAAAAUGH!" Dr. Brainstem cried. He leaped back. "Who--how--how'd you get in here?"

Ironheart gave a jilt of his head at the open window for an answer. Then he walked slowly forward.

"P-p-please! Don't kill me!" he cried, cowering on the floor.

The temperature continued to drop. "I only desire to talk."

"Talk about what? How you're going to hunt me down?" Dr. Brainstem said in fear, shaking in the fetal position.

"I want to talk with you," Ironheart softly said, "about me. I want to help you any way I can."

Rarity almost moved forward, but Twilight stopped her with a hoof to the side. The look in her eyes seemed to say that this was something to be between only the two of them.

Dr. Brainstem gazed up at the nightmarish figure politely standing at parade rest a few feet in front of him. He slowly, slowly got to his hooves. "Who are you?" he asked in wonder.

"A shadow of the past," came the soft reply. "A whisper of the future."

Dr. Brainstem grew a confused expression. "That's not very helpful."

"Project 24," Ironheart said abruptly. Dr. Brainstem gave a jolt like he'd been hit. "Out of all the ponies that worked on the project, there was one that stood out. Stood out in a way that made him a target for persecution."

Dr. Brainstem rubbed his head. "You mean... Bright Mind?"

"That is him," the shadow confirmed. "He has returned."

Dr. Brainstem took shallow, fast breaths. "He...he what? B-but...but I saw his body! He was killed in that lab explosion!"

"His body was destroyed," Ironheart corrected. "His soul passed into another form." He went to all fours and went back into pony form. "This form, in fact."

For a long, long time, Dr. Brainstem didn't move. He just sat looking in fear at him with an apprehensive eye. He seemed shocked beyond all capability.

And as he looked at him he breathed, "Bright Mind?...Is... is that you?"

Ironheart nodded. He looked over the doctor's shoulder to observe the mares for just a second, like if he was confirming if they had read his journal or not. Upon not seeing them gasp, he turned his attention back to his old comrade.

Dr. Brainstem reached a hoof up. "What... what happened to you? How..."

"I did what I needed to." Ironheart dropped his gaze. "What I wanted to..."

Dr. Brainstem stood up and reached out a hoof to touch his face. He rubbed it up and down Ironheart's cheek, as if checking if he was actually real. "Is this truly what you wanted?"

"Isn't that what everyone wants?" Ironheart softly asked. "To not have anypony hurt them again? Invulnerability to everything the terrible world wants to throw at them?"

Dr. Brainstem swallowed something. "They... hurt you bad, didn't they?"

Ironheart nodded. "Worse than you could imagine," he breathed.

"How is this possible?" Dr. Brainstem asked, removing his hoof from Ironheart's cheek.

"The name of my past life implies the answer," he said in reply. "I was smarter than the rest of them. I had higher ambition. I wanted to become more than what flesh had to offer." Ironheart gave a flick of his hoof. "As opposed to the rest of them, whose only ambition is to attain the honors of an uncaring world."

"And what do you want, Bright Mind?" Dr. Brainstem asked quietly. "What is your goal in life? Your ambition? Your loves and cares?"

Ironheart seemed to think about that for just a little bit. He looked past Dr. Brainstem to see the girls, all huddled together. He then looked down at the doctor again. "I want to protect the world from those that would do it harm."

"And what you're doing isn't harming others?" Dr. Brainstem inquired in shock.

"An exterminator needs to harm the bugs in order for those that truly belong to live in peace," Ironheart said. "One of the ponies that's doing good in the world--one of the ponies that belong --is you, doctor. I still have not forgotten the small load you have taken off of my back. You are a good friend, and a good pony."

"And who will answer for you?" Dr. Brainstem said. "You've fallen so far..."

"Not as far as the rest of the world has fallen," Ironheart swiftly replied. "I am still better than the scum that infects the corners of the planet. My goal is making the planet safer for ponies like you."

"What about Case File?" Dr. Brainstem asked with a dirty glare. "What about him?"

Ironheart looked like he had been slapped in the face. "I--no! That wasn't me! That was because of griffons that decided to use what I had given them for an awful purpose! That was their choice, and they paid an awful consequence for it! I never wanted him dead either, Doctor! When I found out, I tracked down the griffon that did it and I avenged his death, Doctor! I avenged him!"

Dr. Brainstem was still looking at him like he had swallowed lemon juice.

"Please," Ironheart almost begged, judging by the way his voice sounded. "Please believe me when I say I am on your side. I do the will of the side of light. And... I understand completely your anger, Doctor. Your pain. Your outrage to strike at the source of trouble. But I'm here, Doctor. I may not have been with you before, but... that's because I was afraid of you."

Dr. Brainstem jolted his head back.

"I was afraid you... wouldn't accept me for the pony I had transformed into. For my journey into... this. I wasn't there before. I wasn't there for you to make me stronger, and I wish I could do something to make you feel strong as well. You loved me when nopony else would."

Ironheart extended his hoof. "I have not forgotten you, Doctor. There is still one pony in the world that wants to be your ally." His voice turned heartfelt. "Join with me. Please. Be my friend."

Dr. Brainstem looked at the metal hoof Ironheart was extending. He then looked at Ironheart's face. Then at his hoof again. Then at his face.

There was silence for just a moment, broken only by the lonely wind in the overcast sky that sounded like forlorn wolves.

"Are you out of your mind?" was what Dr. Brainstem finally demanded indignantly.

Ironheart widened his eyes. "What?"

"You expect me to still see the pony I saw all those years ago? You expect me to see him, who's never reached out for friendship before, and who's only now reaching out for help, and to just roll along with no second thoughts? You think I can go back to the same way things were before?"

Ironheart reverted his gaze back to normal. "And what are you suggesting by this?" he asked without a trace of emotion.

Dr. Brainstem pointed at him. "That I will not associate myself with a pony like you! Even if that pony was somepony I helped in the past! You diverted from the right path, and I just can't follow you! Sometimes the rotten part of a fruit needs to be cut away, and you're the most rotten one here! I'm sorry, but I--I just can't follow you! This is just the consequence! This is the choice I'm making, which you can't take away from me!"

Ironheart took a step back. His face, once expressionless, now betrayed immense depression and loneliness. It was as if he was remembering something he had thought about earlier that day.

"I can't believe it," Dr. Brainstem was saying. "The pony I never thought would kill another has turned from the light."

"Dr. Brainstem!" Twilight hissed from behind him. "Stop it!"

"He's a lost soul, Twilight!" Dr. Brainstem said to her. "The same way he judges others is the same way he'll be judged now. Tell me, Twilight, would you join him?"

Twilight didn't answer.

Ironheart took heavy breaths and avoided looking at the doctor. "I can't believe it," he murmured. "The one soul I thought would understand... has abandoned me at last."

"You abandoned yourself when you created this... abomination of nature," Dr. Brainstem told him with a hint of scolding in his voice.

Ironheart didn't answer. Instead, he turned back around and went back to the window. "Dark times are coming," he prophesied, more to himself than to Dr. Brainstem or Twilight. "Night shall fall over Manehatten. The clouds shall be illuminated by the soft red light of flames. Buildings shall be flattened. The ground shall be turned to ash."

"What are you talking about?" Twilight asked.

"My journal, Twilight," Ironheart said. There was a heaviness in his voice, like he was tired of life itself and everything it could offer. "There is more in it than the musings of a fallen soul."

And with that, he leaped out the window.

Twilight ran over to the open window, eager to see where he was going and what he was doing. From her vantage she could see a dark shape, already far away, flying high into the sky above the city's tall spires with a deep rumble of engines and a soft red glare of exhaust.

Who was right in what they were doing? Was Dr. Brainstem right in pushing him away? Was Ironheart right for seeking reparation?

What should have been done? Nopony knew. But they all knew now that the one pony that they assumed could not be hurt... now had a mortal blow struck to his iron heart.

Inferno

"All right, ma'am, just start over from the beginning. Tell us exactly what happened."

The mare with the cherry-colored tail took a shuddered breath and said, "Okay, I was... Yesterday I was heading to work. I work in the accounting business at Jay's Economic Emporium. You've heard of it, right? Okay, so... as I went past an alley on my way, all of a sudden there were three ponies that jumped out. They...they grabbed me, and they...they dragged me into the alley, and they...tried to get me to, um..." The mare shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I didn't want to! I asked them to stop, but they didn't!"

"We already know that part," Flitter Gust said, scribbling something on a notepad. "And you're safe now. You have nothing to fear. You've done nothing wrong. Whenever you feel like it, just go on."

"Oh, okay..." the mare with the cherry tail said. She took fifteen seconds to take a few labored breaths before going on. "So, um... just before they could actually, um... do it, I saw something big land behind them."

"Something big," Flitter Gust murmured, making a note. "Anything else to describe him?"

"Well, It was black. Black and with wings. And it had something sharp out of his forehead."

"His?" Flitter Gust asked. "Are you certain that it was male?"

The mare with the cherry tail nodded. "Yes. When he talked, he had a really, um... really soft voice. It was almost compassionate. He was male, I know it."

Flitter Gust shrugged. "All right, then..." she said, writing down something on her paper. She flipped to a new page and adjusted her position on her chair. "Now, can you continue from the time this... black thing with wings landed?"

"Well, he landed. And as he did, he flicked his wings, and some things flew out and hit the ponies in the legs. I think they were like feathers. They let me go after that."

"Then did you come to the police station?" Flitter Gust asked.

"Well, yeah. The big shape talked to me. He told me to go and run to the police station."

"He told you to?" Flitter Gust asked in surprise.

"Well, yeah."

"And yesterday you followed his instructions?"

"To the letter."

"I don't know how else to phrase this sensitively, Miss..." Flitter Gust checked her name on a previous page. "Cherry Blossom, but you encountered the Night Terror yesterday."

Cherry Blossom reared her head. "I did? I thought he was only a pony trying to help!"

"Do you read the newspapers, Miss Cherry Blossom?"

Cherry Blossom shifted. "Only for the recipes at the back."

"In-depth studies are currently underway for the most wanted pony in the city, ma'am. That's who your assailant- "

"Savior," Cherry Blossom cut her off abruptly. "If he saved my life, then he's my hero."

Flitter Gust looked at her for a moment over her thick red glasses before jotting down the quote on the paper. It was indeed disturbing that the Night Terror was now attacking in broad daylight, but he had so far not begun killing indiscriminately. But when would he?

Suddenly a bell on the wall started to ring, and Flitter Gust jerked her head up. She knew what that bell meant. It meant somepony in danger was calling the station, and police forces were moving out to apprehend the force. Heaven forbid, if it was the Night Terror...

The police carriages thundered down the cobblestone road in backstreet Bronclyn. Ponies in the way of the carriage hurriedly jumped aside and other carriages pulled over to allow them passage. Nopony was in the mood to deny them their passage through the grimy city anymore, after the recent and deadly attacks made by the Night Terror. Ahead, a column of billowing, coiling smoke reached towards the skies.

In the front carriage, leaning out of the window, was the large and in charge police commissioner, searching with his eyes along the street. A bank robbery was in process in that part of the massive island-city. The entire city was so large that it could theoretically take forever to get to where the police were needed. But thanks to a recent invention of Positioning Points--a device installed in every building that pinged the exact location of a crime to the police station--police could arrive with complete certainty at the place they wanted to, at a speed unprecedented before.

The police commissioner felt doubt and fear gnaw at his insides. How many times did the Night Terror attack, again? What if he was the one robbing the bank? How would the police stop that? They had almost no way to stop him; they hadn't even properly seen him before in broad daylight. He had powerful weapons. He was elusive. He was fast, and destructive, and willing to hurt others. How could they apprehend him?

They rounded a corner and the police commissioner gulped. It was the midtown city bank, containing over half a million bits in citizen's money--and it was burning.

The snapping, coiling flame was reaching out of windows to flicker in the wind. The top of the bank was obscured by the dark plumes of smoke, and several dozen citizens were standing around the perimeter of the building. The fire department was already there, fortunately, to block off the surrounding area, pumping streams of opaque blue water into the open windows from their water carriages.

The police carriages wheeled to the side, stopping abruptly, and the oversize police commissioner hopped out, yelling to the other police officers, "Set up a perimeter around the bank! Nopony leaves the area!" and ran to the nearest firepony. "Sir! What's the situation here?" he asked, wheezing for breath.

"The bank caught on fire twenty minutes ago, sir," the pony told him. "We arrived on the scene ten minutes before you did and we've been trying our best, but so far the fire's only seeming to spread."

The police commissioner turned his attention to the snapping, angry flames. "Is anypony still in there?" he asked with concern.

"We sent a team in there not too long ago," the firefighter said. "Hopefully they'll find someth-"

BABOOM!

Burning hunks of debris showered out of the building, accompanied by a massive sound that rocked the earth. The police commissioner and the firefighter he was talking to suddenly fell to the earth, cowering and holding their hooves above their heads. The crowd surrounding the burning building gave a collective scream and scurried away as one body as the burning building's top blasted open.

The police commissioner took his hooves away from his face to see the front of the building, which was blasted open from the explosion. Silhouetted against the flames were the dark figures of over a dozen griffons and ponies alike. The ponies clutched sacks of bits in their mouths while the griffons held some strange objects the police commissioner had never seen before shaped like a capital letter L. Several loud bangs rang out of the inferno, and buckets of water some firefighters were carrying in their mouths suddenly sprouted holes that the water instantly ran out of in thin streams. The firefighters abruptly dropped their buckets, and the water spilled on the cobblestone road.

The griffons and ponies alike materialized out of the snapping fire and spread in a circle, aiming their weapons at anyone close by. The perimeter immediately expanded in size. Their faces couldn't be seen, but everyone could hear their whoops and cheers as they started to hold up everyone at the perimeter. A griffon aimed his weapon at the police commissioner and the firefighter he had been talking to. The police commissioner froze upon seeing it.

"Now, just back away real slow now, and we might not have ta harm ya," the griffon pointing his weapon slavered. His other hand clutched a huge brown sack of jingling bits. "We've got a job to do, and bein' here's bad for your health." He spun the weapon in his claws. "Ya might end up with lead poisoning."

"The bullet's made of brass, you idiot," a pony next to him whispered furiously.

The griffon cleared his throat, more than a little embarrassment in the action. "Uh, anyway, just don't move," he ordered the police commissioner.

And suddenly there came a small pop as a teleportation spell was activated and there stood six ponies right behind the police commissioner. The lead pony activated her horn and a purple shield was activated around the police commissioner and the firefighter he'd been talking to. "Stop this right now!" Twilight Sparkle ordered the griffon, sweating from the heat of the fire and the strain of the spell.

The griffon, however, did not move. "Princess Twilight," he replied with a hint of contempt in his voice.

"Stop this!" Twilight repeated. "What if the Night Terror shows up?"

The griffon gave her a smile. "That's the idea," he said with a hint of satisfaction. "If he does show his ugly face around here, I'll kill him." He jingled the bag of bits he had. "I'm planning on having him reveal himself. Make it so he has to decide to go after me now, in broad daylight, in front of dozens of witnesses, or during the night like the coward he is. He needs to choose. Choose if he wants to risk his exposure, or let me get away scot free with what I'm going to do to all of you."

"That's just a stupid decision!" Rainbow Dash put in, flapping in the air. "What do you get out of it, huh?"

"The satisfaction that I win," the griffon said. "That I made him come out and show himself against his will. That I made him come to me. That I had the power to make him play on my field." He pointed his gun suddenly at a small colt in the crowd, and the crowd surrounding him immediately backed away, leaving the shiny-eyed colt looking down the barrel of the gun in sudden abject terror.

BANG!

The colt fell backwards to the ground, bleeding between the eyes, and did not move again.

"NO!" Twilight cried. She rushed in between the dead colt and the griffon, flaring her wings. "S-stop it!" she said brokenly. "You don't... you didn't have to kill him!"

"Now he's certain to come," the griffon gloated. "He can't resist it when we go and kill for no reason, can he?"

Thump thump

The air, once almost unbearably hot from the fires flickering out of the massive bank, now inexplicably dropped twenty degrees in only a few seconds.

"How right you are," came a soft, soft voice that somehow permeated and chilled the insides of everyone nearby.

And all heads, good and bad, criminal and police, civilian and firefighter, snapped towards the source.

Standing in front of the blazing conflagration that was once the city bank was a dark silhouette of complete black, its wings extended and drooping. The bipedal shape stood on two clawed feet, designed to crush and grab like the talons of an eagle, and it was pointing one arm that ended in a long, stunted barrel. A single long, shining horn jutted out of his forehead.

"What's up?" the upright griffon cried, gesticulating wildly with his gun. "Come to enjoy our performance?"

"I'm not much in the mood to talk, filth," Ironheart whispered calmly. He did not move from his spot in front of the coiling flames. "Except, of course, if it eases your departure into heaven... or Tartarus, more likely."

The griffon grinned wildly at him. "It's you that'll go to Tartarus," he spat.

"How presumptuous to assume I will die at your hands," Ironheart swiftly replied. He aimed his arm at the griffon's thick neck.

But before he could, a whistling shriek tore through the air and a concealed pony, lying in wait with a rocket launcher near the blazing building, had fired a missile at the Night Terror from the side.

Ironheart's reflexes responded at lightspeed. He grabbed the missile as it came close, spun around, and hurled the missile back at the launcher like he was throwing a ball. It detonated upon impact with the street, and the pony disappeared in the smoke that followed.

But Ironheart didn't notice the grenades rolled at his feet from the other side.

BOOM!

Now Ironheart disappeared in the column of thick smoke that billowed upwards. The griffon in charge was looking upon him with obvious satisfaction written all over his face. He hadn't been there for the attack on the docks, but upon learning of it, he knew that if the Night Terror had needed to use his wings to shield himself from the missiles, then he needed to naturally be afraid of having explosive devices detonate on him.

As the fiery, rippling smoke dissipated, however, his expression turned to one of absolute fear upon seeing the Night Terror. He was still there, albeit flaming like an ancient deity come to conquer the earth the mere mortals stood upon, with nothing and no one to stand in his way.

The Night Terror looked at his burning, fiery hand in front of him, then shook off a few flecks of flame. "In retrospect, that was probably very stupid," he commented softly.

The griffons and ponies in the area screamed collectively and fired their weapons at the Night Terror. The impacts of the brass going at the speed of sound clattered harmlessly off of the Night Terror's Infinisteel body for the space of thirty seconds, allowing enough time for the assembled crowd to move out of the way and clear a space for the Night Terror to work with. But he didn't move. He simply stood there, presenting himself to all assembled as a pony that couldn't be hurt.

Twilight didn't know what to do. Should she attack Ironheart? Attack the robbers? Should she put up a shield of protection? Not to protect Ironheart, but to prevent Ironheart from attacking back?

When the barrage stopped, it was because the griffons had realized he couldn't be hurt by the bullets, and not because they had ran out of ammunition like in times past. When the griffons realized this, they turned their weapons upon the crowd and begun to fire at random into the crowd, killing without regard. The crowd collectively scattered.

Twilight's magic activated. A pink shield formed around the perimeter, quickly absorbing most of the bullets.

The Night Terror roared and flexed his wings. Shards of metal shot out with a symphony of sinister whistles and embedded themselves into the bodies of griffons and ponies alike. They fell, clutching their legs and dropping what they held.

Ironheart suddenly raced forward, whipping out his electric sword with a jagged hum, and without even stopping cut down three ponies lying on the ground in quick succession. Some of the griffons had grabbed their guns again and begun to aim at anything they thought was a weak spot--his wings, his crotch, his eyes... his wide, hating eyes that hurt anyone just to look at them...

One of them was lying cowering in his path. "P-please!" he cried, holding up his hands, free of weapons. "Have mercy!"

Ironheart swiftly sliced his head off with a hum of his sword. It bounced away.

"Consider that a quick death," he whispered.

A rapid succession of pings emanated from behind his head, and he turned around leisurely. Three griffons were trying to aim for the back of his neck from behind a piece of fallen rubble from the bank. Ironheart jerked his arm and the tip of a flamethrower poked itself out with a shudder. He aimed it at the three griffons and released the will holding it in. A bright stream of flame shot forward like water from a hose and enveloped the three of them. They ran out from their cover, burning and screaming and leaping in the air. The smell of cooked flesh and feathers filled the air. Ironheart kept his flamethrower trained on them, switching from target to target, not caring about the attacks levied against him from all other directions by the desperate criminals. Stones popped off his back. Bullets pinged off of him. A grenade blew itself at his feet.

Finally, once the griffons had all been turned into burning, unmoving corpses, Ironheart turned around and flicked his flaming feathers at his attackers. They impacted into them all over their bodies, and they collapsed into heaps.

It had gone on too long. Twilight jumped into Ironheart's view, next to a piece of marble as big as she was and right behind a piece of burning debris. "Stop it!" she commanded him. She coughed. "Stop it, Ironheart! They've had enough!"

Ironheart, with the piece of burning rubble in between them, looked at her with an indistinguishable glance. "Twilight," the burning figure said to her softly, softly, softly. "Step aside. You have no business in this."

"Neither do you!" Twilight yelled at him back. "Let the police deal with this!"

"But the police have no business in their happenings either," Ironheart pointed out, still with the fire between them.

"Yes they do, because they need to stop them!"

"And what," he asked softly, "do you think I'm doing now?"

Before Twilight could answer, she was suddenly silenced with a hoof over her mouth as a particularly filthy pony grasped her from behind, a bald, gruff pony with only one ear and a ring in his nose and missing teeth. He ran his tongue along the side of her neck, and Twilight nearly fainted in horror.

"Oh, you're going to be nice for me tonight," he whispered in her ear.

There came a harsh crackling noise as Ironheart wheeled his sword, stepping forward until he stood atop the piece of rubble between him and Twilight. He almost casually said to the pony holding her, "I swear to the heavens above, I'm going to tear you to pieces and feed you to the worms."

The pony holding her apparently had a significantly larger amount of bravery than the others. He only laughed and said, "You want her? Come and get her!" He held her in front of him, using Twilight as a shield.

From the side, Rainbow cried, "Twilight!" She flapped into the air, her wrath focused on him and him alone, determined to hurt and punish and kill the pony using Twilight as a shield from the end he deserved.

"No!" Pinkie cried, jumping into the air and pulling her down by the tail. "What if somepony else hurts you when you try to help Twilight?"

Rainbow looked around and realized she was right. There were still criminals that were trying to escape, but the crowd around them held them back, with the police running after them and engaging them in individual fights themselves in the remains of the street in front of the burning bank. It would be too risky.

"No," Rainbow said with a fresh wave of determination. "I won't fail Twilight when she needs me!"

And she sped into the action.

Flying into the air, gaining altitude, she flew back around behind the pony holding Twilight, sped close to the ground, and slammed into the back of the one-eared pony with all the might she could muster.

He had a lot more mass to him than met the eye. He didn't go flying ahead nearly as far as she had intended, but it was far enough, and Twilight, once held in his disgusting grip, was now free. Twilight hurriedly retreated backwards, Rainbow at her side. They were both looking at the disgusting bald pony with piercings that was lying on the ground a few feet away.

He struggled to get to all fours, but he heard a snapping sound of a gun in his direction and looked up. He saw in front of him a long, long tunnel. And it was attached to a barrel, and the barrel was attached to something attached to--

--to the Night Terror!

Biting back his initial jolt, he scrambled upwards and faced him. The Night Terror was on all fours now, his electric sword put away, and looked like not a demon, not a bipedal devil, but as a normal pony.

This gave him confidence. The bald, pierced pony fixed a boxing position. He could do this. He had forced others to give him what he himself had wanted just because he had been able to prove to them that he was the most powerful. So he had given himself a reputation as a burly, brawny street fighter to increase his power, his station, his influence. He knew better than anyone else how to end a fight quickly.

So he beckoned the still-burning Night Terror forward. "Come on!" he cried triumphantly. "Come here and prove yourself! Prove that you're on my level! You're nothing without your weapons, you coward!"

That definitely struck a nerve with Ironheart. He froze in his advance, the flames on his body dying.

"Yeah! You don't like that, do you? You don't like it when I do that to you, do you? So face me! Put away your little toys and face me like a real pony, you coward!"

And a cruel, brief, dark chuckle came out of the dark angel that chilled the blood of everyone nearby. Even the bald street fighter faltered for an instant.

"Oh, I am no real pony," the manifestation whispered in a much more malevolent voice than before. He shook himself like a dog drying himself after going in a lake, and the last remnants of flame and darkness flew off his body in all directions, landing and sputtering on the dry ground all around him. After the last of the flame had been shaken off, he straightened.

And the bald street fighter turned pale and felt like an ice cube had slipped into his lungs, like he would never be warm and happy again. The Night Terror...was a machine? A terrifying, awe-inspiring, fear-inducing abomination of nature? And holy Celestia... that Cutie Mark painted on his flank... was that a peace symbol?

Around him all activity stopped and every pony nearby stared at him. In the crowd clicks of camera shutters and the mutter of video cameras were heard going off alongside the gasps and screams of horror.

Ironheart folded his gun back into a normal arm and smiled gleefully. "But to face you down... oh, it would be my pleasure," he snarled almost eagerly, and ran forward. The bald street fighter, not expecting anything like a machine to be the Night Terror, was off guard, and that was exactly what Ironheart wanted. With only a few mighty blows to his blocked face, Ironheart had thrown down even the heavily muscled fighter and had gotten atop him and was even now hitting him deeper into the pavement with blows that felt like meteor strikes.

The bald street fighter weakly slid a back leg under the Night Terror's body and lifted suddenly with all of his strength, pushing him off of him. The street fighter got back up as quickly as he could, feeling light in the head and dizzy and hurting in places he couldn't remember being hurt before. But before he could regain a solid balance the metal abomination was already flying back at him and he instinctively threw wild punches. He felt two of them impact on something that gave off a hard ring and a feeling of pain. While it hurt, it meant that he had at least hit him.

But he was then knocked back down on his back and saw the metal pony above him reach his arm upwards and slam it down as hard as he could between his own rear legs.

It was an unfair move, and the street fighter knew it. He had used it before on others. But never before had he felt it happen to him. He scrunched in half, he widened his eyes, he let out a groan. Oh goodness, the pain in his groin was too much! He felt a tear wet itself at the corner of his eye instinctively, and he was instantly ashamed of himself for letting his humiliation show itself like this.

Ironheart unfortunately noticed, however. In a mocking, derisive voice reminiscent of a little bully on the school playground, he whined, "Look at him cry! Look at thiiis! Stop being weak! Stop your crying, because no one wants to see that! Look at him, everyone! He's weak! Get a load of him!"

Ironheart knew perfectly well the rules of civilized combat. To never, ever, strike a defenseless pony lying on the ground.

So he came over next to his face and stomped down on it, making a loud ugly cracking sound. Because there was no such thing as civilized combat. Combat by its nature is uncivilized.

He stomped on his broken nose again.

And again.

And again. The crunching sounds were getting louder and louder, and more and more sickening.

Off to the side, Fluttershy began to sob and turned her head away from his view. Rarity and Pinkie noticed and propped her up, steadying her and rubbing her back and cooing soft words to her to drown out the awful sounds coming from Ironheart's victim.

Twilight and Rainbow were still in the enclosed area made by the interested crowd, among the police officers leading away the now-captured criminals. They looked upon Ironheart beating down the street fighter with a savage, primal manner, and felt sick to their stomachs. And both of them, after a brief look at each other, knew what they needed to do.

With Rainbow to one side and Twilight on the other, they came to the right and left of Ironheart, in his view. Ironheart noticed and paused his attacks upon the inert figure lying on the ground. He stepped off of him and stepped backwards, and Twilight and Rainbow moved in front of him now.

"Your work's done here," Twilight told him in an almost pleading manner. "Go away! They've had enough here!"

"Don't you know you're being caught on camera?" Rainbow demanded indignantly. And she was right. All over the circled crowd were cameras and video recorders on tripods, clicking away. Rainbow was subconsciously aware of the fact that she was also likely to be seen on camera, talking to Ironheart and making him stand down. How would they interpret it? That she was in cahoots with him, or that she was a hero for making him back away from his prey? A glance to Twilight confirmed the thought that she wasn't the only one thinking it; she could see it in Twilight's face as well. But she shook the offending thoughts out of her head. They didn't matter now.

Ironheart nodded expressionlessly. "Of course I know I'm being caught on camera."

"Then what's your deal?" she asked shrewdly, flapping in close to his face. He looked terrifying close up, but she did it to display her own bravado.

Ironheart suddenly turned around, to she shock of the recorders in the crowd, and fired a harpoon launcher at something in the debris scattered all over the streets. The impact was a squelchy, sick noise, and a cry was heard. Ironheart reeled him in fast, and a griffon was seen being dragged along the ground like a caught fish, kicking and screaming, a jagged harpoon blade in his thigh. It was the same griffon that had threatened the police commissioner and shot the young colt in the crowd. Ironheart drew him in close, reached down, and picked him up by his neck, digging an extended thumb into the bottom of his chin. He had transformed into his bipedal mode.

"I know for a fact you didn't think of this pathetic attempt of a robbery yourself," he said to him, loud enough for the camera recorders to pick it up. "You took orders from someone else. Who was it?"

"Ironheart!" Twilight cried, trying to get in his eyesight again, but Ironheart was circling around, preventing him from looking her in the face. "Ironheart, let us do this!"

Ironheart ignored her. "TELL ME!" he suddenly roared at the griffon, shaking him. The camera ponies in the crowd were more engaged in this event than they had ever been before. They saw Ironheart change his other arm into the tip of a flamethrower and ignite the tip of it. He put it ever so close to the scalp of his head, and the griffon widened his eyes and struggled some more. "TELL ME NOW OR I SWEAR YOU WILL DIE, RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW!"

The griffon gasped for breath and wheezed, "I...I'll t-tell y-you... please... let me go!"

"NO!" he screamed to him, and put the flamethrower even close to his skin. "YOU WILL TELL ME, RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE! I WILL NOT WARN YOU A SECOND TIME, FILTH!"

"IT WAS COUNT PRIVILEGE!" the griffon screamed suddenly, thrashing in his grip.

The reporters in the crowd felt a jolt run through their bodies. They all now knew that one of the biggest headlines in the history of the city was underway. The pony in charge of the internal affairs of Manehatten was the one that had ordered a robbery upon the city bank? The scandal it would cause! The papers it would sell!

Ironheart had dropped the griffon. He pawed around the griffon struggling for breath like an animal circling its prey. Once the griffon had regained his breath he put his hands around the wound in his thigh and gasped, "It... it was Count Privilege. He... ordered us to... to come here and-and take w-what we wanted. He said he had lost a lot of, " he took a few deep breaths. "A lot of income. Our weapon shipments kept on getting destroyed... by-by you, you know? And... he wanted more money to make up for that. So he ordered us to do this. He'd share fifteen percent of what we stole with us. That's what he said. He said it was called forceful reimbursement."

"Count Privilege can fart out of his nose and call it a whistle," Ironheart snarled. "But he never, ever keeps his promises to the ponies under his control. You would've gotten nothing from him. Why has he decided to be so open with the robbery?" Ironheart demanded, knowing fully well the presence of the cameras in the crowd. "If he wanted money, why hasn't he been discreetly snuffing money with false transactions and deposits? Is he just stupid?"

The griffon looked thoughtful, rubbing his sore throat. "He has been doing that," the griffon said to him after a moment of indecision. "For the longest time now. That's how he managed to rise to his current spot in the government. So... why'd he send us here if he could just get the money he wanted himself?"

"Because he wanted you dead," Ironheart bluntly told him, making sure the cameras were on him and listening. The griffon looked into Ironheart's terrible face in a state of shock. "Because Count Privilege decided now was the time and place for your usefulness to end. You serve a harsh master. One that would prefer to stuff his own fat, filthy face with the fruit of your labors. You'd do better off not being near him at all."

The griffon's face stayed on the expression of shock for a few more seconds. Then it twisted into a face of absolute rage. "He's been playing us!" he roared. "All this time he's been living off our deaths he's been sending us into for no reason!"

Ironheart nodded, a grin crossing his face. He pointed at the griffon. "I have a job for you."

The griffon waited patiently.

"I'm going to allow you to go free. But I want you to deliver a message to Count Privilege first." Ironheart loomed over the wounded griffon unpleasantly. "Tell him that if he wants to wage open warfare in Manehatten... then I am ready for his game. Tell him to hit me with his best. Shot." He leaned back to an upright position. "And keep in mind that if I ever catch you committing another felony, I'll stretch your remains from here to Canterlot."

The griffon got up slowly, keeping both of his hands over the harpoon mark in his thigh and keeping a perpetual wince on his face. "But... but what about my leg?" he asked, on the verge of collapse.

"You don't need your leg to deliver a message," Ironheart pointed out in his ever-so-soft tone of voice.

Seeing he would not help him, the griffon flapped his wings painfully and lifted off into the air. After his confession, and the stare Ironheart was giving everyone else, no one stopped the griffon from flying off.

The police commissioner had overheard everything that had gone on and he was stunned. Count Privilege was the one responsible for everything that had happened here? It was a widely-known fact that nopony really liked him, but he hadn't expected him to dabble in crime as well! What was the police commissioner going to do?

Ironheart slowly rotated. He was the only one in the area of the explosion from the bank, whose flickering fires were finally dying out. He looked at the crowd at face value, his face unreadable. Then he suddenly drew his sword from off his hip and ignited it so the tip scorched the earth three inches deep into the asphalt. He swept it in a swift circle around him, stepped out of the circle, and drew a vertical line down the middle. He finished by swiping two fast strikes from the line to the perimeter of the circle. Once he was done with the symbol, he extended his wings with a chatter and fired himself into the air. The crowd collectively turned their heads up to watch him fly with a roar of engines into the sky and disappear from sight.

Twilight and the rest of the girls only saw what he had drawn on the ground.

It was a peace symbol, scorched permanently into the pavement, juxtaposed by the sword that had created it.

Victory for Ironheart.

The Manehatten Project

The pale night came quickly over the blinking lights of the city, numb and reeling from the bombing earlier that day at the bank. Word of mouth had gone around town quickly, and the news reporters were spending their time locked away in their printing rooms, overseeing the printing of the revolutionary news that was going to blaze through Manehatten like wildfire. Each of them also hoped that an actual wildfire wouldn't actually blaze through the city, but with the Night Terror now showing his face out in the open, it was definitely a possibility to keep in mind.

The fact of the matter was, the news was going to absolutely blow itself into the stratosphere. They were going to have a field day in the easiest headlines they'd had in a while.

But for Twilight Sparkle, the news wasn't on her mind. In the small dark office of Dr. Brainstem, next to piles of work and surrounded by her uneasy and frightened friends and Spike, the headlines were insignificant. What mattered to her was what Ironheart had in mind for the city. He had revealed himself. He was exposed. What was his plan? What was his intent for showing his face so out in the open like that? Wasn't he planning on staying secret?

But she was also reflecting on the events of what happened after the forced confession. Twilight hadn't had a lot of time to really think about it because her schedule was full of distracting things, and so she had all but forgotten what had been said at the bank explosion. Twilight was right there next to Ironheart and the injured griffon when the griffon had said it. He was taking orders from Count Privilege. The griffon had said he wanted forceful reimbursement for everything they'd lost. But reimbursement from what? The griffon had said Count Privilege's shipments were getting attacked. But shipments of what? The only thing that was worth shipping was--

Twilight almost fell out of her seat in Dr. Brainstem's office. The noise she made was not unnoticed by the others, and Rainbow flew over in a heartbeat.

Rainbow had been particularly protective of Twilight for the past few days. It could have been the event she and Twilight shared in the Ultraground, where the pressure was on for both of them to almost kill Amadeus. Rainbow was haunted by how close both she and Twilight had been to snapping and becoming like Ironheart, and haunted even more by her own inner thoughts and desires that so closely mirrored those of Ironheart, and haunted even more by the danger shown to Twilight and how even a princess of Equestria could come ever so close to the breaking point. There was now a continual look of exhaustion and... fear, and horror as a conflict of will continually raged within.

So it was a little desperately that Rainbow Dash held Twilight up in her seat and asked, "Twilight! Are you okay?!"

“Are you falling asleep again?” Spike asked her curiously, coming to her side.

Twilight, for her part, looked no better. But she shook her head. "Oh, yeah, Rainbow. I'm fine. But... I think we just about wrapped up the mystery of this entire case right now."

"Whatever do you mean?" Rarity asked in curiosity, coming closer.

“Were you able to find out what Bright Mind has planned for himself?” Dr. Brainstem asked, coming alongside her. It seemed intentional that he was referring to the Night Terror as Bright Mind and not Ironheart. Dr. Brainstem was requested by the police commissioner to stay behind in his office instead of investigating the crime scene at the bank because Dr. Brainstem was still wallowing in grief over the loss of Case File only a few days earlier.

"I've been thinking about what Ironheart forced out of that griffon earlier," Twilight said, rightening herself in her seat. “That it was Count Privilege they were taking orders from. He said that the count had lost a lot of revenue. Ironheart’s--Client 24’s trade partner was the one that was redistributing the weapons to the griffons and ponies all over the city--he had lost a lot of money, according to what we knew from Amadeus before he…”

“Before he died!” Applejack cried suddenly. “And the pony that lost the money was Count Privilege!” She banged her head on the wall and kept it there. “Ironheart’s been workin’ with Count Privilege,” she muttered. “Could ya imagine a more ridiculous notion?”

“But why’s he been working with him if they both hate each other’s guts?” Spike pointed out. “Why did Ironheart want to make him rich?”

“Ta betray ‘im later on,” Applejack answered Spike blandly. “Ah suppose if ya think ‘bout it, that’s the best way ta hurt yer enemy. Ta work with ‘im, ta build up his trust, ta lead ‘im along like a child inta yer trap. Ta build ‘im up only ta watch ‘im fall hard. Ta give ‘im what he wants, only ta take it all back an’ destroy it. That’s what Ironheart’s doin’, Twi. He’s leadin’ Count Privilege inta a trap he can’t git out of.”

“Should we warn him?” Fluttershy suggested demurely.

Rainbow Dash flew very suddenly over to her, an expression of shock on her face. “What?! Fluttershy, are you serious? He deserves what he’s getting at this point!”

“Rainbow!” Twilight said sharply to her. “Listen to what you’re saying! Listen to who you’re sounding like right now!”

“Oh, are you gonna try and defend Count Privilege now?” Rainbow asked, turning to face her now. She was now edgy and irritable because of who Twilight had uncomfortably reminded her of. “You know, it’s his fault this all happened in the first place! He was the one that made it possible for those other ponies to harass Bright Mind. He was the one that kept his abuse a secret. He was the one that was siphoning other pony’s funds out of their pockets into his own. He was the pony that’s trying to become mayor of the city now. He’s the one that’s manipulating and blackmailing the criminal population to do his will. I don’t know about you, but I kinda want him to stop. I kinda want to see him be punished! Count Privilege is a danger to everyone in Equestria!”

“None of us have even seen him, Rainbow. Ironheart’s the main danger to everyone in Equestria right now.”

“Ironheart’s only a danger to the ponies that are a danger to Equestria,” Rainbow pointed out, coming closer to Twilight’s face. “Ironheart will remove Count Privilege and make Equestria a better place.”

“Think, Rainbow. Think for just a minute about what you’re saying. Is he a force of good if he decides to use such awful ways to show everypony his power?”

“If he’s gonna take anypony out, I’d rather have him take out the bad guys, Twilight!”

“But he doesn’t have to take out anyone if we just show him what the magic of friends--”

“Stop it, Twilight!” Rainbow suddenly cried, snapping at last. “The magic of friendship doesn’t matter in these kinds of situations! Friendship doesn’t matter to anypony as awful as Count Privilege, or Ironheart, or Amadeus! Friendship can’t solve every situation, Twilight! Friendship isn’t always the answer! Friendship is not as powerful as we think it is!”

Twilight was silent for just a moment. Looking at the ground, she whispered, “Repeat what you just said to yourself, Rainbow. Repeat it slowly.”

“Friendship is not... as powerful as…” Rainbow finally understood what she had been saying. She felt terrible all of a sudden. She lost her voice after that and looked away, trying desperately to not look at Twilight’s eyes. Her own ones had unshed tears in them. What was she thinking? How could she have allowed those thoughts to enter her own mind? She was an Element of Harmony.

“Rainbow…” she heard Twilight’s soft words above her head. “Rainbow, I can understand how you feel right now. I also want to see justice made. But... justice, not vengeance.” She took a deep breath. “I keep on thinking about that time when we were under pressure to kill Amadeus. How we both wanted to do it first, in order to preserve the other’s innocence.”

“But you matter more than I do to Equestria,” Rainbow said, slightly shocked she was allowing those words to exit out of her mouth.

“Because I’m a princess?” Twilight asked.

“Because you’re my friend,” Rainbow said forcefully. “And I didn’t want you to fall into the same pit Ironheart fell into.”

Rainbow Dash let her mind reflect then on what she had said. And she already knew what Twilight was going to say next.

“Was the power of friendship important then?” Twilight asked softly in follow-up. “And is it important now?”

Rainbow guiltily nodded. Her throat felt constricted and it hurt to swallow.

“You’re not wrong in what you’re thinking,” Twilight reassured her with an arm over her shoulder. “And you’re still the amazing, strong friend I’ve had since the beginning. We’ve all been damaged by this experience we’ve had in Manehatten. But we need to let that not change who we are inside. And you and I need to make sure that we don’t end up thinking as Ironheart does. We can see his thoughts, sympathize with them, but we can’t become like him. We just can’t. We have the magic of friendship with us. So we can do it. We can make it. Unless something catastrophic happens to our friendship that we can’t reverse.”

“Do you think it’s possible for that to happen?”

“At this point, Rainbow…” Now it was Twilight’s turn to avoid eye contact. “I really don’t know anymore.”

A little while later Dr. Brainstem had asked Twilight for help on his paperwork, and so while she helped him, Rarity and Pinkie Pie stood side by side, looking out of the window at the far end of Dr. Brainstem’s office. While Pinkie was thinking about cake as they stood in the perfect spot to reflect on things, Rarity was thinking about the last time a pony had stood where she was. Ironheart. She was then led to think about what he had prophesied when he had stood there, looking sadly out of the window over the city of Manehatten. What did he have in plan for its inhabitants?

“Oh, the lemon zest…”

The sound snapped Rarity out of her trance. “I’m sorry, darling. Did you say something?”

“I’m just thinking about cake, Rarity. Do you wanna think about cake?”

“No, Pinkie. Not right now.”

Pinkie Pie looked gloomily out of the window. “Oh, but Rarity... I’m scared.”

Rarity turned her head, interested. “Oh?”

“Yeah…” Her reflection in the glass panes looked back at her in concern. “About the cakes…”

Rarity arched an eyebrow.

“What if Ironheart tries to destroy all of the cakes in Manehatten?”

Rarity sighed inwardly. “Pinkie, he’s not going after the cakes.”

“But what if he had gotten hit in the face with a cake when he was still Bright Mind?” Pinkie asked gravely. “And that made him really not like cakes anymore? And now he wants to exact vengeance upon the rest of the cakes because cake hurt him before?”

Rarity’s sharp mind quickly saw an allegory in that. In a way, it was ridiculous, but it was just as Pinkie said: Ironheart’s policy was if it had hurt him before, he was going to destroy the rest of the group it had belonged to. But the thought of Ironheart waging a deadly, wrathful, one-pony war against all the cake in Equestria made her almost laugh out loud.

“And what if he doesn’t stop at just the cake? What if he tries to take out the strudels, too?” Pinkie gasped and shook Rarity by the shoulders. “Or the pies? Or the churros? Or donuts? Or baklava? Or flan? Or tres leches? Or even paczki?!”

Rarity leaned her head back. “It’s amazing to me how you can manage to think about these things at a time like this, Pinkie. What about the countless lives that’ve been lost in recent days?”

“Oh, I know about those, silly! I know that they’ve happened. But if I just don’t think about them, then I won’t go and turn super sad. I try to think of happier things than that! Like cake!”

“But sometimes you have to think about your problems, Pinkie. Pretending they don’t exist won’t make them disappear all of a sudden. Sometimes you have to think of your problems in order to find a way to solve them, and then you can think about better things once they’re gone.”

“But when you’re sad, isn’t it better to think about happy things than sad things?” Pinkie pointed out. “That’s what I do. If I think about happy things all the time and ignore bad influences, sad things won’t bother me anymore!”

“Don’t you think that’s a pretty irresponsible and silly way to live?” Rarity asked shrewdly.

Pinkie blinked for just a second, then turned away from Rarity. “What a pretty night,” she said to nopony in particular.

Rarity sniffed a little at being jilted by Pinkie. It was in amusement, however, not indignation. She shook her head and resumed her brooding. What had Ironheart said again? Dark times are coming. Night shall fall over Manehatten. The clouds shall be illuminated by the soft red light of flames. Buildings shall be flattened. The ground shall turn to ash.

“Oh, hey, uh, Rarity?” Pinkie asked.

“Hm?”

“If you really want to think depressing thoughts, you can read this.” She pulled something black and dilapidated out of her mane and offered it to Rarity. Rarity reared her head back again. It was Bright Mind’s journal.

“Um, Pinkie?” Rarity asked, taking the terrifying book in her magical aura. “Why do you have this?”

“I figured we’d need it, so I took it along with me when we left the apartment this morning,” she said nonchalantly. “Ironheart said something about how there was more in this book than the musings of a fallen soul, right? And he said it as he was standing right where you are right now, remember?”

Pinkie was right. Maybe there was something in there they could use in this situation. Rarity raised her voice. “Twilight, darling? Would you mind it if we all read a bit more out of Bright Mind’s journal?”

Twilight looked up from the work she was doing, and so did Dr. Brainstem. Dr. Brainstem had on his face a look of apprehension and fear. It was eventually Twilight that said, “Well, what do you think you’ll find in there?”

“I... don’t know, exactly,” Rarity said, using her magic to flip through the pages of the journal of dark and twisted thoughts. As she flipped past the bookmarked pages, she felt a jolt of electricity through her hooves as she remembered how she felt when Twilight was reading certain parts of it aloud. She felt dirty, and soiled, and awful. His own reflections were the sick, demented kinds of thoughts that she would ordinarily never have. She flipped to the pages where he had explained how he had turned into Ironheart, and felt her heart be blocked for just a second, then she hurriedly went past it. “But we don’t have a lot of other sources to go to about what Ironheart wants right now. This book is our key to solving the mysteries he has locked away in his iron heart.”

“It may even have his notes about his big game plan,” Spike pointed out, coming over to Rarity’s side. “If it does, we need to find it out.”

“Why would Ironheart even give us this book if he wants to not be thwarted?” Fluttershy asked, also gravitating towards Rarity and Twilight. “I thought that he wanted to keep his schemes hidden.”

“Or he’s tryin’ ta say a message,” Applejack suggested, also moving in. “Maybe he wants ta explain to us how he’s feelin’, and wants us ta understand his pain and his intentions. Maybe he thinks that’ll make it easier for ‘im ta deal with us.”

“Or maybe he wants to prove that even though he’s giving us his battle plan, we still can’t stop him?” Rainbow put in, off to the side and hovering. “He wants to prove that he has power, doesn’t he? He wants to make us feel like he felt. Like we were... helpless.”

“That’s definitely an option to keep in mind,” Twilight said with uncertainty. She looked over Rainbow’s head to look at Dr. Brainstem. “Doctor? Do you want to…”

The doctor swallowed something. “I really don’t want to, Twilight, but...but I must get to know him. This may be the only surviving relic of his previous life. If there’s anypony I need to try to examine right now, it’s him.”

Twilight set the open journal on the table, clearing a space for it to be placed like a relic in a museum. It was open to the pages after he had turned into Ironheart.

06/15/1000: First victory for me in my life so far. I managed to break into my former laboratory and steal the prototypes of the guns I developed. That’s their own punishment for treating me like I was worthless. If I was worthless to you, then I suppose you don’t need my work. Allow me to just take it all and leave you with nothing. That’s only fair, isn’t it? Who’s going to argue it isn’t fair?

I managed to do it undetected. I just went into the lab and out with them, and nopony else saw me. Right now I’m writing this from a cave in Canterlot mountain. They search and they search, but they never find what they’re searching for. I see patrols fly out from Canterlot from the mouth of the cave. They fly to the east, to the west, to the north and south. And the farther away they fly, the more they fly away from what they’re searching for. That’s just natural, I suppose. The harder you search for something, the less likely you are to find it.

Being Ironheart... being in this new body, this body of power, as opposed to my previous body of flesh and blood... It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The closest feeling I can compare it to is having an article of clothing taken off to expose the true self underneath, free to wiggle about and be exposed, as something for all to see. I feel stronger than I was before. I feel like I can do things no other pony is capable of doing, or even of dreaming about.

I’m planning on moving away from the mountain sometime soon. I can’t stay here forever. Celestia would find out sometime soon. And anyway, the spot I have in a cave on the side of Canterlot mountain is too small to continue the work I need to do.

“The work he needs ta do?” Applejack asked, breaking them all out of the spell reading the words immersed them in. “What does he mean? He already created Ironheart. What more does he need ta do?”

“Well, I think that while he was working on Ironheart, he unlocked secrets nopony else really knew about,” Fluttershy whispered. “Maybe he just wanted to continue along that path until he could say he had gone farther than anypony else.”

Twilight flipped through the entries until she got to the spot she wanted and started to read aloud again.

07/31/1000: Today I managed to sneak out of the cave and pick my way down the mountain. I traveled down and begun my trek northward. I’m trying my hardest to not be seen. If I reveal myself before I’m ready for it, I’m done for. I’m trying to head someplace where I can do my work uninterrupted.

Word I’ve picked up from newspapers has it that Count Privilege lost a lot of his investment in the weapons I’m now carrying on my back in a garbage bag. To that I say: well, FINALLY! I mean, I want to make him lose someday, right? Starting right here’s probably a good way to get that to happen someday. So every last coin he wasted on me is now gone? Oh, that’s so satisfying to hear.

“Should I be happy about that now?” Dr. Brainstem asked softly. “Before, I knew that the count was a prick, but losing a monstrous investment is still a sad thing to happen to anypony. But now, knowing the relationship Ironheart has with the count, I can’t help but feel like it was a good thing to have the count lose his money in that.”

Nopony answered, for they also didn’t know. After a while Twilight continued to read.

I’m planning to head for the Crystal Empire. Maybe there I can do my work underneath a mountain, or in the ranges. The cold won’t bother me. Infinisteel’s much more durable than steel, so it won’t turn brittle in the cold and the snow. I may have to walk because flying’s too conspicuous. Which is a shame, really. I want to test out these wings sometime soon.

“But he didn’t end up in the Crystal Empire, did he?” Rarity asked. “So what persuaded him to turn to Manehatten instead?”

“Let’s try to find where he said it,” Twilight said, flipping through the book. It took only three seconds of furious flipping until she said, “Ah-hah!” and slammed her hooves on the table. “Here it is.” She began to read aloud.

08/31/1000: It’s Nightmare Night. And for the first time, I’m the most terrifying thing out at night. I don’t even need a costume!

At the moment I’m camped outside a small town in the northern reaches, on the fringes of the Crystal Empire. But my course needs to be changed. I’m heading in the wrong direction.

I recently got a scrap of newspaper dropped off at the train station leading into the arctic north. It showed the unsavory headline telling the world that the count had headed off to Manehatten to improve his chances of being in a public office. And the picture had him sitting at his desk working on a paper that probably wasn’t important but he wanted to look impressive so he brought it in. And off to his side was a coffee and burek--probably to make it look like he had been there a long time and he needed a snack.

“What’s a burek?” Rainbow asked, squinting at the book. “Some kind of sandwich?”

“It’s more like a pie,” Pinkie provided. “But you’re close enough.”

“Trust it to Pinkie to know something like that,” Spike commented wryly off to the side.

It’s changed my plans. No more Crystal Empire. This time, I’ll finish my business with Count Privilege myself. I’m moving to Manehatten.

Twilight went to the next entry.

09/01/1000: Okay, slight issue I thought of that I didn’t think of before: Where will I stay? I’m pretty sure a living, breathing machine living in Manehatten will attract attention. I need someplace discreet, someplace where I’ll be uninterrupted in what I’ll be planning on doing. Oh, and someplace large. And impervious to sustained gradual damage.

“What does he mean?” Pinkie asked. “Sustained gradual damage? Is he working with dangerous stuff, or what?”

“Well, he’s working with guns,” Rarity pointed out. “ What if one of them was discharged?”

“But that’s not gradual,” Twilight said. “I think Pinkie’s right. He’s got to be working with dangerous chemicals and other objects like that. Remember how we saw all those substances in his lab?” She then turned her attention back to the book of marvels.

But so far as I can tell, there’s not a place like that anywhere in Manehatten. It’s all close buildings and small apartments and stuff like that. Except for--

Of course! The underground! Below the Maneway and the train systems! I can work there in peace and be undisturbed in my work!

Now, of course, the only problem is to construct the buildings and structures I need in the Underground and find some uranium for me to experiment on and work with. It can be hard to find anything large enough for my use.

“Uranium?” Dr. Brainstem looked confused.

“What’s the matter?” Rainbow asked, looking at the doctor. “Don’t you know why he needs this?”

“How should I know?” He spread his arms. “I got my degree in physical anatomy, not chemistry.”

“Well, let’s try to figure it out,” Twilight told him. “What does Ironheart want with Uranium?”

“It’s a relatively useless substance,” Dr. Brainstem said to her, adjusting his glasses. “Well, to our current knowledge, at least. We in Canterlot never examined it all that properly before, but we know that it’s a poor electrical conductor and it’s not all that hard. Uranium oxide was also used in pottery many thousands of years ago.”

“What else do we know so far about uranium?” Rainbow asked.

“It’s radioactive,” Twilight said to them all. “And that makes it really confusing as to why Ironheart would expose himself to such a dangerous substance. It may or may not affect Infinisteel, but why would Ironheart take the risk?”

“What does radioactive mean?” Pinkie asked.

“You remember how we talked about atoms before, Pinkie?” Twilight asked, ignoring the look of surprise Dr. Brainstem levied at them all at the mention of the talk about atoms. “This goes back to what we talked about. Atoms make up every part of our lives, but they don’t last forever. Since atoms are essentially pure energy, once they deteriorate, they give off some of that energy. Most of that energy is harmless to us, but some of it is incredibly dangerous. That energy they give off is called radiation, and the atoms that give off that harmful energy are therefore called radioactive.”

“How do you know this?” Dr. Brainstem asked.

“Oh, I just try to study everything I can get my hooves on,” Twilight said nonchalantly. “And when I say everything, I mean everything.”

Dr. Brainstem had a worried look on his face. “That’s almost exactly like how Bright Mind was,” he whispered. “Twilight, I want you to be careful to not become like him in your attempt to find knowledge.”

“Oh, don’t worry, doctor. I won’t.” But on the inside Twilight was uneasy. She couldn’t possibly become like Bright Mind. Right?

“So why does Ironheart want Uranium?” came Applejack’s voice. “And how does he get it, anyway?”

For a moment Twilight was confused. How did Ironheart gain the Uranium he needed for whatever he was planning?

And like a lightning bolt out of the sky, it hit her.

“It’s what Count Privilege is getting him,” she said in a hushed, shocked whisper.

Fluttershy leaned her head back. “Um, Twilight? You’re being a bit, um...quiet.”

“Almost as quiet as you?” Spike asked Fluttershy curiously. Fluttershy blushed and didn’t answer her.

Twilight turned around. “Amadeus told us that Client 24--Ironheart--was receiving a special kind of element from his trade partner. And we know now that it was Count Privilege.” She looked Rarity straight in the face. “What if the element he was getting for Ironheart was uranium?”

Rarity’s mouth fell straight open. “B-but... isn’t Count Privilege smarter than that?”

“Nopony ever accused him of being a genius,” Dr. Brainstem added darkly.

“Compared to him, Ironheart was certainly one!” Rarity said back. “He was a genius, an absolute genius!” She then suddenly frowned. “I mean, like, he was a, ah, genius, but he was a mad genius at that. He was like a scientist in one of those science fiction books I’ve read on occasion.”

“When did ya find the time to read science fiction books?” Applejack asked curiously.

“Oh, there have been lazy Sundays where I had nothing else to take my mind off of things, Applejack. I do simply love a good form of escapism!”

“I agree with Rarity,” Dr. Brainstem added. “He made everything bad in his life turn around for him and work in his favor! The more the criminal population got involved with him, the more they ensured their own destruction!”

“He was smart, I’ll give him that,” Twilight conceded. “But he didn’t focus on the right things or use his power for good. He could have been a phenomenal asset if he had decided to stay on the right path.”

“He set out on the path he thought was right, Twilight,” Rainbow said to her. “That’s what matters to how we’re supposed to perceive him.” But when Twilight gave her a saddened look, reminding her of all the things they had talked about before regarding Ironheart, she fell silent and pawed at the ground.

“Can we go ahead and read the rest of the journal now?” Dr. Brainstem asked politely after a while. “I’m curious to hear the rest of his story.”

Twilight shook her head to clear it and pulled a brass chain on a nearby light to illuminate the rapidly darkening night outside the window, making the entire room unnaturally dark and sinister. The light shone like a beacon in the office, but it was the only source of light in the room, and in the corners of the room the darkness seemed to coalesce and condense darkness into a solid form, an unnatural solid form that changed shape depending on who looked at it. It made anypony who took a glance at it shiver and draw closer to the lone light like a moth to a fire.

09/21/1000: After about three weeks, I’ve managed to sneak into the city through the sewers, settle myself in a small workplace in the Ultraground (What it’s called down here--I don’t know), gather materials to work with, and deposited the guns in the workspace. Now what I need to do is expand my influence inside the city and put myself as the secret manipulator of everything the city does. I manage to read all of the newspapers that come my way and by doing so I now know Count Privilege is campaigning to become a member of the city senate. Good luck with him for now, I suppose, but not when I’m through with him.

What I need is a way to make him bow to me, for him to recognize the fact that I can control him but without him realizing who I am really. For me to

The next part was uneasily written and damaged by water stains and age and smudged ink, making it unable for Twilight to read it, so she decided to skip that section and move on to the next part.

But I need to acquire at least a little bit of Uranium first for the long-term plans I need for the project I’m going to undertake. I call it the Manehatten project because, you know, it’s a project...and I’m doing it in Manehatten. I dunno, I’m not good on names. It will involve everything we as a species have ever learned about atoms and subatomic particles and radiation and all the relationships involved therein.

“Ah don’t like it,” Applejack stated slowly. “He’s plannin’ sumthin’ bad, and Ah don’t like it, Twi! Ah don’t know what he’s got in mind but Ah don’t like it one bit!”

“I feel uneasy about it too,” Twilight said as well. She avoided looking into the corners of the room where the darkness solidified and focused instead on Applejack’s face, illuminated by the lamp but throwing parts of her face into shadow. “I don’t know what kind of power you can get out of something as small as an atom, but whatever it is, Ironheart seems intent on using it.”

The next entry Twilight chose to read out of was yellow under the light Dr. Brainstem was using on his desk. The light seemed to be drained from the rest of the room for some reason, and it seemed to be because of the terrible book that now lay in front of her.

07/09/1001: My goodness, I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been busy.

Over the last few months I managed to construct and operate a whole bunch of new developments like underground heavy machinery and devices most others can only dream of creating. I used scrap metal and old machines that you find down in the underground, and to tell the truth, I actually envy Bright Mind right now, if only for the sole purpose that he could use magic. It’s not as if the material isn’t the type you want, you can’t cast a spell on it to make it into what you want. If the material wasn’t right, I would cast a spell on it to turn it into the element I would want, like with Infinisteel back when I inhabited Bright Mind’s feeble body. This particular piece of scrap metal isn’t reinforced steel or titanium alloy? Cast a spell while you know the elemental structure of the atom you want and bam! There’s your plate of metal you want, while it was just brass a moment or two ago. Except I can’t do that. I use these pieces of scrap and brass and copper and the occasional steel to construct the structures I need, meters and meters deep under my own little solitary lair under Manehatten’s sewers. And it’s makeshift, and it’s not as good as I’d like it to be. I might need more time for it to be accomplished.

The other problem I need to solve is how I need to actually acquire the uranium in the first place. I can’t just waltz out into the middle of the streets and purchase it from the local pawn shop, can I?

Twilight went to the next section of text. Ironheart was apparently not very regular with his journal entries the longer he remained as Ironheart. But that was understandable for Twilight. She reasoned that he simply wasn’t focusing on his innermost thoughts anymore and was trying hard to put the past behind him.

09/22/1003: I spent so much of my time down here. Goodness. I’ve been spending almost every waking hour working on the project and on my guns. I spent the last five or six months assembling and creating not only new materials for guns, but also machines to assemble them for me.

I can’t remember the last time I decided to go out in the open. And the few times I did, I spent it in a dark cloak near a dark alley in my pony form. I’ve taken to liking the bipedal form I can transform into. It’s stronger and more monstrous to look upon if I decide to ever show my face to the world again. But for now, if I am to spend any time aboveground, I must spend it concealed and in a form too reminiscent of a species I’m shamed to have once been a part of.

I figured it out, finally. How to progress on the Manehatten project. A few months ago I learned that there was an extremely strong black market in Manehatten, with hundreds of ponies eager to purchase things they otherwise normally couldn’t get. I’ve also been reverse-engineering the guns I made. And in that process, I was able to modify the guns, and improve their initial quality. In doing so, I was able to create many, many different types of the initial weapon. I made guns with a longer range than the original ones that you have to hold with two hands or hooves. I made launchers that can shoot small explosive missiles at enemies. I made guns that can shoot bullets like water from a hose if you hold down the trigger. I made horrible, terrible weapons that made it easier than ever to take the life of another.

And I intend on selling them on the black market.

“See, this is the part that’s confusing to me,” Dr. Brainstem said, readjusting his glasses. “If he cares about innocent life, why would he sell such volatile weapons to criminals?”

“I think if we read later on we’ll find out,” Twilight said, returning to the book.

Oh, but Bright Mind! You can’t do that! Why do you want to put civilians in harm’s way? I thought you were supposed to be bright!

Twilight blinked. “That came on a lot quicker than I thought,” she muttered, before returning to the book.

And I am bright. This is the way to prove that all life is a terrible thing.

I hate the equine race, but so far I have no compelling evidence to back it up. So if I give them the opportunity to prove that they can’t be trusted with my weapons, then I have reason to come after them and hurt them, because they proved--to me and to the rest of the world--that they can’t be trusted. They use their power to abuse their privileges and hurt those that don’t deserve it. Guns are a litmus test. They're just a tool. Left by themselves, they will not kill anypony. If I give somepony a gun and say, “Do whatever you want with this,” and he uses it to commit crimes, then I have a reason to take away his life because he abused the privilege of life.

So I can sell them the earliest weapons I was able to make. Not only will this prove to the world that they are scum, I can also create income to support my progress on the Manehatten project. But eventually, I can be satisfied with my money income and need to acquire uranium.

But the other pony filth don’t have much of it either! It’s rare, and it’s hard to find. Unless you have the resources.

But I just had a stroke of an idea. Anything can be found if you have the resources for it. So once I realized that, I thought, “Who do I know that has money, but doesn’t know how to use it?”

And it hit me. Count Privilege. At the moment he’s in charge of the Manehatten city council and head of the Committee of Internal Affairs. I could persuade him

Sorry I cut off there. I formed a plan for myself after I wrote that bit, so I had to cut off rather abruptly. What I plan to do is come to him when he’s alone and talk to him in a disguise. I’ll say I can promise him weapons beyond his wildest dreams, weapons made by a pony he hated all those years ago. I’ll tell him that I was the one that caused the accident that killed Bright Mind, and that I wanted him dead, and that I stole his weapons and plan to give them all to the Count. But at a price. He needs to deliver to me pieces of the element uranium. He won’t suspect the purpose I’m using it for. How could he, when I’m the only one that knows the catastrophic power that could be unleashed because I studied and expounded theories when I was transmuting Infinisteel and found out the power of atoms?

I can make others do what I want for a change, rather than doing everything for others. Bend to my will now, you miserable undergrowth. Look up your heads and acquiesce to real power--the power of a threat. It’s a subtle threat, but it’s the only kind of power that really matters. All power is based on a threat, really. But it’s only if you carry out that threat that really matters if ponies want to PAY ATTENTION TO YOU! Because you need to get the message across that you are NOT TO BE TAMPERED WITH! AND THAT IF THEY DEFY YOU, YOU CAN GIVE THEM WHAT THEY DESERVE!

Oh crap, what did I just write down there? I think it felt good to do that. You know, like, write in capital letters? I like it when that happens. You feel like you’re so emotive when you do that, you know?

“He’s mad,” Rarity whispered softly as Twilight read it aloud. “He snapped a long time ago.”

Anyway, I need to write down all of the science I need and I discovered when I was creating Infinisteel. Creating a new metal on the molecular level unlocked a brand new myriad of possibilities I didn’t know before, or maybe anypony else knew before.

For example, I discovered that it’s common, already discovered knowledge that radioactivity can be produced if you bombard uranium with neutrons, but also that a single neutron is fired at an atom like a bullet from a gun, it makes the atom blow to pieces. And those pieces of the atom can fly into other atoms and molecules and blow them apart as well, and cause a chain reaction. The nucleus of the atom can be split by neutrons! Nuclear fission is possible after all!

“Hey!” Pinkie gasped all of a sudden. “This is what Ironheart meant when he said there was more in the journal than the musings of a fallen soul!”

“Is this right?” Twilight asked Dr. Brainstem curiously, looking up from the book.

Dr. Brainstem scratched his chin. “I’m...not certain, Twilight. But if there’s anypony that was certain of what he was doing, it was Bright Mind. So if he says this is true, I’m willing to believe it.” They then both turned back to the awful journal.

03/05/1004: My goodness, I need to keep up. It's been a bit of a hassle these past few months. I managed to talk to Count Privilege under the guise of "Client 24" (the number 24 isn't coincidental--it's the name of the project we were working on. I'll let him figure it out, though--he's stupid!) and made a deal that he can buy guns from me. It worked out even better than I thought, actually. The Count told me that if he redistributes them to the criminal population for a price, he gets reimbursed by the money they pay him. And that allows them to be tested with the weapons, and allows me an excuse to go out and kill them off once they prove that they aren't responsible for what they've been gifted.

Anyway, according to my research, only a few kilograms of uranium are needed to create a weapon of severe devastation by having the atoms split in a chain reaction that can erupt in catastrophic damage. All I must do now is create the essential machinery and parts to help me split the atom. It could take years before I finish, before the Manehatten project is finally complete. And when it is, all the world shall bow in my shadow and know that I am the pony that has the only power that really matters.

“A weapon of severe devastation?” Pinkie asked innocently. “Like having the sky be illuminated by the soft red light of flames? Like having buildings be flattened? Like having the ground turned to ash?” She suddenly gasped and leaped three feet in the air. “Twilight! Ironheart was talking about the Manehatten project!”

Twilight understood at once. It was even more serious than she had thought. Assuming Ironheart was telling the truth, he had constructed a weapon that could level a city. Twilight and her friends were almost certainly doomed to fail.

She let her eyes drift down towards the haunting book, the book that was so compelling to read out of yet hurt to even look at, leaving the girls feeling so sick, so disgusted by the twisted, dark thoughts inside. Twilight felt worse than she had felt before at any other point in her life. The sheer idea of it was almost incomprehensible, but she managed it, and the prospect of it made her shudder.

Because Twilight was scared. Scared not only of Ironheart, but also of all the devastation that would be caused, all the lives that would be lost, all the individual stories that would be ended by a single click of a button and a single eruption of flame and a single, concussive sound that would roar in the ears of whoever heard it, then suddenly cut off as you were caught up in its wake.

“The Manehatten project…” she whispered. It was a terrible, terrible thing to think about. It hurt her throat to even say it.

Then after only a few seconds she snapped her head up and said with a newfound determination, “Spike, take a note.”

Spike jolted his head backward. It was rare nowadays for Twilight to take notes anymore, as her friendship lessons had gotten to the point where she no longer had to give reports to Princess Celestia. So Spike was more often than not accustomed to not taking down notes at a moment’s notice But nevertheless, he took a piece of parchment and a quill off of the crowded tabletop in the doctor’s office and stood ready at attention.

“Dear Princess Celestia,” Twilight began, pacing up and down the small office, every eye now on her. “The situation in Manehatten has gotten out of control. The Night Terror has killed dozens--maybe even hundreds by now, and he intends on killing more. After investigation, we’ve discovered that…” She paused, trying to decide in her head not only how to phrase her next sentence, but if she should even say it at all. What should they say about Bright Mind in the letter? Then her stance became firm again. “...that the Night Terror is a pony called Ironheart, who swore to obliterate everypony that would terrorize the innocent. We... believe... that Ironheart’s methods are getting out of hoof. I don’t know what course of action we should pursue now, but…” She paused. That part, at least, was true.

Twilight didn’t know what to do. On the one hoof, she didn’t want to have Ironheart’s power spiral out of control and make him detonate the Manehatten project prematurely, so they needed to stop Ironheart before that happened. But on the other hoof, she also felt deep and profound sympathy for him. Such a pony, a pony that had been wounded and scarred by the uncaring world he had been thrust into, a pony that had been molded into a monster by the circumstances he had been in, alone and afraid and hurt. A pony that had been alienated and abandoned by nearly everyone. A pony that wanted only to make sure the world never hurt him again by hurting the world back. Twilight’s soul ached for him.

“But?” Spike prompted.

Twilight suddenly remembered she had been speaking before, and she racked her brains for the response she was about to give. When she found it, she continued. “But I hope you can receive this letter and decide the proper course of action. Ironheart has been building a superweapon that could destroy the city of Manehatten. I don’t mean to pressure you, but... we need help. I don’t know if we can defeat Ironheart on our own. Please respond as soon as you can. Your faithful student... Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Spike put down the final spot of ink on the paper, rolled it up, and was about to send it with a blow before he stopped and looked at Twilight. “I dunno, Twilight... I get the feeling this is gonna be a bad idea.”

“How can it be a bad idea?” Twilight asked. “We’re asking for help. The worst that can happen is she says no.”

Spike looked at the letter for only an instant more. The room was still.

Then he finally blew a resigned sigh, and the letter disintegrated into flame and flew in a green spiral through the glass window overlooking the silhouetted ghostly spires of Manehatten. They all collectively watched it disappear. And it felt like imagination more than anything else, but the room already seemed a lot colder than they remembered.

Author's Note

I wonder if I made Ironheart OP. But I suppose if he's the villain, he can be as OP as he wants, as long as it makes it more of a challenge for the heroes to overcome.

Events Set In Motion

Count Privilege wanted to rule Manehatten, but he didn’t actually want to live there. It was far too crowded and dirty for his personal liking, so he lived just outside the city borders in an opulent, marble-columned mansion. There, he figured, was safe. There he was alone and private and nopony could reach him unless he wanted them to. The views were splendid and wide through the elegant tinted glass. Looking to the east, there was a view of the endless ocean. To the west, there was Manehatten, rising upwards to the sky forever.

And it was in his own splendidly furnished bedroom, nearly asleep, that he heard something at the door knock three times.

Knock knock knock.

“Countie…” His wife rolled over next to him in his bed. “Could you get that?”

Apparently, she didn’t know the rules that he had put in place after his experiences with his previous wives. In his house, it was Count Privilege that told others what to do. Grumbling something that would have been very rude to her if she had heard him say it clearly, Count Privilege threw the blankets off of him and fell out of bed onto the floor. He clicked a nearby lamp into existence and the yellow light threw illumination to the small room. After he checked the mirror and smoothed his appearance, thinking it was some official at the door, he opened the door of his bedroom and made his way to the front of his house.

It took some time; his house was rather large. But once he finally got to the front entryway and turned on some lights, and went to the front door and opened it, the light shed itself on a revolting sight: a griffon with a hastily-bandaged wound in his thigh. The instant the door was opened, he burst inside the house and went to the couch and threw himself upon it, taking deep breaths.

Count Privilege turned around, looking on him with a sigh of regret of having ever opened the door, and went into the kitchen, opposite the room they were in. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I’m Kevin,” the griffon said in between breaths, examining his wound. It was stained a dark red through the sterile white of the bandages. “You talked to me and a few others in secret a few days ago for robbing the Manehatten public bank, remember?”

Right. That. “Well, what are you doing here?” Count Privilege asked, getting a bottle of wine out of his fridge and a wine glass out of his cupboard.

“The Night Terror,” Kevin breathed, turning towards the Count in the kitchen. “He was there. He... he killed everyone else there.”

Count Privilege wasn’t surprised. He knew perfectly well that Ironheart would show up at the city bank. It was his intent to set the operation underway so that these griffons and the ponies that worked with them would die, for they had outlasted their usefulness--and to get the media’s attention away from his own corrupt deals with Client 24--and to distract them from looking into the way he was manipulating the Senate to select him as a candidate to run for mayor of Manehatten--and to get the Night Terror out into the open and show who exactly he was. But he didn’t dare say any of that out loud. “He was there? What did he do?”

“Well,” the griffon said, sitting upright. “He showed up, and he used his feathers to cut us down-”

“Hold on,” Count Privilege said as he set the refreshments down on a table. “Did he use guns?” He was more afraid than ever that Client 24 had finally broken their secret deal.

“Why does that matter?” Kevin asked. “He used this weird electrical sword, but he also used something that could spray fire like water from a hose. And he used it to burn others into ash.”

Electric sword? And a flamethrower? How in the world could he do that? “Did you see what he looked like?” Count Privilege asked. So far all he had known about him was from the eyewitness accounts in the papers--that he was winged and large and terrifying.

Kevin’s expression turned uncomfortable. “Count?”

“Yes?”

“Can you believe in the impossible?”

“I’m a unicorn.” He tapped his horn irritably. “I do the impossible.” Magic, of course, but also the other kind of impossible--he had managed to fool everypony in Manhattan.

“Ironheart…” Kevin looked dead into Count Privilege’s diamond-colored eyes. “He’s a machine.”

Count Privilege almost laughed out loud. What? A machine was the one destroying his shipments of guns and killing criminals and protecting the commoners of Manehatten? What was this, some kind of Power Ponies comic strip? But as Kevin continued to look into Count Privilege’s incredulous eyes, his disbelief faded. “You’re serious?”

“He fired a harpoon into my leg!” Kevin indicated his hasty bandages. “He reeled me in like I was a fish! He held me off the ground! He screamed in my face, Count! He-”

“All right, all right, shut up,” Count Privilege snapped at him. He turned away. Well, at least things were going to be clearer on what to do. Now that he knew that the supposed “Night Terror” was nothing more than a bunch of metal, it was obvious on the course of action to take. Find some way to destroy metal and use it against Ironheart. The only problem was, they had used crossbows, bullets, explosives, and crushing force. And none of those had worked. What did they need to try now? “He held you off the ground? Did... was he bipedal? Did he have fingers, is what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said, adjusting his bandage. “He had those fingers, all right. And he had bladed feathers. And he could fly. And he had an electric sword. I’m telling you, he’s invincible!”

“Nopony’s invincible,” Count Privilege retorted. “Ironheart’s no exception.” But how could he be destroyed? And because the Count knew Ironheart had guns from previous knowledge, it was even more confusing for him to comprehend. How was it possible for him to have guns in his own body if Client 24 had sworn he had not sold him any? They were built into his body! How was his existence physically possible?

To distract the griffon, and to continue the conversation and prove that he was the one in control by steering it away from a topic he was uncomfortable being on, he suddenly asked, “Why are you even here?”

“Hm?”

“Why did Ironheart spare you of all the griffons there?”

Kevin sighed. “He said I needed to deliver a message to you. If it’s your intent to wage war against him, then he was okay with it. If you want to go and continue with the games you’re playing--like sending us into open battle to fight the unfightable, or blackmailing us to do your will, or trying to become the mayor and betray us all and throw us all in prison--then Ironheart will fight against you with all of the breath he has in him.” Kevin’s stare became harder. “Count Privilege, you’re trying to kill me.”

Count Privilege only let out a soft chuckle. “Whatever gave you that idea?” But inside, he felt a clamor at his stomach as he described exactly everything that he was doing in Manhattan.

“Oh, I don’t know, Count. Maybe it’s the fact that you sent me and my friends to go and do what you could have done! You knew that Ironheart would go and apprehend us! And now my friends are dead because of you!”

Count Privilege went to the table in the center of the room and poured out a bit of waiting wine into the stemmed wine glass. He raised it into the air with his magic and indicated Kevin. “Want some?”

Kevin stuttered for a second, then said, “Are you serious? I’m talking to you, and you decide to-”

“You’re normally not even important enough for me to even look at, so I’m doing you a favor here. Do you want the drink or not?”

Kevin stood up, wincing and clutching at his own leg. He hobbled over to the wineglass and snatched it out of the air. He looked Count Privilege dead in the eyes and hurled the glass to the ground, where it shattered into dozens of pieces, spilling the precious drink. “Why should I ever accept anything from you ever again, Count? You make these promises of wealth, but do you ever follow up with them?”

Count Privilege smiled. The glass was a shame, of course, but he had plenty like it in his mahogany cupboards. Let him express his rage. Let him show just how much lower than the Count he really was. “That was unnecessary.”

“And so are you to me.” The griffon went to the other side of his well-furnished home. “And so are all of these other things you have, in your opulence and your splendor, and in your marble home. Do you need so much of this? You relax in this obscene place, while me and my friends and family all have to stay in lousy apartments and in the sewers! What’s fair in that?”

“It means that I deserve it more than you do,” Count Privilege said callously. “I need this all because I need it, and you griffons... well, you’re accustomed to being raised in poor conditions, so it’s okay for you to be there on the streets. What’s so different from Griffonstone in the streets of Manhattan?”

Kevin wheeled around. “Don’t you dare start on my home! I was raised there! My mother loved me there!”

“My mother gave me money,” Count Privilege said nastily. “Which mother loved their child more, hm?”

“Are you trying to make me fight you?”

“Well, try to. There’s nothing you can do against me.”

“I’m done doing your dirty work for you, Count. You betrayed us all. I’m going to find a line of work that doesn’t involve robbing banks or committing a few petty murders.”

“How?” Count Privilege asked smugly. “You have a criminal record. Nopony will hire you. But if you apologize to me right now, I’ll allow you to continue to work for me.”

“If a criminal like you can hold a public office, how much harder is it for me to find a job as a store clerk or a construction worker?”

“You might want to stop your line of thought right there. I’m already making plans to transfer all the bits in your bank account to myself.”

Kevin swallowed, then mustered his courage. “Do it, then,” he said, his mouth dry. “Those are my life savings, but it’s also blood money. If you take it, that’s more atrocities put upon your head, Count.”

Count Privilege shook his head, chuckling. “My word, what prompted this sudden turnabout?”

“Ironheart made me realize something.” The griffon kicked uselessly against the magnificently elaborate walls. “That I can be better than you.”

“Nopony can be better than me,” Count Privilege declared in a moment of fueled passion.

“No, you’re wrong. I can be better than you and you know it. I can be independent from you. I can fight against you. I should be grateful to Ironheart telling me that you were a piece of rat-soiled filth dressed in the most haggard rags in Equestria."

“Grateful?” Count Privilege threw his head back and burst into laughter. “You should be grateful to me, Kevin, for giving you money in the first place! I gave you a second chance! I gave you a chance to live a good life! And I gave you an opportunity to prove your loyalty to me!” He pointed mockingly at Kevin, angry at him and annoyed by his self-asserting statements. “What would you be without me?”

Kevin looked Count Privilege dead in the face. “An honest griffon.”

That was it. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, KEVIN!” Count Privilege screamed in his face. “NOW! AND IF I EVER SEE YOUR TRAITOROUS FACE AGAIN, I’LL KILL YOU!”

Kevin recoiled from the sudden open hostility and hurriedly limped away from him. He clutched the doorknob, swung the door open, and slammed it closed as he disappeared.

As the door slammed shut, Count Privilege slumped tiredly into a velvet armchair and let out a groaning sigh. He rubbed his temples. Clearly his night wasn’t going to be as restful as he had anticipated. Now he was wide awake, and no amount of Nyquil would shake it off, knowing that Ironheart was out for him personally, and that he and his armies of criminal scum were going to go to war with a machine.

Ironheart’s heart was not made of iron. Iron wasn’t the best conductor for electrical power, which fueled his body with the help of processed synthetic blood that ran in his veins of strengthened and augmented copper; Infinisteel was better at conducting electricity, and stronger than iron, as well.

Why, then, was his name Ironheart? Well, for one, when Bright Mind was working on the construction of him, he didn’t want to have the name Infinisteelheart. The ugly name hurt his ears. But also because iron was colder than Infinisteel, and it was heavier and weighed down on him. And that suited who he felt like, and so that was what Bright Mind had decided on before he chose to become his own invention. A cold and heavy heart, weighing him down, dense and unfeeling, dangerous and harmful.

What was weighing him down was recent events. Dr. Brainstem had cut himself completely off from him. Would that not hurt anypony? To have somepony you trusted and tolerated say to you, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

Ironheart let those thoughts stir in his head as he tinkered and modified and made last-minute adjustments with the device in front of him. It wasn’t as grand as the Manehatten Project, only a few meters away in the center of the white cavernous space in the Ultraground, but it was still essential to his grand scheme of things.

The device itself looked like a bizarre wedding of a TV monitor, a radio transmitter, a security camera, and a satellite dish, with cables, wooden bases, and antennae sticking out of it in seemingly random places. The device, with a bit of cutting-edge help from Ironheart himself, was connected wirelessly into every radio and every TV and every method of electrical communication in the city. Ironheart knew exactly what was happening in every section of the city, in every home and every building and every street and every single corner of the lives of every individual. All he had to do was transfer how he recieved that information into the strange device.

The device was nearly as large in stature as Ironheart’s Manehatten project, but not nearly as complicated. Ironheart was able to assemble it in only a few days and with a few common materials, as opposed to spending over four years on the Manehatten Project and with delicate, hard-to-find elements like uranium.

The uranium itself was all inside the atomic bomb by now. Only a few kilograms were needed for the bomb to work, but Ironheart had decided to use all of it.

Ironheart stepped back, exhausted but satisfied with the work he had done, and sat down on the simple green striped couches on one side of his home. His mind then reflected on his strange feelings of fatigue; could a machine grow exhausted? Maybe if the soul of another pony was inside the machine, it could exhaust the soul--but could souls grow exhausted? The thought intrigued him. Souls couldn’t grow weary, but flesh could. And Ironheart wasn’t flesh.

A long time ago, he was. A long time ago, he had life. He had once had soft flesh, and a mane of real hair, and he had eyes and a mouth and a tongue and a stomach and muscles of meat and organic cells. He had living deoxyribonucleic acid in his genes, and he had chromosomes that he could pass on for future generations, and he had lungs that absorbed oxygen and converted the oxygen to carbon dioxide. He had an immune system to protect himself from outside diseases, and he had a digestive system that transformed food into poop and pee. He had once had all of the novel things, all of the distinctive markings of a living creature that most living creatures had but never acknowledged. Once he was a remarkable living being.

But not anymore.

He could not sleep; robots and machines did not need to sleep. He could not eat; he did not need the water and nutrients and proteins that the pitiful beings made of flesh and blood and mistakes and heartache required in order to go on living. He did not need to breathe most of the time; he could store oxygen in spare containers in his body that could sustain him, should the need arise. And he could not cry. This was the advantage that he valued above most others. Because there was no bodily fluid inside of him except for the synthetic electricity-charged oily blood buried deep in his endoskeleton, there were no tear ducts behind his eyes. There was no shame to leak out, no sign to give the enemy that he was broken and defeated, no way to show the others that, deep inside, he was still a living being…

He took the lightning sword off of his flank and examined it closely. That particular weapon was a work of art in itself. By focusing electrons along a thin bar of platinum, modifying the electrons to match the power they used in orbiting an atom of Infinisteel, and coating the platinum in a secret mixture that he had burned the recipe for, he was able to create a weapon that could cut through virtually anything it touched. It was the only weapon that he knew could actually harm him. One time he had let his finger slip and catch the tip on the blade, and he had examined it to see that the finger was shaved off; less than half an inch. Just a little off the top, please. As a result, he had resolved to be a tad more careful in the future. His finger still had that little bit off there to remind him.

How many lives had the sword taken, again? Ironheart lost count a while ago. Anyway, why should he keep count of his enemies? All it would do is remind him of the despicable ponies in the world. Ironheart wanted to focus more on who he would kill later on, rather than dwell on past successes. And at the moment the sword was calling out and crying the name of a despicable, filthy-rich piece of weiner lint.

“Who’s going to love you?” Ironheart crooned softly, slowly, reassuringly, stroking the sword from pommel to ignition emitter. “Who’s going to cry on your tombstone?”

And then he realized; could the same be said about him?

Could it be that nopony would ever love him? The common citizens didn’t; he was waging war on their turf. Dr. Brainstem wasn’t; he had already expressed distaste for his actions. And along with that went Twilight and her other friends; they were pushing the agenda of friendship and peace to everyone else, and were abdicating goodness, not justice or retribution. There would be nopony else.

Good.

He liked working alone.

But even though he appreciated the space to himself, and that the thoughts he had were private, and that he could say and do anything he wanted without fear of losing a friend because of it, he often got so unbearably lonely…

He wanted to be alone, but at the same time he wanted somepony to talk to, somepony to get his thoughts off his chest, to debate points of interest with, to tell each other of their ambitions, of their plans, of their dreams and visions and their future. It was a confusing kind of feeling, but one that he had grown accustomed to over the course of several years. Now, however, knowing that there were other ponies that he was allied with, it pierced him to the center.

“I’m... so... lonely…” Ironheart murmured aloud, just to say it and hear the words in his ears. It echoed around the cavernous room, making the immense sudden loneliness intensify.

There was little other noise, apart from the churning of the machines in the corner spitting out guns every two hours and the whirring of the machines deep, deep, deep under the Manehatten project, keeping it charged and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. There was another level underneath Ironheart’s initial lab space. That level was a chamber used for storage of spare material, and it contained a special little room in the back that would be used for keeping a certain vile little prisoner that he intended on keeping alive.

Ironheart remembered what Dr. Brainstem had asked him. What is your goal in life? And Ironheart had tried to respond then and there, but he wasn’t sure of how to go about doing it and had responded with some shoddy, hasty, and crappy answer.

What did he care about? Who did he care about? Who was essential to him that he couldn’t live without? Living without friends had made him independent and always right in every decision he made, because if there are no criticizers of every single little thing he ever did, then it was okay, no matter what he did, because who will argue with you when you have the only power that really matters?

He twisted his face into a snobbish attitude. “But Bright Mind, it isn’t the power to kill! It’s the power to love your enemies, and to not retaliate when somepony gets in your way! So give up now, and turn yourself in! And cut your losses! Please, stop killing theeeeem!” He relaxed his face. “No, Twilight. I will not give up now. And I am strong in the face of adversity. I became strong enough to hurt the scum of the earth back.”

Wait, he still hadn’t answered the question. What did he care about? He’d have to think about it sooner or later, but he pushed the thought aside for the moment. Because he was looking forward to what he would do the next day--to Count Privilege, and his reign of blackmail and corruption. By this time tomorrow, Count Privilege would be left at the mercy of Ironheart.

Ironheart glanced over to the side. The gun machines were still hard at work, unaware that there would be no more guns that he needed to redistribute to the common filth of Manehatten. And they were unaware that they were now useless and bulky and stupid.

Standing up in a sudden fit of rage, Ironheart stomped over to the production lines at his waist level, flipped his right arm into a powerful flamethrower with a deep chinka chinka chink and aimed it at the gun production lines. With neither a look to the side or a blink, he fired.

Torrents of flame blossomed out, enveloping the three separate conveyor belts and the machines craning over it. Within only half a minute of spraying flame, the three lines were ablaze, crackling merrily. He then went to the side of the wall, where the conveyor belts entered into the side of the white stone, to a wide control panel. Amidst the lines of flame at his waist height, he flipped a few switches, pulled down a lever, and slid a control the wrong way, and the sounds coming from the wall stopped. The machines working on the guns from behind the wall had ceased their purpose.

Let them die. Let him be the only one in the world that has guns.

“Nothing,” Ironheart breathed, the glare from the fire creating a hard glint in his red irises, “will stand... in my way.”

But he corrected himself mentally; of course other things would stand in his way. Not a lot of ponies would agree with him, and consequently prevent him from accomplishing his goals.

Or, at least, try to.

“Nothing...will stay...in my way,” he whispered deeply, serenely, slowly, as the flames ascended higher to lick the top of his head as he bent over the burning gun production lines. “And the entire traitorous, filthy world... shall bow in my shadow.”

The final members of the royal entourage had dispersed at last, the doors to the Canterlot throne room were shut, and Princess Celestia and Princess Luna trudged their way across the length of the long hallway to their private chambers. It had been a long and arduous day dealing with a trade deal between the griffon and pony overseas embassies around a huge table, and all either of them were looking forward to was a long period of rest in their specially-ordered extra-floofy royal beds.

“It could be said,” Luna yawned, stretching out a hind leg, “that that was a trying ordeal for any mere mortal. By the fifth hour, I felt like I could faint into the fruit plate in front of me.”

“Are you kidding?” Celestia said, facing Luna. “I’m exhausted! I don’t know if I can raise up the sun tomorrow morning!”

“Do us all a favor and don’t raise the sun at all,” Luna said. “I want my bed, and I’m not getting out of it until the end of the world.”

“Watch your hyperbole,” Celestia warned.

“What dost thou mean?”

“Well, not raising the sun could cause the end of the world,” Celestia explained. “Destruction of the crops, freezing the oceans, icy deaths by the millions, that sort of thing.”

“”Thou hast a point there.”

“I hope that this trade deal can make Griffonstone rich and bountiful once more,” Celestia said gravely. “Otherwise all of those hours we spent in the negotiation room would have been for nothing.”

“Art thou concerned about if the griffons become a threat to Equestria, assuming they become rich and powerful once more?” Luna asked.

“No,” Celestia said with complete certainty. “Griffonstone will need to raise its GDP by a rather substantial amount before it’s wealthy enough to attempt to raise up a sufficient military force. But even then, we will have established ourselves as an ally of Griffonstone, and by so doing, dispel the threat of Griffonstone rising up in rebellion. This can be the first step towards reconciling the two kingdoms and lowering the crime rates of vagabond griffons in major cities.”

The comment made Luna frown. “Thou... art concerned for Twilight, yes?” Luna asked after a moment.

Celestia nodded. “Perceptive, sister. I can’t help but feel like a mother worrying over her daughter when she goes out and does something on her own. She’s dealt with plenty of other threats, but this new one that’s risen in Manehatten may be more than even she is capable of handling.”

Luna looked grave. “Because of the callous way this Night Terror disposes of his prey?”

“Yes,” Celestia said. “And I haven’t heard any word on the situation except for what they choose to include in the Manehatten newspapers.”

“You collected those papers like you were hungry for the updates,” Luna remarked.

There suddenly came a familiar noise of a sparkling spiral that made Celestia freeze all of a sudden. Into Celestia’s view came a swirl of green that materialized into a sheet of paper.

Luna stopped as well. “Is that--”

“A letter,” Celestia finished. “From Twilight.” Her previous exhaustion had deserted her. Almost hungrily, she picked it up with her magic and held it up to her face to read. At first, her face was joyous. As her eyes scanned back and forth down the letter, however, her face creased into one of concern, then worry, and then finally a face that made Luna freeze. It was a face she could not remember Celestia having.

It was fear.

Celestia lowered the letter after a few moments of reflection. “Bad news from Manehatten,” she reported.

“What happened?” Luna asked, coming to her sister’s side quickly.

Instead of allowing Luna to see it, however, Celestia explained it herself. “The situation has grown out of control in Manehatten. The terrorist…” She looked at the letter for clarification. “A pony by the name of Ironheart... has killed dozens, maybe hundreds of other ponies and griffons. He’s a self-proclaimed vigilante that resorts to deadly force to carry out his methods. But...the threat is even bigger than that.”

“What can be more grave than a dangerous beast with the most destructive weapons known to ponykind?” Luna asked in bafflement.

Celestia looked with all of the seriousness she could muster at Luna. “He’s building--or has already built--a weapon capable of destroying the entire city of Manhattan.”

Luna’s eyes dilated until they had become pinpricks. “B-but how can this be? How can a single weapon do such catastrophic damage?”

“I have no idea, sister,” Celestia admitted, looking over the letter once more. “But I know that Twilight would never lie to me.”

“So what do we do?” Luna asked. “Retract Twilight from Manhattan?”

“No,” Celestia said firmly. After a few more moments, she said, “Contact Princess Cadence and Shining Armor and notify them of the situation. And wake the soldiers in the barracks and alert every guard not on standby duty. I will send word to Twilight telling her of our arrival.” She lifted her head up. “We’re going to Manhattan.”

Pressed For Time

Count Privilege stepped out of his private gilded carriage onto the tan-colored sidewalk the next morning. Though the morning was warm, it was another grey, cloudy morning that was overcasting a depressing mood upon the city. It was confusing to Count Privilege. Weren’t the weather teams supposed to be making the city more presentable? That was certainly one of the many changes Count Privilege was going to make to city policy once he was mayor of Manehattan. Make it so that the weather would always be sunny. After all, it was always sunny in Fillydelphia.

After giving instructions to his chauffeur to stay with the carriage until he came back out of the building he was parked in front of, Count Privilege waltzed in front of the building he had parked in front of. As he came near, a plea reached his ears.

“Please...please! I need money to eat today. J-just a few bits, please!”

It was coming from a street beggar lying on a haggard tasseled grey mat just outside the bank. Count Privilege curled his lip in utter disgust and ignored his petition. He should have earned his way to success like me, Count Privilege thought as he came under the building’s shadow and faced the bank doors. If he didn’t end up making bad decisions, he would have ended up like me. You take responsibility for your own actions. And you take advantage of the actions, you twist them to the way you want them to be. This pitiful beggar made bad decisions. That’s why he’s suffering.

A wave of refreshingly cool air sped forward and blasted his face as he entered the northeast bank of Manehattan. As he looked around, he noticed many other ponies sitting in red velvet chairs reading the newspapers. Quite a few of them picked their heads up and whispered to each other when they noticed him entering. It wasn’t confusing to him at all. His presence could pick heads up and cause whispers everywhere he went.

The clerk behind the desk went pale at his entry. Given that she was a pearly white already, this made the recognizable shift in color all the more astounding.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Count Privilege declared with all of the refined manners of a high-class citizen. “I would like to make a transaction today. From an account I set apart for one of my clients to my own, account 488-333.” Count Privilege had many separate accounts given to his associates in the criminal underworld that he would direct or redirect bits to wherever he saw fit. It was a way to let his underlings know that regardless of what they did, their money was still in the control of Count Privilege.

“Ah, um, y-yes. Yes, of course, Count!” The mare behind the desk fumbled with her cashier for a little bit. While she did it with a nervous expression on her face, Count Privilege tapped the floor impatiently. Wasn’t she supposed to be better at this?

Finally, with a chorus of beeps and a shrill whine, the register announced that it was ready for a transaction. “Proof of registration, please?” she asked, extending a hoof. She still looked nervous at his appearance.

Count Privilege gave his ID badge to her, and she swiped it along the top of her register. A chime resounded forth, and she gave it back. “There we go. Sixty-two bits to account 488-333.”

Sixty-two bits! He almost laughed. Count Privilege already had thousands and thousands of them. But he did it anyway because it was a way to show that annoyingly righteous griffon, Kevin, that no matter what it was that he believed, the only thing that mattered was the power to enforce. And it was because of his skewed beliefs that made it so that Count Privilege had now sucked his entire life savings account dry.

Noticing the look she was still giving him, Count Privilege demanded, “What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“I mean, what’s with the look you’re giving me? You’re looking at me like I’m a ghost.”

The mare pressed her lips together tightly and shakily pulled a newspaper out from behind her work desk and placed it on the desk in front of him. “You gave a close guess,” she whispered.

Count Privilege stared at the newspaper headlines in shock. There, on the front cover, was a picture of a horribly jointed, armored bipedal creature with sharp creases in his armor and a flat-looking face holding up a griffon that looked an awful lot like Kevin. The picture was blurry at best, and was taken through snapping flames, but the mere sight of the monster pressing a blowtorch a millimeter away from the forehead of Kevin brought an unhappy, tense, cold feeling. His presence was intimidating, terrifying, awful. Nopony could look upon him for long without feeling cold. Even in a picture, and even though the picture showed little detail, Count Privilege could feel it--a clammy, slippery fist that clenched around his heart and made him sweat and tremble so hard his vision almost blurred with involuntary tears. He was so preoccupied with the picture that he almost didn’t notice the headline.

MANEHATTEN CITY BANK DESTROYED--NIGHT TERROR APPREHENDS SUSPECTS--CONFESSION OF THE PERPETRATOR REVEALED INSIDE!

Count Privilege felt his breath catch in his throat upon reading it. The perpetrator? Could it be-

No. No, no, no, no! Kevin, I swear, you will pay for betraying me! The Count seethed in his mind before daring to take a peek inside.

Yesterday at four in the afternoon, a thunderous explosion tore open the roof of the Manehattan central bank, and out poured over a dozen potential thieves. Our own brave Manehattan police force and firefighting department managed to get both the bystander crowds and fire under control, but it was a mysterious monster that managed to stop the thieves themselves. It seemed impossible, for the criminals had access to weapons of terrible destruction MPD recently identified as a gun. And the mysterious and elusive Night Terror also had access to these terrible weapons. But he chose to not use guns at all, and instead used his other powers to pin down the robbers.

The mysterious Ironheart, as he is now referred to in the law enforcement department, was revealed to be not a pony, not a griffon, and not a dragon. No, he is something apart from the rest, in a group of his own.

Ironheart is a machine.

Ironheart, the Night Terror, has waged a soft war against crime in this city for the past few weeks. Massacring his enemies with ruthless abandon, Ironheart also looks out for the common people as well as he can. In an interview conducted by Flitter Gust, assistant secretary to the police commissioner of Manehattan, Ms. Cherry Blossom gives her report of her own encounter with the Night Terror.

“If he saved my life--along with my virginity--then he’s my hero,” she says while describing a failed attempt by several ponies to rape her on her way to work. “He told me to go and run to the police station. How could he hate me?”

Estimates from varying descriptions place him to be six feet tall, with long, jointed limbs and metal armor. How he was assembled in the first place is an enigma, but what matters is, who is the one controlling him?

Ironheart forced a confession out of one of the griffons. The one that ordered the attack to be carried out in the first place was the notorious senator now aspiring for the office of mayor, the head of the Committee of Internal Affairs, Count Rich Privilege!

Count Privilege’s heart stopped upon reading those final few words. Count Privilege gave no outward reaction, but inside his mind, he was seething with ideas of how in the world he could possibly get out of his newfound predicament.

Ironheart was calm that morning as he sat in a small seat in front of his device. Earlier he had dipped himself in the large bubbling vat of that strange chemical, like a second flammable skin. Peaceably acceptant of whatever might come his way because of the choice he would make that day, and with a perfect knowledge of what would happen as a result, Ironheart switched the communications satellite on. The radio spazzed a bit with faulty feedback, but after a while, the radio turned to a condition of clarity.

--Chasin’ money and hoes, uh. Uh huh, yeah, that’s what I do! Eatin’ out da booty like frooty loops! She lovin’ it, she screamin’ more, she beggin’ me to bend ‘er o’er--

Ironheart spun the dial so fast it almost flew off the device. He was incredibly angry all of a sudden. Those idiotic little stains of evolution that call themselves rap singers today. All these years of improvement they had made in the field of music many years before, and they only sing about sex and money today.

Ironheart amused himself by imagining the best way to kill them once he finished his work in Manehattan. Maybe during a live concert. That would certainly be an iconic way to end their singing careers. And it would draw plenty of attention from the media. Or perhaps as they’re recording the songs, he would blast open the door, march in, and blast their insides all over the recording studio. Violent ponies, violent ends.

The new channel he had switched to buzzed for a little bit before settling into a grainy kind of quality.

Kkkkkttt...kkhtt...Good morning, Manehattan. I’m Spur Parker, here to deliver the early morning news for this northeast part of Equestria. Let’s get down to our main story today: the Night Terror. Recently, he’s been known to cause incredible acts of terrorism and public property damage. But yesterday, he was spotted at the heist of the Manehattan central city bank, fighting off criminals that were holding citizens hostage. Elen, what do you think of this?

Hello there, Spur, and good morning, Manehattan. What the general consensus here is saying is that this Ironheart was defending the citizens. Police and journalists alike interviewed the passerby on what had happened, and it is consistent among the reports that Ironheart didn’t open fire at random into the crowd.

It’s a remarkable thing, to have somepony like that in Manehattan, Spur. But what’s even more remarkable is the fact that Ironheart himself isn’t even a living being at all!

Ironheart scowled and cracked his fingers together so hard they crackled like gunfire. He was a living being; just not the one they would think of. To be demoted to the level of an unfeeling object of destruction... it hurt him.

That’s right, Manehattan. For Ironheart himself isn’t even a pony! He’s a machine! Spur, do you have anything to say about this?

Of course I do, Elen. Pictures taken yesterday proved that the Night Terror is, in fact, made of steel. And he isn’t even in the shape of a real pony! He’s bipedal, he has fingers instead of hooves, and he has a huge catalogue of weapons that can prove to be catastrophic when put in the wrong hooves.

“You have no idea…” Ironheart whispered with a small grin. Without another action, he set to work adjusting the settings on the massive communications device in front of him. When he was done setting it to his desires, he twisted a small knob on it until it clicked at the end of its rotation.

And the radio in front of him cut off, waiting on his speech to be entered in. All across Manehattan, every radio transmission, on every wavelength, now was waiting for his words to be spoken. The screen on the device in front of him showed the minuscule images of citizens from every security camera in the entire city. The cameras on the device in front of him broadcast his image on every TV screen all over the city, on every billboard, on every electronic image-displaying system, from the shabby overgrown streets of Bronclyn to the Mare Statue on Eqius Island; from the Maneway’s spacious interior, holding trains and countless commuters, to Bridleway, where the massive multi-story billboards the size of buildings usually displaying merchandise now showed his intimidating image.

“Good morning, Manehattan,” the silhouette spoke with reserved, detached calm. “I am the Night Terror.”

All across the city, every activity halted. Every single citizen of the city stopped what they were doing and looked at the radios broadcasting the calm, serene, bone-chilling voice filled with a hard venom. Outside in the streets, ponies gazed at the massive billboards that now displayed the nightmarish form of the Night Terror. For the first time, those ponies had gotten a first clear look at the spectral figure haunting the city. Doors were opened, and out came ponies, rushing to gaze in shock at the figure on the electronic billboards that looked like it came from the pits of Tartarus itself. They could hear the beating of his hideous heart in the background, never changing pace. The day, which seemed to be naturally warm and comfortable for the morning, suddenly grew chilly and bitingly cold to all who cast their gaze upon Ironheart or heard his next words speak.

“As most of you are aware of by now,” the nightmare continued after a prolonged pause, “this city is wallowing in corruption and decay from both the outside and inside. Illegal weapon shipments are going on under your very nose to commit crimes of murder, theft, and hold hostages captive for ransom. The forensics expert in Manehattan, the late Case File, was murdered in cold blood, and the Elements of Harmony themselves were kidnapped and held captive in the city sewers before I liberated them. But steps are being taken to prevent this from ever happening again.”

The Night Terror readjusted his stance to a firmer position and continued. “Amadeus the Terrible has perished for killing Case File and kidnapping the bearers of the Elements. His organized crime system has fallen apart. The remaining ponies and griffons will be hunted down and destroyed. However, there is another that has eluded capture and apprehension. But that problem will be fixed today.”

His soft yet commanding voice echoed and reverberated throughout the city. It echoed inside buildings like malls, company buildings, and hotels. It echoed through the streets themselves, bouncing in between buildings and rising up to the early morning sky. His voice was irresistible, inescapable, tantalizing.

“I come out into the open to denounce the atrocities committed against the free citizens of the city. Prolonged fear has gripped the underside of the city for too long now, and it is time for secrets to be exposed. My secret shall come out first. I am the pony behind the deaths of criminals all over the city. I admit it in the open to allow for no ignorant mishandling of either my words or intentions. I am only an enemy of the filth and scum that you have to live with. No penance shall come from me to them.”

Inside the yellow-lit bank where Count Privilege was located, he bit back every impulse to shriek in terror at his words that seemed to slither and crawl from nowhere and invade his ears. All around him, ponies were instinctively lifting their heads to the sky like he was flying right above their heads. Goosebumps were erupting all over his clammy flesh just listening to his words, in that deceptively mild tone he used. He felt himself get nauseous, and he turned and stumbled away, out of the building and into the sidewalks where other ponies were turning their heads, trying to ascertain what was happening. But the words continued to speak regardless of where Count Privilege was, all throughout everywhere in the city where speakers were located.

“You saw me yesterday. You know that I am more than meets the eye. And, most importantly of all, you know that I am not to blame for the corruption in this city. That title belongs to somepony else.” Those watching the massive screens in Bridleway saw him lean forward slightly. “You all know it by now. It was in the newspapers this morning. It is Count Privilege that is to blame.”

Count Privilege by then had managed to stumble inside his private carriage parked outside the bank and draw the curtains on the side so nopony could see inside. But on the other hoof, his carriage was opulent, resplendent, and significantly bigger than the other carriages on the streets at the moment. So trying to hide his position now was an impossibility. And his voice still carried into his private carriage anyway.

“And I now come to you, Manehattan, to offer this lawbreaker up for a bargain I know you will not refuse.”

Count Privilege froze. He cautiously peeked his head out of the carriage. There was an electronic billboard that had once hawked body spray on the other side of the street. It was now occupied by a terrible image of the bipedal monster with outstretched wings and clenched fists at his sides. Upon seeing him, Count Privilege felt a jolt of electricity spasm his entire body into inaction.

“At this very moment,” he continued, “a catastrophic device of unimaginable power is set to explode directly underneath the city. And I hold the trigger to detonate it.”

If any soul in Manehattan wasn’t previously paying attention, they certainly were now. He had barely released any details about this supposed weapon, yet he held the attention of every single living thing already, so it mattered not.

“All I ask is for Count Privilege, in place of being delivered to the police, to be delivered to me on the front steps of the city hall, alive and well--and unharmed. It matters not if he brings an entourage to fight when I come to claim my quarry. If he does, I’ll simply kill each and every single one of them.”

The offhand way he spoke of unprovoked mass slaughter made Count Privilege shudder in his elaborately tailored suit. He had never been a captive before, or a bargaining chip in a terrorist’s endgame. What was going to happen to him?

“Now, of course, I could have simply abducted him out of his own home. But I want you, Manehattan, to prove your loyalty. Answer me this...” He leaned forward, and everyone watching him on the billboards flinched back. His heartbeat grew louder, just slightly. “Shall you protect a coward like himself? Shall you protect a sinner from the wrath that awaits him? Let him face what he deserves at my hands.”

He was inciting rebellion! Count Privilege trembled in indignant fury at Ironheart’s audacity. But he also felt fear, in the darkest depths of his soul.

Fear, in his soul, that Ironheart was right...

“Deliver him to the steps of the city hall before 6:00 this evening,” Ironheart spoke. “I allow you all plenty of time to apprehend him. You need not worry about having him escape; every city exit is being watched. If he so much as sets a single hoof outside the city, I will seek him down and he will be blown to bits.”

He then raised an arm, with something long and cylindrical clenched tightly in his fist. “He will be given to me, or my weapon shall detonate.” He tilted his head. “How many of you are prepared to face whatever afterlife you may be sent to?”

There was a collective silence. Never in the whole history of Manehattan was the entire city so quiet as in the present moment, as everyone listened in fear to Ironheart’s words.

“Deliver to me Count Privilege,” Ironheart whispered, “and the city will be untouched. Deliver to me Count Privilege, and there will be no further attacks. Deliver to me Count Privilege, and your loyalty will be awarded.”

He then fixed his steady gaze on something, and Count Privilege had the inescapable feeling that he was focusing on him. Even though the two of them were separated by hundreds and thousands of feet and there was no possible way for him to know where he was, Ironheart was now looking directly into Count Privilege’s eyes.

“And now I speak directly to you, Count,” he whispered. “Now is the chance to redeem yourself. Now is the chance for you to willingly sacrifice yourself for the good of your city. If you prove that you will be a hero to the civilians you are attempting to rule over, your punishment will be significantly diminished.

“But if not...if you come kicking and screaming to your doom, then you will be exposed to be carrion before the eyes of all flesh. You have nowhere else to go. You are at last defenseless against my irresistible and irrevocable power, for I am the judicator that shall sentence you to an ignominious death.”

Here he paused. And he simply gazed into the depths of Count Privilege’s soul as the Count sat with most of his body leaning out of his carriage at the deathly apparition that had come at last for his doom.

“I blanket Manehattan with my outstretched wings, blocking the sun’s rays of hope from those that harm the children of Equestria. I waged a soft war against crime in action alone. Let it now be a war in name as well.” Ironheart’s eyes brightened to an impossible quality. “I hereby declare open war on tyranny. Every... last... traitorous soul... shall bow in my shadow.”

And without another word he reached forward, twisted a knob on the top of a device resting in front of him, and his image and voice and captivating heartbeat abruptly cut off.

For several long, long moments following it, there was a collective silence over the entire city, save only for the fearful whispers now being uttered in the ears of ponies all over Manehattan.

Gradually, radio transmissions buzzed back to life on the stations prior to Ironheart’s public statement. The electronic billboards in Bridleway sparked and statically snapped back to showing the latest prize-winning book and diet soda on their massive multi-story displays as if nothing had been on the screens before. Ponies then broke out into chatter all at once, both outside in the streets and inside the buildings.

Count Privilege collapsed back inside his carriage and lay down on his velvet bench, breathing hard from his mouth and holding a hoof to his chest. Doubtless, the city would now be on a hunt for him right now. Ironheart had made it very clear that if he was not delivered to him like a sandwich on a platter, Ironheart would take him himself, and then massacre everyone else in the city.

He needed another option. Of course, he wouldn’t just surrender to Ironheart. That would only prove that Ironheart had complete power over his actions. What Count Privilege needed was a way to have him protected while facing him down.

Suddenly the idea came to him. Leaning forward, he furiously whispered some instructions to his driver and he instantly took off to where Count Privilege had ordered him to go.

I have to get to Client 24!

Inside the police station, chaos reigned. It could not have been more disorganized than if Discord himself had set it up. Immediately after the declaration of war was announced, every police officer and secretary inside the station started to sprint all over the place, searching for everything and anything in the office files relating to both the Night Terror and Count Privilege alike. The police commissioner and his assistant Flitter Gust were now engaged in a heated debate in his private office, while chaos reigned outside.

“We don’t have a warrant of arrest for Count Privilege yet, sir,” Flitter Gust was saying to the overweight commissioner as he twisted in his spinny chair uncomfortably. “We can’t just go out and arrest the Count directly because we have no jurisdiction to do so. Right now the only word we have that he’s done anything wrong is a forced confession from a bank robber and the accusations of a terrorist! We don’t have any physical proof that Count Privilege is behind all the crime in the entire city, especially considering that not all criminals are under the control of one pony. What can we do?”

The overweight police commissioner shifted the bulk of his drooping body in his all-too-small chair. “Flitter Gust, you and I know that the Count’s a dog. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was behind it all. Either way, now his chances of running for public office are now gone. If there’s even a chance that he’s behind the recent criminal activities, he needs to be apprehended.”

“Sir,” Flitter Gust said, sitting upright in her chair, “I know that the Count’s lousy, but that’s no excuse to hoof him over to a terrorist demanding acquiescence!”

“He has a device that can wipe us all out. He said so himself. We need to treat him like he’s telling the truth.”

“But what if he isn’t? What if he’s taking a risk and only pretending?”

“What proof do you have that he isn’t? It’s entirely possible that he does have it, but he simply isn’t detonating it at the moment because he wants leverage against us. This is the best we can do.”

“Sir, I still think it’s a bad idea to deliver him to a terrorist instead of to the courthouse, where crimes are to be properly tried.”

The police commissioner leaned forward. “I want the city and the people that live inside it to be safe. I don’t like Count Privilege because he’s corrupt and insane. And I want to do my job so that I can both serve proper justice and protect the inhabitants I serve the best I can. With those three reasons, I reason that it’s better that one terrible citizen should perish than for this entire island of prosperous citizens to fall to the demands of a monster.”

As soon as the message cut off, Ironheart instantly snapped up, leaped over the communications device in an impressive display of acrobatics, and hurried to the turquoise metal tubes at the opposite end of his lair. Shutting himself inside the tube with a hiss of hydraulics, he punched the controls on the side and the elevator shot up like a bullet from a gun.

Of course Ironheart wasn’t serious about setting off the Manehattan project. If this failed, he would simply hunt Count Privilege down himself and take him in alive. He wasn’t going to detonate it under the hooves of over a million innocent citizens just because he was mad. Only stupid and weak ponies did that--lose control when they got mad.

Ironheart swiftly switched back to his hated pony form and picked up the clothes on the floor of the elevator. He had pulled himself into that outfit so many times before that it was instinctive at this point how quickly he did it. By the time he had reached the top level of the secret elevator shaft and stepped out of the elevator’s rotating doors, not to the left and outside in the open air like he had programmed to do with Twilight, but to the right and into a small anteroom in the side of a grimy street bar with a single table and slowly-revolving fan, he had already put on a heavy trench coat, sunglasses, a bandanna, and a wide-brimmed hat.

Client 24 shut down the door of the elevator as fast as he could, and the door disappeared into the back wall without a sign that it had even existed. He had constructed the elevator in his spare time when he had first came to Manehattan, but now it was finally coming into its full use for his schemes to take place.

Client 24 rushed out of the door and burst upon most of the bar’s patrons, who looked up in some form of relative surprise. Ignoring the looks levied at him, he trotted out and came near the front door of the bar, where he was expecting a certain senator to come wheeling by soon. And sure enough, some time later, he spotted the opulent carriage stop with an abrupt halt in front of the bar. The carriage door burst open and out stumbled the senator, looking queasy and sickened.

Client 24 instantly rushed outside and held a hoof over the senator’s mouth hard to prevent him from screaming. He stopped in surprise and struggled against his grip before realizing it was his own client and gazed up at him with wide eyes.

“Not in there,” he hissed deeply. “There are ponies inside that’ll turn you in!” He swept his head to the alley next to the bar. “In here.”

Client 24 dragged the senator into the side alley and retreated a considerable distance until they were behind the bar entirely, then finally released him. Count Privilege, spluttering and gasping, demanded, “What was that for? Don’t you know-”

“You’ll find that there’s little in this city that I do not know,” Client 24 hissed to him. “You idiot! You blew yourself and our future! Now they’ll discover what we’ve been doing, and we’ll both be sent to the city hall to meet Ironheart’s wrath!”

"I was betrayed!" Count Privilege returned. "Yesterday, one of my associates decided to reveal the truth about our little deal when that--that freak interrogated him in front of dozens of reporters!"

"What did you do to him?" he asked with interest.

"Yesterday he came to my house and told me that he wouldn't work for me anymore. So I threw him out of my house and out of my social connections, and I just now took all of his life savings. See if he'll cross me again."

Client 24 trembled with silent rage, unable to strike at him and rip his jawbone out with his bare mechanical hands. "Way to assert your power, but that doesn't matter now! You're in danger!"

“Which is why I came to you for help!”

“You were wise on that part, at least. Together we can hopefully get out of this mess.”

“But nothing works!” the Count declared forcefully, shoving him away. “The only reason I haven’t turned you in yet is because who else am I going to get income and weapons from? Your little toys didn’t work before. How do I know this will not be the case?”

“That was before I learned that the Night Terror was a machine,” Client 24 snarled. “And once I realized that, I decided to improve how I can attack machines.”

“What did you come up with?” the Count shrewdly asked.

Client 24 reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small pebble-sized object with a small button on top. “This.”

“What is that?” he demanded, grabbing it out of his client’s hoof and holding it in his upturned hoof.

“It’s an electrical disturbance emitter,” he explained impatiently. “Otherwise known as an EDE. It shuts down the electrical devices it’s thrown onto by blocking the flow of electricity inside it. No more power is distributed to whatever it’s on. If you use this against him, he’s nothing more than a glorified bucket of machine parts.”

Count Privilege’s face registered interest. “And how would I use this?”

“Put this on the bottom of a bullet. Once it is fired and the force propels the bullet forward, the button on the end will depress, and it will charge the bullet with the power of the EDE. Whatever the bullet hits will stop providing electricity, and it will shut down almost instantly.”

The Count’s face turned to one of dubious glee. “It’s good in theory, but are you sure it works?” he asked, examining it from every angle.

“Of course it works!” he growled. “I tested it myself.”

“But will it work on Ironheart?”

“Ironheart’s got weaknesses, too. You just haven’t seen them yet.”

Count Privilege gave him a look. “How can I trust your judgment on this?”

“You trusted my judgment before,” Client 24 said harshly. “Why are you doubting me now?”

“This is different!”

“Shh!” Client 24 looked around wildly. “Stop talking so loud, you idiot!”

Count Privilege looked abased, but continued in a low voice. “It’s different now because my life’s in danger!”

“If what Ironheart says is true, you’ve been in danger for a long time,” Client 24 pointed out. The shadow from the back of the building threw Client 24’s face into a diagonal shadow. “He could have attacked you at any time. Who will deny that he doesn’t? But he spared you for a reason. And that reason…” He pointed in the general direction of Bridleway, but the large brick building they were behind was in the way, “...was revealed just now. He wants the city to deliver you to him themselves. To make you realize that the city doesn’t actually like you all that much. I’m not accusing you of anything,” he quickly said, noticing the look of outrage that crossed his face. “I’m simply telling you something you need to know.”

“So what would you recommend I do?” the Count demanded quietly.

“Make it look like you’re coming willingly, so it looks to the citizens that you’re a hero that can face death with courage. When Ironheart shows up, shoot him in the heart with this.” He pointed at the EDE. “Not only will Ironheart die, the city will see that you killed him and your reputation will soar among the citizens there. They’ll see you as somepony that can defend the city, and you can actually have a chance of gaining the highest office of political power in this entire northwest corner of Equestria.”

Count Privilege finally gave a grin. “You really did think of everything, didn’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

He blew a sigh of relief. “Good. I was scared there that this would turn against me.”

“If you play your cards right, you can still salvage everything out of it, and build yourself higher than ever. Here’s a lesson I’ve learned over the years, Count. What you endure makes you stronger. Years and years of abuse, for example, can turn an aimless pony into a hard-willed weapon of power. A husband losing his wife can turn him into a pony that can love his new wife more than ever for fear of losing her as well. Everything you endure builds up your strength. There’s always hope for you when you’re deep in despair.”

Count Privilege blinked. “Thank you, Client.”

“My privilege,” he ironically replied, bowing a little.

He laughed just a little, then frowned and looked at the EDE. “You... don’t happen to have more of these, do you?”

“Of course.” He pulled out a jangling sack and placed it in his grip. “I took the trouble to make a large supply for you.”

“Ohohoho, yes!” the Count said softly, weighing the sack. His expression dimmed. “I... don’t have to pay you, do I?”

“Let’s see if you survive tonight, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Which reminds me--I can’t just show my face in public for the moment being. What will I do in the meantime until I kill Ironheart?”

Client 24 stiffened--just a little bit. Then he said, “I will provide sanctuary for you. You’d be surprised how little police decide to check the Ultraground.”

“Oh!” The Count recoiled. “In there? With all that water and grime and moss and... feces? That would ruin the clothes that I bought from Las Pegasus itself! I refuse! I demand at least some semblance of respectable arrangements for me!”

“Fine, then. Stay up here, where literally every single pony here is hunting you down and looking to capture you. Stay up here, with no protection at all, with no allies, with nowhere to hide, for the sake of your dignity. Count, from what I’ve seen, you have nothing to lose at this point. Shove aside your demands and follow me.”

Unaccustomed to hearing his client speak so forwardly to him, Count Privilege reflexively nodded. “I...all right. But I warn you: I’m not going to like a single bit of it!”

“You can choose how to feel about your situation,” Client 24 said harshly. “Others told me that before in my life. You need to choose how you feel about what I’m saying to you now.”

“That’s stupid! Feelings are reflexive! Some of them you simply can’t control!”

On that, Count, we can finally agree, Ironheart thought.

“One more thing, Client.”

“Yes?” Client 24’s voice snapped out.

“Are you going to be at the city hall tonight? I could use your help facing him down."

“I’ll be there.” Ironheart smiled under his bandana and sunglasses. “Trust me.”

“Is...is it over?” Fluttershy whispered from her hiding spot under the bed.

“It’s gone,” Rarity said, holding a hoof over her heart uncomfortably. “It...it’s gone.”

Fluttershy crawled out from under the bed in their own spacious private apartment. When the radio in their room suddenly started to speak with Ironheart’s tantalizing voice, Fluttershy had screamed and bolted under the bed as fast as possible. The rest of the girls and Spike weren’t as startled as her, but as they listened to Ironheart speak of Case File and their capture by Amadeus the griffon, the unpleasant, vibrant memories forced their way back to the forefront of their minds.

As they all stood around, pondering the remarkable circumstances and the turn of events, Applejack made the first comment.

“Well, that’s pretty darn bad,” she frankly said, sitting down on a couch.

“That was pretty freaky,” Spike commented, shivering. “Brr. I don’t know if I’m going to be safe ever again.”

“H-how did he manage to access every single speaker in the city? Why did he give that message in the first place?” Twilight shakily asked.

“Ironheart’s making a move,” Rainbow Dash grimly declared. “How’s it going to turn out for him? And... for us?”

“Well, let’s think this through,” Twilight said logically, pacing back and forth. “What did Ironheart do, what he might gain from this, and what we should do in response.”

“He came out and offered a public statement at last,” Spike offered her. “He showed himself. And he openly said that crime is terrible and that he’d fight against it with all the strength he has.”

“He said he wanted Count Privilege,” Rarity disagreed. “He’s offering him as a bargaining chip against the entire city!”

“Question is, will they listen?” Applejack said from her spot on the apartment couch.

“By all accounts, it must make sense to them,” Rarity said. “If they give up Count Privilege, not only will the gun shipments and money embezzling stop, not only will a corrupt senator leave the city, but Ironheart will leave Manehattan alone forever!”

“Are you suggesting shoving a pony to his death is a good thing?” Twilight asked in surprise.

“No, no, no, darling!” Rarity waved her arms. “I’m better than that! But I’m simply trying to see things from their perspective!”

“But is he right?” Fluttershy asked, her calming voice quieting down the apartment. “Do you really think that everypony will just give him up just because Ironheart says so?”

“You’d be surprised at what these people are capable of,” Rainbow said darkly.

“Especially because Ironheart told them that if they didn’t they’d all go KABLOOEY!” Pinkie pointed out.

“That’s worth mentioning, actually,” Twilight agreed. “Ironheart threatened to use the Manehattan project! Is he serious?”

“Ah don’t think so,” Applejack said, sitting more upright. “If there’s anything we know ‘bout him fer certain, it’s that he wants to keep the innocent civilians safe.”

“Then why’d he threaten to use the bomb?”

“Ta provide initiative, I’d guess.” Applejack got up off the couch. “Ta get ‘em movin’. See, we know Ironheart won’t detonate the Manehattan project. But they don’t. They’ll follow Ironheart’s directions like a cow followin’ a carrot and movin’ away from the stick.”

“Or like a Pinkie following a cake and moving away from loneliness?” Spike suggested with a smile, nudging Pinkie Pie subtly with her elbow.

“Exactly,” Twilight agreed. “Everypony moves away from the things they don’t like and towards the things they do. And that’s what Ironheart’s doing now.”

“But what’s the point he was trying to make?” Fluttershy whispered, lying on her back on the bed.

“You remember why Ironheart was selling guns?” Rarity asked her. “He was trying to prove that they were all terrible ponies. He wants to prove that the world is beyond saving. I think this is only a continuation of that. He wants to prove that we’re so much of a fallen people that we’re willing to see what circumstances are okay to send ponies to their deaths without a pretense of justice.”

“He wants the entire world to see as he does?” Fluttershy asked, trembling. “B-but if ev-verypony saw the world like he does, what will be left of the world?”

“The good ponies,” came a mumble. It came from Rainbow Dash.

Applejack wheeled to face her. “Rainbow?” she asked in concern. “What’re ya sayin’?”

“I-I’m saying... that if we all had good judgment of what’s right and wrong... and we used that judgment righteously... then we don’t have anything to fear!”

“Yer right, Rainbow,” Applejack said tenderly. “But the way to expel darkness from the world is ta use kindness and love as an example fer others ta follow! Not killin’ everypony that don’t measure up to yer standard of perfection!”

“I’m not saying we should kill everypony we don’t like!” Rainbow cried. “But what about Count Privilege, huh? What about him? For his entire life, he’s gotten off easy for the terrible things he’s done because he has a lot of money! Where’s the justice in that, huh?”

“Which is why we need to make sure he faces justice, not vengeance!” Twilight interrupted before Applejack could respond. “There’s a difference!”

“And who’s gonna give it to him, Twilight? Not the city government! They don’t like him either, but if he gives them money, they’ll let him go free!”

“So are you going to be the one that will give him his just desserts?” Pinkie asked.

“If I have to!” Rainbow cried, flapping into the air in irritation. “If nopony else has the courage to give him his punishment, then I’ll do it myself!”

“Rainbow, stop it!” Twilight cried. “We’ve had this discussion before, and you know what the end result is going to be if we continue with it. Drop the issue!”

“Oh, what is it, Twilight?” Rainbow asked with a sneer. “Is it your sense of right and wrong knocking on your head again?”

“Listen to what you’re saying! You’re becoming like Ironheart!”

“There’s truth to what Ironheart’s saying!” Rainbow declared.

“But not the whole truth!” Applejack declared. “There are lies that contain a kernel of truth--even lies that are mostly truth! That’s the lie that’s the easiest to believe, and the kind of lie we need to watch ourselves around the most! Don’t start believing a lie, Rainbow! Even a lie that’s almost the truth! Yer better than that!”

“Then what is the whole truth, then?” Rainbow Dash demanded. “What’s the one true thing we all need to believe? Give love to everypony, even if they’re terrible ponies and don’t deserve a second chance to redeem themselves? Make sure that everypony gets whatever they want as a consequence, regardless of the bad choices they’ve done? Are you saying that mercy should be given to absolutely everypony, not thinking of their previous actions?”

Fluttershy instantly jumped in front of Rainbow Dash, a fire raging in her eyes and venom in her voice. “YES!” she screamed in her face. "BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT WE'RE DOING TO YOU RIGHT NOW!"

Rainbow Dash recoiled, falling on her butt and staring falteringly into Fluttershy’s angry gaze. The rest of the apartment had silenced themselves completely and said absolutely nothing. They all knew that a mad Fluttershy was a dangerous one, and so didn’t interrupt her.

“I trusted you, Rainbow Dash. I thought you were better than resorting to thinking like Ironheart. I have pity for him, Rainbow, but I don’t want to have pity for you! You don’t deserve pity! You deserve far more than that, because you’re the oldest and best friend I have! Ironheart’s wrong! Ironheart doesn’t see the truth, but you do, Rainbow! You do! Don’t throw away what you know is right just because Ironheart’s option sounds enticing! I admit, it sounds good to get revenge. It sounds good to give out other pony’s just desserts. But there’s a difference between making a bad pony say they’re sorry, suffer a consequence, and make reparations, and just straight-up hurting and killing others because you think they’re bad ponies!”

Rainbow Dash was trembling on the floor, now completely unable to match Fluttershy’s gaze as she delivered her explosive outburst. But she did manage to get out, “B-but their c-consequences! Are you s-saying that they need to have merciful treatment, no matter what they do?”

“I’m not saying that!” Fluttershy loudly asserted. “Mercy can't rob justice! But when justice does come, it can’t be based on hate! It can’t be because the harm was personal!”

“What about when you screamed at Amadeus, huh?” Rainbow Dash cried, standing up and forcing her to look into Fluttershy’s eyes. “It wasn’t personal for you then, so it was okay for you to lose yourself like that, right?”

“Would you like it if I was like Ironheart?” Fluttershy demanded. “Imagine if I got really vindictive at the bullies that hurt me in Flight School, and I decided to hurt each and every single bully I came across simply because I wanted to? Would you like me as a friend then? So if I became like that and you think I’m bad because of it, why do you think Ironheart is a pony you should emulate?”

At that point Twilight opted to chime her horn to life and fire a circular purple shield in between the two of them. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy stared at each other from across the shield for a few more moments. It felt a lot longer than it should have been for either of them, but it was Fluttershy that spoke first. “Oh, I’m so sorry I said those things,” she whispered, casting her eyes down. “Can you forgive me?”

“What?” Rainbow said in surprise. “O-of course I’ll forgive you! You--” She stopped. And she instantly remembered the conversation they just had. Forgiveness. Mercy. Love. By apologizing without even trying, Fluttershy had simply proved her point even further. She had proved herself right.

Twilight stopped her magic and the purple shield between them disappeared. Rainbow Dash slumped down and looked on the verge of complete disrepair to the point where she looked like she was about to cry. “What’s happening to me?” she breathed in between gasps of air.

“Rainbow,” Twilight whispered, inching nearer to her. “Are you okay?”

Rainbow Dash looked fully into Twilight’s eyes, and there was a haunted, hollow kind of look there. It made Twilight freeze in her tracks, to see the most confident and independent friend she had look like she was at the ultimate breaking point. Ever since her encounter with almost killing Amadeus, she had deteriorated more and more. What was it that made it look like Rainbow Dash was being eaten alive from the inside out? Was it really that her mind was enthusiastically pondering new radical thoughts that had entered her head, and she was now maniacally grasping on to the urge to hurt others in the name of justice?

Or was it fear that she knew that her new sympathies were wrong, but she didn’t know how to get rid of them?

“Rainbow?...” Twilight asked again, but slowly, and cautiously.

“...I...I need some time alone, Twilight,” Rainbow mumbled, a tear leaking out and shining on her cheek. “I don’t... I don’t want to talk right now…”

And she sped in a cyan blur into the restroom and locked the door. Through the thin wood, they could hear her start to sob. It was the most heartbreaking thing any of them had heard. Tears on their own were one thing, but coming from a soul like Rainbow Dash, those small drops of water and those small whimpering sounds cut into the hearts of all those assembled.

“Goodness,” Pinkie said soberly, coming next to the bathroom door to wait for her to come out. “She needs a snuggle right about now.” She raised her voice. “You hear that, Rainbow? When you come out, you’re getting the biggest snuggling hug in Equestria from yours truly!”

There wasn’t any answer from the back of the door, but the sobs stifled just a little bit.

Spike doubled over, his cheeks bulging.

“Oh, really, Spike, must you?” Rarity chided him. “Rainbow Dash is going through something really tough right now, and you have to go and--”

BUUURP! A flurry of green flames spewed out of Spike’s mouth and from the flames came forth a tightly furled letter with a red ribbon. Twilight’s aura held the letter in the air tightly.

“Oh.” Rarity’s ears folded back. “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry about that, Spike. I, um, wasn’t thinking there.”

Twilight unfurled the letter, casting aside the ribbon, and her eyes traveled to the top of the script. When this happened, she looked over the top of the letter. “Celestia sent a note back,” she reported. Then she began to read aloud.

My faithful student, princess Twilight Sparkle,

I received your letter late last night. I applaud you for your diligence in tracking down this Ironheart and in doing your best to thwart his plans, and I sincerely hope that you may catch a break sometime soon from your duties.

Please do not take my reluctance to send help as a sign of negligence. But I had hoped that this was an issue that could be resolved quickly and discreetly. Your letter, however, proved me wrong. This situation is now a matter of national security.

I have sent word to Captain Shining Armor and Princess Cadence to send an expeditionary force to Manehattan, and I have mobilized troops in Canterlot to join them on the road. The first forces should arrive in Manehattan in only a day or so. In addition, Luna and I will join your sister-in-law and your brother in Manehattan to fight this terrorist that dares spread the spirit of fear throughout this peaceful land. In the meanwhile, send word to the mayor that we will arrive, and tell him to lead an evacuation of the city.

Be warned, my student, that Ironheart will try to get you to see as he does to evoke sympathy from you. But you must not yield to the temptation! Resist his impulses! Resist his ways! Nopony must adopt his dark and shadowy ways of wrathful revenge. You are still the strong and powerful student I have always ever had, and I would not ask this of you if I knew you could not do it. Prepare for battle, and cling to what you know is right.

With all my heart,

Princess Celestia

Twilight finished reading it aloud and searched for any reactions. Applejack was uncomfortably passive. Rarity and Fluttershy looked noticeably worried. Pinkie Pie looked up at her with interested eyes, and Spike mumbled, “So...what now, Twilight?”

Twilight set her mind firm in her decision before speaking. “We’re pressed for time enough as it is.” She turned around to stare out the window at the city streets. In the northern district of Manehattan, far away from their window, was the domed spire of the Manehattan city hall. “We must face Ironheart tonight.”

“What?” Pinkie asked in surprise from near the bathroom door. “But Twilight! Ironheart...how can we fight him?”

“Ironheart has weaknesses too,” Twilight said with certainty. “We just haven’t been looking for them hard enough.” Twilight turned away from the window again to look each of her friends in the eye. “Now is our last chance to solve the problem without forcing Celestia to lose countless lives to do so. Now is the time to show Ironheart that he may call us his allies in his goals, but that we will resist him and his end goals. He may call himself a pony spreading good ideals, but he is just spreading death and terror. We can show him tonight that he can be better than that.”

“And if not?” Fluttershy timidly asked.

Twilight paused for a moment, then finally said, with resigned reluctance, “Then we must end him permanently, no matter what.” She straightened with a feigned strength. "No matter what," she repeated, unsure if she had the strength to do it after all.

Betrayed

Manehattan was dark and crowded that evening at 6:00. The city hall had never before gained such a crowd as it now did. Standing in the streets just outside was a crowd estimated to be around twenty thousand citizens, although some said that the number was higher. Ironheart’s very intrusive public announcement had been the talk of the city for the entire day.

On the steps of the city hall were most of the entire Manehattan police force spread in a semicircle, both to hold back the crowd and form a net in which to encounter both Ironheart and Count Privilege.

And on the veranda of the city hall, in between the pillars and looking out at the crowd, were six mares, a baby dragon, and a forensics scientist with emerald green eyes. None of them were in a very good mood as they observed the crowds and thought wildly about what could possibly happen that night.

“How do you think this will go down, Twilight?” Pinkie asked Twilight gravely. “Will we actually have to fight Ironheart?”

“If we must,” Twilight said firmly. “He thinks we’re his friends, so we’ll have the advantage of surprise when we attack.”

“But…if we hurt him while he thinks we’re friends...that’s not the sort of thing friends do to each other. Right?”

Twilight nodded. “You’re right. But we’re not his friends.”

“Why does he think we are, then?”

“Because we’re both working towards the same goal. But Ironheart’s forgotten his foundations of friendship.”

“But if we become his friends, will he see the light and stop when we show him our example?”

Twilight was about to say something. And then she stopped. Pinkie Pie had silenced her. Yet another difficult choice had presented itself to her. It was another thing that had become divisive to her preconceptions of friendship. She was the princess of friendship, but the title had only been put upon her when she had defeated Tirek, which wasn’t too long ago.

“When do you think he’ll show up?” Dr. Brainstem asked. “And where? I want to talk to him face-to-face.”

“We tried talking to him before,” Applejack pointed out. “What makes you think he’ll change this time?”

Dr. Brainstem had no answer. He instead fiddled with cleaning his glasses and avoided eye contact.

The crowds parted all of a sudden, forcing the mares to look down the aisle that had appeared down the center of the crowd. Count Privilege was walking, slowly but confidently, down the aisle, with over a dozen ponies in expensive suits surrounding him. The ponies all had fancy revolvers in their mouths, ready to pull the trigger with their tongues. And leading it all was a pony in a trench coat, bandana, and sunglasses. No part of his skin could be shown.

They came to the police circle keeping the crowd back, and the police eyed the Count and his cronies with disgust and kept the line.

“Get out of my boss’s way,” the pony in the trench coat snarled at the police in front of him. “He has a job to do tonight.”

“How about we just arrest you right now?” one of them retorted, reaching for the baton at his hip.

“No!” another cried, stopping his hoof. “What if Ironheart doesn’t get his quarry? Then he’ll kill us all!”

“You have no idea what Ironheart wants,” the pony in the trench coat pointed out. “But let’s be on the safe side, and acquiesce to his demands for the time being... you understand?”

“Of course,” the more cautious police officer agreed, and he stepped aside. “Son, let them pass.”

The other police officer agreed, though he was more sullen than his companion. The pony in the trench coat and hat passed through, and following him came his boss’s entourage, and then came Count Privilege himself, smirking obnoxiously at the police officer that had tried to halt his progress, and the police officer gritted his teeth so hard he could feel a small piece of his molar break off--only as small as a grain of sand.

The entourage took its time in coming up to the steps of the city hall, allowing Count Privilege the opportunity to saunter his way confidently to the top, turn around, and look the crowd in the face. There were a few boos as he overlooked them all, but he kept his composure. If anything talking in the Senate had taught him, it was that no matter what, your face needed to be emotionless. So he only kept a small tight-lipped smirk of confidence as he overlooked everypony else.

“Count Privilege?”

Count Privilege turned around to face seven ponies and a baby dragon. One of the ponies was a middle-aged stallion, however, and all of the mares varied drastically in color. But what drew his attention was that one of them was an alicorn. He bowed. “Princess Twilight. It’s an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

“Yeah, uh, you too,” Twilight managed to get out, scratching the back of her mane as she finally met the pony behind most of the terrible things going on in Manehattan. “Listen, um, what are you doing here?”

Count Privilege looked confused. “What am I doing here? I’m simply meeting the Night Terror’s demands. What are you doing here, Twilight? Hm?”

“They’re here to stop him and save your miserable life,” Dr. Brainstem said heavily. He was still furious at him for assassinating Case File. “Show some gratitude, will you?”

“I don’t need your help,” Count Privilege snapped. “I have a weapon that can kill Ironheart, and I don’t need you to intervene!”

“A weapon that can kill a machine?” Applejack asked shrewdly. “Where did you get this weapon, exactly?”

“That’s none of your business, bumpkin,” Count Privilege hurriedly shot out at her, though he instinctively shifted his eyes to the pony in the trench coat. “What do you have to do here? What do you plan on doing to kill Ironheart? Hm?”

“Hey!” Rainbow cried, zooming in between Applejack and the disgusting politician. “Nopony calls my friend a bumpkin!”

“Are you going to kill me? If you did that, Ironheart wouldn’t be too happy about that, now would he?”

“I’m sure he can allow for an excuse,” Rainbow Dash snarled, stalking closer to him like a cat ready to pounce. “Listen here, buddy. I’m sick and tired of you doing whatever you want and getting away scot-free. One way or another, whether it’s Ironheart that gives you the sticky end you deserve, or me, you will not walk away from this alive!”

“And your choice is whether you walk out of this alive,” the Count retorted. Every single pony in a suit aimed the revolvers in their mouths at Rainbow Dash. “My fate is well decided, but yours is still in question. Will you walk away unharmed? Will Ironheart decide to turn on you and kill you next? Or will I decide to open fire on you right here, right now?”

The clop of hooves brought Count Privilege’s head up, and he saw Twilight Sparkle marching next to Rainbow Dash. “If you do decide to harm my friend,” Twilight said clearly and loudly, “then you will die.”

“Because you can somehow bring yourself to open fire on me?” the Count rudely asked.

“Because if Ironheart sees that you dared hurt one of the Elements of Harmony, then he will come after you and slay you personally,” Twilight corrected him.

“But where is Ironheart?” Count Privilege asked, furiously gesticulating around. “He said he’d come and meet me here, but he didn’t! He doesn’t live up to his promises! Weak! Weak and cowardly, I say!”

The pony in the trench coat shot out his arm like he was about to grab him, but he forced himself to lower his arm.

“If he wants to come out and kill me, then let him come out now!” He turned around to address the crowd, and he shouted his next words. “Ironheart doesn’t keep his promises! Ironheart is weak! Ironheart’s a coward!”

The crowd began to bubble with interest upon hearing him call Ironheart out on his failure to come out in the open. What would they do? What if Ironheart heard him?

It happened so fast.

The pony in the trench coat suddenly collapsed to the ground and was pulled into the shadows of the stone veranda, screaming and wailing. In only a few seconds, he had disappeared into the darkness.

Count Privilege whirled around in shock, and he could no longer see his client there. His eyes popping, Count Privilege looked around for a few moments before turning to the Mane Six. “YOU!” he roared. “YOU TOOK HIM!”

“Are you an idiot?” Rarity demanded of him. “Where would we put him?”

Count Privilege failed to answer. He indicated his fancy entourage after a few moments. “Find my client. If you see Ironheart, you know what to do.”

They collectively nodded, and warily approached the veranda of the city hall, underneath the pillars that stretched skyward and inching towards the massive double doors of the hall.

Nopony on the steps looked upward, where a massive glinting metal object slithered up one of the pillars like a snake, tossing aside a hat and a trench coat. It disappeared into the dark shadows near the top and could not be seen.

“Get away,” one of the ponies told the rest of the girls. He had a red carnation in his suit pocket and sunglasses on his face, even though it was evening. “We’re here to do business.”

“Ah think yer forgettin’ that we’re here ta do business as well,” Applejack retorted.

“Count Privilege’s business is more important than yours,” he instantly responded. “Get out of our way, pretty girl, or we’ll have to do some things that we won’t like.”

Applejack fixed him a look of pure hatred but backed away so he could search the top of the stone steps for Ironheart.

The dozen or so ponies with shiny silver revolvers continued to search on the stone floor, peeking behind massive columns and seeking with eyes that peered everywhere possible.

Except for upwards to the roof, where a predator lay in wait for his prey to come in closer.

And then Twilight felt it--the temperature suddenly dropped several degrees, and the hair on her body stuck up straight with cold. Her mind was overwhelmed with survival instinct. She knew what a low temperature meant. He was about to make his kill.

“Boss!” the pony with the red carnation said after a moment or two. “There’s nothing here.”

“Impossible,” Count Privilege snapped. “He wasn’t pulled back there by accident. Something must have…” He trailed off as he pondered what could have happened for it to occur.

“It’s probably Ironheart, sir. And if he was there, he’s overheard what you said about him. He... I don’t think he’s happy.”

“Are you telling me you’re scared of Ironheart?” the Count mockingly asked.

“What?” The pony with the red carnation reared his head. “No, boss! I’m not scared of a dirty dev-”

Shhk

“GAAAAH! AH!” The pony with the red carnation dropped to his knees, and everyone watching recoiled in fright. The squelchy sound was the sound of a double-edged harpoon entering the small of his back and exiting his chest. The line attached to the harpoon started to coil itself back up, and he was raised to a standing position on his hind legs.

Then he wasn’t even touching the ground anymore.

Then the pony with the red carnation was reeled upwards like a fish caught on a line, up several dozen feet, and as he went up and up, every eye followed his ascent. As he went, he was screaming like a heartbroken baby. At the top of his climb, he had reached the point of the triangular roof the pillars below were holding up. On the pinnacle of the pointed roof was a massive winged gargoyle overlooking his audience.

But it wasn’t a gargoyle.

The silhouetted gargoyle suddenly stood up from its crouching position, holding the rapidly expiring pony at arm’s length, and shot out one of his wings to the side like a sword.

Then, with a hard swipe of his bladed wing, he beheaded the pony. The head sailed away, and the gargoyle negligently dropped his body three dozen feet to collapse brokenly on the hard stone steps below. It impacted with a sickening crunch, and blood spurted out of his corpse to flood the steps of the building of justice.

Count Privilege suddenly had second thoughts about engaging the Night Terror in single combat.

The gargoyle suddenly crouched, then hurled from his spot to the hard steps below, curving his wings around him like a cocoon. As he hit the ground, the surface cracked around him in a crater, and the bladed wings extended themselves around him like he was a conquering god. He brought his metal head up to stare at Count Privilege, and his scarlet burning eyes were furious enough to burn flesh.

“Count Privilege,” he whispered in the most calming voice any of them had heard. “You are mine.”

“NOW!” Count Privilege roared to his entourage. And all of them trained their revolvers on his body and opened fire.

This time, the attack was different. The bullets zinged through the air, and the projectiles were a glowing blue as they sailed through the air and impacted on Ironheart’s metal skin. Ironheart gave a gasp of pain every time a bullet impacted on his skin, and a blue glowing crater rippled outward from the points of impact until his entire body was covered in blue material like he was encased in an electrical net.

It was so short. He didn’t even have time to fire a feather at them or shoot them. In only a little bit, Ironheart had stiffened, then collapsed on the ground, motionless.

“NO!” Fluttershy cried, and tried to lunge forward for Ironheart’s inert body, but Rarity held her back. All of the girls wore similar expressions of shock and surprise on their faces. Just like that, Ironheart was gone. Dead.

Count Privilege was surprised. It was so quick, so anticlimactic of him to go out that way. The electrical disturbance emitters were even more powerful than he had thought. Grinning victoriously, he turned his attention to the awestruck audience watching the scene unfold.

“Ironheart is dead!” he cried, raising a hoof in the air. “I have killed the beast myself!”

There came a rustle behind him, and Count Privilege turned to see Ironheart struggle away weakly on his hands and knees. It appeared that Ironheart was more likely disabled instead of killed. He pathetically tried to wriggle away. Then he collapsed and began to reflexively twitch.

“Go check on him,” Count Privilege told a nearby cronie, ignoring the amazing amount of blood that had exited the body of the pony with the red carnation.

The cronie he had spoken to approached Ironheart warily, but after a few moments, he began to grow more confident and walked more briskly to Ironheart’s inert body. When he came to his head, he tapped it gently.

Nothing happened.

He rubbed his hoof along his dead arm. Nothing happened except for a reflexive twitch of the body.

Then he tried to press down on his chest.

And Ironheart’s fist whipped up and slammed into his head so hard a concave crater appeared in his head. He shrieked in pain and collapsed, and Ironheart’s clawed foot shot out and gripped his skull. He whipped the furiously struggling pony into the stone ground time after time after time again, and only stopped well after his body had gone limp--all while Ironheart was lying on the ground.

Ironheart stood up, showing no sign of injury or pain. The glowing blue craters on his body disappeared entirely. He still held the limp body by the head in his clawed foot, pressing his prey’s face against the stone floor. He gave a deep, mocking laugh at Count Privilege, and shook his head in plain amusement.

“What?” Count Privilege whimpered in the smallest voice he had ever used. “But... but I…”

“Oh, my dear, dear fool,” Ironheart snarled in Client 24’s animalistic, cruel voice. He squeezed the foot holding his prey’s head, and there came a sound like an eggshell breaking. Viscous liquid came from between his clawed toes, and he callously tossed the remains of the pony aside. “Did you honestly think I would sell you weapons that could actually hurt me?”

And Count Privilege shattered on the inside.

Month after month, meeting after meeting, he had trusted his client, had relied on his weapons to help him ascend to the highest levels of Manehattan’s government. He had relied on his weapons, and he had relied on him, but it was all a lie.

Everything his client had ever done to him had led to this.

This.

Betrayal.

Count Privilege’s breaths came short and quick, and he could feel his face get cold as the blood drained out of his face. A tear instinctively appeared at the corner of his eye, and it dripped down his cheek. He couldn’t think of anything to say to him. It was awful. Everything was disappearing. He hadn’t been able to rally the people around him, he hadn’t been able to kill Ironheart, and now, even Client 24 was gone from his sphere of influence.

Unfortunately for him, however, Ironheart noticed the change in his countenance.

“Aww, look at him,” he mocked in an obnoxious child’s voice. “Did you have your pwecious wittle feewings hurt? Count Pwivwige is crying! Look at him, everyone! He’s crying!” He laughed cruelly again. “You should have known from the outset that if you work with criminals, you get betrayed. Were you really so much of an idiot that you fell for my offers?” He raised his voice, pointed a finger, and started to chant like a school bully. “Count Privilege’s an idiot! Count Privilege’s an idiot!”

“KILL HIM!” Count Privilege roared, wiping away the shameful tear. “KILL HIM NOW!”

One of his cronies was actually sneaking up behind Ironheart that moment, and was carrying a massive wrench. He had raised it above his head, ready to strike Ironheart in the spine.

Shk

The sound came as Ironheart whirled around and struck the pony in the throat with his bladed tail like a whiplash. Blood poured from his slit throat, and the wrench he had in his upraised hoof fell atop his head, creating a dent in his skull. Ironheart kicked him clear across the veranda, and as he flew away his head separated from his body and landed apart from his blood-soaked body. At that point, most of the rest of Privilege’s entourage didn’t attack at all and instead withdrew a pace.

And then Ironheart raised his arm to switch it into a long gun, and trained its fire on the rest of the ponies as they were retreating. Pony after pony fell dead or mortally wounded, and rivers of blood ran down the steps of the hall of justice as they collapsed.

“Really,” Ironheart said matter-of-factly. “This is pathetic.”

“STOP!” came a demand, and Twilight and Rainbow Dash came into view. “Ironheart, enough is enough!”

“Twilight,” Ironheart growled. “Go away. This is not your fight!”

“It is,” Twilight said with a false determination. “It’s our fight because we will stop you.”

“You see?” Count Privilege screamed, pointing at the two mares behind their backs. “See? They’re not on your side! They’re with me!”

“You would dare assume that these ponies would ever side with you?” Ironheart asked incredulously. “You’re more stupid than meets the eye, Cunt.”

“We’re not with him,” Rainbow was quick to admit, “but we’re still going to stop you.”

And now it was Ironheart’s turn to feel the pains of betrayal.

No more would they have an object in common. The six mares would now work against him for their own pursuits of justice. It hurt him to his center. It pierced him like a sword.

“You... would kill a friend?” Ironheart asked quietly, clenching a fist in front of his face. His voice was quiet. “You would turn your back on the friendship I’ve forged with you?”

“It was never friendship,” Rainbow Dash affirmed, trying her hardest to bury the admittance that she had been tempted to think like he had. “We were against your thoughts and your feelings. No more of that!”

“You’re the princess of friendship, and you break bonds of friendship?” Count Privilege asked Twilight in disbelief. He threw his hooves up in the air. “I knew it. I knew friendship’s power was a fraud! You can’t accept everypony into your life. I knew it. I knew--”

Ironheart twitched his wing and shot a bladed feather into Count Privilege’s upper foreleg without even looking at him, and Count Privilege collapsed with a pathetic groan. He started to whine and stare at the massive metal feather in his arm.

Now with Count Privilege shut up, Ironheart gazed at the two mares with a saddened look. “You wish to abandon me?”

“If it means it’ll get you to stop, then yes.”

Ironheart gazed at the ground in immense melancholy. He finally said, “I never wished to harm you.”

“I know,” was Twilight’s reply.

“I never wished for you to have to reach the edge of the precipice.”

“Your actions were pushing all of us to the edge,” Twilight pointed out. It was quiet between them. “You were the one forcing us to choose between you and peace.”

“I am peace,” Ironheart said.

“Peace brought about by death is not peace at all.”

“Are you my enemy?”

“The only enemy I have is vengeance.”

Ironheart took a deep breath and expelled it. He avoided the girls’ looks and took something off of his hip. “Will you fight me?”

“You, and everything you stand for,” Twilight said. She charged her horn with a musical chime and relaxed her knees a bit. Beside her, Rainbow Dash crouched, ready to take off and launch.

Ironheart’s eye sockets were dark and deep, and the red color in his eyes was more murderous than ever as he finally looked Twilight in the face.

“Then you will die."

And his fist sprouted a jagged bar of electricity.

It happened so fast.

Twilight fired a lance of violet energy at Ironheart, and he whirled his white blade. The blast of power ricocheted off and blew apart the side of a stone column, and Ironheart, allowing no time for recovery, bounded forward, swiping his sword in a downward arc. Twilight miraculously caught the blade with a bar of violet magic that erupted out of her horn, and the blades were crossed.

Twilight was slowly being pushed down by the power of Ironheart’s inexorable power, and the sword crackled so close to her horn that she could feel her mane stand on end. The bar of magic that had appeared out of Twilight’s horn was getting weaker and weaker as Ironheart pushed down on it. She could feel her knees shake as she felt how strong he was. She couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t resist any more--

And the blade was knocked out of Ironheart’s hand by a rainbow-colored blur.

Rainbow Dash had come out of nowhere and knocked the handle out of his grip in a powerful swoop. She then circled up in the air and sped towards the ground for another run at him.

In response, Ironheart jumped away from Twilight and transformed his entire right arm into a powerful anti-aircraft gun. He aimed it high in the sky and spat a pattering spray of heavy bullets at Rainbow Dash.

Twisting in the air to avoid the spray of bullets coming her way, Rainbow Dash peeled off from her attack and sped away over the crowd of ponies in front of the city hall, knowing that Ironheart wouldn’t dare fire over a crowd of civilians.

Ironheart stopped firing at Rainbow Dash and outstretched his left arm. His palm glowed white, and the attached electromagnets made Ironheart’s sword skitter back to his grip. He turned around once more--

And he felt a pair of hooves slam into his chest as Applejack delivered her hardest buck to his abdomen. Clutching his chest, he stood his ground by skidding on the ground and doubling over.

He saw, to his satisfaction, that Applejack was wincing from the impact as she put her hind legs down. That was his opportunity to strike. He bent his knees and launched himself at her, with a machine gun as his right arm and the hilt of his sword in his left.

The impact of his left fist sent Applejack sprawling down, but he could tell that she could take a hit. She didn’t look as hurt as the others he had harmed. But before he could reflect further on that, he heard, “NO YOU DON’T, YOU SAVAGE!”

And his body was encased with a light blue aura. He squirmed around, and saw Rarity using her limited magic to her full extent by trapping him inside of a light blue net. She swung her head with an almighty groan, and Ironheart was thrown back into a pillar, cracking the back of it but doing no real damage to himself.

Standing up, Ironheart fired the heavy machine gun at Rarity’s position, and Rarity instantly sped behind a nearby pillar. He spotted Twilight, recovering from his previous pressing on her magical boundaries, and he opened a slot in his shoulder. A small missile shot out, jerking his body backward, and Twilight was able to only put up a shield before it slammed into the center of it. Twilight cried aloud and the shield faltered like a screen with static.

“FIGHT ME!” Ironheart roared, all signs of his calm composure gone. He fired a heavy explosive out of his wrist at Twilight’s shield again, and Twilight’s shield dropped after the explosive hit. She retreated behind the same pillar Rarity was behind, and Ironheart fired a spray of bullets at the edge of the pillar.

“FIGHT ME, TWILIGHT!”

Another hail of deadly bullets tore a chunk out of the side.

“WHAT ARE YOU SO SCARED OF?”

Another barrage tore a chunk out of the opposite side.

“I’M JUST A MACHINE, AFTER ALL!”

Another missile fired out of his other shoulder and impacted the pillar right above their heads. Rubble blew apart, and dust filled the air.

“SO FIGHT ME, TWILIGHT!”

He ignited his sword again, and the electricity surged out.

“FIGHT THE MACHINE!”

He came to Twilight’s pillar and swiped his sword through the center of it. The sword sliced cleanly through, and it slid off and fell down the pedestal. He could see, however, that there was nopony behind it. They had moved away, hidden by the cover of the oncoming night and the chaos reigning around them.

“Hiya!”

Ironheart whirled around with his sword held away from him, and he very nearly sliced Pinkie Pie in half. Pinkie, for her part, was an excellent contortionist, and shot herself backward right before Ironheart could behead her. “Hey! Watch the sword, bud!”

Ironheart leveled his long sword and pointed it directly at Pinkie Pie’s face. He stalked forward, keeping Pinkie Pie in his sights. Pinkie Pie backed up against a pillar on her hind legs as Ironheart advanced. Just before he was about to thrust with his sword, however, Pinkie Pie said something.

“Look, I know you’re pretty mad at us right now, but I just wanted to ask you something!”

Ironheart lowered his sword. A question from Pinkie Pie? What on earth could it be? “Yes?” he asked, trying to not snarl at her.

“Do you have a vendetta against cake?”

Ironheart blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Against cake,” Pinkie explained with an absolutely straight face. “Oh, please don’t.”

Ironheart spread his arms in incredulity. “Why on earth would I hate cake?!”

Pinkie Pie grew a smile. “So you don’t hate cake?”

“What made you assume I d--”

BOOM

Before he could finish, Ironheart was thrown backward by a blast of magic by Twilight, who had come out of nowhere and thrown him back once again to the back of a pillar. He collided with the side of it and spun to the ground with a mighty thud.

“Nice job distracting him, Pinkie!” Twilight called as she ran past where Pinkie stood.

Pinkie Pie looked bewildered. “I was distracting him?”

Ironheart was lying on the ground face down and was supporting himself on his hands and knees, when he saw a hoof reach for him. He looked up to see who the hoof was attached to.

It was Dr. Brainstem.

“Do you need help?” he asked, gazing at him from over the top of his glasses.

Ironheart, sharply angled and winged and built like a demon, made a face of rejection and swatted his hoof away. He stood up on his hind legs and looked down on him. “What are you doing?”

Twilight was about to fire another blast of energy, but stopped; Dr. Brainstem was in the field of fire.

“I was trying to help you up,” the doctor said. “Should I apologize?”

“Are you my enemy?” Ironheart asked bluntly.

“Well...I’m certainly not with you…”

“Then get out of my way, doctor!”

“No.” Dr. Brainstem stood his ground, though he was noticeably trembling. “I won’t allow you to hurt my friends, Bright Mind.”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Ironheart spat at him.

“Listen!” he pleaded. “Are you really going to let this be your defining destiny? So much blood and destruction?”

Ironheart extended a white palm, and the sword hilt flew back to his left hand. “Get out of the way, doctor!”

“What, so that you can kill the Elements of Harmony?”

“If I must!” Ironheart spun around to face Twilight and the rest of the mares, and knocked the doctor on his back with his outspread wings. “If you deny me the pleasure of allowing me my vengeance on Count Privilege!”

And he sped forward with his wings out to the side, forcing the mares to scatter as he plowed through the empty space that had opened up in their midst. He ran at full force to Count Privilege, still nursing the long feather stuck into his arm, and, with a tremendous, well-executed blow to the head, knocked him unconscious.

He picked Count Privilege up and draped the inert body across his shoulders. But before he could take off, Twilight and Rarity combined held him down in a shimmering aura of blue and violet.

“You...aren’t going...anywhere,” Twilight strained through her teeth.

“I have gone where nopony else has!” Ironheart bellowed back. He fired bladed feathers out of his wings at the girls, and Twilight barely had enough time to put up a shield to let the feathers sink in. Ironheart was still stuck in the auras. “I have done more than you have for the sanitation of ponykind! I have changed, Twilight, and you would do well to follow me!” Ironheart’s voice was getting louder, deeper, and more demonic with every word, and his eyes were the color of fresh blood.

“I will never follow your example!” Twilight cried.

“THEN YOU SHALL FALL WITH MANEHATTAN!”

He fired the retros in his feet and wings, and he zoomed against the aura holding him back. He managed to twist around, turn one of his arms into a thin Gatling gun, and fire at Twilight. Twilight instantly diverted her power to creating a shield in front of her and the girls grouped behind her, and that meant taking power out of the aura holding Ironheart down.

Ironheart broke free of the now-weak aura, stopped firing at Twilight, and fired himself into the darkening skies. He flew out over the crowd of ponies that were transfixed by what had happened on the steps of the building of justice, and all heads below picked themselves up to follow his movements.

Ironheart soared hundreds of feet above the ground, and the buildings of Manehattan were on all sides of him. He allowed a small breath of victory.

He had done it! It was finally coming into place, no matter what the Mane Six had done to halt his progress. He still didn’t hate them, but if they were planning on staying in his way, then they had to die. It was just how the world worked. If something was in your way, you fought against it in any way you knew how, because your desire for that end result was more powerful than the object in your way. And if your desire for something was weaker than the object barring your way, then you were weak and stupid. Weak because you had a dream but couldn’t accomplish it; stupid because you tried while your desire was weak.

Clang

Ironheart nearly dropped Count Privilege as a rainbow-colored blur sped into him, causing him to drop a few feet in altitude. He spun his head around to see Rainbow Dash circling up higher in the air, ready to attack again.

Ironheart let loose a roar of consternation and trained his sights on Rainbow Dash. He fired his thin Gatling gun on Rainbow as she came near to him, but Rainbow Dash, trained like a professional, evaded the stream of bullets and dropped under his level of sight.

Ironheart looked down to see himself get kicked in the face by the feisty mare, almost making him drop his precious cargo again. This time, Ironheart didn’t allow her to get away.

He instantly changed his gun back into an arm and grabbed the mare by the neck. Hundreds of feet above the streets, Ironheart started to squeeze.

“I’ve had enough of you,” he snarled in her face. “I am going... to HAVE MY PREY, AND YOU! WILL DIE! IF YOU STOP! ME! AGAIN!”

Rainbow Dash’s face was red, and she was straining against his absolute grip, but she managed to get out, “There was... a time... where I thought... you were right!”

Astounded, Ironheart relaxed his grip, allowing her to breathe normally in his grip.

“But now... now I see... the full truth.”

“And what is the truth?” Ironheart asked, pressing his face against hers so that his indented, red eyes now filled Rainbow Dash’s vision. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“That friendship... is magic,” Rainbow Dash declared.

And she reared the lower half of her body up and kicked Count Privilege off of his shoulders.

Startled, Ironheart let go of Rainbow Dash and dived down to recover his cargo before he hit the pavement. Rainbow Dash, now free, sped off to return to the crowded outside of the city hall. Looking back, she saw Ironheart, growing increasingly smaller as she flew away, diving to catch Count Privilege. She saw him snatch him up in mid-air. She saw him fire his red engines and fly off, away from where she was.

Not daring to fly back to Ironheart, Rainbow Dash instead sped off to check on her friends.

Ironheart fumed as he flew to his destination: a small, grimy street alley. As he landed in between the buildings, he let loose a long sigh of anger.

No matter what, Ironheart had won, but Rainbow Dash had rejected his principles.

Ironheart lifted a secret lever behind the dumpster, and the secret elevator swiveled to face him. He callously chucked the bleeding and unconscious Count into the elevator and stepped in beside him.

With a punch of a button, the elevator closed, and he descended into his lair.

And unbeknownst to him, coming across the dark bridges to the island of Manehattan, the first of the Equestrian Military was arriving by train.

An Abused Privilege

It was black. The inside of Count Privilege’s eyelids were completely black. That was the first thing he could remember. The first thing that mattered.

The second thing he could remember was that his head hurt. A lot. It was the pain in his head that made him stir, actually, and he weakly, slowly, opened his eyes.

At first he thought he hadn’t--he could still see only black in front of his face. But after he blinked a few times to make sure that yes, he was, in fact, opening his eyes, they had adjusted to the oppressive darkness and he was able to make out the faint dark shapes of several things.

There were a few tables filled to overflowing right in front of him. Their silhouettes were tall and bulky atop the tables, and the space he was in was small and crowded. The lights were off, and he could feel like he was lying at a diagonal angle on something. He felt a tight strap around all four of his hooves, digging into his flesh.

He tilted his head to the left to see what it was. He could see a thick leather strap around his hoof, all right, and that strap was in turn attached to a table that he was lying on. The table felt hard and cold beneath his body.

Count Privilege at this point was rather confused, and more than a bit miffed. What was he doing here? He missed his soft, velvety bed. He missed the soft body of his third wife at his side when he laid down in it. He missed the spacious interior of his opulently furnished mansion, just outside the Manehattan borders. Why wasn’t he there?

He turned his gaze to stare straight ahead. And he gave a yelp of surprise and jumped backwards so his head hit the back of the diagonal table he was lying on.

At the opposite end of the small, dark room was a pair of glowing red loops looking him in the eyes.

Count Privilege’s breaths came short and fast. It was him! He tried valiantly to struggle against his restraints, but as he twitched his right arm he felt a jolt of pain run through his arm. He turned his gaze to his right arm and saw a long, bladed feather sticking out of it at an odd angle. An unbelievable amount of dried blood had surrounded the wound and had run in a thin river down his arm to his torso and had frozen into a hard blood clot.

“Aww, wittle Count Priviwege is hurt!” the silhouette at the other end of the room said in an annoyingly mocking tone. “Would you wike some milk? Hmm? Pwecious wittle baby.”

“Ironheart,” Count Privilege snarled in what a voice that he tried to make hard and authoritative, but it instead came out as a thin gasp. “How--what--”

The tall form with the softly, softly glowing eyes came forth on two clawed legs. On each footfall, Count Privilege could hear a distinct clink, and he could observe his bladed tail swishing back and forth like a snake on the concrete floor, creating a deafening scratching noise with each motion. Count Privilege gritted his teeth and folded his ears back at the hideous noise that rose in pitch with each second.

“What are you making that face for?” Ironheart asked in such a calm voice. His form wasn’t even distinctly visible yet, and his eyes were still the only thing that didn’t look like a silhouette on him. “I haven’t even started on you yet.”

“Wha--what are you going to…”

Ironheart’s metal fist snaked out and latched onto Count Privilege’s forearm, right underneath the wound in his arm. He leaned his head forward so that the Count could finally see his face. It was grimly gleeful, his mouth twisted into a tight-gritted upwards grin. His facial structure was so unnaturally similar to that of a normal pony that it was disconcerting to Count Privilege to see it on anything that wasn’t made of living flesh.

“I am going to make you feel,” Ironheart whispered in the deepest voice Count Privilege had ever heard, dripping with malice and wrath. “Everything that you put me through.”

“Wh-wh-what I p-put you through?” Count Privilege stammered out. The pain in his arm was so distracting to him that he could barely speak.

Ironheart twisted his arm again, and Count Privilege shrieked. Then Ironheart let go.

“You truly had no idea what lengths I was driven to because of you,” Ironheart whispered malevolently.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Count Privilege screamed.

Ironheart whipped the back of his hand to Count Privilege’s face. It left a mark under his eye, and Count Privilege let out a groan of pain.

“Oh, yes you do,” Ironheart snarled.

“I haven’t done anything to you!” Count Privilege yelled at him. The mark on his face was bleeding.

Ironheart’s gaze sharpened until his eyes were as thin as daggers. “A decade ago, you worked on a project directed by Princess Celestia. A decade ago, you decided to fund a project and supervise the workers laboring for you. And out of all the worthless little brats assigned to work on the project, one of them stood out to you.”

Count Privilege gazed up at the monstrous entity. “Alpha Nevada? Is that... really you?”

“That’ll cost you a rib,” Ironheart remarked. He reached forward, pinched the bottom rib on Count Privilege’s left rib cage and squeezed.

Snap

Count Privilege let out a despairing shriek that echoed and echoed around the small cavern. It hurt! It hurt so much! He had never before experienced that kind of pain in his life. The furthest he had gone down that path was the occasional trip, getting banged on the elbow by a desk, and a paper cut. He was completely and woefully unprepared for this.

“You dare compare me to that creature?” Ironheart was speaking. “I am nothing like him. The main difference between us is that I’m alive.”

Through the haze of pain, Count Privilege was able to make out that small detail. Struggling for breath, he asked, “What...do you...mean?” Why was Ironheart being so cryptic with him? What did he want?

“Oh, I killed him,” Ironheart said remorselessly and dismissively. “He made the mistake of visiting Manehattan one time a few years ago for a vacation of his. He didn’t watch over his shoulder. I slit his throat from ear to ear, buried a stake in his heart, and buried him seventeen feet deep head down first under the sea.” He smiled gleefully. “Ohoho, you’re not happy about that, are you? Oh, you’re so mad, and you’re so outraged! The pwecious wittle baby’s soo fussy!”

Count Privilege was indeed outraged, and he was indeed wrestling against the leather straps holding him to the table. Alpha Nevada had developed a link with Count Privilege when they had first started working because of their similar interest in rising to the top and viewing competition as an enemy. And now…

Now…

Now he was just another victim of Ironheart. Now he was just another meaningless martyr.

Because of Ironheart. All because of Ironheart!

“No, Count Privilege, I’m not that piece of filth. I’m not.”

“Who?” Count Privilege asked desperately. “Who are you?”

“I am the pony that has become more than a pony.”

Count Privilege tilted his head to the side, his side still crying out with excruciating pain. “You still aren’t answering anything!”

“And that’s the thing! I don’t have to do your will anymore, Count!” Ironheart declared. “I no longer have to bow to your whims and your wishes and your desires.”

“TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!” Count Privilege roared in pain at him.

Ironheart looked smug. “Beg for it.”

“PLEASE! TELL ME THIS INSTANT!”

“Ohoho! Somepony’s being a demandy-pants!”

“I WANT TO KNOW WHO YOU ARE THIS INSTANT!”

“Beg, Count. Beg for it.”

Count Privilege calmed himself down enough to legibly say, “Please, Ironheart! Please, tell me who you are!”

Ironheart gave a sinister smile and leaned his head in so close to Count Privilege’s face that the Count could see the inner workings of Ironheart in between the curving faceplates in his cheeks and forehead. “I am your employee.”

Count Privilege looked confused.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you had nothing to do with me. I know that you intended to have Alpha plagiarize the blood, sweat, and tears I put into serving Celestia. I know that you saw me being hurt, but did nothing to stop it. I know that you loved showing Bright Mind his place, and placing impossible burdens upon his back for fun. I know you treated me like the scum of the earth. I know that you drove Bright Mind to do the impossible--to create an artificial machine and implant his own soul inside of it.” He gave a small chuckle. “Does that clear everything up, Cunt?”

Count Privilege had frozen solid.

No…

No, it couldn’t be!

“No…” he whispered in absolute shock. His breaths made his stomach rise high, and made his ribcage pang with pain. “No, it...no! It...it c-c-can’t be y-y-you! You...you died! I saw your body! You can’t be real! You must be lying!”

“I am many things, Count Privilege,” Ironheart allowed equably. “But a liar is not one of them.” Out of his fist jutted a small razor-edged knife. “How naughty of you to accuse me of such.”

Count Privilege was incapable of speaking. It was too shocking for him to process. He had almost forgotten about that annoying little prick in that project to develop weapons that he didn’t know how to work. It was from that long ago, and he was still bitter and angry over it?

Then, incredibly, Count Privilege began to chuckle, hurting his rib. He didn’t care. “That’s what you’re so mad at me for?” he asked incredulously. “All those years ago, and you’re still bitter at me over something so trivial?”

Ironheart’s fingers pinched around his cheeks, forcing him to keep his mouth open. His foot had reached upward and had clenched him in the groin, making him bellow through his open mouth. Ironheart wasn’t just pressing lightly, either; he was pressing hard, and Count Privilege knew that Ironheart was intending on killing him right then and there. His testicles felt like they were about to burst open. His claws were really digging in, too, and they were sharper than he thought they were. And just before he was sure that he would really, actually have his groin be ground into powder, he released his foot.

“It’s trivial to you, of course,” Ironheart breathed in his face. “It’s always trivial to the tormentors. Such as how your life is trivial to me right now. But torment is never trivial to the tormented. It doesn’t matter how long ago it was. You may forget, but I never do. You may forgive yourself, but I will never forgive you.” He let go of his cheeks.

“I never forgave you either,” Count Privilege tried to retort feebly.

“And look where you are now because of that,” Ironheart said simply. “Bound to a table, with no chance of surviving to see the next day. Oh, you truly do have all the power here, Cunt. All of your money and all of your words mean nothing here now.”

Ironheart smiled then. “That’s something I almost forgot to mention, actually. Since I’m logged in to every electronic in the city, I have complete access to all of your bank accounts and business stocks. I figured, since you’re not really going to be alive for much longer, that I ought to do something useful with all of that money you’ve got.”

Count Privilege made an aggressive noise, but it sounded more like a scaredy-cat noise. “Wh-what did you... DO?” he roared at him.

Ironheart only gave an annoyingly simpering grin. “I cashed every stock and balance you ever had, raked in every last coin from your dead criminal associates, combined everything into one massive account, and gave it all to charity bank accounts all over Equestria. Really, the animal shelters and adoption shelters all over the country are praising your name right now. You should be proud.”

“NO!” Count Privilege wailed in despair. He had spent years amassing an enormous fortune, and here it was, undercut from him in an instant. “MY MONE-E-E-EY!”

“Ah. I knew it.” Ironheart gave a sickeningly terrifying grin, so close to Count Privilege’s face. “Wittle Count Pwivilege only cares about his money. Not his wife. Not the people he plans to rule over. Not his passion for love or life. You focus on the one thing you think will stay with you forever--money.

“And I gave instructions-- and a hefty sum of your money-- to a demolition company to tear down your mansion, as well. It should be well underway by now. And there’s one more thing.” His eyes brightened even more. “Don’t think that your lewd activities were unnoticed. I set up secret cameras to observe every single barmaid you lured over to the corner. I have recordings of every one of your little patty-cake games with them.”

Count Privilege’s breathing got faster. His broken rib cried out in even more pain. “Don’t you...don’t you dare...if you sent them out, I swear I’ll--”

“Too late!” Ironheart interrupted him.

“I wasn’t finished talking,” Count Privilege said haughtily.

Ironheart slashed the small knife blade across his lower thigh, and a long, dirty cut appeared in his leg. Ignoring the gasp of pain from the politician, Ironheart said, “I wasn’t done either.”

He admired his handiwork. “As I was saying, Cunt, I sent the recordings to your wife anonymously yesterday morning. She’ll be seriously reconsidering a relationship with you now. Especially with a dead pony.”

“Not...not my wife!” Count Privilege cried. “Not...not her! I love her!”

“Why do you think she matters?” Ironheart casually asked. “Money’s the only thing that matters to you. You and I both know it, and now she does as well.”

Count Privilege glared up at him with all of the hate he could muster.

“Murderer,” Ironheart crooned. “Adulterer. Thief. Give me one reason why I should not beat you to death.”

“Let the past die,” Count Privilege pleaded, stretched helplessly out on the metal table. “It was so long ago!”

“Of course I’ll let the past die,” Ironheart said with another broad smile. He held up the small knife blade in front of his face. “I’m going to kill it myself.”

“Mercy,” Count Privilege whispered. “Please. Mercy, please!”

Ironheart stopped. He looked down, appearing to be thoughtful.

“Mercy,” he said, almost as if to himself. “That’s a funny word. If you think about it, it’s the greatest of gifts any one pony could bestow upon another. A second chance to redeem yourself.”

Ironheart shook his head. “But from my own experience, you appear to have no conception of the word mercy. It’s such a small word, but you don’t know what it means, you stupid idiot. From everything I’ve seen you do, to me and to others, you had no conception of when to stop. You didn’t know that you were doing terrible things for your own enjoyment. You pushed me to the breaking point. You had everyone hate me and hurt me, and when I tried to get your help, you gave me a simpering sneer and turned away.”

Ironheart paused and held his gaze upon Count Privilege until the politician lowered his head to avoid staring into his eyes.

“And after the lies, after the pain and deceit, after the hate you directed at me…” His voice dropped to a deathly whisper. “You... have the gall... to ask... for mercy.”

Count Privilege was waiting, anticipating his death at any moment.

“Very well, then.” Ironheart relaxed himself. “I will show you mercy.”

Count Privilege twisted his face into one of relief, then one of confusion.

“You get a share of mercy equal to that which you have dispensed.”

Quicker than the eye could see, Ironheart pressed the tip of his small knife blade into his nemesis's lower gums. Privilege’s diamond-colored eyes wavered in desperation as he felt the tip puncture the sensitive flesh in his mouth.

“Now, I believe you need some dental work.”

And he started to push and saw his double-edged blade into his dark pink gums.

An astonishing amount of blood poured out of his gums, collected in his lower lip, and dripped out of Count Privilege’s mouth. The blood was thick with mixed saliva, and Count Privilege was soon covered in it. The noises coming out of his mouth were awfully unnerving. It sounded like the damned souls in Tartarus, being held prisoner by the demons holding them down. But this was so much more real than Tartarus because here, there was a body that could be hurt, a fragile piece of flesh that could easily be torn, as opposed to an immaterial spirit suffering mental and emotional torture.

“You know why you’re bleeding like that?” Ironheart asked of him harshly as he applied even more pressure to his pushing into his gums. “It’s because you’re not flossing. You idiot. Why haven’t you been flossing, you idiot?!” He swiped the knife out of his gums, slicing his right cheek in half.

Tears were pouring out of Count Privilege’s eyes and mixing with the blood all over his face, turning his visage into a horribly disfigured remnant of his original state. Awful noises came out of his despairing, gory mouth.

“Why are you crying?” Ironheart demanded of him, smacking him in the face again. “Why are you crying? Stop being weak! You’re better than that, so stop being so weak and grow UP ALREADY!”

He kicked him in the stomach so hard the table he was strapped to got shoved backward, and a large purple bruise appeared right on his sternum. Undoubtedly his snapped rib had sustained more damage, and Count Privilege was really making the terrible noises now, making more blood pour out of his mouth and onto his chest like a gruesome waterfall.

“It’s your fault for feeling the pain, Count! If you’re feeling pain, it’s your fault for allowing that in, not my fault for giving it to you!”

Count Privilege began to bluster and make admittedly pathetic noises as more blood poured out of his damaged mouth and painted his torso an unsavory red.

“Oh, shut up,” Ironheart snapped at him. “You’re so strong and powerful and influential. Figure out a way to stop me instead of your filthy whining.” He shifted two of the fingers on his right hand into a short-range pistol and pointed it at the Count. “I SAID DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, YOU OLD HORNY SLUT!”

Bang

The bullet had lodged in his back hoof, easy to aim for when the target was spread cross-eagle. Even more blood rushed out of his hoof as well. Ironheart could see that at this point, there was going to be more blood out of him than remained in him. So he then leaned up close in his face to allow the suffering Count to see his victorious expression.

“Please!” Count Privilege said, but with the way his mouth was now open and deformed, it sounded more like “Weapse!”

“No,” Ironheart said simply. He swiped his left fist upward, and the Infinisteel fist, at an unstoppable velocity, passed through his spread crotch. A sickening crunch could be heard as a piece of his pelvis was chipped off and lodged in his flesh, and his lower outer organs were torn to pieces. Blood dripped to the ground beneath, and his pubic skin and busted organs were torn and hanging off at a strange angle.

“You know,” Ironheart casually said, ignoring the screams bellowing from the battered and abused Privilege, “You know, this isn’t even what I really wanted. What I really wanted to do was to make you feel all of the stress and disappointment I had to have heaped upon my back when I worked for you. What I wanted to do was have you be my personal slave, and to criticize everything you did for me and to call you lazy after a hard day’s work. I really to call you stupid and unproductive and useless whenever you did something right. I wanted to demean you to the point where you would be the one believing that you really did mean nothing, and you would be the one to kill yourself.”

He smiled cruelly. “But I also wanted to beat you to death with my bare hands, so I suppose I would have to sacrifice something.”

Ironheart ripped the leather restraints off of the Count’s hooves and hurled him to the floor. Even more despairing noises came from the Count’s mouth, and blood followed him as he traveled from the table to the ground. He struggled weakly to wriggle away, but he stopped when he felt himself unable to stand up.

“You know, I’m surprised,” Ironheart commented. “I would have thought you would have blacked out by now. You’re more resilient than you appear to be.”

Ironheart kicked him in the stomach, and he went limp.

“All the better for me, though!” He stooped down. “You know, I’ve been dreaming about the day when I would kill you for such a long time now... and it's like I always dreamed. Add to that the ponies and griffons I’ve already killed, and everyone else that’s going to die tomorrow, and it’s been a pretty good week.”

Ironheart kicked him again, rolling him onto his belly.

“You’re so powerful, Count! Figure out a way to stop me!”

He kicked him in the stomach again. Only a little moan came from him now.

“Oh, you’re not so strong after all? I knew it! You’re nothing! You were always NOTHING!”

He kicked him again, then stomped on his belly.

“WORTHLESS! YOU’RE WORTHLESS!”

Ironheart rammed his foot into his groin again. It was like he had kicked an unresponsive chair.

“LITTLE PIECE OF CRAP!”

He knelt on his torso and drew his head up with his left hand. His head was sticky with blood and was all but unrecognizable, but Ironheart hit him square in the jaw. The damaged gums attached to his jaw made his teeth wiggle back and forth, and one of them fell out and lodged in the back of his mouth.

He grabbed Count Privilege’s ear and pulled back hard. A loud rrrrriiiiip came as he tore his ear off, and Ironheart threw the disgusting thing aside. He grabbed a large clump of his silvery mane, coated and hardened in blood from the wounds all over him, and tore it out from its roots.

Ironheart continued to hit him to let out his feeling of frustration, pent-up from years and years of worthlessness and hate and shame and humiliation. He continued to hit him long after Count Privilege was dead at last, and his head was smashed open like a hollow egg, and little sticky bits of him were all over Ironheart’s fist and face and arm.

It was only ten minutes after Ironheart was sure that he was dead that he stopped at last. Ironheart stood up, panting hard from screaming and punching and beating and ripping and killing. He looked at the indistinguishable, scarlet remains that were once his enemy in complete disgust.

He thought that his revenge would feel triumphant and energizing. For the longest time, he felt like he was going to feel so much better after his victory. But looking at the mass of broken flesh, and the appalling pool of blood in his basement the pile of flesh was lying in, he instead felt sick to his stomach.

Confused and angry, Ironheart continued to gaze on his broken, beaten form. The more he looked, the more he felt sick. At first, he attributed it to the disgusting way he looked, with an ear torn off and his body beaten to a mushy pulp and his head smashed in. But the longer he looked, he realized that the reason he felt sick was that he was the one that had done it.

He looked down at his hands. From his fingertips to his elbows, they were covered in fresh red blood. Some of it had seeped into the cracks and crevices in his armor plating, and it would probably never get washed out. The blood would never be entirely gone from him.

Trying to ignore the sick feeling in his insides, Ironheart elongated his right arm into a shotgun, pointed it at the corpse, and fired at point-blank range. The body jolted as the buckshot hit him, but otherwise made no response. The shotgun pump jerked back and forth automatically, and he fired at the dead corpse again.

Ironheart fired five more times at the dead body, making more holes appear each time. It didn’t make him feel much better, though, and after the seventh shot he finally twisted around in a nauseated manner and stomped out of the basement door.

At this point, he was just beating a dead horse.

It was done.

Ironheart was free at last.

So why did he feel worse now than he did before?

Ironheart placed his head in between his knees as he hunched over on his couch in his sterile white lair. Directly in front of him was the Manehattan Project, now uncovered by the brown tarp. The last bolt had been pounded in, the last screw had been tightened, and the last bit of polish had been applied to it.

Ironheart had a headache. It seemed to be everywhere in his skull, both pressing from the inside of his head and from the outside, like his head was caught in a vise grip. His Infinisteel heart also hurt. It felt like it was too big for its proper place and made his chest uncomfortable.

“What... did... I... do?” Ironheart whispered to himself. He was confused as to why he felt so awful. Revenge was supposed to be sweet and cold. Like ice cream. But instead of the sweet feeling, Ironheart only felt the brain freeze.

He kicked the table in front of him in annoyance as he made the analogy. It had been so long since he had tasted anything sweet before. Being a machine now, he didn’t need to eat, even though he had a fully functioning digestive system made out of Infinisteel.

So long since he had tasted anything sweet. How could he achieve tasting anything sweet, when he constantly felt infuriated and confused?

Ironheart let out a snarl of disapproval to try to get his mind off of things, but it didn’t work.

It was always like this, now that he thought about it. Always he was of the impression that the world was a fallen, dark, and tempestuous place. But never before now had the thought entered his brain that he had helped contribute to making it so.

“No!” he cried as soon as he thought so. He stood up abruptly, banging his shin against the table edge. “No, I’m the sanitizer! Not the one that’s made it dirty in the first place!”

It wasn’t your fault that the world’s dirty, no. But you go after those that murder and commit felons and act untrustworthy to their fellow people. Look at you here, now. You’re murdering. You’re making the world a dark place. If there was another Ironheart out there, he would disapprove of what you’re doing and come after you and kill you.

“No!” Ironheart cried again. "Of course not!" He felt incredibly angry all of a sudden. He wanted to tear, to rip, to kill something. It was a compulsion more driving than Ironheart had felt before. More driving than the force of loving or spreading the gospel of friendship.

How could he love others if everyone in the world was a pony that was weak, or stupid, or foolish?

How was it that Twilight and her friends were able to do it?

“Go and ask them.”

Ironheart snapped his head up. It sounded familiar--so familiar to his memories. It couldn’t be--

“You idiot. Why are you thinking that you should deserve love? You get a share of love equal to that which you have dispensed.”

“Who are you?” Ironheart roared, swiveling his head around. “Where are you?”

“You know perfectly well who I am, Ironheart.”

Ironheart could see it now--he could see his face on the table in front of him. It was a nerdy face, one that made him feel disgusted to see. He recognized the large glasses, the drooping eyes, the breathing through the open mouth. He recognized the butt-ugly polo shirt he had on, and the frizzy dark mane atop his head.

“Go away!” Ironheart roared at him. “I abandoned you long ago!”

“You abandoned somepony, all right, but you will never be rid of me. No matter how hard you try, I will always be a part of you.”

“You are the life I left behind, Bright Mind. You are the pony I learned to hate. Go away and show your face no more.”

“How can I?” the face said, almost imprinted into the swirls of grain on the wooden table. “I am what is in the mirror. But the reflection doesn’t show what’s on the inside, does it?”

“I hate you, Bright Mind. And I always will.”

“Why?” the face asked.

“Because you’re weak. Because you did nothing to stop the tormentors in your life.”

“You hate me because I’m weak? How different are you from Alpha Nevada? How is your mindset any different from Count Privilege’s?”

Ironheart kicked the table, intentionally this time. “I killed you, and you’re not real.”

“But what comes out of my mouth is the same,” the face pointed out, shifting to the side, making the swirls of grain in the wood sift like wheat. “Whether it comes from my mouth or the mouth of the Elements of Harmony.”

Ironheart shifted his arm into a long shotgun and fired at the table with a resounding concussive BOOM that echoed around his white lair. Splinters flew into the air, and the wooden table collapsed.

“That was unnecessary,” Bright Mind commented, from all around him now. “Your poor table’s done nothing to you personally, and you go ahead and attack it and destroy it? Oh, wait, that actually makes sense, now that I think about it.”

Ironheart spun around furiously, trying to find where the voice had come from. He spotted it on an opposite wall, grinning like an idiot and squinting even harder at him from his oversized thick glasses. He had a pencil in his mouth now, and was chewing on the end of it like it was candy. Ironheart took a splinter of table in his hand and, in a fit of rage, hurled it across the room to strike Bright Mind in the face. The face made no reaction.

“What else are you going to do?” Bright Mind asked, spreading his hooves. His appallingly drab polo shirt was too small for him, and the sleeves moved to his armpits as he spread his arms. “Kill me?”

“SHUT UP!” Ironheart roared at him. He furiously kicked the remains of the table clear across the room, shattering and scattering them as they flew. “SHUT! UP! EVERY MINUTE YOU SPEAK IS MAKING SOMETHING INSIDE OF ME DIE! SO PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF CELESTIA! JUST! SHUT UP!”

The fervent declaration echoed all around the room, making it seem much louder than it really was. His voice was so loud that the Manehattan Project trembled on its foundations for just an instant. It had no effect on Bright Mind, however.

“Fine, then,” he said in his slurred and deep voice. “Fine, then I won’t say anything. You, on the other hoof…”

“DO NOT USE THAT EXCUSE ON ME!” Ironheart roared at nothing. “There is nothing we share in common! I killed you many years ago, and it was the happiest day of my life when I woke up to find myself turned into a god!”

“No,” Bright Mind said, in an annoyingly patronizing tone. “I’m not going to say anything I’ve said. Even though who you are now started with the thoughts you had when you were me. But now, right now, I’m going to make you remember what you’ve said.”

And Ironheart heard his own deep, quiet, and powerful voice come back to him, all around him.

From everything I’ve seen you do, to me and to others, you had no conception of when to stop. You didn’t know when the time was over. You didn’t know that you were doing terrible things for your own enjoyment.

Ironheart froze. He had just said that to Count Privilege, hadn’t he? How would it apply to--

Wait. Hold on a second. He had a point.

He didn’t know when to stop. He didn’t know when it had crossed the line. He was killing to make himself feel better, not to give justice to those that deserved it. He was killing to justify his darkness. It was a hellish circle. The output of darkness made his own evil rise to the surface. And he could feel his own darkness in his mouth. It felt burned on the surface of his tongue and made his insides clench.

“Stop it,” Ironheart whispered. “Stop it.”

You’re so powerful, Ironheart! Figure out a way to stop me!

The blunt answer was like a slap in the face, only normally he wouldn’t feel the slap. This particular slap actually made him reel his head back and made his heart skip a beat.

Oh, you’re not so strong after all? I knew it! You’re nothing! You were always NOTHING!

“NO!” Ironheart refused, firing into his wall over and over again with his long shotgun. The pounding cacophony of the gun blasts hurt his ears and drowned out his shouts of refusal. But the words came on, as strong as ever. Only they weren’t his own words.

Now you’ve become the very monster you were fighting to destroy. The rest of your victims were monsters, but you’ve killed more than all of them combined. You’re nothing but a slave to your own desires, like the people you kill to satisfy your lust for feeling better about yourself. You’re succumbing to your own desires. Oh, Ironheart, you’re simply the strongest person ever! How strong you must be, to fall to the level of hurting everyone you don’t like. Like a whining baby. That’s what you are, Ironheart. A whining baby that didn’t get what he wanted and is blaming everypony else for it.

Ironheart stopped firing into the wall and stared off into space. There was smoke rising, coiling, and twisting from the barrels of his gun and from the remains of the wall he had shot into. The room was filled with smoke, and he could barely see through the smoke to the opposite side.

He really was no different from Alpha Nevada and Count Privilege. He hated the nerdy, cringeworthy image of himself as much as or even more than they did. The three of them shared a common characteristic, and the characteristic was this: If you didn’t measure up to the standard of perfection, you hated them and hurt them.

You hated and hurt them because you were scared that’s what you would become.

Or what you could have been.

But how could you look at an inferior form of life and find something to love about them? They were worth almost nothing. How could you look at a willing sinner and love them? How could you observe the faults in a person and overlook them and not call them out on it?

What to do? What to do? There must be some way to make him feel better. But how?

How?

How could he know what truly mattered?

Bright Mind’s voice continued to speak.

It’s almost torturous to know that you’re wrong, to know that you were actually contributing to the darkness in the world. But how could you do it? How can you find and achieve true happiness when the world is dark and cold, and you now know that it was partially your fault, and there was nopony to blame but yourself for your actions? When your stomach feels like it’s going to shrivel up, and your head feels like it’s going to burst open, and you feel so soiled and wrong by everything you’ve done?

And then his mind drifted to Twilight Sparkle and her friends.

How was it that they were able to live in the world and not hate everyone else for it? How could they survive knowing their useless condition? The condition of not being able to change the mindsets of ponies?

“But I don’t want to change!” Ironheart admitted loudly, pressing a hand to his head. “I don’t want to change! What about me? What about my troubles? What about the world becoming a better place for me? I’ve already changed from being weak into being strong! Why do I need to adapt yet again to the whims of the dark world?” And for a moment he became enraged again, and he wanted to smack something in the face.

Ironheart sank back onto the couch and pressed his face into his hands. The vision--for that’s what Bright Mind’s face obviously was--had ended by now, and there were no dismembered voices drifting around him, and there were no more disturbing faces from his painful past. But the damage had been done. His table had been splintered, and the wall opposite Ironheart had been chewed into by a heavy barrage of buckshot.

What power did he truly have again? He had the power to kill, and he had loosed the restraints holding him back, which was all that truly mattered. The power to inflict pain was the only thing that truly mattered, because that's how you got people to do what you wanted.

But where had it gotten him now? What had it given him?

He had gotten his revenge, that’s what!

But what good had it done him?

Now his enemies would never hurt him again. That’s always worth the effort, isn’t it?

Friendship, hatred. Friendship, hatred. Friendship was magic. Friendship could solve absolutely every single problem you would ever, ever experience because it was just so insipidly blind.

But friendship was supposed to get rid of your enemies, right? If you were friends with everyone, nopony would hurt you ever again! It would be the same result as if he had killed everyone on the planet that was a threat to him and his progress in technology and ethics.

And yet hating others felt soooo good, gave you so much satisfaction when you finally picked a scab off your back in complete disgust that had been there giving you pain for as long as you could remember. Ponies were like that. Ponies were like scabs. Annoying and painful and stayed there longer than you wanted them to.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He knew that he needed to remedy himself, that he wasn’t perfect, but he also knew that friendship had failed him. If it wasn’t friendship he was looking for, and it wasn’t hating every single being that came across his path, then what was it? Friendship wasn’t the only thing that mattered. It couldn’t be.

But how was it that it worked for Twilight?

Ironheart took his hands out of his face. He knew what he needed to do.

He quickly trudged down to the basement door of his lair and pulled out an unused garbage bag from a slot on the wall before opening the door and stomping down the steps to collect the bloody remains of his nemesis.

As long as he was going out to dispose of the garbage, he might as well meet with the Mane Six.

Twilight, Spike, and the rest of the girls came into their apartment after a long day. The events of what had happened had taken up the entire morning and afternoon. Now, in the late evening, they were all longing for their beds.

First, in the morning, they had talked to both the police commissioner and the mayor in the mayor’s office about evacuating the city of Manehattan. While there, Twilight learned that the first expeditionary troops to Manehattan had arrived the night before.

From after the meeting had ended and the orders had been distributed to evacuate the citizens of Manehattan, Twilight and the others had raced on over to the train station and found more troops piling in under the direction of Princess Cadence and her brother, Shining Armor. After an initially warm welcome of “Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!”, the conversation had turned deathly serious. Princess Celestia and Princess Cadence would be arriving the next morning, and already military guards in gleaming gold armor were shuffling out to patrol the streets and help guide the evacuation.

The evacuation itself was well-executed. Apart from a few resilient individuals who refused to leave their homes simply out of stubborn survival instinct, most of the ponies, under the direction of the police departments, had seen that they wouldn’t stick around with an underground killer on the loose. Within several hours of the evacuation order being issued, trains full to bursting were already transporting civilians out of harm’s way. The Maneway was never busier since the time it was first built.

Twilight’s role in the evacuation had been as a guide in the Maneway to help the civilians reach their trains and lose nothing. It proved to be a herculean effort. Ponies jostled everyone else and didn’t say excuse me. Whistles blew, belongings were loaded, conversations went on over the massive sounds going on in the train station. For every train that left Manehattan full of civilians, there was another one that arrived carrying the Royal Guard.

Twilight noticed that sometimes the trains went over their normal capacity in order to accommodate those civilians that wanted to depart Manehattan. There were tears of farewell, cries of goodbyes. There were ponies separated from their mothers, and lovers from their special someponies. There were brothers looking after their younger siblings as the trains pulled out with them on board.

And at the end of the day, Twilight, Spike, and her friends were looking for some rest at last. Meeting up with the rest of her friends, who had all helped in the evacuation still underway in the streets, Twilight pushed open the door of her apartment.

It looked alright at first. Everything was where it was supposed to be. Nothing was tipped over. Nothing was displaced. And yet Twilight felt as though something in the room wasn’t normal. She paused after going just a few feet in.

“Twilight!” Spike groaned from directly behind her. “Come on! Go inside already!”

“Hold on,” Twilight said, cutting Spike off with a hoof to the side. “What’s that?”

On one of the girl’s beds was a sealed missive with an insignia they couldn’t make out. Twilight came over to the bed to examine the seal on the front. And she stopped dead in her tracks.

The seal was dark maroon and in the shape of a peace symbol.

“Twilight?” came a timid voice right next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Ironheart,” Twilight breathed. “He’s been here. He left us a note.” She used her magic to hold up the tightly furled scroll and show off the disturbing seal.

Rarity let out a small squeal and recoiled. “Oh, gracious! He’s actually been here? How’d he get in?”

“Through the window?” Pinkie Pie guessed.

“What does it say?”Applejack curiously asked.

Twilight broke the red wax seal--at least, she hoped it was wax; once the disturbing thought had entered her head, she tried to dispel the notion--and unfurled the letter. Holding the letter in her magic aura, she read the letter aloud.

Princess Twilight Sparkle,

If it appears we’re in the middle of a war, I wish to propose a temporary truce. Out of anypony else in the city of Manehattan, you seem the best equipped to answer the questions I have for you.

At 9:00 this evening, come to the roof of your apartment building. Whether you come or not, I care not, but you must know that regardless of if you show up, I will. No matter what.

I had to go and drop some garbage in the bay. I will be back.

--Ironheart

Author's Note

I was severely tempted to have Ironheart swear like a fiend in this chapter at Count Privilege. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I tried to, but I couldn't.

It's strange. I have no problem writing down twisted thoughts and graphic violence, but the instant I try to write down even the most vanilla of swear words, I lock up and I become stiff and I can't bring myself to finish typing it down. That was the line I couldn't bring myself to cross over? Wow. Go figure, I guess. Everyone's got something they just won't do. Everyone has a limit to how far they'll go.

Step Into the Light

The night was starless. The light pollution from the brightly-lit cityscape in skyscrapers all around them made it so that, even above the street level, Twilight, Spike, and the girls couldn’t see the stars. Standing on the top of their apartment building, waiting for Ironheart to come, Twilight could observe most of the Manehattan skyline’s major features.

Only a short distance away was the Chrystaller Building, with the massive horse head atop the building blocking out the hazy light of the faint moon. To the left of Twilight’s head was the Mare Statue on Equis Island, faint and dark against the night sky. Behind her were the brightly-lit billboards of Bridleway, flashing purple and pink and white.

On the streets a hundred feet below, the streets were packed with carriages full of ponies seeking a way out. In between the carriages, in the streets and sidewalks alike, were hundreds of thousands of civilians trudging along, guided to safety by the Royal Guard. Were it not for them, it would have certainly turned into a frantic stampede. The sounds of worried chatter, shouted instructions, and indignant cries wafted up to their ears far below them.

The girls were silent and were shifting and tapping the gravel on the roof of the apartment building uncomfortably as they waited. Twilight couldn’t think of anything worthwhile to say to them at the moment. She was too busy focusing on how she would respond to Ironheart.

He had said he had questions. About what? What could have possibly happened to make him come to the girls for help?

“Twilight?”

Twilight looked down to face her number-one assistant. “Yes, Spike?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Spike mumbled. “For all the time we’ve been here in Manehattan, things have only gone downhill. Do you think...that'll be solved now? With only a conversation?”

“We have to try,” Twilight asserted halfheartedly. Spike did have a point. Everything was too late. The army was here. The princesses were arriving tomorrow morning. Ironheart had taken Count Privilege captive and had done who knows what to him. What could possibly be resolved by now?

In the night sky, a glint of red caught her attention, and Twilight saw, far, far away, the soft red glow of exhaust engines and the minuscule wings above the surface of the bay. It circled above the water, then halted and shot up into the night sky faster than she thought she could follow. Before long, it had disappeared into the clouds, with Twilight following his movements by inclining her head. From there, she could not see where it would go.

“Girls,” Twilight said, snapping all of them out of their reverie. “He’s coming.”

The girls stood up a little straighter when they heard that. Fluttershy looked apprehensive at the news and took a step back. Twilight could hear the crunch of gravel as she did.

They just stood there. The yellow electric lights flickered uncomfortably.

And above them, a solitary figure dropped out of the cloudy night skies, with red painted on the ends of his feathers and feet and hands as the ignition died down and he fell to the shadows of the building, in between several chutes and square metal chimneys.

There he stayed, a blank silhouette standing upright, flanked and covered by shadows. His wings were in two wide arches on the side of his back, enfolding him in shadow. Nothing of him could be made out except the soft red loops that were his irises. He was motionless, and he was staring at the ground. The girls could hear the small, faint thump thump of his Infinisteel heart beating behind the claws of his rib cage.

“Ironheart,” Twilight whispered to him. “Step into the light.”

Ironheart was motionless.

Then he took a slow, reluctant step forward. The clawed foot was the first to enter the yellow light. It was jointed and pale grey and had a gentle curve to each toe. As the knee slowly bent, they could see his armored shin, and the plates of impenetrable steel next to the shin bone.

The next leg came forth. Even more of the leg could be seen, up to the mid-thigh. Metal plates of incredible size curved around his leg, and in between the gaps in his armor were smaller pieces of armor going the opposite way.

And with the next step, Twilight and the girls could see his entire heavily-built frame at last. His arms were behind his back, and his face looked passive as he looked downwards at the small rocks littering the top of the apartment building. His wings were spread to the side, displaying a truly impressive wingspan of twelve feet. Upright, he was tall and fearsome, but he was making no attempt to intimidate anyone. Quite to the contrary, he appeared to look unresponsive to much of anything. He didn’t acknowledge the girls in front of him. They could only hear the passive beating of his unstoppable heart. It was deep, and hard, and haunting.

“Ironheart,” Twilight began. “I don’t know why you’re here for us now, but there’s a lot of trouble now. Princess Cadence and Shining Armor are here in Manehattan, and Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are on their way here right now! You’re running out of time to do anything to redeem yourself!”

Ironheart said nothing. Instead, he withdrew one arm from behind his back and stared at his open palm. Twilight noticed in the faint yellow light that the arm was red.

“Did you hear me?” Twilight asked, drawing closer to his motionless form. “I said, there’s not a lot of time for you to do anything. What do you think will-”

“How can you love them?” Ironheart whispered, clenching his dark red fist.

Twilight was taken aback. “Excuse me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“How…” Ironheart repeated, and his voice was tremulous and thin, “...can you... just... SIT! BACK!” he roared suddenly, startling the girls, and he pointed a finger to the side furiously. He had looked up to stare the girls in the face at last. “AND WATCH THEM DOING TERRIBLE THINGS TO EACH OTHER, AND STILL LOVE THEM ENOUGH TO NOT WISH FOR THEIR DEATH?!”

Twilight took a moment before responding, “What I want to know is, how can you find in yourself the resolve to act more ruthless than the ponies you kill?”

“Because I hate them,” Ironheart growled between clenched teeth. “I hate them with all the fervent passion of my soul.” He looked like his face was drooping down. “Which brings me back to my original question, Twilight. How can you bear to live in the same world as people who transgress every good and natural law?”

“We aren’t here to justify your opinions, Ironheart!” Rainbow Dash cried. “We’re here to get you to come with us!”

“Why?” Ironheart asked without any amusement in his voice. “Because you care, I suppose, about my life. Because you would like nothing more than to have Princess Celestia say, 'Good job, Rainbow Dash. You’re learning the power of friendship.'”

“No, Ironheart!” Twilight asserted, waving a hoof in front of her face. “No, it’s not like that!”

“Then what is it?” Ironheart hissed. “That little charade on the steps of the city hall proved that you have to summon up your courage to fight me. Why did you not have the courage and resolve before? Why do you distance yourself from me, but you still don’t hurt me?”

Twilight looked up at Ironheart’s furious gaze. “Because we love you!”

Ironheart gave a small gasp of surprise and held a hand to his heart, looking down at the ground. It had been such a long time since he had heard that said to him. He had a glazed, unfeeling look in his eyes as he took deep breaths and gazed at the roof of the building beneath him. Then he set his face hard again, blinked, and looked back at Twilight. “Why?”

Twilight’s only response was a confused tilt of her head to the side.

“You don’t just love somepony for no reason,” Ironheart continued, scowling deeply in irritation. “Love is conditional. It always has been and it always will be. Unconditional love is a myth. So why love me?”

Ironheart ruffled his metal wings dangerously and clenched his fists. His voice got harder. “You said it yourself, Twilight! I am a fallen soul! You have no possible reason to love me!”

Twilight made a swallow in her throat and stepped forth timidly until she was directly in front of the machine. She had to incline her head at a tremendous angle to look him in the eyes. “We love you,” she said to him, “because you’re a fallen soul!”

Ironheart’s eyes got softer immediately, but his face looked confused.

There was a pause in the conversation.

“I’m just another one of the filth that I’ve been fighting,” Ironheart whispered, turning away from Twilight. The girls could now only see his back. “My worth is nothing in your eyes.”

“Don’t say that!” Fluttershy exclaimed passionately. “Don’t you dare ever day that.”

“I’m a fallen soul, Fluttershy. I’m with the filth that are worth nothing. With the people who...who hate and hurt those that aren’t them.”

“You’re not worth nothing,” Rarity protested, coming next to Twilight to save her from answering. “You’ve just made bad decisions.”

“Which makes your worth disintegrate!” Ironheart all but shouted at her, turning around furiously. “The choices you make determine your worth to other people! Some people are worth more than others! Some lives matter more than others, Rarity!”

“Was it Alpha Nevada and Count Privilege that put that mindset into you?” Rarity guessed, her voice vibrant and musical and peace-inducing.

Ironheart paused. Then he seemed to slump down a little in pain. “Yes,” he eventually whispered. “Yes, it was.”

Rarity looked thoughtful. Then she said, “Would you permit me to speak in an analogy to you, Ironheart?”

He nodded, not looking her in the face.

“Suppose that I had... let’s say, ten bits in a drawstring pouch,” Rarity began. “How much money do I have?”

“Ten bits,” Ironheart disinterestedly replied.

“And how much is each coin worth?”

“One bit each,” Ironheart said. He still didn’t look directly at her.

“Would the worth of the bit depend on what I spent it on? Or in what condition the bit is in?”

“No,” Ironheart said irritably. “No matter what you spend it on, or if the bit’s dirty and sticky from being at the bottom of the pouch, the worth of the coin itself is still worth…” He stopped speaking, and drew his head up to look at her at last. “One... bit.”

Rarity beamed. “Now, let’s say one of the bits escaped from the drawstring pouch. He just up and left the bag one day. What would you do in that situation?”

Ironheart didn’t answer. He already knew what it was that Rarity wanted him to say.

“I would search for the lost coin,” Rarity said after Ironheart had remained unresponsive. “I wouldn’t hate the lost coin because he lost his way. I wouldn’t want to hate the coin when I found out it was missing. As a matter of fact, I’d appreciate the coin even more once I found it. I would love it because it lost its way, and I found it once more.”

Ironheart pressed his lips firmly together in a frown and shifted his feet.

“I believe that everypony, criminals and victims alike, have a beautiful soul because they were born flawless at first,” Rarity continued fervently. “But as they go through life, the choices they make separate them from being perfect. We are all imperfect beings, Ironheart, but if we can work to bring everypony else closer to the light, we can improve the world more than taking the worst of the worst out of the mix.” Rarity reared on her hind legs so that she was the same height as Ironheart, and she caressed his arm. “That’s how I can stand to live in the same world as them. I try my hardest to show generosity, no matter what they could have done.”

“But I don’t have faith in friendship,” Ironheart lamented, jerking his arm away from Rarity’s caressing hoof. “I’m not certain that friendship will work for me.”

When Rarity had been caressing his arm reassuringly, Ironheart took passive notice that when she did the reassuring gesture, he couldn’t feel it. It was like all feeling to his arm had been cut off at that particular moment. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him at first, but when he saw Rarity withdraw her hoof, he suddenly noticed that she had been rubbing his arm. And he didn’t know why the feeling wasn’t there. He didn’t know why the reassurance didn’t work.

Applejack came forward then and tapped Rarity on the shoulder. “Rares? Is it all righ’ if Ah talk ta him now?”

Rarity obliged by stepping aside. The farm girl was now the one speaking directly to Ironheart, who was patiently waiting for her to speak.

“Now,” Applejack said to Ironheart. “Let’s compare friendship... to a seed.”

“A seed,” Rainbow Dash whispered to Pinkie Pie. “Another farm metaphor from Applejack?”

Applejack did not notice--or if she did, she made no comment. “Now, if ya give room fer a seed ta be planted in yer heart, it’ll accept the ground it’ll be planted in. When ya feel this... motion in yer heart, ya can’t help but say to yerself that this is a good seed. ‘Cause a bad seed don’t make ya feel good inside. A bad seed doesn’t make yer understandin’ grow bigger. It don't make yer soul feel better inside.

“When ya feel the seed of friendship in yer heart, it makes yer faith in friendship grow bigger--ya know that it’s a good seed. But ya don’t stop there. The seed hasn’t actually grown up yet. But, when it does, when the shoots start ta spring up and the leaves begin to extend, it’ll strengthen yer faith even more that what you’re feeling is a good seed.”

“Are you sure that it is a good seed?” Ironheart asked her. “Is friendship truly the answer for everything you try?”

“If a seed grows, it’s a good seed,” Applejack affirmed. “If it doesn’t, and yer ground was good and fertile and ready ta receive the seed, the seed is bad.”

“And what if friendship isn’t a good seed?” Ironheart quietly asked. “What if the plant shrivels and dies once you plant it?”

“The reason why friendship won’t survive ain’t because the seed ya planted was bad,” Applejack said to him. “The reason why friendship won’t survive is that the ground you planted it in was barren, cold, and selfish."

Ironheart fell silent.

“Ah know fer myself that friendship is a good seed,” Applejack testified. “Friendship is real because it’s light. And everything that’s light is good, because it’s discernible.”

Ironheart looked pensive and thoughtful at that. He started to whisper under his breath. “Everything that’s discernible...is good. If you can see it clearly...then it’s good…”

“But now that ya have the seed planted, do ya just let it stand there?” Applejack shook her head. “No, ya don’t. A plant without nourishment is dead. Every day, ya have ta nourish the light inside o’ ya. Otherwise, ya can’t pluck the fruit that comes from the seed."

Ironheart looked down into Applejack’s green eyes. “What is the fruit that comes from friendship?” he asked quietly.

Applejack gave a smile. “Joy.”

Ironheart made no movement except for the sound of his deep and heavy breathing.

Then his legs collapsed their upright supports and he fell to all fours. His long mane fell to both sides of his face as his segmented tail re-formed into a mane of artificial hair. His wings folded and snapped into his side. He was still tall, but this way, he was a pony, and not the bipedal monster he normally was. He was now at least a shadow of his former self.

“What is joy?” Ironheart croaked. “I can’t remember the last time anypony’s ever given it to me.”

Pinkie Pie came forward. “Joy is lasting happiness,” she explained. “See, happiness is like eating a cupcake. It’s sweet when you’re eating it, but it isn’t permanent, and it goes away in a while. Joy’s like having a cupcake in your mouth all the time. Can you imagine that? You’ve always got a sweet feeling in yourself. And I’ve felt that way ever since I made my firstest friend ever!”

Pinkie Pie rummaged in her mane for a little bit and drew out a slightly-squashed cupcake with pink frosting. “Here, Ironheart. I was saving this for later, but now that I know you aren’t out to destroy every last cake in the universe, you can have it.”

Ironheart took it in an upright hoof, looked down at it for only a little instant.

He looked at Pinkie Pie. She was staring at him with wide, hopeful blue eyes.

Then, to be fair to her, he took the whole thing into his mouth in one gulp. It had been so long since he had anything to eat, and he had a fully-functioning digestive system and taste buds. He could feel that it was in his mouth, and he could feel that there was a soft texture to it, but there was something off about it. He couldn’t actually taste the sugar.

It was disconcerting to know. His taste buds were fully functioning, he knew. He hadn’t cut off the crystal circuitry to the base of his flexible metal tongue. They were operable. They were working, all right.

So why was it that even the sweetest of promises could taste so disappointing to him?

He swallowed the tasteless treat with hopelessness in his complexion. If he tasted joy, he wouldn’t know. If he wanted to know, he never could.

Was this how it was going to be if he would accept? Would he truly feel joy?

“Come with us, Ironheart,” Fluttershy pleaded. She had found the courage to come forward enough for Ironheart to hear her. “We love you.”

Ironheart looked directly at her. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely,” Fluttershy affirmed. “We want nothing except for you to become our friend.”

Who could say that Fluttershy could lie to him about their true intentions? But Ironheart couldn’t notice the love in her tone. He couldn’t discern the care she truly had for him. It was like the declaration was flat when it reached his ears. What was up with his senses not working the way they were supposed to? Was it a programming issue? He couldn’t remember a bug in the system. So was it his mind making it all up?

Was he really so desensitized to love? And if he was, how could he possibly go back with Twilight?

“Please,” Twilight whispered, reaching out with her hoof. “Come with us. You can start again.”

Ironheart pondered it. This, right here, was the place where he needed to choose, once and for all, his destiny. A life of rehabilitation and readjustment, or the chance to continue on his own path.

Or, in a different light, a life of joy and life or a life of darkness and vengeance.

Everything light is good. Everything light is discernible. Everything discernible is right.

The life of vengeance, or the life of friendship and sweetness.

But how could he turn away from his life now and start in a new direction? How could he ignore all of the death and pain he had caused? If he were to come to the light side now, he would be exposed to the pain he had given to everypony else, and he would be wracked with eternal torment and grief.

And yet he was already tormented and in grief. The promise of being accepted by ponies now seemed appealing to him more than ever.

Or simply living above their influence altogether. If you simply had more power than everypony else. What was the only power that really mattered, again?

How could he feel better about himself? He was killing as well. He was no better than the common rabble full of idolatry and slothfulness. But how could he change that?

Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Yes, that was it. Stop feeling sorry for your actions. Stop feeling regret and pain when you caused harm to others. That way, it wouldn’t hurt you, and you could continue doing what you were doing. It was the only way for you to become what you were born to be.

You were born to be a weakling. But you changed that, didn’t you? You changed fate.

But what did you give up for it?

Goodness, joy, love. Light, beauty, hope. That's what you gave up.

They were so appealing to him. They were certainly what he needed.

But was it really what Ironheart wanted? What were his loves? His desires? What did he wish for, more than anything in the world?

He knew the answer to it as soon as the thought entered his mind.

Joy. Life. Redemption. Ironheart, this is it. Do it, and accept your fate at last.

And finally, Ironheart made up his mind.

The girls watching saw Ironheart slowly, slowly, slowly reach his hoof forward to almost connect to Twilight’s hoof. When Twilight saw this, her eyes lit up.

Ironheart gave a very small, timid smile.

He closed his eyes in resolve.

His hoof connected with hers.

And he turned it away to the side, and he bowed his head in shame. The hopeful light in Twilight’s eyes died.

“I’m sorry,” Ironheart whispered between clenched teeth and closed eyes. “I am so, so sorry, Twilight. But I can’t.”

“What?” Rainbow Dash breathed. “Wh-why?”

“Because I don’t want friendship,” he said with his eyes closed and his voice heavy.

“What do you want, then?” Rainbow Dash demanded indignantly. They were so close!

Ironheart remembered the question of Dr. Brainstem when he had visited him in his office. What do you want out of the world?

He knew what it was he wanted at last. What he truly desired above all else.

“I want to watch the wicked burn,” he whispered, clenching his hoof in front of his face.

“Has anything we’ve said made an effect on you?” Twilight pleaded.

“I will not bow to yet another form of power,” Ironheart said quietly. “I will not lower myself to make you happy. I will fight until the last breath, until the bitter, cold end.”

“You’re wrong!” Fluttershy cried. “You don’t have to choose this! You can always be redeemed!”

“It’s too late for me to be accepted back into society,” Ironheart said to them in utter dejection. “Let me tell you what’ll happen if I come back with you. Celestia will order me under arrest. I will be carted back to Canterlot in shame. The public will demand my execution, after the inevitable trial for my crimes is put underway and I am found guilty by the biased and single-minded jury. But after they discover that I cannot die, I will be sent to spend eternity in the dimension of Tartarus, just like Lord Tirek did. That will arouse in me, even more, feelings of vengeance and pain and fury. And then I am back where I started, only even more hopeless than before.”

“But...but after everything we’ve said to you! After everything we’ve proved! You’re still going to stay where you are?”

“I’m too far on the wrong path, Rainbow Dash,” Ironheart whispered to her. “I will never truly be a friend of yours. It would take more effort to go back to your path than it would take for me to succeed in my own path.”

“So are you going to refuse accepting the truth because it’s too hard for you?” Rainbow Dash asked incredulously. “You’re a lot of things, Ironheart, but you’re not a coward.”

“DON’T--” Ironheart roared at her suddenly, and his face was like that of a feral, dangerous animal, “--YOU DARE CALL ME A COWARD!” His hooves were cracking the roof of the apartment. The abrupt and sudden change in Ironheart’s countenance was terrifying. “When you feel everything I’ve had to feel--the weight of every hurtful word and every mocking name--every jolt of pain and every pang of heartbreak--and when you’ve had every last bit of hope flee from you because of the hate and rejection from every single pony in your life--then, after all of that, do you have permission to call me a coward!”

Ironheart rose back up on his hind legs with a series of clinks, folded his arms behind his back, and turned away from her. “For years and years, all I have ever heard to me is that I’m a pathetic weakling that can’t handle what the world has to throw at me. And now, I finally have proved them wrong. And you expect me, because of your reasoning in one night, to reject everything I’ve felt in the cause of pacifism.”

“No!” Pinkie Pie cried. She threw herself at his feet. “But what about the cupcake? What about the joy you felt while eating it?”

“I couldn’t taste the sweetness,” he said to her without looking down. “It was flat and grey to me.”

Pinkie Pie shuffled back to her own spot, looking down at the ground. She sniffled and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Ironheart turned and faced the girls again. “For the first time in my life, things are finally going the way I want them to. I am free from the command of any force of nature on the face of the planet. My nemesis is dead at my hand, I have undertaken the task of purging the earth of those that act like terrible people, and the Manehattan Project is finished at last. I won’t let Celestia gain the victory over me now.”

“Celestia has an army!” Twilight pointed out, feeling a void open in the bottom of her stomach.

Ironheart took something off of his hip, tossed it in the air, and caught the sword hilt. “I have this,” he responded. “Your point?”

Twilight was silent, and she stared at the ground.

“For the first time I can remember, I have complete and total control over myself and the lives of those people I hate. If you do not, you will always live beneath the influence of somepony who does.” Ironheart’s teeth were gritted and his eyes were closed. “And nothing, and no one, will ever save you.”

“I want to save you,” Twilight said to him, her own voice close to breaking. “I want to help you.”

“It is too late for that now,” Ironheart said to her lowly, opening his eyes. “I will finally be the one to save myself.” He looked over the side of the building at the fleeing lights of streaming refugees. “It’s good that you’re telling them to get out. Tomorrow, no matter who is in Manehattan, I will detonate the project. I do not care now who it is that impedes my progress.” He took a few more steps to the side, his talons expanding with each footfall. “Friend, or foe. Male, or female. Old or young. Princess or commoner. If any one of you shall impede my journey to my rightful place as the punisher of the wicked... the birds shall pick at your mutilated carcass. Pray that you find your way out of Manehattan now, Twilight. For you were truly my greatest foe yet.”

He then walked to the edge of the building without looking at Twilight and extended his wings with a loud metallic chatter.

“I pity you,” Twilight whispered from behind him.

Ironheart paused, just for a moment. He was still and silent. Then he ignited the engines in his wings and blasted off into the lonesome sky.

The girls watched his progress until he was only a speck in the darkness. And in the pits of each of their stomachs, failure and guilt twisted in them until they felt themselves spiral into the depths of grief and despair. Ironheart truly was a lost soul.

Author's Note

Where once was light, now darkness falls.

Where once was love, love is no more.

Don't say goodbye.

Don't say I didn't try.

These tears we cry are falling rain

For all the lies you told us, the hurt, the blame...

And we will weep to be so alone.

You are lost. You can never go home.

So in the end, I'll be what I will be.

No loyal friend was ever there for me.

Now we say goodbye.

We say, you didn't try.

These tears you cry have come too late.

Take back the lies, the hurt, the blame...

And you will weep when you face the end alone.

You are lost. You can never go home.

Catastrophic Warfare, Part 2

Ironheart whirled his white blade to the side, and spread his metal wings like a conquering god sent from the heavens above to destroy all life below.

Princess Cadence and Princess Luna had stumbled out of the hole in the brick wall, Luna supporting Cadence. The spell Luna had intended for Ironheart was a heavy-hitter spell, and it had struck Cadence in the chest hard. Cadence still looked weak, but she seemed to be getting to her hooves.

And the Lunar Guard, who had stood idly by before, rushed at him with spears and swords bristling. They crashed into Ironheart from the rear, pushing him forward, as pony after pony pushed their spears into crevices in his body and attempted to crush his skull with ugly lead maces.

Ironheart merely fired his arm out in a wide sweep, and dozens of body parts littered the floor as the blazing white arc finished its rotation. He reached out his left hand and grabbed a grey batpony in armor from behind the head, and held him to his chest like a shield.

The forces assaulting him stopped instantly; the quivering captive was in the line of fire.

Ironheart’s face was hard as a rock. “Don’t you dare assume that you can save him.”

Ironheart, holding his head in his hand, began to squeeze. Two of his fingers were digging into the top of his eye sockets. The batpony captive winced and made cries of pain as his helmet squished inward under the inexorable force.

“NO!” Cadence cried, and ignited her horn. The war pike, embedded in the ground, shot towards Ironheart’s head and embedded itself in his temple. The pike shattered into pieces, however, and harmless slivers of metal showered down the side of his head.

“No,” Ironheart whispered in rage. “No, don’t even try that.”

He clenched his fist even more. His fingertips were all the way inside the batpony’s eyes, and a horrible crumpling noise came as the helmet he wore collapsed into his flesh. The batpony was really screaming now, and blood poured from the sides of his head and eyes, meeting at the point of his chin.

Ironheart’s face contorted in rage, and roared as his fist fully clenched at last.

A horrible mix of a squelching and cracking noise came as his skull caved itself in and his left hand erupted in a fountain of horrid blood that got all over his arm and splattered on his face. The stump of the batpony’s head was now only dripping blood and clear brain fluid on the ground.

Ironheart shook his hand callously, flinging bits of brain and skull bone off his sticky fist. The sounds of someone retching was lost among the gasps of horror and heartbreak at his ignominious death. Even the princesses were still and silent.

Twilight, however, ignited her horn, scowling with resolve. Ironheart saw this, and shook his head no. “Twilight. You tried before. You will not kill me now.”

“I’m not trying to kill you,” Twilight snarled through clenched teeth. “I want to hurt you!”

Ironheart’s skull was temporarily enveloped in a lavender aura. But Ironheart fired a single shot up into the air, and Twilight stopped the pressure instantly.

“You think you want to hurt me. But you do not possess the only power that really matters.”

“Yes I do!” Twilight cried back, firing a bolt of energy at Ironheart. He deflected the explosive bolt back at her, however, and she got thrown back as it impacted her in the chest.

“So exercise it.”

“Lies!” Celestia cried, igniting her own horn, which was so long it appeared that she had a long yellow sword atop her forehead. She charged at him horn-down, and her thrust was met by Ironheart’s downward strike, throwing her face-down to the pavement.

Ironheart pressed a metal talon down on her skull before she could get up. He bent his knee, amplifying the intensity of the pressure. Celestia winced and tried to wiggle away, but Ironheart was too strong to allow her any room.

“Lies,” Ironheart repeated, bending his neck. “The lie of love. The lie of tolerance. I was taught to adopt those. But I was better than that.”

He raised his sword high above his head slowly, like an executioner’s axe.

“Help me!” Celestia pleaded to the other princesses. Her hoof tried to point at the other princesses, but it was at such an awkward angle that it only rose a little off the pavement. “Sister! Help me!”

Ironheart was enveloped in a dark blue aura and was almost moved backward by the furious tilt of Luna’s horn. But he simply twitched his wing, and a bladed feather shot out and embedded itself deep in Luna’s chest armor.

Luna cried aloud and stopped the magic. Cadence, supported by Luna, gasped and almost fell down as Luna became weaker. The feather hadn’t penetrated far, but it had done enough damage.

The atmosphere became colder and colder as Ironheart got ready to strike the blow. The air became different, charged with electricity tension building up in the atmosphere as something, small but traveling at an unimaginable speed, hurtled down to Ironheart’s position like a meteor of many colors.

When he was finally ready, he swung with all of his might.

The sword, however, was out of his hands by then. It clattered across the pavement and lay in the side of the street, splashing in a shallow puddle of blood streaming from multiple dead bodies in the center of the road.

“Oh, no, buddy! You want her, you go through me first!”

The small pony that had struck Ironheart settled down in between Twilight and Ironheart, flapping her wings. Rainbow Dash adjusted herself to a firmer stance. “I ain’t letting you harm anypony else, Ironheart!”

“Rainbow Dash.” A malevolent smile spread across Ironheart’s face. “I knew you would come. You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Ironheart!” Rainbow Dash screamed at him, her face peeled back in rage. “You hear me? When I’m done with you, you’ll be a pile of scrap metal--”

Ironheart fired at her outstretched wing, and Rainbow Dash screamed in pain, clutching the side of her wing. Blood haloed the edges of her hoof as she pressed against the gunshot wound on her wing.

“Oh, shut up,” Ironheart snapped at her. He outstretched his hand again, and the sword flew to his grip.

Clutching Celestia’s head tightly in his toe talons, he hurled the body at Twilight, and the two of them collapsed and hit their heads hard on the pavement of the streets. Both of them shuddered as the involuntary spasms ran through them upon contact.

Ironheart, faster than even Rainbow Dash’s reflexes, hurtled forward and clutched her around the neck as he ran past her. Spreading his wings as he ran, and ignoring the spears clattering on his back that had been thrown by the Royal Guard, he ignited thrusters and spiraled off into the air, with Rainbow Dash bellowing behind him.

Twilight pushed Celestia off of her. “No!” she croaked as she saw Ironheart’s smoke trails above the skyline of Manehattan. “Rainbow!”

Celestia moaned in pain and gasped, “Go after her.”

“Me?” Twilight asked incredulously, turning to face Celestia.

“It must be you,” Celestia groaned, rubbing her head. “If you do not, Rainbow Dash will die. Do not let her die, Twilight!”

And Twilight knew that Celestia was right. Ironheart was going to kill Rainbow Dash!

Twilight should have felt scared then. She should have felt terrified that the life of one of her closest friend was in danger.

But instead, a red haze developed at the fringes of her vision. A single command overrode all preexisting emotion.

Kill Ironheart.

Hundreds and hundreds of feet in the air, where the atmosphere was even colder than before, Ironheart threw Rainbow Dash outwards. Rainbow Dash involuntarily rightened herself after being thrown; she had trained for this before on the Dizzitron in Wonderbolt Camp.

What she had not been trained for, however, was the excruciating pain in her wing with each flap to merely keep her upright and in the air. With each stroke downward, it felt like her wing was being partially severed by a knife. It hurt more than Rainbow Dash could imagine; she was doubtful if even the damned in Tartarus felt as much pain. Weak cries came with each flap, and she tilted to the side as she struggled to stay airborne.

“FIGHT ME, RAINBOW!” Ironheart bellowed at her. He fired a shot above her head, making her shake. “Prove your power!”

Rainbow, spurred by the words, gritted her resolve and shot forward at what she thought was a good pace, but the hole in her wing halted the speed she was going at. Ironheart was under no such constraint, however, and he swiped his fist forward as she came nearer. She went sprawling in the air and dropped a dozen or so feet before doing her best to righten herself.

Ironheart wasn’t done with her, however. He gripped her head and hurled it down, throwing her through the air and directly through a glass window in the side of a nearby business building. The glass shattered instantly, and Rainbow Dash tumbled on the marble flooring as glass clattered all around her and lodged in her legs and face and chest.

Ironheart landed on the edge of the shattered window pane, gazing upon Rainbow Dash’s crumpled form in front of him. The body was still for a few seconds, but Rainbow Dash’s defiant spirit compelled her to rise once more on her legs weakly.

Slowly, slowly, she rose up on trembling, torn legs. Transparent glass shards, some of them as small as a grain of sand, were lodged in her face and in her forehead. Blood covered the manifold wounds and dripped in tiny rivulets over her eyes and on the edges of her mouth, but she was scowling in pain and defiance at Ironheart’s invincible frame.

“I truly am sorry,” Ironheart said.

“Come at me, bro,” Rainbow Dash whispered. She was too in pain to say anything loudly. She winced as the motions to speak made the glass embedded in her face jostle. “Prove that you have the power to kill.”

Ironheart, without hesitation, lowered his arm at her chest. A long gun barrel extended like a telescope, and the triceps on his forearm grew thicker as it converted to a powerful sniper. A bullet the size of a small carrot loaded itself into the firing chamber with an echoing click, and a slow whine began to build up as power diverted from his heart’s power source to his arm.

From this range, and with so powerful a projectile, there was no doubt of anything. Should he fire at Rainbow Dash, she would only be blown into miniscule pieces of damaged tissue and broken bone. Her gore would be painted across the walls and floor and ceiling of the office environment. Her head would be clean gone, should he choose to fire between her eyes. Ironheart processed this and adjusted his aim to fire at her head. A quicker and more painless death.

Rainbow Dash’s vision consisted of the long black barrel she was now staring down. Never before in her life had she felt more scared than she did at that moment. She had been in some tough spots before, but none as inescapable as this one right here. Memories floated back to her, swimming through the haze of pain that clouded her vision. Memories of her friends, laughing and eating at cafes and helping each other out with work. Memories of them stopping problems from getting out of hoof before, and of them showing their honest love for each other.

It was that love that made her stand upright, shaking from the pain coursing all over her body, to face down her death. The cold end of the gun barrel sticking not two feet from her face seemed to imperceptibly vibrate as her vision pictured it jerking back. It would be the last thing she would ever see.

A tear rolled down her eye, mixing with the blood and painting a streak down her face as it came to her jawbone. She closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth, preparing herself for the inevitable death to come. “Do it now,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”

Ironheart breathed through his open mouth as he stood stock-still, pointing the sniper at her. He still did not release the mental trigger in his mind to fire at her. It only worked when he commanded it to, and Ironheart had not commanded it yet.

Rainbow Dash was still tensing up, waiting for her martyr. She was trembling on her legs and wincing quietly. She hesitantly opened one eye to see that Ironheart had not yet fired. The whine of the gun was building up to a crescendo.

Ironheart stiffened his stance and realigned his drooping gun to aim back at her face. Rainbow Dash did not close her eyes this time, but instead looked back into Ironheart’s eyes. They were the only thing that was not blurring for her.

Ironheart kept his gun aiming at her for exactly five more seconds.

Then, after he decided, his arm fell to his side, and the whining gun fell silent. He let out an exhale he didn’t know he was keeping, and he panted.

Rainbow Dash collapsed on her stomach in exhaustion, and that pushed more glass shards deeper into her chest. She cried aloud and rolled over, getting small glass shards in her rainbow mane.

“I can’t,” Ironheart mourned. “I can’t.”

Shame overwhelmed his mind. Not the shame that he was about to kill the broken, helpless pegasus, but the shame that he professed to have the power to kill, but refused to exercise it. His claims were meaningless.

Neither side made a move.

And then Ironheart heard the flapping of feathers from behind him, and he curiously turned around to see Twilight Sparkle flapping her wings in the air. Her face was angry at first, but when she spotted the bleeding, broken pegasus lying on the floor in front of Ironheart, she gasped aloud and almost stopped flapping her wings. Her hooves were brought to her mouth in despair, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Then she regarded Ironheart, and her demeanor had flown, in an instant, from heartbroken to furious.

“Twilight,” Ironheart said conversationally. “I trust you don’t--”

Ironheart was hit by a purple laser beam so strong he flew all the way across the business building, crashed through the window pane on the opposite side, and maintained his speed after his flight. It had all come so quickly that even Ironheart’s lightspeed reflexes were unable to respond in time, and Ironheart, flailing helplessly through the air, realized that yes, Twilight had, in fact attacked him.

Twilight’s form barrelled from the broken window at a speed normally unattainable for most other pegasi and crashed directly into Ironheart’s body as he flew. The two of them slammed into the roof of a concrete mall nearby, cracking the roof and creating ripples like he had landed in water.

But Twilight wasn’t finished. Igniting her horn once more, she fired down at Ironheart beneath her, and Ironheart plowed down through the roof of the mall. And through the floor beneath that, and the next floor, and the next, in a cacophony of booms as he impacted each floor, until he hit the foundations of the mall forty feet beneath.

Twilight peered down through the hole she had created, trying to see Ironheart and what he was doing. The hole was so deep, however, that she couldn’t see the bottom.

And then, through the layers of the holes, a whine could be heard and a red tint could be seen.

Twilight put her head back just in time, as Ironheart rocketed out of the hole, his bladed horn jutted out and a murderous look in his eyes. Had Twilight not thrown her head back, her face would have been impaled by the thin horn.

“TWILIGHT!” Ironheart bellowed at her. “THIS ENDS NOW!”

He collided with her and flew off into the sky, holding her neck in his hand.

Twilight twisted her head around and fired at Ironheart’s face, making him drop her. Still hurtling through the air, she reared his head back and fired down, throwing Ironheart fifty feet down to smash into the pavement.

Twilight landed right in front of the crater Ironheart was lying inside. She pawed the ground angrily as Ironheart stood up once more. After all she had done to him, no damage could be seen on him, and he stood without any sign of injury.

“Twilight,” Ironheart said once more. “The project will detonate in fifteen minutes. You need to get out while you still can.”

“Not with you still alive!” Twilight screamed back. “You almost killed Rainbow Dash!”

“But I didn’t kill her.”

“I’ve had enough of you!” Twilight bellowed at him. “I’ll never surrender to you!”

“And I in turn will never surrender to you, Twilight. Which of us will bow? The one made of flesh, or the one made of metal?”

Twilight fired at him once again in defiance. Ironheart whipped one wing in front of his face, and the purple beam deflected off the wing and exploded on the side of a hotel to their right, throwing rubble and glass into the air and shattering on the ground.

“Twilight!” Ironheart roared at her. “I do not want to harm you!”

“Then what was all that big talk about killing whoever stood in your way before, then, huh?”

“You were the closest thing in the world that I could call a friend, Twilight!”

Twilight’s expression softened visibly, now displaying shock and worry.

“You still mean something to me, small though it may be.”

“I believe you,” Twilight said to him. What was she doing? Why were those words coming out of her mouth? “But I still cannot let you get away.”

“Save yourself now, Twilight! The project will detonate thirteen minutes from now. Will you die now, trying to save your friends? Get them out of the city, and prove that friendship matters to you.”

“No, Ironheart! You’re my friend as well!”

“So why attempt to kill me?” Ironheart roared, trying to ignore the jolt in his stomach at Twilight’s words.

Twilight couldn’t respond to that. Not in any way she could think of right away, at least.

She was spared the agony of making a decision, however, by the flap of wings behind her. She craned her head to see the shining, ethereal form of Princess Celestia land behind her. “Because you are a killer, Ironheart. And you have no intention of changing it. You will never see the light of the sun after this day is over. I swear it as the princess of the sun.”

“I kill because who else must?”

“Nopony must!” Celestia cried. “But the circumstances permit me to destroy you without blame.”

“Do not lie to me at this time, Celestia. You as good as killed me all those years ago by your inactivity and indecision.”

“You will not blame your actions on me, Ironheart!”

Ironheart, without warning, poked the twin nozzles out of his wrists and, igniting them, swept them down in a diagonal motion.

Just before the lasers began their arc, however, Twilight’s quick-thinking mind reflected on a way to minimize his damage. Igniting her own horn, she remembered the exact layouts of Ironheart’s underground lair. The couches in one corner. The vats and machines in another corner. The research center in yet another corner.

And just before the lasers hit, Twilight’s teleportation spell sent Ironheart back to his lair in a small pop. Where he once stood, now there was nothing but crumpled pavement.

Celestia’s own horn was ignited in a shield, but it had come too late. Gazing down at Twilight in relief, she smiled. “Well and cleverly done, my student. Where did you send him?”

“To the place where he came from. Hundreds of feet beneath the city’s sewers.”

“We must go after him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Our job is not yet finished. In a mere ten minutes, his bomb will explode. Where is it located?”

“In…” Twilight faltered. “In the place where I...sent him…”

Celestia’s face was expressionless now. She gazed at the ground. “You and I must go to him. Shining Armor is already on his way to recover Rainbow Dash.”

“Shouldn’t Cadence and Luna come along as well?”

“They are both injured. They would be only a hindrance.” Celestia took a deep breath. “I know not the interior of his surroundings. You must lead me to him, Twilight.”

“I’ll do the best I can, Celestia.” Twilight charged her horn, and Celestia ignited hers as well, alleviating the pressure of teleporting two alicorns to the place where Ironheart would die.

Twilight’s thoughts, for just an instant, screamed at her to stop it, to stop going after and hurting Ironheart, to think for just a second. If Ironheart was truly a friend, why was she trying to kill him? Twilight shook those doubts out of her mind, however. And when the charge was ready, she and Celestia disappeared.

When they arrived, Twilight and Celestia jumped back from scorching their hooves. A long, flaming gorge was in the floor, walls, and ceiling, as a result of the laser strike Ironheart had been about to inflict on them. The scar had barely missed the pedestal the uncovered Manehattan Project was sitting on, only centimeters away from a premature detonation. There was a little pedestal on the bomb that was displaying the number 10:49 in red glowing lines.

Then 10:48.

Then 10:47.

Ironheart was standing directly in front of it, wings spread wide and open like arms waiting for a hug. His arms were folded behind his back, like he was waiting for them. The flame flickering behind him lended an unnatural aura to his presence, and shadows danced like demons for their master in hell.

Twilight charged her horn, ready for another strike at him, but Celestia stopped her with a hoof to the side. “You may hit the bomb,” she cautioned. “Hold your fire until he’s not in the way.”

“Ah. You are wise, Celestia. That’s surprising, actually.”

He was enveloped in a yellow aura, and, with a furious fling of Celestia’s head, was thrown across the room into the turquoise elevators leading up to the surface. The glass shattered all around him as he slumped to the floor, landing on his hind legs in a crouch. Through the raining glass falling around him, he fired the lasers at Celestia again.

Celestia evaded the red streams of energy and latched on to several overhanging fixtures attached to the ceiling with her magic. Without hesitation, they broke free and fired themselves at Ironheart, trailing yellow energy.

Ironheart’s sword whipped out and cut down the debris as they fired at his face. They erupted into sparks and shards of smoking metal that clattered behind him. Holding his sword out to the side, he rushed at Celestia, swinging his sword for a strike as he flew.

Celestia’s horn extended like a yellow sword of sunfire just as the sword crashed down like the wave of the sea. Between the two bars of pure energy, sparks flew off and dripped between the point of contact.

Between the crossed bars, both powerful entities stared each other in the face, with Twilight preparing her own spell off to the side. It was not a mighty clash between the forces of good and bad anymore. It never was from the start.

It was just Celestia, Twilight, and Ironheart.

Just them, and the damage each of them had done to the other.

Ironheart’s sword dropped its resistance to Celestia’s own sword, and he ducked under the sudden swing to collide his fist with Celestia’s face. Twilight’s spell came all of a sudden, and Ironheart’s knee joint, enveloped in a violet aura, bent backwards the wrong way, making Ironheart stumble.

Celestia swung her head down, and this time it was Ironheart who had to block the unstoppable strike with his own matchless power. Bent on one knee, holding the white jagged sword in front of his face, he slowly, slowly began to press back Celestia’s bright, shining yellow sword.

Their strength was perfectly matched; once they were even, neither sword moved more.

But Ironheart was alone. Celestia wasn’t.

Twilight remembered the way Ironheart had created the element of Infinisteel in the first place. He had played with transmutation: rearranging the way atoms were created. What if Twilight was able...through some miracle...to turn Infinisteel back into steel?

It was skeptical if she could, but it was intriguing nonetheless. She had proven before that she could turn one thing into another. Apples into oranges, however, seemed paltry in comparison to what lay ahead of her.

Can I? Will I?

Twilight ignited her horn, resolving to try.

Celestia and Ironheart’s power struggle was reaching a crescendo. Both were pressing against the other with all the strength either of them could muster. Sweat poured down Celestia’s face, and Ironheart’s forehead was pleated in rage and his teeth were bared.

Suddenly Ironheart’s knee, bent the wrong way, straightened automatically to its normal way, then Ironheart brought it up to slam it into Celestia’s chest. Startled, Celestia got thrown onto her back with a resounding crash, and her magical yellow sword dissipated until it was only her horn on her head.

Ironheart raised the sword above his head once more as Celestia stayed on the ground, clutching her chest.

As Ironheart brought the sword down, Twilight’s spell fired at Ironheart’s hand.

Ironheart felt his right thumb go incredibly stiff, and he fumbled the sword just as he almost struck Celestia. Holding the sword in his left now, Ironheart observed his thumb to find, instead of a thumb, a carrot.

Ironheart blinked, then squinted at the carrot. He could have sworn that he had a thumb on his hand before, but apparently this carrot had decided to replace it, for whatever reason. He glanced at Twilight, who smiled sheepishly when she saw him glaring at her.

Twilight had the power to turn his invincible frame into nothing more than a crude imitation of steel! Ironheart would not be immobilized now! Ironheart would not be become a vegetable at the hooves of Twilight!

So to speak, of course.

Observing it more, he discovered the wiggling that he could normally do with a thumb and discovered, to his relief, that the carrot on his hand was actually an imaginary vision. Twilight hadn’t actually transformed his thumb into a carrot; she had only given the illusion of it. Twilight, for all her magical prowess, hadn’t actually mastered transforming something as complicated as Infinisteel into a root vegetable. So he shook his fist to get rid of the carrot image, transformed his fist into another laser emitter, and fired at Twilight.

Twilight could only answer by firing another beam back at equal power.

The two beams collided in midair, and the impact made a concussive sound as both ponies tried to push the other’s beam back. Where the beams met, there was a bright, shining bulb of light that moved depending on who was pushing harder.

Twilight, planting her hooves hard in the ground, took a marching step forward.

Ironheart saw this and took another heavy step forward as well.

The beams increased in power the closer together they got. The power coming off of them shimmered in the air, making it hard to see the other combatant.

Twilight took another resolute step forth. Ironheart did the same. The power between the two of them was getting to dangerous levels as the beam length shortened.

Another step forward. And another.

The distance between Twilight’s horn and Ironheart’s bent wrist now was only a handwidth.

And Ironheart closed that distance by jamming his hand forward so his fist connected with the top of Twilight’s horn.

A shockwave of pure force erupted between them with a sonic concussion, throwing both of them back with equal force. The air rippled as it followed their paths through the air.

Twilight skidded on the ground, gaining a massive burn on her thigh as it tore into her flesh and ripped away skin. Ironheart collided with a wall, sending out a shower of debris. And the Manehattan Project trembled on its foundations so hard that it rocked back and forth like a drunken sailor.

Twilight cried aloud as she examined her upper thigh. A large patch of skin had broken off, and grainy pebbles had lodged themselves in her tender flesh, making blood speckle on her leg and run down her hip. Standing upright once more, her leg was shaking so hard that she had to steady her hip with another hoof, wincing. Her horn felt like it was burning on the tip by how hard Ironheart’s fist had connected with it.

She saw Ironheart, across the room, stand weakly up on his two legs, trembling on his support. His face displayed both shock and rage at Twilight’s prowess.

But before he could do something to react to Twilight, he was rammed back against the wall by Celestia’s horn, puncturing the armor in his lower stomach. Celestia was roaring at the top of her lungs as she pushed into Ironheart’s stomach with all the force an immortal Alicorn could muster.

Ironheart gripped Celestia’s head around the horn and pushed back against Celestia’s force with titan-like strength of his own. His face contorted in powerful agony and rage, he slowly pushed Celestia’s horn out of his stomach.

Holding Celestia’s head in his hands, he took one hand off of it and swept it behind his back. Then he threw his clawed hand above his head.

Celestia’s face was in the way.

A long trio of scarlet furrows raked themselves across Celestia’s face, throwing her head back and sending blood flying through the air. Throwing his foot outward with a hard kick, Ironheart launched the inert princess flying through the air, and Celestia hit the side of the Manehattan Project with a clang, spun to the ground, and slammed into the concrete. The Manehattan Project teetered once more, but did not fall, and Celestia was immobile as she simply lay on the ground near the bomb’s surface, bleeding from the three scars on her cheek.

Twilight saw this with alarm, and whipped her head to view Ironheart with newfound fear. The deep puncture in his stomach was already having a new layer reforming on top of the wound, through Ironheart’s covered fingers. Twilight took this opportunity to further examine Ironheart’s appearance. Blackened with soot, marred by miniscule debris, and covered with dark dried blood on his arms, chest, neck, and face, Ironheart truly was an indestructible master of war, and the appearance of him was enough to petrify Twilight’s movements.

Twilight hurriedly tried to reimagine the way to destroy Ironheart: to take the elements making up his armored body and to rearrange them into something harmless. Trying her best to concentrate in the face of the devil standing before her and marching towards her, Twilight fired another spell at Ironheart’s legs.

Ironheart’s legs didn’t turn into any kind of vegetable this time, but Ironheart did notice that as Twilight’s magic aura surrounded his legs, he felt weaker than before. Oh, he was still standing on Infinisteel legs, but he was aware of them changing, the electrons surrounding the individual atoms in his legs shifting around. It was as if the genes in a living being’s body was being manipulated into something alien, something unnatural to their normal state.

And Ironheart hated it.

His wrist poked a miniscule missile out of his arm, and it fired at a space directly in front of Twilight’s hooves, making her stumble and lose her target. With his legs now free, Ironheart was still made out of the elemental metal that made up his body, but it was still unnerving to have it come so close to losing who he was.

But, Ironheart reflected, hadn’t he already lost part of who he was when he decided to transform himself into a monster? He had lost his love for others. His passion. His will to believe that other ponies were naturally good. His will to continue down the path others were going down. His belief that he could continue in life at all with any hope.

Hope. What hope? What hope had he ever had?

Why was he thinking like this? Why now, of all times, must he reflect on his weaknesses? On those he hated?

No. The one he hated.

Who was the only pony he ever hated? The only one he truly hated, above all others?

Who?

And the answer came to him in an astounding burst of clarity.

It was himself.

The only pony he ever truly hated was himself.

He hated himself because of who he was before, and of the consequences he suffered as a result of simply being who he was. He had wanted to become better than who he was before, and that drive, that ambition to improve his lowly, worm-like state, had become his own self-destruction.

Ironheart let out a bellow of defiance at his own terrible thoughts and, in his rage, made his fist become hollow. Chattering out of it was a long, barbed whip that clinked on the ground. He threw his arm forward and it caught Twilight square across the chest. She spun to the ground, blood flying in all directions, and let out a cry of pain as she crashed to earth.

Ironheart raised his arm up once more to finish her, blinded by rage and artificial adrenaline running through his cabled veins. But before the whip could fall completely down, however, Twilight was already up again with a glowing horn, and Ironheart was lifted up into the air and smashed into the ceiling so hard a light came loose and dangled by only a cable, throwing its light around drunkenly as Ironheart smashed down once more, behind the Manehattan Project.

Twilight, bleeding from her flank and her chest now, carefully picked herself over to where Celestia was also getting to all fours. The timer behind her read 5:14, and was counting down much too quickly for Twilight’s liking.

“I will take him,” Celestia groaned, blood running into her mouth from the three scars on her cheek. “You must find some way to stop this, Twilight.”

“No!” Twilight refused, ignoring the burning in her flank and on the top of her horn. “Celestia, I can do this! I can stop him on my own--”

“No, Twilight! You’re too injured! I will hold him off enough for you to disable the bomb. Above all else, Twilight, the bomb must be disabled before it can be fired. Promise me.”

“But Celestia! What if you die?”

“Then you will have enough time, at least.”

“But-”

“Twilight. There’s no time. You’ve read the journal telling how the bomb works. If anypony knows how to disable it, it’s you. I must hold him off long enough for you to save the city.”

“Celestia-”

“Twilight. Look at me.”

Twilight looked into the weary eyes of her worn-down mentor, her face smudged with dirt and caked with blood.

“I would not command you to do anything unless I know you could do it. Can you obey me?”

Twilight risked a glance at the timer. 4:06.

“Twilight. Promise me. Can you do it?”

Twilight, with a herculean effort, swallowed her doubt.

“Yes, Celestia.”

Celestia turned around. “Then help me save Equestria. And remember, Twilight. No matter what happens to me, I love you.”

And she spread her wings and took off in flight over the bomb to Ironheart’s position.

Twilight looked at the timer helplessly. After a moment of analyzing, she came up with a sort of half-baked plan. Selecting one of her more advanced spells, she fired a freezing spell at the timer, coating it in shimmering blue ice. The timer, after the ice had gotten inside the cracks in its outer layer and into the wiring, froze the time on the display to 3:44. Whether it was just the timer that froze, or if the bomb’s detonation itself was frozen, however, Twilight could not say.

Which meant Twilight had to hurry.

She heard a sonic concussive boom from the other side of the bomb, and she craned her head up to see Ironheart, battered and speckled with dirt and other ponies’ blood, be tossed into the air by Celestia’s magic aura. Ironheart rightened himself in the air with his wings and threw his arm forward, sending the whip on the end wrapping around Celestia’s horn tightly as Celestia flew into the air as well.

Then he yanked on it with all the force he had, and Celestia screamed in pain as she grabbed at the whip connecting to Ironheart’s fist. Celestia’s hooves bled as she pressed hard into the wiry barbed whip, but she could make no difference in her condition.

Her blood pounding in her ears as adrenaline coursed through her fearful body, Twilight turned her attention back to the bomb’s outside. She tried to pry a piece of the bomb’s exterior skin off, but it was bolted to it too tightly. She tried to remove the bolts with magic when it failed and saw, to her success, that the bolts could be removed easily enough with magic.

Finally taking a large patch of metal off the bomb’s layering hull, Twilight could see the wires crisscrossing and connecting, in at least five different colors. Trying to ignore the pain in her bloodied chest and flank, Twilight activated her horn once more to analyze the pattern of energy in the cables.

Celestia’s horn burned with yellow plasma as the powers of the sun coursed into her horn, and the cruel wiry whip smoked and melted off upon contact. Now free from the restraint, but her horn aching from the abuse, Celestia sliced her horn downwards, and a curve of yellow plasma whipped out and slashed Ironheart across the face, spinning him in the air. Celestia flew like a bullet at him before he could righten himself, and the two of them crashed into the lab space where he did his calculations. Glass shattered and liquid splashed everywhere as they slid across the black desk holding vials and beakers, and the blackboard split in half as Celestia’s horn, missing Ironheart, carved it right down the middle.

Twilight, with the aid of her magical abilities, could almost see the energy running through the wires and where they went in the bomb. The red wire directed the energy to the main ignition chamber, in the core of the hollow bomb. Yellow wires held the bomb stable until the time of ignition. The green wires connected the timer to the bomb and released the energy in the yellow wires when the timer was at zero, making the energy in the red wires more free to direct themselves to the ignition chamber and press the two sides of the chamber together, smushing the Uranium in the middle and causing the chain reaction that would destroy the city.

Twilight wasn’t sure of which cable to cut first. There was nopony to help her or give her guidance this time. She was on her own once more.

However, she didn’t have forever. The flames all over Ironheart’s lair was making the ice covering the timer melt quicker than she would have liked. She needed to find out a way to stop the bomb’s countdown process completely, or else the timer would continue from where it left off. Already there was a small puddle of water at the base of the bomb as the ice dripped off.

Celestia and Ironheart grappled with titanic strength on the lab desk, hooves and fists colliding into each other’s face. Ironheart’s fists did more damage to Celestia’s soft flesh, but Celestia’s hooves were imbued with a glowing yellow aura as her horn lended its power to her front legs. Each strike made Ironheart recoil, and Celestia, though bloodied and bruised, was not about to surrender anytime soon.

Ironheart slammed both of his fists down on Celestia’s chest at the same time, making her double over as a breath escaped her. Ironheart’s fists wrapped themselves around her horn once more and began to press to the side like he was moving a lever. Celestia’s glowing horn was making his hands heat up like a cherry-red stove, but he continued to press with unnatural strength. Celestia was screaming in pain, closing her eyes so tightly tears forced themselves from the corners. She grabbed on to the arm holding her and pulsed her horn in a blast of power, blinding him temporarily and making him let go.

The glare polarizers in Ironheart’s eyes cut the glare by 78 per cent. His vision cleared in plenty of time to see Celestia slice the physical tip of her horn across his face diagonally.

It actually opened up the skin; Ironheart could give her credit for that. That amount of tightly-concentrated heat on the tip of her horn was actually above the melting point for Infinisteel. But it was a mere graze; nothing he couldn’t handle.

What concerned him was that he felt no pain at her touch. He was confused at that; since his talk with the girls the night before, he couldn’t feel senses as well as he could before. He couldn’t smell the smoke of the flames raging around his home. He couldn’t feel the pain of the horn slicing into his face. The only thing that worked, that responded to his commands, was his eyesight. He could see clearly enough.

He had always seen clearly enough.

He could always see the truth.

And it wasn’t that he wanted to feel pain, but somehow, being disconnected to your senses was even more tortuous than being in pain. Because at least with pain, you were tethered to something. Here and now, however, he could feel nothing around him. He could barely make out the contours of the desk he was lying on, but there was no taste in his mouth now, no smell that he could make out. Noises seemed muffled as his mind withdrew itself.

He straightened out a leg, kicking her back. She skidded alongside shards of glass and fell onto the ground, full of sharp edges and corners. Ironheart unfurled his wings like a banner and swished them at Celestia’s frame. Celestia caught the feathered blades with her magic and shot them back at him. They skidded along his face in sparks, but nothing could be felt. Ironheart pounced on Celestia, slamming the back of her head against the back of the concrete floor. He pressed a fist against her throat, pushing inexorably with the tips of his knuckles. Celestia’s face was turning as purple as her eyes. Gasps for breath came quickly and weakly, and her struggling grew weaker and weaker.

The control panel counting down to detonation had by now entirely lost its ice and the countdown was resuming. Twilight desperately tried to refreeze the panel with another spell, but the panel was too hot to allow any ice to stick to it. It just melted again and resumed from where it was.

I’m wasting time, Twilight thought as she turned back to the bomb after her second attempt to freeze the panel. 3:06 left. She quickly tried to examine the energy’s roots that was making the Manehattan Project ready to detonate, but there was nothing to do. If she cut off energy to the bomb, would it automatically detonate? Ironheart was definitely smart enough to install a fail-safe lock on it, just in case. Twilight didn’t dismiss the notion.

Twilight’s sweat was making her wounds sting. Sweat from the blazing flames around her, yes, but also the sweat of anticipation. 2:45 left. If she couldn’t find a way to stop the bomb in that time, everyone that she was close to would die. Nothing but flying ash in the warm wind would be left of the city.

2:40 left. Twilight tried to refocus on what she needed to do. The bomb. The energy connecting it to its detonation sequence. But which cable should she cut? Which one would stop the bomb?

Red was normally a bad color, and the right indicator to get rid of, but if the energy to making the bomb explode in two and a half minutes was cut, then would it explode prematurely? And the energy making the bomb stable, in the yellow cable, couldn’t be cut either. Which one would stop the countdown and the detonation at the same time?

2:19. Twilight was as hopeless as she was when she started. She didn’t know anything about how bombs worked. The lab journal only explained so much, after all, and she wasn’t focused on how the bomb worked back then. They were more focused on Ironheart instead.

Twilight had to make a decision. She took a risk and fired her horn at the green wire, cutting it cleanly. Then she closed her eyes and winced, bracing for death.

There was no tremendous explosion. There was nothing that Twilight could ascertain at all, actually, and she opened her eyes in relief. But the wire wasn’t useless. Now that the green wire wasn’t supplying power to giving the yellow cable, was the yellow wire next? Or had she made it safe for the red one to be cut now?

Regardless, the timer was at two minutes and counting, so Twilight didn’t try to waste time. Fiddling with the yellow wire, she tried to pull some length of it out in order to examine which one it was connected to.

And then a dark shadow covered her head, blocking the heat of the flames, and it suddenly got much, much colder than she remembered it being.

Twilight turned around in dread.

There he was. There was Ironheart, towering over her small frame, with his powerfully built arms folded behind his back. His eyes burned more than the flames at his clawed feet.

“Oh, Twilight. I applaud your tenacity.”

Twilight, without thinking, fired at his head, but he merely dodged to the side and used his momentum to kick her away from the control panel. She rolled through some scraps of broken debris and some hot coals, making her body cry out even more. She came to a stop lying on her stomach, bleeding afresh from new scrapes on her face and body. The long gash on her stomach, while not deep, was bleeding enough to cake the surrounding area of flesh, and made her body sticky.

She looked up to see Ironheart bearing down on her, striding forward on his two monstrous legs. She was too weak to stand up again. She lifted her head up off the ground, but that made her almost black out.

“Trying to stop my little project? Your resourcefulness is to be admired, but that is where the awards stop. You have no chance, Twilight. You should have gotten out when I ordered you to. Now you and I will die, and there is nothing any of us can do to halt the bomb’s countdown.”

And Ironheart was right. There was only a minute and a half left until the project exploded. Celestia was overpowered, Twilight was overpowered, and her vision was becoming blurry.

Twilight tried, desperately, to reignite her horn and get his internal atomic structure to change. But she was so weak, so helplessly weak, that no matter how hard she tried, nothing could come to her horn. Twilight didn’t know what she could do.

Pop

And it wasn’t Twilight that did anything.

Instead, it was Cadence, who appeared out of nowhere to ram into Ironheart with all the force of a freight train and send him skidding on his back into a wall. Appearing above him, Princess Luna, recovered from the spearheaded feather that had sunk into her chest armor, threw her head down while igniting her horn. A blast of pure white energy drilled into Ironheart’s inert body and pushed it towards the steps of the Project, on the timer’s opposite side. The indestructible Ironheart was now lying out cold in a puddle of ruptured cement near the base of his Project.

Luna scowled at the unmoving form of Ironheart for a moment more, then turned around to see her sister lying out cold in her own blood, bruises sprouting from all over her body. Crying in distress, she landed next to her and set the tip of her horn to Celestia’s head. Her form glowed blue, and life seemed to pour back into her body, slowly but surely.

“Twilight!” Cadence exclaimed, landing next to her sister-in-law’s body. “Are you all right?”

“The...bomb…” Twilight gasped, raising a bloody hoof. Her body was numb from all of the wounds all over her. “Got...to...stop...it…”

“Right!” Cadence remembered, and turned her attention to the bomb’s timer on the side. There were less than fifteen seconds left on the timer.

“Do it, Cadence! Do...it!”

Cadence, thinking wildly, did the first thing that came to mind.

Enveloping the whole bomb in her magical aura, she located the source of the generator supplying power to the project, and with a pulse of her mind, shut it down. With 9 seconds left on the timer, the timer halted its progress.

Twilight, still lying on the floor, took a while before she accepted the fact that yes, the timer was actually off. The tension in the room had disappeared rather abruptly.

Too abruptly for Twilight’s taste.

Twilight waited some more. There was no deafening boom, no flash of white, no sudden disintegration of her limbs and body. After she counted to nine in her mind three times, she finally accepted it. The bomb had been stopped.

Twilight rolled over on her belly and took several deep breaths. “It's over,” she gasped. “It’s done.”

Author's Note

How's that for an epic final battle?

The Only Power That Really Matters

Celestia’s vision was first opened to see her blurred sister standing over her hurting eyeballs. It contained Luna’s worried face, flickering in the flames that burned in corners and edges of the room she was in. Her face was therefore painted an unhealthy mix of bright orange and navy blue. As her vision cleared, however, her face came into sharper focus.

Letting out a small moan of discontentment, Celestia slowly put forth the effort to stand up on her four legs, shaking from the tremendous effort required to even straighten her leg. Once she was finally standing upright, she inhaled a copious amount of oxygen, almost making her black out again from the sheer effort she had to put forth.

“Sister? Art thou all right?”

Celestia nodded her head wearily, putting a hoof to the side of her head. “I...I’m okay, sister. Simply exhausted. I feel...I…” She started to sway in place, but Luna kept her upright with a balancing hoof. “I don’t feel very well. And you?”

“I have certainly had more blood in my body at other times before,” Luna admitted. “But I still stand firm and tall.”

Celestia took the time to take more breaths of oxygen, dirty though the air was with smoke and dust. When she was done, she glanced towards the mound of splashed asphalt near the base of the Manehattan Project. Lying inside of it, and poking out of holes in the mound, was the inert and unmoving form of Ironheart’s mangled body.

“Is it safe?” Celestia wheezed. “Is the bomb off?”

“Yea, sister,” Luna replied. “Cadence hath done so very well indeed.”

“How did you find us, anyway?”

“I simply searched for thy location and thy immediate surroundings. Once I had pinpointed thy spot, I took Cadence and appeared here.”

“And what about Shining Armor?”

“He is helping retrieve Rainbow Dash and is giving her medical treatment as we speak. Once we depart from this forsaken place, we must add thou and Twilight to the records of treatment.”

Celestia’s gaze overlooked the mound of asphalt where Ironheart’s body lay. “And what about him?”

Luna looked pensieve. Then she said, “He is still a danger to Equestria’s citizens. We must restrain him and take him back to Canterlot.”

“And what then?” Celestia asked. “Do we execute him then, or do we detain him indefinitely?”

“No chains can hold him,” Luna said resolutely. “We must remove him permanently.”

“No,” Celestia insisted.

“No?” Luna demanded quizzically. “Why not?”

“Because I still love him.” Celestia gulped down something that made her throat burn. “I couldn’t bear to end his life in cold blood. I can’t stand to...I can’t...”

“What about several mere minutes ago?”

“Because then, my sister, my blood was hot.” Celestia winced once more and pressed on the back of her head. “This is not our way. This is not the way of friendship. It’s gentleness.”

“Thou...hast unfeigned love for him? Even now? At the end?”

“Yes, Luna. I still love him because he’s still my beloved student, that suffered so much that he took such barbaric measures to protect himself from harm. I love him.”

The pile of rubble still didn’t move under her steady gaze.

“But…” Celestia continued. “If you have the courage to give in to your own emotions, then you can do that. For me, succumbing to your carnal desires isn’t courage, but if you think differently, then you can kill him right now, where he lies helpless and broken.”

Princess Luna didn’t move, but stood staring at the pile of broken rubble. Her face was conflicted, but angry. After a few moments of indecision, she turned her face away from the mound, her expression a mix between enraged and distressed. She couldn’t do it.

Cadence came over, helping Twilight limp over to the other princesses spot. She also looked at the mound of rubble at the base of the bomb, where he was encased. “So.” She sighed. “What now?”

“We take him back to Canterlot,” Celestia stated. “It may be the only way he can prove his worth again.”

Twilight, who was bleeding and bruised from many, many spots on her body, let her head droop down in a sort of half-nod in approval. She looked almost relieved.

“And what if he doesn’t rehabilitate himself?” Luna asked.

“He must, or be imprisoned for life,” Celestia insisted. “If he could be turned, he could be a powerful ally.”

“Yes…” Cadence looked thoughtful. “Yes, he is a pony of great potential.”

“But no prison can hold him, save for the immortal chains of Tartarus. And I do not wish for him to suffer even more in life than he has.” Luna looked sympathetic. “Is there a way, in the event that he cannot control himself, that we can put a quick end to him?”

“Transmutation,” Twilight offered with a cough. “We could...transform his...Infinisteel atoms into...normal steel, and from there...he should be...easy enough for us...to deal with…”

“Shall we do it now?” Luna asked of her.

“No. We’ll do it back in Canterlot. The conditions here are far too extreme for experimentation,” Celestia insisted.

“That leaves only the question of the bomb,” Luna finished, glancing at the catastrophic device.

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked.

“Shall we dispose of it? Or study it? Or shall we detonate it over the ocean, and forget that it ever existed? This is the only one of its kind, after all.”

“Is the bomb even off?” Twilight asked heavily. She tried to stand upright, but very nearly collapsed. “Is it safe to handle?”

“I only cut off the power making the timer count down,” Cadence made known to all. “It can still reactivate the countdown sequence, if we tried hard enough to make it so.”

Before any princess could make a reply to the analysis, a deafening boom sounded forth as a metal hand very suddenly shot itself out of the rubble and reached its fingers out. From behind the four princesses, something small and cylindrical flew out and smacked solidly into his palm. The four princesses all ignited their horns instinctively as a battered, blackened, dented, and slashed Ironheart slowly rose out of the broken rubble.

His posture was weak, but just enough to keep him standing. His legs twitched, and he fell backwards, pressing his spine and wings against his deadly project. Above him, a dangling light cast a shadow forward, projecting Ironheart’s own shadow in front of him.

“No…” he muttered, weakly and deeply. “No, please, don’t…”

“It’s over, Ironheart,” Celestia panted, the blood on her face lending a fierce addition to her scowling expression. “We are willing to take you in alive.”

“No,” Ironheart snarled, breathing hard himself. “I...told you...that I would never be taken in alive. And now…” He panted, then pointed the sword hilt at the direct center of his chest. “I keep my word.”

Twilight grasped the implications of what he meant in an instant. “NO!” she cried. “IRONHEART, PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS!”

Ironheart only let loose a hard, deriving bout of laughter. “YOU LOSE, PRINCESS TWILIGHT!” he bellowed at her.

“But you also lost,” Celestia tried to say, pleadingly. “Because you couldn’t get Twilight to see how you feel as well!”

“The world is too dark for me to stand,” Ironheart declared.

“THOU ART PATHETIC!” Luna bellowed. “SIMPLY BECAUSE THOU WERT ABUSED IN THY EARLIER DAYS, IT DOST NOT MEAN--”

“SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!” Ironheart roared at her, artificial saliva flecking out of his mouth. “I can finally leave you, and hurt you more than you can possibly imagine, in one foul swoop!”

Friendship. Such a notion. How could these other princesses possibly be so naive as to think that it could influence ponies to be decent people? They were wrong. Ironheart, even at his death, was the most powerful one in the room, because he had the power to kill Ironheart. They possessed the ability to harm him, but they certainly didn’t have the will. But Ironheart possessed both the will and the way, which made him the most powerful one in the room. The only power that really mattered was the power to kill.

That power had taken him to the pinnacle of pony experimentation. What could he do in his new body? Take up baking? No, he could use the power for a noble purpose. His purpose was to cleanse the earth of the filth and scum that populated the pitiful landscape, because they had gone without punishment for long enough in the land of tolerance. Too much tolerance was, in hindsight, a bad thing, for it would give leeway for ponies to simply do anything that they wanted to do without fear of punishment.

Because of him, now they had fear to betray the natural laws of loving others.

And Ironheart almost froze in place. Almost, not quite, but enough to render him immobile.

Where had that line of thinking come from? Because they hadn’t demonstrated friendship, it was a good reason to destroy them? Where? And why? Why was he thinking like that?

He then reflected and tried to reason that it was just normal for him to feel that way; he was at the end of his life. Which, he reminded himself forcefully, was his own decision. He had the power to choose who died in the world. That was the power that really mattered, the only one that ever really mattered.

But which lives had he taken? He had hunted after filth like Amadeus, and Count Privilege, and when he was done in Manehattan, he was planning on going to other major cities and doing the same there. He had steadfastly refused to harm a hair on the head of the normal civilians. Even with the Equestrian Military members, they were attacking him, and weren’t technically civilians so much as they were soldiers simply doing their duty, simply doing what their superiors told them to do.

And then there was Rainbow Dash. He had her cornered, bleeding, and broken. But he hadn’t plucked up the resolve to blow her head off. Some other power had taken over his power to kill her. But what power was it? What power could be so strong as to stop a bullet that required only a twitch of a finger? What kind of power could stop the power to kill?

And a single line from yesterday’s talk wove its way into his thoughts.

We love you because you’re a fallen soul!

Twilight was his friend. As was Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie, and Rarity, and all the rest of their friends. No matter how much evil he had done to all of them, those six girls had never stopped believing in him. Even at the end, they were still trying to try, again and again. Maybe it was because of that...that he couldn’t bring himself to kill them. He may have hurt them, he may have broken them, he may have almost split them apart, but he had never had the resolve to kill them.

And by allowing his mind to travel down this particular lane, this line of thought, he found himself slipping more and more from his original thoughts.

He had thought friendship was bogus, but he had also killed anypony that didn’t display the elements of friendship. So there was another power controlling his power to kill. The power to kill was powerful, and certainly mattered in the world, but it was a power entirely dependent on his internal feelings, which were filled with rage. Filled with rage, but only at bad ponies, ponies that didn’t show friendship.

And why was he so angry at ponies that hadn’t shown friendship to each other? It shouldn’t have bothered him that much, right? He hadn’t cared about friendship at all. He only cared about harming those that...didn’t show friendship...to each other…

Oh, he was blinded! Oh, the powers he had experienced were only illusions, reflections of other forms of influence that had wrapped around his mind! The power he had ignored the power he had condemned, was the power that had led him all along!

There was indeed a power greater than the power to kill and the power to harm. It was the power to decide who to kill, because if you simply let loose of yourself on absolutely everypony you met, you would be only a posturing child, uncontrolled and unfocused and unreliable. Uncontrolled power was not power at all.

So the only power that mattered was how to use discernment to decide who it was that mattered to you. And the people that mattered to you...were friends.

The power of friendship was the only power that really mattered.

All of this raced through Ironheart’s lightning-fast brain in a mere few seconds, and when he arrived at the stupefying final conclusion, he almost collapsed to the ground in shock. He was wrong. Thinking back on his logic, everything that he had ever said or done or thought, he was wrong. For all of his life, for all of his existence...he was wrong.

He truly was no more than the filth that he had so brutally murdered. They, at least, were blameless, for they hadn’t heard the message of friendship before. But Ironheart had no excuse. He had known it. He had heard Celestia try to teach him it before. And this anguish, this agony of worthlessness, this feeling of hatred at the world and at himself and at Celestia for teaching him it, made him almost snap and lash out at the princesses once more.

But instead, he focused his resolve on getting rid of the influence that had polluted the world more than he had cleaned it. Now he knew that for all of his efforts, for all of his resolve, all of his work and sweat and blood and tears, he was his own enemy after all.

“I should never have existed,” he whispered to himself. It was so quiet, so soft, that the four of them almost couldn’t hear it. He pressed his back firmly against the curved side of the bomb and looked down at his own shadow, standing in front of him, flickering in the fiery light.

Ironheart closed his eyes tightly, and the black insides of his eyelids blocked all of his vision. “I should never have lived...I’ve had enough!” His voice became broken as something lodged in his throat. His shaking hand against his chest almost made the sword’s hilt drop. “Oh, please! Enough! Enough!”

“Ironheart! Stop!” Twilight’s broken voice sounded, across from him. She sounded on the verge of tears. “We love you! D-don’t!”

The last thing Ironheart was aware of was that something had leaked out of his eye and was dripping down his face.

He could cry after all. He had tried to make sure not to before, but apparently, he still could. Even at the end of his life, he was no better off than where he had started. He should have done this a long time ago.

In pain and in shame, in anger and in despair, and in perfect clarity of the truth of all things, Ironheart ignited his sword.

The blade blazed through his body effortlessly. Where everything else had failed, the white sword had no trouble in piercing his invincible frame and splitting his heart straight down the middle. The sword had emerged from his back and had pierced the Manehattan Project, missing the ignition chamber, but destroying the timer on the other side, short-circuiting it temporarily.

Ironheart hadn’t even made a sound. His knees now trembled as nothing supported them, and as his arms drooped down at last from holding the sword hilt, his knees buckled as well. Ironheart dropped to his knees helplessly as the life inside him departed at last, the sword de-ignited as his thumb had relaxed, and Bright Mind, that traitorous old soul, bowed in his own shadow.

Twilight was sure that she had screamed something right then. She was sure that she had screamed “NO!” and lunged forward helplessly, her vision blurring with watering tears. But she hadn’t heard anything. She knew that her lips had moved, but she was unaware that she had actually said anything aloud. As far as she was concerned, nothing had existed at that moment, save for Ironheart’s broken corpse.

And then the tears came, raining harder than ever, coming one after the other and collecting at the point of her chin. Twilight was crying for a murderer, mourning for a killer. Despair overwhelmed her consciousness, and she went to her knees, burying her face in her hooves.

Celestia, Luna, and Cadence had recoiled as the sword had ignited, and were now staring at the metal corpse in abject horror. None of them made a move; what could they do now?

Twilight was weeping. The corpse of Ironheart was lying on his face, his wings spread out to the side and hanging off his shoulders limply. There was no movement, no further stirring. His eyes were tightly shut, closed off from the rest of the world that had hurt him so badly. The world had become so painful and so jolting to his notion of reality that it was painful for him to live in the real world.

Twilight was weeping. The ruins all around her and the crumpled body of the traitorous soul were burning in tiny, flickering sputters of colorful fire. Scars were burnt into the ground from erratic laser blasts, sections of the ground were broken up, and rubble and rocks were strewn about as if it was dumped at random. In the midst of the meaningless destruction was Twilight, bent in grief over the stilled body of the machine.

Twilight was weeping. The noises she made as she cried over the body of the murderer stood out in the spacious lair, with only the small crackling choir of the flames to join her lament. The other princesses said not a word, and had their heads bowed in solemn reverence over the fallen soul. No tears graced their cheeks, but their faces were contorted in pity and melancholy as they remembered who Bright Mind was before, and who he could have become.

Twilight was weeping, and the world around her was silent as she emptied herself. For its silence, however, the world didn’t weep with her. The world didn’t weep for his end. Time still marched on, events far away from Manehattan still plundered on. The world hadn’t stopped and knelt in shock to pay reverence to the fallen soul. It was just Twilight.

Finally, she shakily stood up, and wiped her muzzle with a hoof. “He...he’s gone,” she stammered out. “And he didn’t even see...the truth…” She took several deep breaths. “I failed,” she whispered.

“No, Twilight,” Celestia said, but Twilight wasn’t finished.

“He was right! I couldn’t get him to see the way I did! I...I couldn’t...And I didn’t have the p-p-power to make him change…”

Celestia drew her in closer with a comforting wing. “Ironheart was the one that lost, Twilight, because he didn’t find the power friendship possesses. Ironheart lost because he couldn’t see the power of friendship. Even at the end, he was unrelenting.”

“No…” Twilight repeated, thinking wildly. What if Ironheart had seen the truth, but instead of accepting it, he refused to submit himself to its power? What if he was intimidated by the power of friendship, and had considered suicide to be his only option?

What if, what if, what if. No number of what ifs could change the past.

Beep

The sound drew her head up in surprise. What was that? It sounded a lot like--

Beep

The timer!

“Cadence!” Luna cried, shooting a frightful glance at her. “What happened?”

“Ironheart’s sword must have restarted the countdown!” Cadence guessed.

“Why is it counting down so slowly? Why has it only started now?”

Beep

“The damage from the sword must have damaged the timer’s countdown sequence! It’s going slower than before, but it’s still going!”

“What are we going to do, Celestia?” Luna asked wildly.

Beep

“Contain it!” Celestia cried, igniting her horn in a musical chime. The atomic bomb was enveloped in a glowing yellow aura. “Help me contain the bomb’s power!”

Cadence and Luna ignited their own horns, and the bomb’s aura became a multicolored mix of colorful candy hues.

Beep

“Can this work?” Luna screamed. “Can we contain the power of the bomb?”

“I have tamed the sun!” Celestia said, sweat trickling down the side of her face. “That is several million times worse than this! The bomb is a mere fraction of the power of the sun, sister. I can hold the radiation and the explosion enough, but you must stay with me!”

Beep

The bomb wavered in the auras surrounding it, but otherwise, it was peaceful and still.

Beep. Three.

“Get out of the way, Twilight!” Cadence commanded Twilight, spotting her lying so near Ironheart. “You’ll be caught up in the blast!”

“I need to take his body!” Twilight protested, as she tried to lug the stilled and cold metal corpse along with her.

“There’s no time, Twilight! Save yourself! You won’t do more for him anymore!”

Beep. Two. The princesses were stiff with anticipation. Twilight was unable to lend her magic aid to them, much as she wanted to. She was too injured by Ironheart’s attacks before, and was so weak that she almost couldn’t stand on her own. The adrenaline from the fight before had by now entirely worn off, and every inch of her body was stinging in pain and shouting in protest.

Beep. One. Twilight had managed to drag herself away from the bomb by then, and was watching with tired, sore eyes as the tension mounted to its zenith. She spotted the cold corpse of Ironheart. So near the bomb. So limp. So helpless.

Bright Mind was now nothing. Nothing at all.

Beep

B-B-B-B-BOOM!

The loudest sound Twilight had ever heard in her life erupted so close to her that she almost went deaf, as the still and silently ticking bomb erupted into a bright flash of color. It was so bright, and so loud, that it occupied her entire focus in the world at that moment. Nothing else mattered except for the swirling, billowing, furious light barely contained by the combined princess’s efforts.

Twilight stared into the depths of the bomb, holding a hoof over her eyes, and as she stared, she realized the auras of magic, combined with the luminosity of the atomic bomb and the deep orange color of the fire within…

They were beautiful.

She almost didn’t notice the silhouettes of Cadence, Luna, and Celestia screaming in combined efforts to contain the blast of the bomb. She didn’t notice the darkness that the room was suddenly thrown into. What mattered to her was the lovely colors the bomb made as it was furiously restrained by the magical efforts of the most powerful ponies in Equestria. It was billowing like a flower, pushing against the bubble it was encased in, making the shapes look so mesmerizing. The body of Ironheart, lying so near the bomb before it had erupted, had disappeared in the sudden, furious billowing of flames.

It was hot, so hot, so blisteringly, stuffily hot. Twilight was panting through her mouth as sweat poured down her head like she had climbed out of a pool. The glare from the glorious insides of the bomb made her vision turn fuzzy. Her blood poured out of her open wounds as her blood rate increased, and soon the blood and sweat were intermingling on her legs and face and chest. The salt in her sweat made the wounds sting, but Twilight was past the point of feeling pain.

“We need to disperse it!” Cadence yelled above the noise of the flowering flames in the auras. “We can’t hold it forever!”

“We need to get it into the atmosphere!” Luna cried.

“No!” Celestia screamed, gritting her teeth harder than before. “It will only cause more destruction!”

“We have no other choice!” Luna retorted, being pushed back ever so slightly by the tremendous force she was struggling to get under control. “In the atmosphere, it can dissolve safely!”

A few more frightful, deadening seconds passed as Celestia considered the idea.

“You need to keep your control of it at all times!” Celestia relented at last. “Always keep your hold of the explosion under bay!”

The top of the bubble containing the explosion shifted into an upward spiral, making the bubble look like a strangely-shaped lab beaker. Then the top expanded, and the catastrophic force, suddenly freed, drilled its way through the top of the lair and through hundreds of feet of earth.

The tight pillar of fire shot out of the ground and tore through the asphalt above them. It continued to shoot upward, a dozen times higher than the Chrystaller Building, higher into the cloudy, troubled atmosphere.

If anyone was watching the pillar of flame erupt from the ground like some hellish geyser, they would have recoiled and tilted their heads up to observe the tight pillar shoot into the thick cloud cover above the city. The pillar of flame singed the sides of nearby buildings into dust and shattered stories of glass, making the shards fall to earth like deadly rain. Black scars ran along the entire lengths of nearby skyscrapers, and the earth around the eruption point blew into dust and rubble, eliminating entirely the middle of the intersection that the pillar had come out of.

Eventually, the pillar of flame, wrapped in turquoise, navy blue, and yellow auras, ended erupting from its point of origin and sent itself shooting like some malignant orange cloud into the atmosphere. Because the entire sky was thick with clouds, in, near, and around the island of Manehattan, the entire sky caught aflame and spread its color to the far ends of the clouds, until it seemed like the entire sky was afire, and the atmosphere, from horizon to horizon, was infused with hellish orange light.

And finally, the orange dissipated, slowly, slowly, as the princesses still containing the fire hundreds of feet below let the fire throw itself many more miles upward until, reaching the stratosphere, it finally ebbed, curled, and, unseen by the ponies miles and miles below, finally went out.

Cadence, Luna, and Celestia, dripping sweat, and in Celestia’s case, blood, finally de-ignited their horns and gasped for breath as they crumpled in exhaustion. The sudden rushing of the flame had turned the room unbearably stuffy, and all of the energy stores they had were depleted at last. They all turned their gazes upwards through the hole that had been drilled by the flaming pillar. Through the layers of rock, and through the edge of the crumpling asphalt hundreds of feet above them, they could see the dark skies above them, thick with low, thundrous clouds.

Twilight was sitting on her rump, completely depleted as well, as the magic and flame ceased. The room was abruptly dark and quiet, and it took some time to adjust herself to that.

“Oh...oh, that.”

“That’s all that’s left?”

“The rest of him got caught up in the flame. He was inside the bomb’s blast. We contained the heat outside the radius, but the body...he was still inside the real blast.”

Twilight’s vision had adjusted to the change in lighting by then, and then realized what it was that the other three were talking about.

Lying on the ground, right where Ironheart’s body once was, was a small, shriveled, lumpy thing with wires and tubes sticking into it like it was a potato. It had a long, singed white crack down its smoking middle, almost reaching the bottom tip, and it was glowing red with residual heat.

It took some time to realize that the ugly object Twilight was seeing was his heart.

Spared from the rest of the heat because of its enormous density, his heart was all that was left of his immortal body. Broken permanently down the middle, as before, when Ironheart had been left heartbroken by the world he had been forced to adapt to.

It looked so pitiful. So small. So useless.

Twilight turned away from the broken heart in despair. They had gained the victory at last, but it was bitter, bitter, bitter.

Several minutes later, the princesses had all flown out of the hole they had punched in the bottom of Manehattan and were now in the streets near the Maneway’s waiting white steps. Most of the army that hadn’t been near the blasting pillar was still there. The few patrolling military guards that had been in close proximity to the twisting pillar of flame had been melted into shadow by the blast of the bomb; the auras protecting residual damage had been more focused in Ironheart’s lair than on the surface.

The center of the Maneway was bustling with medical staff and personnel. Wounded guards were on stretchers tinted with dried blood, bodies were hauled away in stained white sheets for identification, and medical staff were treating those with a priority first.

One of those, because of both the embedded glass in her body and her significance to Equestria, was Rainbow Dash. As Twilight came over to her stretcher, she saw Spike and her four other friends gathered in a close-knit knot at a respectful distance; a doctor was working on her wounds.

The smaller glass pieces, as small as a grain of sand, were being lifted out of her wounds with the doctor’s magic. The larger pieces were being left in to prevent blood loss. The sight of her friend’s broken body was hard for Twilight to process after the death of Ironheart, and seeing the dried blood in coagulated rivulets on her face almost made her turn away. But Rainbow Dash turned her head to see her, and she smiled weakly, and Twilight swallowed her fear and disgust and came to her side.

“Hey, Twilight,” Rainbow greeted her weakly. “How...how ya doing?”

“Are you alright?” Twilight asked, limping as she went. She had many long gashes all over her body as well, and she was dripping with sweat and old blood. So though she was asking about the welfare of others, she silently thought it was strangely ironic.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, wincing as a bit more powdered glass was levitated out of a long gash on her leg. “The doc says I should be fine in about three weeks.”

“How bad is it?”

“Well, I broke a few bones here and there, and I need to be treated for infection, and my wing’s in trouble, but it should be back to normal pretty soon.”

“You got shot in the wing, Rainbow!”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing the doctors can’t handle. The bullet didn’t break anything as it went in.” She winced more as the doctor continued his work. “I...I’m okay. Are you?”

Twilight was reflective and silent.

“Hey, Twilight? Are you all right?”

“No, Rainbow. I’m not.”

“Well, why not?”

“I…” Twilight started, then she closed her eyes as tears threatened to leak out for the umpteenth time that day. “I couldn’t...save him…”

“Twilight?” came a voice, and Fluttershy came next to her, laying a hoof on her shoulder. “What is it?”

Twilight looked Fluttershy in the eyes. “Ironheart’s dead,” she got out, and then a tear ran down her bloodied cheek and she could say no more. The other girls nearby heard this declaration and responded with a symphony of gasps and recoils. Little whimpers came out of some of them.

Fluttershy's expression turned to one of distress. “Oh, no! Is it...is it true?”

“It is,” Twilight haltingly confirmed. “He’s gone...he’s dead.”

“You didn’t have to...kill him...did you, Twilight?” Rarity cautiously asked, coming near her.

“No,” Twilight admitted. “He...he did it himself.” She gasped a few more inhales, and added, “I’m not sure which is worse. Taking it into my own hooves...or watching him do it himself.”

“Woulja have done it, Twilight?” Applejack asked.

“We were trying to take him in alive,” Twilight weeped. “I’m not sure!”

And with that last comment, the girls fell into a wordless stupor of grief and loss. It hurt to lose him, terrible though he was. Why did it possibly have to hurt so much? What did he mean to the girls? He had barely come into their lives; only a few short weeks ago, they didn’t know he had even existed. And now, after only a few short days of knowing about the vengeful one, he was gone.

“So…” Rainbow Dash spoke up. A particularly large glass shard was yanked out of her body, and she gasped in pain. “What...now?”

“Well…” Spike started to say, then he looked down at the ground thoughtfully. “We go home?”

“Just like that?”

“Well...I dunno,” Spike admitted. “It depends on how long this is gonna stay in your heads.”

“This isn’t gonna go away anytime soon,” Pinkie said. “Now, every time I’ll be cooking, I’ll be like, “What if I could give this to Ironheart?” And then I’ll be a grumpy-pants for the rest of the day because I’m thinking about him and how he just couldn’t taste anything I could give him.”

“I just want him to be gone from ma mind,” Applejack said.

“Why?” Rarity asked in shock. “How could you possibly be that callous?”

“It ain’t because Ah don’t wanna remember ‘im!” Applejack asserted. “But when he’s gone, then Ah’m not in danger of thinkin’ bout him and depressing maself fer the rest of the day!”

“Oh.” Rarity blinked in surprise. “Oh, you make a good point, actually.”

“Is this it, then?” Fluttershy peeped. “Are we going to go home now?”

“I...I think so, Fluttershy,” Twilight said. “We’re done here.”

“I wish we weren’t,” Rarity admitted. “It all feels so unreal to think that this is going to end now. All we’ve had to go through...I would have thought it would never end.”

Rainbow Dash had been sent on a train ahead to Ponyville as a medical priority, along with other troops which were to be treated in Canterlot. On the next available train, Twilight and her friends had boarded. The doors had been swung shut, the whistle had blown, and the train made its way across the Bronclyn Bridge.

Twilight turned her head around one more time to regard the ruins of Manehattan. Smoke drifted upwards from only a few buildings damaged by residual heat. So many spots now looked so damaged and in disrepair. The docks by the ocean, where Twilight had first met Ironheart. The center of the city didn’t allow for a good view from where Twilight was, but the remnants of the Manehattan Central Bank was still in ruins. The front steps of the city hall were still stained with blood, which Twilight could notice if she squinted hard enough. And in Bridleway, several buildings had partially been collapsed.

Now, the only things that remained of Ironheart was the black book that Twilight kept in a saddlebag, and the ugly little shriveled heart that Princess Celestia now possessed.

“Twilight?” came a familiar voice, and Twilight looked away from the rattling window to see Dr. Brainstem there. His face looked significantly older than it normally did, and there was an alarming look of sickness in his complexion. “Can I sit?”

Twilight patted the seat next to her, and the doctor sat down. “I heard the news,” he said softly.

Twilight didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t know that anything could actually...well...harm him. He seemed so powerful. Untouchable. Free.”

“He wasn’t free,” Twilight croaked. Her voice was deep and hoarse. “He was tormented. He was tormented then, and he was still doing it to himself after he...after he...changed.”

Dr. Brainstem only nodded, looking thoughtful.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered.

“Don’t be.”

“I should be.”

“Why?”

“My best wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t subdue him, and I couldn’t...change him.”

“That’s Ironheart’s fault.”

“I know. But still…”

“It’s terrible, Twilight. I feel terrible about this as well.” Dr. Brainstem looked into his hooves. “I...I keep on thinking, “What could I have done differently to help him when I could?” And I’m wracked with guilt because I’m so, um...conscientious of my former actions that weren’t enough. What if I had tried a little harder? What if I was a little better?”

“Now you have the opportunity. Now you’re appointed to be the leading scientist in Canterlot. Now you can try a little harder. But…” Twilight paused. “But what about me?”

“How you can try a little harder than you thought you were doing?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I’m...not sure. Ironheart...he’s gone now. We can’t do anything more for him. But if you want to know what more you can do for him…” Dr. Brainstem paused. Then he spoke up. “I’d recommend making sure that the ponies you meet don’t turn out to be like him.”

“Only meet ponies that are going to turn out well?”

“No. Make sure that everyone you meet is treated with the sympathy and love they deserve. It saves the world a lot of trouble later on.”

The more Twilight pondered on it, the more she knew Dr. Brainstem was right. If she had adopted the mindset of treating everyone that she met with love, like they were suffering from terrible things, then they would be spared from turning into Ironheart. If she had the power to influence their lives for the better, then she had power over whether they turned into avengers and killers.

The power to love--the power of friendship--was therefore the only power that really mattered. It held power over death and life, over the past and over the future. The way you handled friendship influenced your destiny. What did the power to kill hold in comparison?

Twilight glanced out the window again. The train was rounding a bend, and Twilight had to crane her head to see the weary city of Manehattan. Then the train cars eventually blocked her view, and Manehattan disappeared from sight.

Author's Note

And that is how you give a good end to a story!

Epilogue

Twilight, propping the door open, opened the mail slot and shuffled through the papers until she found it. Gasping aloud, she ran back inside her castle, the other papers trailing halfheartedly behind her. "Spike! Spike, a letter from Dr. Brainstem! He's written a note back to us like he promised he would!"

Spike poked his head out of the kitchen and into the hallway as Twilight ran past. "What did he say he'd write about?"

"About his new job with Princess Celestia back in Canterlot!" Twilight explained as she went. Spike followed her to the throne room with the circular Cutie Map in it. Once there, Twilight sat down in her seat and slit the letter open. "It's been three weeks since we stopped Ironheart. Let's see what it is they've learned about him since then."

And without further preamble, Twilight began to read.

To Princess Twilight Sparkle.

I am glad to be back in touch with you. We've examined what it is we were able to recover from Ironheart's lair thoroughly, but I fear we are nowhere closer than the position we started in. Ironheart's progress in mechanical devices is far beyond anything the rest if Equestria has at present.

Thinking back on it, I should have realized the genius we were budding all those years back when we were all working for Celestia. He certainly earned his name of Bright Mind, I'll give him that. But it was because of our negligence that made him slip into such a terrible mindset in the first place. Had we not protected him and prevented hatred and prejudice from entering the lab in the first place, Bright Mind would have turned out to be a very different pony. But, what's done is done, and now that Ironheart is no more, I fear that no more answers can be divulged in the past. The problem now is moving forward.

To the best of my knowledge, I am the last living pony to have worked on Project 24. Coupled with my reluctance to repeat the projects we did before, and the absence of the blueprints in Ironheart's lair, I think that Project 24 will not be reactivated. Equestria is simply not ready for such weapons of ease. To be honest, I'm happy to put this behind me. At the moment, we're trying to go on the molecular scale and see how atoms work. Like I said before, I got my degree in anatomy, not chemistry, so I'm the manager instead. And this time, I will not be another Count Privilege. If anypony at all has problems they want to talk to me about, they need to feel safe in coming to me, because I care about them and I want them to realize that as well.

As for the rest of Bright Mind...you can keep the book you mentioned in your last letter. Revere it in a special spot in your library. The world must not be purged of Ironheart's thoughts, for those thoughts he has lie in all of us sooner or later; only his actions must be condemned. Refer to it often to remind yourself of what you should not become, but keep it away from public eyes. That book is a special book, regardless of how sickeningly twisted it might be. There is no other like it in all of Equestria, and I would like you to keep it in your possession. Out of all the ponies in the land, you are the one most qualified to treasure it and keep it intact.

And as for the one remaining part of Ironheart that was recovered, I believe that Celestia has managed to do a good job in isolating it.

Keep in touch. I will always respond happily and dearly.

Dr. Phineas Brainstem

"So...what now, Twilight?" Spike asked of her when she was done. "Its all over now. Rainbow Dash is almost done recovering in the hospital, Dr. Brainstem is in charge in Canterlot now, and you've locked away the, uh...the scary book in a place where it'll never do any harm again. What'll you do now?"

"Go on with my life, I guess. Write to the princesses. Play with my friends. Learn new lessons about friendship." Twilight's eyes shifted away from looking at Spike. "But it'll never be over, Spike." Twilight had changed her mood from excited to glum. "It will never be over for me. I'll always remember Ironheart." She sighed and circled a hoof on the table in front of her. "It's impossible for me to forget him now."

"I bet I can think of something to help you forget him for the moment."

"Really, Spike?" Twilight was curious now. "What is it?"

"You want to go get some lunch with Rarity?" Spike suggested. "I was looking forward to going alone, you know, but...you can come along if you want."

Twilight put on a relaxing smile. Spike was right. She could remove her thoughts of him by filling her mind with light. And friendship, above all else, was light. "Thank you, Spike. I'll gladly come."

The power of friendship really was the only power that really mattered.

And with that thought, Twilight, and Spike, with light in their minds, sat up and left the castle throne room to revel in the love of their friends. Another adventure was at last behind them, and another adventure, smaller but better for them, lay ahead of them for that afternoon.

The small wooden containment crate was labeled STORAGE #1653890 DO NOT OPEN. Inside the crate was placed the pitiful, shriveled heart that nothing could penetrate except the sword once wielded by its late owner. It was cool and quiet by now, and the long crack running down the length of it made sure of its unmovableness forevermore. The heart was black, and the crack was black as well, but the inside of it was the color of ash.

The crate had been sealed, nailed down, and taped on every side. Just in case. Once it was ready to go, the old, wizened pony loaded it onto his dolly and pushed it down the long, cool corridor.

This deep underneath Canterlot, it was ideal for long-term storage. Ancient pipelines and boxy air vents ran above his head as he went deeper into the vast storage space.

It had to be his luck to have to be in charge of sorting this mess. The order was confusing to him, and he was at the end of his energy already. He almost marched away in a huff, but he knew that wouldn't accomplish anything.

There were so many boxes in the storage area that he was all but clambering all over them as he patiently pushed the dolly towards his destination.

Ten minutes later, the box was loaded in its rightful place, and the old, stooping pony could breathe normally again. The shelf it was on was high up, and it had taken considerable effort to load it.

He was just pushing himself away when he heard it.

Confused, he stuck a hoof, numb with frigid cold, into his ear and wiggled it around. Dang, he thought. I need to get my ears checked.

He could have sworn he had heard a very faint thumping sound.

He patiently listened for it again. What could that have been?

The cold bit at his nose, and he sniffed. It was cold down there, underneath layers and layers of rock. He wondered what it was with the darned atmosphere down there.

He tried to listen for the faint thumping sound again, but he heard nothing.

Then he heard it.

Ka-thump ssssssssshhhhhhhhh klug

And a blast of warm air hit the top of his head, and all the cold and fear surrounding him instantly went away. He blew a breath of relief.

It was just the heater vent.

Author's Note

THE END

Directed by BradyBunch

Written by BradyBunch

Produced by BradyBunch

Screenplay by BradyBunch

Edited by BradyBunch

Casting by BradyBunch

Based on an original story by BradyBunch

Adapted to screen by BradyBunch

Creative consultant: BradyBunch

2nd unit director: BradyBunch

Lighting team: BradyBunch

Score arrangement: BradyBunch

Catering by BradyBunch

Props by BradyBunch

Snacks donated by BradyBunch

Temperature management by BradyBunch

Best Boy: BradyBunch. I am the bestest boy ever.

Proofread by BradyBunch

Starring Twilight Sparkle

Rainbow Dash

Pinkie Pie

Rarity

Applejack

Fluttershy

Spike the Dragon

Also starring Count Privilege

Dr. Brainstem

Amadeus the Terrible

And a special appearance by Ironheart

Special thanks to BradyBunch, for without him, nothing at all could be accomplished.

Also special thanks to you, Soulja Boy.

Oh yeah, and more thanks to my loyal readers. You exist. I almost forgot about you people.

Hasbro presents a BradyBunch production

The Pony of Vengeance

The Author's Note on The Pony Of Vengeance

When I first started writing The Pony Of Vengeance, I intended for it to be the most violent, longest-running, and most rewarding detective-and-criminal fanfic on the Internet, filled with deep investigations, hardened criminals, twisting cases, arms shipments, suspicious glances, furious accusations, stuttering denials, scowls, grunts of consternation, violent interrogations, corrupt politicians, and saloons of hard cider. It would be about the hard-boiled Case File, the bumbling Dr. Brainstem, and the doggedly resolute Mane Six making their way through a labyrinth of political corruption, leading all the way to the kingpin of crime, Ironheart, with a troubled past catching up to him at last.

I failed in every conceivable way.

In a way, that's discouraging, but also, in a way, that's simply a way of saying that you just don't know how a finished product will turn out. It started out with my intent for it to be a mystery story, but it actually warped into something akin to a comic book--complete with onomatopoeia and weirdly overpowered action scenes.

I was intending on giving Dr. Brainstem and Case File a larger part of the story, but of course, that didn't happen. I wanted to give the mystery a bigger part of the story's focus in the beginning, but it would have only been filler, and nobody wants filler.

I also wanted to further develop other antagonistic and neutral characters like Kevin the griffon, Amadeus, the police commissioner, and Flitter Gust. But those characters are really just extras. And I think it's a good thing that I didn't give more time to them. The focus of the story needed to be elsewhere.

The main focus of the story is on an argument between morality. Ironheart is on one side, the Mane Six is on the other, and the fate of millions lies in the balance. A fairly reasonable and compelling plot. But there's much, much more beneath the surface.

It's a discussion of evil. Evil is the main part of this work of fiction. But this is not a novel that glorifies evil or chooses to enact evil. This is a work of fiction that denounces evil by talking about what forms it takes, why people want to believe it, and what people believe as a result of accepting evil thoughts. This is intended to show the people that have this problem in real life a better option than the cold, villian-like mindset Ironheart possesses.

My depiction of evil does not mean I advocate it. Let me repeat this; The depiction of evil does not neccesarily advocate it.

Although, even though I was raised a devout Christian, I once believed Ironheart's actions were justified.

When I was younger and more impassioned, trapped inside elementary school, I looked around me at all of my rude schoolmates and at all of the teachers that were doing absolutely normal things to them that were shocking to me--callous swearing, physical harm, and ignoring the people that needed help. They were absorbed in technology to the point where they became idiots, and they were more often then not lazy. Because I tried not to be like them, I became isolated very, very quickly.

Years passed. I was in middle school now. I liked to say that the sheer stupidity of people there stank like a dead fish. People got angry at me more often, and I often suffered verbal abuse--though not to the point of me developing depression. Looking around me, I felt pathetic. I felt weak and unqualified to stay in their good graces. I wanted to become something stronger.

And that's when the idea of Ironheart popped into my head.

I wanted to be a machine that could sprout futuristic weapons from Star Wars from his arms at will and fire them at anyone that annoyed me or hurt me. It wouldn't matter that they would retaliate back, because I was simply much more stronger than them. It was a childish dream, in a childlike mindset, but it's never left me.

I could go on and on about how I fleshed out Ironheart, so to speak, into a better character than The Terminator mixed with Durge. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to talk about the story itself.

The story is entirely about Ironheart. Not the Mane Six. Ironheart. Why? Because that's where the struggle is at. That's where the evil is. That's where we want to focus.

Where else would we find evil? In Count Privilege? I dealt with him cheaply. All I did was say he was a corrupt douchebag, and I made him do douchebaggy things whenever he appeared, and you booed and hissed whenever he was present.

Amadeus, False Felony, Kevin, and all the rest of the absolutely unindividualized criminals in Manehattan are not where evil is, either. Those people are simply trying the best they can to survive in a harsh and unforgiving world.

And even with Rainbow Dash, she saw the light eventually and decided to abandon her thoughts before they could take deep root inside of her. So even with the "good guys," evil is not dealt with.

Where, then, is evil dealt with well, effectively, completely? Why, in the main character, Ironheart. He is the centerpiece of both the story and the conflict--and is, in a sense, the protagonist of the story. Isn't it Ironheart who struggles the most with his basic instincts to hate others because they do bad things? Isn't it Ironheart who we want to have overcome the challenges in the story? Isn't it Ironheart who at last succumbs to the power of his own desires to harm others? Isn't it Ironheart who we weep for when he rejects the Mane Six's invitation to join them, and again when he finally kills himself and detonates the Manehattan Project?

It is because of this that Ironheart is the only real, well-developed original character in the story. Ironheart is the only one you're going to remember from all this. So I hope you do remember him. I put a lot of effort into him. I've had him with me for a while now, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to share him with you. This was my opportunity to share him with you, and if you forget him only a few weeks after you read it, then I have failed as a writer.

There's also a lot more beneath the surface as well. Did you notice that not all of your questions were answered by this? You still don't know how Ironheart manages to sprout guns at will from his arms. You still don't know how the temperature drops whenever he's around. You still don't know how the beating of his heart grows louder and louder in some parts, but he manages to mute it in others.

Why, then, didn't I answer that? Because sometimes it's best to leave things in mystery. Sometimes part of the fun of reading is wondering, "How did he do that?" How did Ironheart know where the Mane Six were in time for him to suddenly appear in Cold-Blooded Killer? Did it matter? Do I need to explain each and every single action the characters do? No. No, I don't have to talk about exactly how everything works. It can make rereading the story a more rewarding experience.

I suppose we can say that the Dark Knight trilogy is remarkably similar to this story--going along with the fact that this turned out to be a comic book story. Figures in shadows, what the city needs but not what it deserves, extreme violence, yadda yadda yadda. But a difference is that in those Batman films, they explain too much on how everything works. Maybe it's time to have a little bit of mystery again in how the heroes and villains work.

It's good to have an element of mystery and power in the story that you don't feel the need to explain to the audience. You wouldn't care if I were to scientifically explain how Ironheart can summon weapons at will. Oh, uh, molecules, electricity, pseudo-science bullcrap--you don't care anyways!

In the story itself, there are plenty of motifs you could be interested in pointing out. Hearts. Shadows. Darkness. Cake. One of those doesn't go as well as the other, but they're all worth talking about.

Our brains contain our emotion, but our hearts define who we are. Some hearts are strong and unstoppable. Some disintegrate and fall apart. Some are loud. Some are soft. And there are some who have no heart at all. Heartless beings who spread their ruthlessness across the face of the earth. They are unguided beings who don't know who they are. In words that are not my own, those people go about, "Umbilical in his hand, looking for an outlet to plug himself in." Those poor souls are young, undeveloped, and unremarkable. If you possess a heart, however, you have hope. You have life.

I used shadows a lot, almost like how a cinematographer uses them for dramatic purposes. There's a purpose in shadow. The shadows help us to find ourselves by showing us the outline of what we could have been. We must not step into our own shadow, but, as writers, we must always learn from them. I have never murdered another person, but I must understand the motives and emotions that could drive a person to take the life of another, in order to construct a realistic picture of the world I want to draw you into. We must study evil to see how it works, and learn its methods, in order to further recognize it and avoid it.

Darkness is comforting, and darkness is recognizable once you are in it. I personally am more familiar with my own forms of darkness than I would like to be. Everyone is most comfortable with their own forms of darkness, the kinds of darkness that lie within your heart, no matter who you are on the planet. As writers, it is our jobs to show that darkness the best way we can in order to make the rest of the world understand it better. Writing that shows no darkness or conflict as a result of that darkness is useless and has no place for us. It is comfortable to be in darkness, but that is what the darkness wants you to believe. The darkness wants to draw you in by appearing to be more appetizing than the harsh light of the sun. But in the light, you are awake and alert because of the harsh reality of light.

What is the harsh reality of light? It is that there is darkness, in the form of the shadow behind your back. The harsh reality of light is that there is always darkness there, and that it will never leave you. However, it can also never harm you. Once you understand this, you will understand comfort, and you will be better off then than if you remain in darkness surrounded by evil, without the knowledge that it cannot harm you.

So how can that be morally applied to you?

Step into the light.

And finally, we come to the ubiquitous motif that pops up as much as any other--cake.

Hoo boy, I wasn't expecting this one when I first started writing.

Pinkie Pie and her obsessive hobby of bringing up cakes started in only the second chapter. When Celestia first tore apart the cake to demonstrate the power of guns, I included Pinkie Pie's mournful response only as a way to show her character the way she would have normally reacted in the show. From there, and aided by the comments, cake slowly became more involved in the story. It showed up in places where I wasn't planning on having it before. Besides the Ironheart moments, cake is one of the most recognizable elements of the story. I am still unsure as to why I included cake as much as I did, but even then, the cake moments lead to one specific part of the story where it actually becomes important.

You remember this moment, right? It's when Pinkie Pie gives a cupcake to Ironheart in Step Into The Light. Ironheart, however, doesn't recognize the taste of sweetness. He has been away from good things for so long that when he is exposed to it, it's foreign and alien to him.

This, above all other cake moments, is the only one that really matters. What is the takeaway? Do not become unfamiliar to the promptings of goodness when it really matters. Ironheart was spiritually dulled to the sensitivity of the good things in life because he had spent so much of his time in darkness that he didn't know anything else.

But apart from my attempts to connect a gospel principle to dessert pastries, I have little more to say on this, other than I am still shocked by the amount of attention this received. Apparently, vigilantism and violence sells really well. Hey, if the Punisher could do it, why can't I?

What do I personally think of it? I think it turned out great, but I definitely could have done a lot better, as well. Some parts were a little awkward, and some parts were fairly predictable, and I could have used an editor to help clean up my prose. It was all over the place. One style of writing out thoughts shifts to another in an instant. Not everyone will like this story when they come across it. But that's also good. Any idiot can go through life without offending anybody. And the fact that you retain your love for this in spite of its flaws, grammatical or story wise, only cements the fact that I did something so good you can overlook the errors of human nature.

See, when you first get into reading fanfiction, you start with the low-quality stuff, with bad grammar and weak plots. Then, you get into stories with more compelling plots and OCs. After you read a particularly good one, and you return to the first one you've ever read, you say, "Look at this! This is awful!" By the time you get to the end, you're either raving in madness or you're slamming your head into the keyboard and ritually immolating your computer.

But this doesn't mean the stories have gotten worse; you as a reader have simply gotten better. And the fact that you trusted my skills enough to stick with me means the world to my appreciation of myself.

What was my favorite part? Well, there are many of those. I am especially proud of the beginning chapter that was able to hook and snag so many people. I also really like the chapters Cold-Blooded Killer, An Abused Privilege, Step Into The Light, Catastrophic Warfare, and The Only Power That Really Matters, in addition to the chapters when the girls are reading out of the lab book.

What did I learn from this? Mostly, that you people associate Ironheart with songs by Disturbed. Honestly, I wasn't aware that that band existed, and it certainly wasn't used for motivation. I can understand why you thought I would, though, and thanks to you, now I know the band better. I mostly used inspiration from orchestral songs, from artists like Two Steps From Hell, Cody Still, and Epikus.

Should I choose to de-ponify this story, would it do well? Yes, I think so. But it's done here now. There won't be a sequel to this. I mean, how would the sequel work? What would be in it? It's best to just leave it how it is.

What to do from here now? I have no idea. But I'll think of something. Don't worry.

You've come this far. You made it past everything I gave you to think about. All I can say to that is...I'm glad you came.

I dedicate this story to you, with all my love, for taking the time to walk this journey with me and for caring enough in it to finish it. To all of you that cared for me enough to love this journey. You made this happen. You gave me the power to continue and the resolve to type crude letters into words powerful enough to influence character and send tears swimming in your eyes. At the time of writing this, I am small, untouched and untainted by the real world. I am not a professional writer by any means, but the way you supported me made me feel like I was.

Even now, I have no idea how it was I managed to finish this. I already attributed it to you, but I think sheer dumb luck played a big part of it. Divine inspiration played another small part, here and there, and another part of it was just me ignoring my schedule to give this out. Mostly, though, it was you.

Thank you, farewell, and remember always the hero's way.

Author's Note

And so, my child, it has now come at last to close the storybook. There are other times and other tales, but this tale is finished.

The Night Terror

His name was Devon. He was a tall, beige-colored griffon with black hair and a sour temperament. Since his childbirth, he and his family were poor and had gotten by mostly on relief funds and begging for money. Griffonstone was, after all, a place of depravity and poor economic conditions, wallowing in poverty and old hay.

Devon had gotten into debt early on in his life. To help pay off the debts, and to try and get out of Griffonstone, Devon found himself involved in petty crime- swiping a wallet here and there, extortion, and he had once knifed another griffon for twenty gold bits. Over the years he had eventually moved to Manehatten and begun a new life there. He rose through the ranks of criminals to become a minor leader in a weapons business.

He was now overseeing seven of his under-associates loading in several crates into a dim, cobwebby old warehouse on 5th and Hay street owned by one of his crime bosses. Looking at his fellow griffons straining under their loads and stacking them in the warehouse, he reflected on the circumstances that led him into such a situation.

It was Griffonstone's fault. It was so deep in debt that there was no way for Devon to live there comfortably. Here in Manehatten, he was free and had money. The method of income was...dubious, yes, but it was what he had to do in order to live. And sometimes he wasn't even aware of what his higher ups were telling him. There were some operations where the cargo was labelled TOP SECRET DO NOT OPEN. He was innately curious about it, but he decided to restrain his curiosity and not peek inside. That information was for him to find out later.

Two of his fellow griffons were carrying a massive wooden storage crate into its designated space.

"Whew!" one of them exclaimed as they set it down. "That one was real heavy. They oughta pay us more for that hard labor we do all the time."

"What the Tartarus was even in that thing?" the other one asked. "It felt like I was carrying all of bleedin' Canterlot in that thing. Whadda ya say, want to find out-"

"No," the other one refused. "The boss is only payin' us to load the crate, not find out what's in it. We don't want to make him angry, you know. The last time you tried to, Glenn, you almost got a knife in your eye."

"But Gilbert-"

"No buts. Don't peek."

Glenn looked at Gilbert strangely, then sighed and went back to work. He trudged over to the cart of crates a pony had brought in anonymously and picked up a lighter, but larger box. "You know, Gilbert, I can't help but think there's more to all this than they're telling us. They barely tell us anything about all these weapon shipments they keep on making us do."

"Well, in order to commit felons, you need weapons, don't you?"

"I know that- everyone knows that. But for the amount of weapon boxes we've had to ship in the last month, you'd think we would launch an all-out war against Equestria. What's with that?"

"Are you so sure that what you've been shipping is actually weapons?" Gilbert asked. "They could be putting other materials in the boxes and mislabeling them on purpose, you know."

Glenn pondered that. "You're right..." he said after a while. He looked at the box he was setting down. "Why don't we find out?" he suggested.

"It's your own head you're risking, Glenn." another griffon said, overhearing the conversation.

"I don't need you to comment on that, Maurice!" Glenn spat.

Thump thump

"He's right," Gilbert said to him. "Keep your head down and don't question the higher-ups that can have you drowned in the harbor with a twitch of a finger."

Glenn gave a withering glare at them behind their back.

Devon watched all of this with satisfaction. His compatriots weren't just hard workers, they kept themselves in check- and prevented others from stepping out of their spots. Essential elements in good underworkers. You worked hard to get where you were in the criminal underworld.

Devon was not ambitious, nor was he cunning or deceiving. All he wanted was enough money to live comfortably. It was the spot he was in now, and he liked it.

Thump thump

He paused. What was that sound? It was faint, but it seemed to resonate throughout his entire being for some reason. He looked around for a second, watching for an intruder to come in, an accident about to happen-

Then he realized. It was just the beating of his own heart. Devon put his hand to his chest and felt the steady, regular beat of it under his flesh. The heart, an unstoppable organ, the definition of life, the thing your body depended on so much but never failed at. Steady, steady beats. Steady...he felt its beat, counted its motions, its rhythm. Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump, th-

Thump thump

And his own heart seemed to skip a little. That, right there, wasn't his heartbeat. It was something else. He looked around. Did someone turn on a machine or something? It sounded like it came from the catacombs of the warehouse, deep inside, deep inside...

Devon twiddled his thumbs nervously. It was nothing to be feared. They were safe. No pony knew this place was being used, and no griffon would sabotage their job. It was being commissioned by the boss, after all, and no one dared cross the boss. It was just the heating system finally kicking in.

Thump thump

And yet he felt cold, so cold, so bitterly frozen. It came all at once. One instant it was room temperature in the warehouse, the next, it seemed to drop twenty degrees. Devon shivered. It was probably his imagination. He was paranoid. He was just getting nervous because he was a criminal, after all, because what if Manehatten police found out he was transporting weapons to his higher-ups, what if they found out about his past activities of robbery and petty murder?

But it didn't explain the cold, the permeating cold that infested inside him that surrounded him, seemed to choke the air out of him in bursts of frozen exhales. He looked around once more, his teeth chattering like loaded dice. There was still nothing there. Nothing to be afraid of. Why should he be afraid of the cold? It was just a feeling, a temperature...

Thump thump

And then a loud bang.

Devon whirled around to the source of the noise, startled inexplicably. Glenn had dropped a crate on the concrete floor and the box had spilled its contents. Devon cursed under his breath. Not only had he startled him, the contents of the box had attracted attention. The secret contents. A few objects scattered across the ground along with the hay it was being packaged in.

"What in Equestria is that?" Maurice said in surprise. He picked one of the objects off the ground.

Gilbert tilted his head to the side. "It looks like..." He trailed off. "...I don't even know what that looks like."

It looked like a thick black metal capital L that was squared off. It looked innocent enough, but like a weapon of some sort. At the junction of the two sides was a trigger, and the inside of it from the long end was hollow. It was a curious device indeed, and the griffons were fascinated.

"Get away from that!" Devon snarled, and pushed aside the griffons beside him. "That's top secret information! You aren't supposed to know about..." His eyes fell to the strange device. "...whatever that is." He snatched it out of the hands of Maurice and eyed it strangely. The purpose of it eluded him.

Thump thump

In the dim yellow light of the warehouse they were in, Devon examined it. It felt heavy, but easy to point. The trigger meant that it was a release to fire a projectile. That much Devon knew about weapons. He tried to look for the place where the crossbow bolt would be, but there wasn't any. The device was too small to accomodate that anyway. But if it wasn't a long-range weapon, what was it? A club? He tried holding the object from the long end and found that it was too short to be used as an effective club.

Devon looked at the ground near the toppled box and found even more of the strange devices. Capital black Ls, scattered across the ground, like a toddler spilling his learning letters. There were four small wooden boxes next to them, as well. Only one of them had opened. In the boxes were hundreds of oblong brass objects flat at one end and pointed on the other. They were quite small, and were rather pitiful to look at.

"Are those badges?" one of the griffons asked. He went forward to try and examine them.

"Get back!" another scowled at him, and grabbed his arm before he could do anything. "I don't know what those are! There's a reason why this is all secret, you know!"

Thump thump

"Guys?" one of the eight griffons asked. "M-maybe we should put those back. I don't want the boss to get mad at us."

"What the boss doesn't know won't hurt him," another griffon snapped. "If you're so much of a pansy that you can't even handle this, maybe you should just get out of here!"

"Is it just me, or did it get really cold in here all of a sudden?"

"It's not just you. I feel it too."

Devon tried to put the object down, but found that he couldn't. The object was so intriguing that no matter how much he tried to just lay it down and pack up the spilled weapons, he just couldn't. It was too peculiar.

Thump thump

"Does anyone else hear that?" another griffon asked.

"Hear what?"

"Listen!"

Everyone fell silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the faint winds howling outside like forlorn wolves and the hum of the yellow, aging light bulbs above them. A few of them flickered.

Then they heard it.

Thump thump

"What is that?" one of them asked.

"It's just the heating kicking in. About time, too. I'm feeling more numb than a dentist's patient."

"Or what if it's something else?"

"You and your supernatural crap. Just shut up and get back to work," Devon snarled. He looked at the strange device held in his hand again. It seemed to radiate something...dark. A dark promise, the promise of death to all it came in contact with. The metal felt a lot colder in his palm that had nothing to do with the rapidly falling temperature.

"Uh, guys?" one of the griffons asked, the one who had talked about "something else". The temperature continued to drop. "I don't think it's the heating system."

Thump thump

"Well then, why don't you have an idea of what it is, then?" a female griffon snarled at him. "If it's not the heating, then what is it?"

KABOOM

All the griffons almost jumped out of their skins. They had all turned themselves to the source of the noise and noticed that the massive double doors to the warehouse had mysteriously closed all by themselves with a fast swing and a loud echo. They were now alone in the warehouse. The yellowing, ancient lights began to flicker and sputter slightly.

The eight griffons surrounded themselves together in a circle. Devon noticed his hands were slippery with sweat, despite the bitter, bitter cold that nipped at him everywhere. Devon swallowed and said, "Someone go check the doors and get 'em open now!"

The female spread her wings and flew over to the doors and yanked on them. Then yanked again. No luck. They were locked inside. She tried one last time before she flew back. "We're alone in here," she reported gravely.

Thump thump

Everyone flinched. "What was that?" another griffon asked, shaking from the cold and from nervousness.

"It sounded closer that time," another griffon observed, nervously pulling out a small knife. He held it in front of him, the blade trembling.

"It sounds like a heartbeat," Glenn said out loud. "But it can't be a heartbeat, it can't be, no heartbeat is that loud..."

They clustered in closer in a circle surrounding the fallen box of mysterious weapons. All of them were pulling out crossbows from off their back, drawing short blades, picking up blunt instruments. Devon held the mysterious black metal L. It shook slightly.

Thump thump

A pause.

Thump thump

Another pause. The griffons were getting scared. The bulbs above them flickered and sparkled even more.

Thump thump

And all of a sudden the lights went out like the snap of a finger. Someone screamed and fired their crossbow randomly in the oppressive darkness, prompting a barrage of twangs as even more crossbows were fired in response.

And then, as sudden as it had gone out, the lights came back on again.

The griffons looked breathless, panting desperately, looking around in fear. Arrows littered the ground. Devon looked around, checking to see if anyone was hurt. Nobody was.

But one of them was missing.

Devon's breath caught in his throat. Where had he gone? "Paul?" Devon asked, looking around the large space they were in. Paul, wherever he was, gave no response.

"Where'd he go?" Glenn asked apprehensively, darting his eyes to every corner of the room.

Thump thump

One of the griffons was hyperventilating. In between breaths, he gasped, "We...we're going to...to die!"

"No one is dying on my watch," Devon said sharply. But he knew it was a promise he couldn't hold to permanently.

Thump thump

The sound seemed to come from directly in front of him. Gulping, he raised the weapon in the direction of the thumping sound. It was a heartbeat, the heartbeat of some evil abomination of nature, perhaps.

"Everyone, hold hands," a griffon suggested. "That way, if one of us disappears, we'll be able to tell." All the griffons tentatively held hands then.

Thump thump

And all of a sudden, the lights went out again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Hold on to her!"

"I can't! She just vanished!"

"Where is she?"

"Victoria! Victoria!"

And suddenly the lights came back on again. Victoria was missing. The griffons were shaking, both from the bitter, bitter cold and the fear struck deep into their hearts by the faceless terror out there.

Devon glared at the two griffons that had been holding to Victoria. "What happened, you dolts? Why didn't you hold on to her?"

"S-sir," one of them shakily stammered, "She- she just slipped out of our grasp, sir. One minute we were holding on to her, and the next, it was like she disappeared!"

Devon fixed him a withering scowl. "Disappeared?"

"Vanished, sir."

Thump thump

The lights were flickering in varying degrees of yellowish light. The chains they were attached to begun to swing subtly. Back and forth, back and forth they went, causing shadows to stretch, then come back, stretch and come back, like they were reaching for something just beyond their range.

"Face each other!" Gilbert yelled. "That way we can tell by sight who disappears!"

The griffons in a circle then turned to face each other. They saw immediately that it was a good idea. Not only could everyone see each other clearly, they could also see past each other to look for any threats. Everyone tried to get their breathing under control. They leveled their crossbows so they could fire past each other's faces.

"Keep your eyes open!" Maurice said pointlessly. He was shivering, but not entirely from the awful, awful cold.

Thump thump

The room seemed to blink. The lights went out, just for an instant, a moment, a second. But it was all that was needed.

Maurice was gone.

Someone screamed. Devon held the strange L even tighter, so hard he was afraid he would break it. There were no targets.

"Where are you?" Gilbert screamed. "Where are you?" Devon wasn't sure who he was talking about, Maurice or the evil spirit haunting them. Nathan screamed one more time, "Where are you?"

And there was a thud. An impact as something heavy fell to the floor.

The griffons- the five griffons left- faced where the noise came from. It was in between an alley of crates directly across from where they were. But there was nothing. Nothing there.

Thump thump

The lights went out again and in between the alley, where nothing was before, a pair of hot red eyes burned, searing the image into their heads for all eternity. Red, fiery eyes that radiated the promise of doom.

The griffons all fired their crossbows at the figure, but he blinked and disappeared. The griffons all turned wildly, but he was nowhere to be found.

There was a swishing noise as something was fired through the air at them. Gilbert stiffened, then slowly keeled over on the ground. The back of him was riddled with strange long objects that shimmered as he fell face down, the life bleeding out of him through the impacts. Blood oozed out of his wounds, the long metal objects embedded deep into his back.

They were feathers. Metallic, sharpened feathers.

The four remaining started to turn around wildly, hoping to catch some glimpse of their attacker, but they could see nothing, only a flash of darkness as whoever it was flew in the rafters high above them. They all fired their crossbows at the figure sprinting through the rafters above, but the arrows sailed through the dark, hitting nothing.

Suddenly a loud staccato reverberated throughout the room, at the speed of a snare drum, but as loud as thunder. A yellow burst of light shone in the oppressive darkness, and another griffon suddenly spurted blood from his body out of dozens of wounds that suddenly appeared all over him. He stumbled backwards as the wounds appeared, then collapsed onto the ground in a pool of blood.

Glenn screamed in horror and ran to the griffon's side while the last remaining griffon and Devon fired their crossbows at the light's origin. But there was nothing there.

Glenn held the griffon's body, shaking as he felt the dead weight in his hands. Glenn was on the verge of tears. "How?" he whispered. "How did he do this? Why?"

Devon had no answer.

The last remaining griffon was circling about wildly, his face plastered with one of panic. The strange thumping sound had stopped. There was an eerie silence present in the spacious warehouse, broken only by the wails of Glenn over his dead compatriot.

BOOM

And suddenly there was an explosion, a hard sound that rocked the ground beneath them, a flash of orange color near the one unnamed griffon that he was caught up in. He disappeared in the blooming flame, then came running out, engulfed in fire. Glenn and Devon had been thrown back by the force of it and had hit the ground with a hard thud. Devon struggled up weakly in time to see the burning, screaming griffon stumble away.

And then there was a bang, and he spurted blood from his front, and the screaming stopped. The burning, bleeding griffon fell down onto the cold concrete floor and moved no more. As he fell, Glenn and Devon could see who had killed him, standing behind him.

He was silhouetted against the tall forest of fire behind him, his image distorted by the heat waves emanating off of the fire. They could see nothing of his dark figure, other than that he was a pony who was standing upright, pointing something at the burning corpse. Glenn and Devon felt like they were in a nightmare, a terrible nightmare where all of your friends died and this was Tartarus, a special kind of Tartarus.

Glenn screamed in fear as the upright pony looked at him with baleful eyes and pointed his hoof at him. He tried to scramble away from him, but the nightmare simply aimed at him and a loud bang filled the air, loud as thunder. Glenn stumbled, bleeding from a wound in his thigh. He gripped it and more blood spurted out, crying aloud in pain.

Two more bangs ripped through the air, and two more wounds appeared in Glenn's back and shoulder. He fell to the ground, and one more deafening bang echoed in the vast warehouse. A hole appeared in the back of his head, and he went still.

Devon felt like he was going to throw up. His shaking fingers clutched the handle of the black capital L, wondering why he hadn't fired it before. He drew it up so it was pointing it at the head of the deathly pony, and pulled the trigger with all of his strength.

Click

The sound made his insides drop. Of course. Nopony ships loaded weapons. The device was empty. Devon had forgotten to load it.

The pony stood there for a second as if he was amused. Devon hurriedly threw the device away to the side and exclaimed, "I surrender! I surrender, d'you hear?"

For a while, there was only the sound of the crackling, snapping flames. The pony was motionless.

Then a soft voice came through, barely distinguishable over the snapping, angry fire.

"Don't you understand?" the voice spoke so calmly, so quietly, so slowly. "I'm not accepting surrenders. A surrender is the mark of a weak being." He slowly walked to the side, still silhouetted by the fire. "You are a criminal. A liar, a murderer, a creature of vileness and filth. I can't allow you to exist in a world where you can cause more damage to the innocent. You've abused the privilege to live."

And he pointed his hoof at Devon. Devon was paralyzed by fear. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything except pray in his head for mercy.

"And when privileges are abused..." The voice was so calm, so soft, so quiet, "...They get taken away."

A bang.

The pain was unbearable, the pain was like a fire burning in his insides as a wound opened in his gut. As he bled his life out and his eyesight failed him, all he could see was the orange blur of the flame. And all he could hear was the beat of his failing heart.

Thump thump

Thump...

Who Could It Be?

The night was still, except for the burning shipyards in the distance, giving a harsh light to the blinking city. Everypony who was out and awake was looking at the inferno at the shipyards. Nopony was looking up at the sky, where a silhouette flew on metal wings, high above the heavy cloud cover. After a few minutes of flight, he spotted his destination: a small, grimy street bar where Client 24 normally met with a corrupt, greedy politician.

The Night Terror landed on the roof of the building, folding up his metal wings as he landed with a thud. He quickly went to the back of an air conditioning vent on the top, where a trench coat, four leather gloves, a bandanna, a pair of sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat were stashed.

The Night Terror quickly slipped himself into the trench coat, put on the gloves, and tied the bandanna around his face. He put the sunglasses on and fit the hat on his head snugly. He would undoubtedly meet with Amadeus tonight.

The Night Terror sighed. He had let them get away! He would have finally had them if he wasn't interrupted. And by Princess Twilight, too? Unbelievable. When they had appeared, he had frozen up. He needed to talk with them soon about who he really was.

But first, he had a few criminals to talk to. He could see them right now, running at full gallop towards the bar. He opened up a hatch in the ceiling and disappeared.

Client 24, Count Privilege, Amadeus, and False Felony were all in the same room in the back of the regular bar. The meeting of villains in the rather small room was crowded. The fan above them spun slowly, hypnotizing whoever tried to keep track of one of the fan blades. Amadeus and False Felony were shaking.

"Why did you barge in on us like this?" Count Privilege demanded of them. "I was about to get one of the barmaids to stay with me for the night, but then you showed up."

Amadeus shivered. "Did you not hear the explosions? The Night Terror struck again two hours ago!"

Client 24 made a small growl. "Those were my weapons that got destroyed. Tell me why you weren't able to secure them."

"Ser," False Felony spat at him, "The bleedin' idiot jumped out of the boat the guns was on! We tried to fire yer rockets at 'im, but it did nothing to the pony! He attacked us-"

"I am aware of the facts," Client 24 cut him off coldly. "I'm waiting to hear why your failure wasn't your fault."

Amadeus said nothing at first, then sighed in resignation. "It probably was our fault for not stopping him," Amadeus grumbled, the vertical scar on his neck and head rippling. "But that doesn't mean he didn't have some surprises of his own!"

"I agree." Client 24 stood up. "This Night Terror has been far more troublesome than I thought. It's been difficult for us to gain any sort of leverage."

"Begging your pardon, ser," False Felony told him, "but I think we might have some sort of advantage already. When the Night Terror attacked us, we noticed some things about 'im that might be a little bit of a dead giveaway. The bloody nightmare had red eyes! As red as blood, I tell ya! And he had this real soft voice, too. Kinda like it was sayin' nice an' reassuring things to us. But- git this." False Felony leaned in closer, and Client 24 could see his dirty, ragged teeth. He recoiled slightly. "E's a phony!" he whispered.

The Night Terror lifted his eyebrows under the sunglasses obscuring his eyes. "Explain," he growled sinisterly.

"He had metal wings," Amadeus told him in his deep, powerful voice. "If there was any advantages he had, he needed to make them himself. He was too weak to face us without advantages he needed to create for himself." He laughed slightly.

The Night Terror made a slight movement- a retracting of his hoof into his coat, for just an instant. Then it passed without anyone noticing. "Was there anything else?" he snarled.

"We even have an idea of who the fool migh' be," False Felony grinned. "We though' about it long an' hard on the way 'ere."

The Night Terror laid one hoof in his lap, the perfect position for him to take the lightning sword off of his flank in an instant. "And just who do you think it could be?" he asked, moving his hoof towards his flank ever so slowly beneath the views of the corrupt Count and the two criminals.

False Felony leaned his head in even closer. In perfect range of the sword.

"It's Case File," he whispered.

The Night Terror's movement stopped, and he tilted his head to the side. "Case File?" Client 24 asked, slightly startled. "The head of Forensics? The pony actively working to catch the Night Terror?"

"That's exactly the cover he'd want to put up," Amadeus pointed out. "What better way to allay suspicion than to work to catch the monster, when you are the monster itself?"

I'd agree with that, Client 24 thought to himself. That's exactly what I'm doing to these poor souls right now.

"I mean, think about it," False Felony said. "Both 'ave got red eyes, don't they? And they both 'ate scum like us. Case File's killed criminals before, hadn' 'e?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Count Privilege interrupted. "So he's killed ponies before. So what? I myself have sent police into spots where they were killed because they got me money for it. I have no problem with killing ponies that don't matter."

If we're playing by those rules, dear Senator, then I ought to have killed you a long time ago, Client 24 thought bitterly, and his hoof drifted towards his flank once more. Because I control you, whether you realize it or not. And I have the control over whether you live or die. I have the only power that really matters- the power to destroy and kill. I could kill you right here, right now. I could lash out, in an instant, and rip that head off your filthy shoulders. You are nothing to me. Right now the only thing keeping you alive is because I want to see you suffer. I want to see you hit rock bottom, I want to see your life totally destroyed. Your money, gone. Your influence, destroyed. Your public image, soiled. Your wife, divorced. And then, once all of that, is gone, once your life is ruined, when you come crawling to me, begging for help, then and only then will I kill you. But slowly, so slowly.

"But not everypony has that mindset," Amadeus pointed out. "For some reason, most of these ponies are overly peaceable. The Night Terror has to be somepony that has the willingness to commit murder and hates the bottom feeders like us. Case File fulfills both those requirements--and also the case of red eyes. How many ponies do you know that have red eyes? It's a rarity."

"Shouldn't you make sure Case File really is the Night Terror before you do anything?" Client 24 asked. "What if he's innocent?"

"Why should that matter?" False Felony asked with a fiendish grin.

Client 24 looked at him with a stare of shock. "You don't care about if he's innocent or not?"

"Why should that matter?" False Felony asked again, keeping his sickening grin. "We're criminals, ain't we? We ain't breakin' any rules by killing innocents along with the guilty. It's just another pony dying."

The room seemed to drop a few degrees as the Night Terror stared at him under his sunglasses and scowled at him under his black bandanna.

"Think of it this way, Client," the Count said to him condescendingly. "If he's the Night Terror, your problems will be over. And if he's not, well..." He shrugged. "Case File won't be a problem in tracking normal crimes. Either way, we'll win."

Client 24 sat down again and circled his hoof on the table. "I don't like killing ponies of no worth to me. Case File... he hasn't done anything to warrant being killed."

"Are you turning soft on us, Client?" Count Privilege told him sweetly. "Are you suddenly squeamish when it comes to killing?"

Client 24 made a small growl. "Only when the killing's unnecessary. And if he is the Night Terror, what's to stop him from killing you when you try to take him out? He's killed much more ponies before. Who's to say he won't destroy you?"

"He's called the Night Terror for a reason," Amadeus told Client 24. "He only is a danger at night. If we attack Case File in broad daylight, he'll never see it coming. Tomorrow, he'll be at his job, examining the damage he left last night when he attacked us. We'll just take him out then."

The Night Terror was silent.

"You know, you don't have to do it," Amadeus continued.

"I'll go and round up some of your thugs," Count Privilege told Amadeus. "I'll make it known that there's a five thousand bit reward for the pony or griffon that kills Case File."

"Begging your pardon, Count," Amadeus told him with a drop of malice, "but the ponies I command are mine. I will tell them and assemble them."

"And I control you. You are forgetting who really has the power," Count Privilege told him. "I am the pony that allows you to continue in the ways you're doing now scot-free. Same goes for you, Client," he said, addressing the Night Terror in the seat. "I hold you in my hoof like a vise grip. I control your income. I control whether I sell you to the police or not. You are powerless to stop me."

"I think not," the Night Terror disagreed. "The only power that really matters is the power to hurt others, because then you control life and death. Not principles or money or other ponies. Life and death. The most powerful one here," he said, looking around the small room, "is the one with the most control to hurt others."

"Then that is me," the Count said to all of them. "I control all of you. With just a few words, I can send you all to prison, or the electric chair. And you have nothing to stop me with, and no desire to, because I also support you all. I can see you all are mad about that, but I don't really care. What are you going to do? I have the power to make all of your lives miserable, and you do not. But I promise you, that once I'm mayor of Manehatten, you will all be offered the highest protection I can offer and you can be free to rule the streets the way you want."

Amadeus laughed. "Well done, Senator," he said to him. "Spoken like a true politician."

"Spoken like a true villain," Client 24 whispered.

"But I render unto Caesar what is Caesar's," Count Privilege said, standing up. "Talk to some of your ponies and make it clear that Case File is no longer necessary for the city to function properly. He will die, along with the Night Terror. He can't hide forever. We will find him, even if it takes us our entire lives."

Oh, Senator, the Night Terror thought. I hope you do find me. Because when you do, I will be ready for you. He grew a smile under his bandanna. When you do find me, I'm going to kill you.

Twilight and her friends did not want to revisit the docks again.

The beautiful, calm day did not go well with the scenes of destruction on the docks. It was coated with wreckage and remnants of fire everywhere. Forensics teams were searching all over the place taking evidence and jotting down notes. Police teams were still holding the area secure and away from any passerby. Where journalists could interview ponies, they did so relentlessly.

The presence of Case File was intimidating and cold. His scarlet eyes sagged down with lack of sleep. His five-o-clock shadow stubble seemed ragged and unshaven. He barked orders to others in a cold, firm voice that was impossible to back down from. He looked irritable and mad, and wasn't comfortable for Twilight to talk to.

"How could one pony have done all this?" Rarity asked him.

"He's got the resources," Case File responded softly. "The money to buy the weapons to wreak havoc on the city. Whoever this Night Terror is, he's rich. Very rich." He looked at his watch briefly, then put his head down tiredly.

Rarity and Rainbow Dash looked at each other upon hearing his voice. It reminded them of another, even more sinister voice they had heard the night before.

"Case File!" came the educated voice of Dr. Brainstem. The scientist came running up to him, mopping his head. "Sir, we found something of interest I think you should see."

Case File lifted an eyebrow. "It had better be important," he told him. "I need some good news right about now. The search has gone almost nowhere. He leaves no trace of who he is! No DNA samples or ripped clothes or hoofprints of any kind! I stayed up until four in the morning last night trying to sort through the wreckage he left!"

Twilight and Applejack exchanged wary glances at the news. Applejack looked doubtful.

"Well, sir, I have something I think you missed." Dr. Brainstem drew out something for the girls and Case File to see. It was a small piece of square metal with a few words carved on it. It was about as big as a sheet of paper, wrinkled and crumpled a little.

Case File leaned his head in closer. "What is- " he started, then bulged his eyes and snatched the metal out of Dr. Brainstem's light green magic aura. "Where did you get this?" he demanded, running his eyes up and down the piece of metal.

"Near one of the fallen cranes," Dr. Brainstem responded. "It looked discarded on purpose. The message it has reinforces that theory."

Twilight looked over Case File's shoulder, but Case File turned away. He seemed to be trembling, though whether it was in fear or rage, Twilight could not tell.

"Case File?" Twilight asked him in concern. "Are you okay?"

Case File thrust the offending piece of rubbish at Twilight. "Read it," he told her, his voice lower than anything she had ever heard out of him. "Read it and see for yourself what he's doing. He's taunting us!"

Twilight held the sheet of metal in her aura and read what it said. Immediately a chill ran through her.

I CANNOT DIE

I AM IMMORTAL

I AM IRONHEART

I WILL RISE

I WILL EXACT VENGEANCE

AND EVERY TRAITOROUS SOUL SHALL BOW IN MY SHADOW

Fluttershy let out a squeak and hid behind Pinkie Pie. Applejack slowly took her hat off of her head and held it to her chest, staring at the sheet of metal and the words inscribed there. Rainbow was silent, and so was Rarity, who slowly reached out and touched the metal, shivering at the touch. Twilight just whispered, "Ironheart..."

"The Night Terror's telling us who he is," Case File told them in rage. "He's mocking us."

"Ironheart?" Pinkie asked. "His heart must be reeeeeeaaaaly heavy. I wonder if he has a brother called Cakeheart? That'd be sweet!" She seemed undisturbed by the haunting message he had left.

"Ironheart's the Night Terror?" Spike asked. "Well, that's good news. We can just look in the census and find this Ironheart ourselves."

"Good idea, Spike," Case File told the dragon. "But he's not stupid enough to reveal his name to us while we're looking for him." He sighed and looked at the dragon. "You know superhero comics? The Power Ponies?"

"Yeah!" Spike cried.

"They need a superhero name to protect their secret identity. That, I think, is what this Ironheart is." Case File looked sure of himself.

"Hold up," Applejack said to him, coming closer. "You mean ta tell us that the Night Terror's some kinda superhero?"

"That may be how Ironheart perceives himself as," Case File explained. "Maybe he sees himself as a savior of the city. Think about it, Twilight. It's only been criminals that he's killed, criminals that he went after. According to you, when you showed up at the docks last night to confront him, he had every opportunity to shoot you. But instead, he tried to get away, and even when you restrained him, he didn't aim to kill you. He must therefore think you're innocent, and not worthy of being killed."

"How do you know so much about the Night Terror?" Rainbow Dash demanded of him, flapping in the air above everyone else.

"I only try to deduce his methods, his motives. That's all we can learn about him, because there isn't any other hard evidence to link us to the real killer."

" 'Twi?" Applejack whispered to Twilight. "Would ya mind comin' with us fer jus' a sec? We got sumthin' we need ta discuss."

Twilight coughed and gave Case File a toothy grin. "Would you mind excusing me for a minute?"

"That's fine, Twilight. Take all the time that you need," Case File told her. He looked once more at the message scratched into the crumpled sheet of dark grey metal, studying it intently.

Twilight backed away from Case File slowly, her friends guiding her around so she was turning around facing away from Case File. "Where are we going?" she whispered to Applejack.

"Jus' come with us," she whispered back.

Once they were some distance away from both Dr. Brainstem and Case File, Twilight said, "Okay, what is it you wanted to talk with me about?"

"It's about Case File," Rainbow told her. "Have you noticed anything... strange about him?"

"Yes," Twilight admitted. "And I really don't like to think about this, but there have been thoughts that maybe-- just maybe-- he might actually be the Night Terror." She looked at all her friends. "Is that what you wanted to talk with me about?"

"Yes, Twilight," Applejack told her. "We've had the same suspicions. Looking at Case File and the Night Terror, they share many similar characteristics." She started to pound the ground with a hoof, emphasizing each point. "They bear a similar taste for violence, they have either soft voices or harsh ones, and they both have red eyes."

"Just because somepony has red eyes, it doesn't mean they're the Night Terror," Fluttershy pointed out.

"Who else do we know that does?" Rainbow told her.

"Well, let's think over what we know about the Night Terror-- Ironheart," Twilight said in a scholarly tone. "The requirements he needs to meet. He needs to be somepony that doesn't want to hurt us, but only wants to hurt criminals. He needs to have access to metallic wings and guns. He needs to be somepony who knows the pony that stole Bright Mind's weapons."

"Case File knew Dr. Brainstem," Pinkie pointed out.

Twilight swiveled her head to look at Pinkie. "You do know what you're suggesting, Pinkie? That Dr. Brainstem was the one that stole Bright Mind's weapons?"

"Ah wouldn't rule it out," Applejack put in. "Think 'bout it. Dr. Brainstem was mad at the ponies that stole the credit fer Bright Mind's invention. And he moved to Manehatten after the weapons were found stolen. Maybe he stole the remnants of Bright Mind's work so the other ponies wouldn't get their hooves on it and patent it as theirs when it was Bright Mind's."

Twilight hadn't thought about that. "You make a good point," she told her. "But if he was the one that stole the weapons... and if we assume Case File's the Night Terror... then that means Case File and Dr. Brainstem are working in cahoots!" She started to pace. "It makes sense," she murmured. "Dr. Brainstem could be the one supplying Case File with the weapons to crack down on criminals. If Case File hurts the criminal population, he looks good at his job. Both benefit!"

"I doubt it," Fluttershy said. "Dr. Brainstem doesn't look like the kind of pony that runs a black market."

"That's exactly the kind of cover somepony supplying weapons wants to look like!" Rainbow pointed out.

"Speculation!" Rarity tapped the scorched earth. "We can't rely on these kinds of theories on their own. We need proof!"

"There isn't any," Rainbow told her bluntly. "Proof is a luxury I don't think we can afford. We need to be prepared to act."

"Act?" Twilight said mildly.

"Twilight, if those two-- " She indicated the scientist and the detective fifty feet away, " --really are the ponies causing terror in Manehatten, we gotta bring them in for questioning."

"And if they're innocent?"

"Then they're free to go, after they tell us everything they know." There was a dangerous glint in Rainbow's eye. "I would totally do it now, even if the rest of you say no. Lives are at stake here, Twilight! We need to do what's right!"

"Arresting somepony just because of a doubt is right?" Rarity asked incredulously.

"It's better than risking the lives of thousands of others!" Rainbow retaliated. "Look at the city, Twilight. Look behind me. It's in trouble! I can't just scrabble around in these places where Ironheart's already attacked and-and do nothing! We need to take the next step here!"

"I know you're concerned, Rainbow. I want to take the next step too. But arresting them without any proof to back it up... it doesn't seem right." Twilight avoided looking at Rainbow while she spoke.

"Well, what would you do?" Rainbow told her indignantly. "If the safety of the city depended on taking Case File and Dr. Brainstem into custody, would you do it? Or would you doom the city for their sakes?"

Twilight looked at the ground. "I... don't know anymore. The line between right and wrong's just so blurred right now. I would do anything to save the lives of others, but if the law's in the way..." Her voice was distressed.

"Let's take a vote, Twilight. Case File, even if he's not Ironheart, is still highly suspect. I say we question him. Who's with me?"

Rainbow, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy raised their hooves slowly, with Fluttershy mumbling, "As long as we don't hurt him..." as she slowly raised her hoof. After a moment of thought Rarity also raised her hoof.

Twilight looked at all of her friends. "Are you sure you are all willing to go through with this?"

"More than anythin', Twi," Applejack told her firmly. "We ain't progressing just staying where we are now. We gotta make absolutely sure that Case File and Dr. Brainstem ain't tryin' ta destroy the city behind our backs. How else we gon' do it?"

Twilight did not have an answer for her. She resignedly put her head down. "All right." She turned around determinedly. "Let's do it."

They walked back to the two suspects, doubt present in everyone's head. Once they were in front of them, Case File smiled brightly. "Well, did you figure anything out?" he asked them, scratching his stubble.

"A few things," Rainbow said, flapping in front of him. "We've learned that you can't be trusted anymore!"

Case File recoiled and his smile disappeared. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Don't 'excuse me' me!" she told him. She then blinked. "Wait, wait. 'Excuse me' me? Is that right?"

"I think so," Pinkie offered.

She cleared her throat. "Anyway, don't talk back!" she told him, returning to her stern ways. "Tell me, Ironheart," she said, putting heavy emphasis on the name, "Are you the terrorist?"

"What are you talking about?" Dr. Brainstem said, evidently confused. "Case File's not Ironheart."

"Don't think you're off free either, mister," Rainbow snarled at him. "You're highly suspect as well. We want some answers out of the both of you!"

"Calm down, Rainbow," Twilight told her hastily. "You're coming on too hard." She then came up next to Rainbow. "But Rainbow's right. The two of you..." She gulped. "can't be trusted."

Case File and Dr. Brainstem looked at each other fearfully. Dr. Brainstem looked back at Twilight first. "Tell me your suspicions, Twilight. Case File and I will answer them the best we can. I have nothing to hide. If you choose to question me, I will gladly allow you to. I have nothing I need to cover up."

Applejack looked at him for a second, looking into his emerald eyes with her own green eyes. After about five seconds she sighed and turned to Twilight. "Ah think he's tellin' the truth, Twi," she told her. "He ain't got nuthin' ta hide from us."

"And what about you, huh?" Rainbow asked belligerently, looking Case File in the face. "Tell us. Now. Are you the Night Terror, or are you not?"

Case File opened his mouth to speak.

BLAM!

Case File suddenly stumbled to the side, a wide-open hole in his side. He screamed and clutched the wound.

"Case File!" Twilight screamed, rushing to his side. All around them, ponies ceased their activities and either stared at the bleeding detective or ran away, screaming in fright.

Twilight cradled Case File, putting a hoof over the wound in his side to staunch the bleeding. Her friends gathered in a circle around him to watch what had happened.

Case File looked up at her, his wavering eyes as red as the blood pouring out of him. He raised a hoof up to Twilight's face. "Twilight..." he whispered.

"Case... look, we'll get you out of here alive. We'll get you to a hospital, okay? We'll- "

BLAM!

Another hole opened up in his forehead, and the light in his eyes died along with Case File.

Twilight screamed and dropped the body, her hooves stained with Case File's blood. They all looked around wildly. Entering the crime scene, whooping and yelling war cheers, were twenty sloppily dressed, tough-looking ponies. The cops guarding the scene were lying facedown in their own blood. One of them was a griffon holding a long metal pipe with a wooden butt and a cylindrical sight on it. He was pointing that weapon straight at Case File's inert corpse, but he lowered it upon seeing the Mane Six.

"Well, well," he snarled, licking his lips. "Looks like the Elements Of Harmony came to Manehatten."

Twilight charged her horn, preparing to fight.

"What do you think, boys?" he continued. "Should we kill 'em too? Or should we get ourselves some baggage?"

"You want a piece of this?" Rainbow asked, getting into a fighting position. "Come and get it!"

"You heard her!" he called to the ponies behind him. "Get them!" He fired a shot as the ponies charged.

Twilight immediately put up a shield of magic, and the bullet absorbed into the pink shield like it had shot into water. Rainbow flew at the sharpshooter, drawing back a hoof, ready to strike. As she got close, he swung the butt of his gun at Rainbow, and it connected with her forehead with a sharp crack. She was thrown back several feet and landed on her side. She did not move.

Twilight dropped the shield, letting out an anguished cry. And then she saw burlap as a bag was thrown over her head from behind. She struggled and kicked, but there came a sharp blow to the side of her head, and she went limp.

The same thing happened to the rest of Twilight's friends all around her. It took a bit more for some to subdue, but eventually, they were all unconscious and had burlap sacks over their heads.

"All right. Get 'em out of here and get 'em back to the sub-basements. Amadeus'll be happy to see them." The griffon licked his lips, smiling at his cargo.

Catastrophic Warfare, Part 1

“Make way! Make way for the princesses!”

The command came from Captain Shining Armor, who was standing next to his wife, Princess Cadence. As the chariot pulled by willing pegasi guards landed in the street in front of the Maneway’s white pillars, the crowd of Royal Guard encircling the landing zone stepped back a respectful distance.

The chariot doors opened from the back, and out stepped a gold-shod shoe in a tall white hoof. The rest of the form of Princess Celestia followed the hoof, and when she was fully outside she slowly inflated herself with a breath of cool, crisp air. The morning was cool but overcast by heavy clouds, a result of the pegasi weather teams making the skies unsuitable for flight.

“At ease,” Princess Celestia said to the stiff guards in her motherly voice. She stepped aside to allow Princess Luna to follow her. Her own dark blue shoe made a clopping noise on the pavement where she came out, and three more noises followed as the rest of her hooves hit the ground. Princess Luna spread her wings stiffly, shuffled them, and sighed deeply. “Were it not for the matter at hoof, sister, I would thoroughly enjoy this particular outing.”

“Oh, how I wish that it could be different,” Celestia gravely replied. She turned her attention to Shining Armor. “What’s the situation, Captain?”

“Most of the citizens have evacuated the city,” Shining Armor reported. “Those that haven’t are being herded to the southern corner of the island. The perimeter of the island is secure, and we’ve been acting as sentry duty until you’ve arrived. There’s been no sign of Ironheart yet.”

“What do you know about Ironheart, Captain?” Princess Luna inquired of him.

“Not much,” Shining Armor admitted, taking off his helmet and rubbing the inside of it.

“Hasn’t Twilight told you about him?” Celestia said in confusion. “I would have thought she would have told you everything.”

“I’ve been busy,” Shining Armor admitted. “I haven’t seen my sister much except for yesterday. She’s with her friends helping the remaining civilians get to a safe place at the southern tip of the island.”

“I will go and speak with her,” Celestia said. “Princess Luna, you’re in charge of the Royal Guard. Move out and sweep the city for Ironheart. Should you encounter him…” Celestia took a deep breath. “Do not engage. Pin him down and wait for me to arrive.”

And Celestia spread her wings and took to the skies in a graceful upward arc.

As she departed into the air, one of the pegasi that had pulled her chariot whispered to the other, “Why are we needed, again?”

“I don’t know! But I really need this job!” the other whispered back.

Luna’s commanding tone snapped them back to life.

“Gentlecolts,” she started, addressing the entire assembly of Royal Guards. They all stiffened in their golden gleaming armor. “Let us begin our jobs. Captain!”

“Yes, Princess Luna?” Shining Armor asked of her.

“I want to split these forces into three equal parts and put one part each at the southern end, the northern end, and the western end of Manehattan. Under no circumstances must we allow Ironheart to escape to the mainland. Push his location westward to the ocean shore. Once thou art in thy positions at the north, south, and west ends, I want thee to sweep out and search the city. Every building, every street, every corner. We-I-I mean, I--shall be with the southern end of the city, assisting the guards there. Cadence, thou shalt be at the northern end. And Shining Armor, thou shalt assist thy own guards at the eastern end. Divide thyself into three, then, and to thy positions!”

Luna turned to look down the nearest street, as though Ironheart was already there. Her face was expressionless and grim.

“War has come to Manehattan.”

The Chrystaller building, topped with a massive, gleaming horse’s head, was so high up that nopony could observe the movements going on higher up near the brow of the bowing horse head.

Ironheart had counted on that.

He had seen Princess Celestia fly by without noticing him. It astounded him that she hadn’t perceived his presence there, and he hadn’t opened fire on her then. It wasn’t the time or place he wanted. He had his own place he wanted to fight. Not just because it was stupid to reveal his location now, but because he also wanted to prove that he was equal to all of the armies they could throw at him.

Peeking out from over the top of the head, he could see the entirety of Manehattan in all of its glory. It looked like a little toy map that was printed on a cheap carpet. His attention was focused on the events folding out near the Maneway, near the Bronclyn Bridge leading into Manehattan. There was quite the assembly of pale white, speckled with gold here and there that got into his eyes.

“The Royal Guard,” he murmured. “Let me face the battle without fear. And without regret.”

He turned his gaze inward to observe all of the security cameras and all the screens in Manehattan. He swept his eyes along the bees-view of thousands of cameras all over the city until he found the cameras he wanted. He selected four of them, and they occupied his view.

Princess Luna was there giving the orders. Luna, more aggressive and less of a tactician than Celestia was. But listening to the plan Luna was giving, he smiled. It was a good plan, actually.

Perfect.

He stood up, atop the horse head’s scalp, and stooped his knees. He then extended them to launch himself off the head on the eastern side, hidden from the eyes of the Guard and the princesses that were undoubtedly with them. His wings folded themselves around him like a cocoon as he went down, spinning like a bullet from a rifle.

The ground rushed at him faster. And faster. The world spun in Ironheart’s vision.

And only a hundred feet before he hit the ground, Ironheart stiffened his curving wings and ignited thrusters enough to make him “bounce” in the air in the shape of a wide downward arc. He landed atop the nearest available rooftop and folded his wings into his back.

Ironheart only gave a passing glance at the faint armies of Canterlot assembled near the eastern end of the island.

In a few short hours, they would meet. He could wait for them for now. He was a patient pony. He was content to let the battle commence whenever he willed it to.

That was how a great pony made war.

“I fear nothing now,” he murmured under his breath. “Fear belongs to those that cannot control themselves.”

He then seemed to speak to the far-off troops about to enter and sweep the city for him. Even though neither party could see the other, Ironheart delivered his address to them and the princesses commanding them.

“Control your fears, then, my enemies, and pluck up your courage. Fear not the anger of your superiors for disobedience, for they are mere mortals like yourself.

“Fear not the wrath of your false gods, for they are false, and can do nothing to you.

“Fear not the sting of death that seeks you even now, for it is swift, and unprejudiced, and comes for everything in the end.

“Fear not the jaws of Tartarus that gape open to receive the filth that you are, for there is something much worse than that awful hell that waits for you.

“No…”

Ironheart’s mind solidified its purpose, and he dilated his eyes until they almost radiated sickness and suffering to anyone close by. An aura of pure menace surrounded him, so tangible it was almost like a toxic smell to anyone unlucky enough to be near him. Death filled his mind like a lustful image.

“Fear me instead.”

Celestia’s roamings through the buildings of southeastern Manehattan took a while. As she passed buildings, tall and silent, she was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

What would have been different had she acted sooner? What could she have done? Would she have stopped Ironheart at all? It was hard to say. The what if questions didn’t matter, because the words if only were lies. If was a lie because she didn’t know that her actions would have contributed to Ironheart’s plans coming about sooner. And she also didn’t know that if she had stopped him, that would have been the end of it, making only a lie as well.

She eventually had made her way to the Manehattan Institute of Technology’s front gardens. The air was familiar and carried with it the scent of her student. She had been around Twilight for so long now that she recognized where she was based on intuitive presence alone. Guessing where she might be, she made her way into the spacious building’s hallways after a short climb up the steps and a push of the doors.

She found Princess Twilight, Spike, and the rest of her friends guiding a small family to a large lab on the third floor, where hundreds of others already were. As soon as Twilight closed the door to the lab and turned around to freeze in the presence of Princess Celestia, Celestia smiled reassuringly at her to let her know that everything was all right.

“Ce-Celestia! Y-you’re here!” Twilight said, and the rest of her friends let loose smiles at last. “How was your journey?”

“Quite manageable, Twilight,” Celestia said equably. “How goes your efforts here?”

“Not all that well,” Twilight admitted after a short pause. “There are some people that just won’t leave their homes to come here and stay out of the way. I feel...I feel sad for them. I want them to all be safe, but they just choose not to, even when we see the danger that they can’t.”

Celestia noticed that Twilight’s face was drooping and tired. She looked anguished when she worded the sentence the way she did.

“Is there something you would like to tell me, Twilight?” Celestia asked as a result.

Twilight fidgeted.

“No need to feel uncomfortable, Twilight. I understand--”

“I couldn’t save him!” Twilight exclaimed all of a sudden. “I tried to make him see that friendship was magic, but he didn’t see! He...he couldn’t…”

“Ironheart?” Celestia guessed.

Twilight nodded without saying anything to her. Making up for her silence, Fluttershy came forth to speak next. “Um...Princess Celestia?”

“Yes, Fluttershy?” Celestia asked of her.

“There’s, um, something we forgot to tell you about Ironheart,” she admitted. “Ironheart, well...well, he, um…”

“He’s a machine!” Rainbow Dash cried, interrupting Fluttershy. She was flapping in the air. “He’s an indestructible machine! You’ve got, like, no chance of beating him!”

“I was aware of the fact that Ironheart is a machine,” Celestia said, and her charming voice calmed down the rainbow-maned mare to where she slowly fell back to earth. “I read the Manehattan newspapers. They told me of Ironheart and his mechanical body, and also of his ruthless nature.” Her face then became expressionless. “But tell me, Twilight. Why are you so insistent on converting him to the light?”

“Because--” Twilight started, then she faltered. She looked from side to side, then she whispered, “Because he deserves it.”

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked, somewhat confused.

“Ironheart...well…” Twilight started, then she begun to explain what exactly had happened since the time she had first came to Manehattan. From the time they first met Dr. Brainstem and Case File to where they had been abducted by Amadeus the griffon into the Ultraground, and from the time they found out that Ironheart was a machine all the way to the time they found out his true identity at last. The explanation had cleared up who had stolen the guns from the ruined laboratory in Canterlot, who had killed ponies and griffons in the middle of the night, and what had happened to Bright Mind.

“So…” Celestia breathed. “Bright Mind has been doing it all along...as a result of his mistreatment and his neglect when he was made out of flesh.”

“Absolutely,” Twilight affirmed. “He’s done everything so far in the sake of proving to everyone else that we, as a species...are a dark and fallen race.”

Celestia walked over to Twilight, and the sound of her golden shoes echoed throughout the spacious halls of the institute. “He is almost right,” Celestia said. “We are predisposed to do evil. We are predisposed to harm and to hurt something unfamiliar to us. But,” she said, noticing the confused looks that crossed the girl’s faces, “This does not mean that we are a fallen people. We do terrible things, yes, but we are not fallen because we do our best to rise above that. We recognize that we do terrible things that just come naturally to us, and when we recognize that, it spurs us to do better. To rise above the hatred and fear that naturally becomes us, and for us to do our best to our fellow ponies. To struggle through opposition; to move against your natural state...that is strength. And this means that, as a species, we are strong.” She offered her most warming smile at all six of the girls and Spike. “And you six, because of the hardships and trials you have forced yourself through, are the strongest ponies I know.”

Twilight gave a wavering smile as she wiped away an involuntary tear from the corner of her eye. “Thank you, Celestia,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Hey, um...Celestia?” Rainbow Dash asked timidly. She came forward in front of the rest of the girls. “I just wanted to let you know...I once began to think like Ironheart did. I began to think that the only way to keep Equestria safe was to rid it of every troublemaker there. I sympathized with him. I thought he was a pony I should follow.” Her voice got more and more tremulous as she continued to speak, and at the zenith of her sentence, her voice broke entirely. “I don’t want you to be angry at me! I don’t want you to think I’m a bad pon--”

Celestia cut her off by drawing her in closer with a chime of her white horn and draping her arms around her in a motherly fashion. Rainbow Dash’s sentence ended right there, and after a moment of reluctance, she grumbled something, closed her eyes, and hugged Celestia fiercely back. A tear forced itself from the edge of her eye and ran down her cheek in a tiny rivulet.

“You are of great worth to me, Rainbow Dash,” Celestia whispered to him. “You are worth as much as Bright Mind was to me. I still love him, but he must be put away for good. You are stronger than the rest of your friends in that regard, because you were the only one really tempted by Ironheart’s motives and methods, and you resisted anyway.”

“So...we’re good?” Rainbow Dash asked her after taking a ragged breath. From behind her, the sound of a door opening on its hinges made a creaking song in the empty hallway.

“Yes, Rainbow. We are good.” Celestia let her go. “All is forgiven for yourself. Go, and never adopt his ways again.”

The sound of a falling clipboard accompanied her letting go, and the girls all turned to see who it was. Dr. Brainstem was standing there, shell-shocked and still. His white coat was ragged and rumpled, and his green bow tie hung at an awkward angle. His glasses were askew.

“Why, it’s you,” Celestia said warmly with a smile. “Dr. Brainstem, I believe?”

“Uh…” The doctor blinked behind his tilted glasses before adjusting them and straightening his bow tie. “Um, yes! Yes, it-it’s me, Celestia! I, um...I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I have come to put an end to Ironheart,” Celestia said to him. She addressed him by turning her body to face him, with the accompanying clopping of hooves. “You were a friend of Bright Mind’s, were you not?”

“I...suppose so, your Majesty,” Bright Mind said uncertainly. “Though I don’t know if Bright Mind was a friend of mine. I don’t entirely believe that he knew what friendship was. And he still doesn’t.”

“You were a smart pony,” Celestia observed. “Why did you resign from the project after the lab was destroyed?”

Dr. Brainstem looked nervous, but he curled his lip. “I was so angry with the others for celebrating the death of Bright Mind,” he said with a newfound resolve. “I hated them, and I decided not to affiliate myself with them at all anymore.”

“I missed having you,” Celestia said to him. “You had spirit and a willingness to work hard. Would you like to come back with me as Royal Head Scientist once this is all over?”

“Would I?” he exclaimed. He straightened the rest of his outfit. “O-of course I would! I wouldn’t like anything more! With Count Privilege out of the way, and without us making deadly weapons, I’d love to come back to Canterlot with you!”

A swirl of green suddenly appeared in front of her, and a letter materialized out of thin air. Celestia snatched it before it could hit the floor, and she unraveled it and begun to read. Her purple eyes scanned the paper from side to side, and they bulged once she was done.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked, peeking over Celestia’s shoulder. “What’s happening?”

“Ironheart’s been located.”

The girls gasped.

Celestia was now grave and resolute. “Twilight, come with me. The rest of you--” She pointed at Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash, “--must stay here.”

“What?” Rainbow Dash demanded. “But we wanna fight Ironheart too!”

“I know you do,” Celestia cooed. “But this is a military affair. I cannot risk the lives of civilians in the midst of a battle.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, yer Majesty,” Applejack said solidly, a look of irritation on her face. “But we’re the Elements of Harmony. We may be civilians, but we know that we oughta do somethin’ ta help.”

“And it’s because you’re the Elements of Harmony that makes it all the more necessary for you to stay out of harm’s way. What if Ironheart were to open fire on you? What if you accidentally got hit? What if you got caught in the crossfire? If even only one of you were to perish here and now, then not only would Equestria lose the Elements of Harmony, but the rest of you would be devastated by the loss of your friends. I cannot risk any civilian casualties, even you, when we are going up against a force like Ironheart.”

Applejack still looked irritated, but, seeing the truth in her reasoning, said no more. The rest of the girls and Dr. Brainstem looked doubtful as well, but they said no more arguments to the resolute Celestia.

“Now, Twilight.” Celestia and her student turned away from her friends, with Twilight looking back over her shoulder at her friends. They all looked disheartened by her departure, and Pinkie, Rarity, and Fluttershy had their hooves up in a gesture of farewell. Applejack was doing nothing but disinterestedly examining the lines in the marble floor. And Rainbow watched her go with a longing expression, unsure of how to say goodbye to her friend--perhaps goodbye for the last time.

As Twilight turned back around and walked by Celestia’s side to the distant battle, she was unsure of what her destiny would be at that moment. Would she fall by the steel hands of Ironheart?

Or, even more frightening to her, would she be the one to end his life?

“Be calm, little one,” Celestia cooed to her as they walked. Her own face was firm and grim as she came alongside her. “To Ironheart we must go now. For the future of the city, and for the future of all of Equestria.”

Bridleway rests almost in the exact center of Manehattan. Full of screens on both sides of the road advertising best-selling books, five-star plays, diet soda, sushi, and famous stage magicians, it is the central hub of where most electricity goes in the city. It is composed of an intersection of two crossing roads, where most commuters went on any normal day.

This was not a normal day.

Down the east road, in ranks of ten and led by Shining Armor, the gold-gleaming Royal Guard from Canterlot sparkled and shone in full regalia, filling up the road for several hundred feet back. Shining Armor stood in front of all of them, in magnificent purple armor and with a short sword strapped to his side.

Down the west road, his wife, Princess Cadence, stood in front of hundreds and hundreds of her own Crystal Guard from the Crystal Empire. Their transparent bodies sparkled as any light came upon their faces or exposed bodies. Cadence was in tight-fitting armor as well, magnificently ornamental and ornately spiraled on the edges. Both ceremonial and practical, it was a perfect option. A long retractable pike fit into her foreleg.

Down the south road, Princess Luna stood with hundreds more of her Lunar Guard. Comprised mostly of batponies, the guard was unorthodoxly prepared. More combat-ready than most of the other guards, they held an assortment of hoof-to-hoof combat weapons. From swords to maces, from battle-axes to long pikes, they were all clutching them in one front leg and stood solidly and stoically. But none stood more proud and stoic than Princess Luna, leading in front of them all. Dressed in heavy light blue armor that wrapped all along the joints of her body and covered more than Cadence’s, she held no weapon, but only stared directly ahead of her.

And as Princess Celestia landed in front of a long, long column of more of the Royal Guard on the north road, and Twilight landed next to her brother on the east road, the four princesses gazed upon the middle of the intersection.

In the exact center of the intersection was Ironheart.

Alone.

Passively looking all around him as though he was admiring the sights, he had been standing there on his hind legs for over an hour. He seemed to be unconcerned by the forces that had assembled around him ever since he had been spotted by a sharp-eyed Royal Guard. He had simply waited there, not saying a word at all. His tail slowly whipped back and forth like a contented cat.

When he saw Twilight land next to her brother, however, his gaze traveled to her. His eyes held a saddened, almost depressed look as he let his eyes travel all over her. Twilight was still and stiff as he did this.

“Princess Twilight,” he sadly said. His voice was slower and quieter than ever. He shook his head. “You should not have come.”

“Murderer,” Celestia spat at him with every ounce of revulsion.

“Yes,” Ironheart said, turning to face her next. “Yes. I am a murderer. But, should you kill me now, as you are planning to do, you would be doing the same thing I was doing. Killing murderers, and the filth of the world.”

“Spare us thy words, thou abomination of nature,” Luna stated, grinding her front hoof into the asphalt. “ ‘Tis better for us to be rid of thee by departing thy spirit from this earth than it is for you to be left alive to commit more atrocities.”

Twilight had an expression of concern written on her face. Wasn’t that what Ironheart was doing before Twilight came to Manehattan? His exact lines of reasoning? Ironheart was a murderer, yes, but that meant that the pony that killed him would become like Ironheart. No matter what, Ironheart’s message of vengeance would never die.

Ironheart, however, did not mention the flaw in Luna’s reasoning. He instead only turned to her and smiled. Luna shivered as the unnatural smile reached her.

“This could have been avoided,” Cadence spoke to him. She advanced while still holding the retractable pike in her foreleg’s holster. “You couldn’t have picked this road if you didn’t want to.”

“But I did want to,” Ironheart spoke casually. “Anything to bring the four of you together to prove that I at last hold power enough to concern you.”

Without waiting for Cadence to respond, he made his way on his hind legs to face Celestia. His legs made a clink each time they hit the asphalt. “Now, Celestia. What are you waiting for? Beat me into the ground, and get the standing ovation you deserve for ridding me from the peaceful, lovable land of ponies that hate each other and manipulate them no more than I did.”

“It didn’t have to be this way,” Celestia said to him with wide, warm eyes. “I loved you like you were a son.”

“For all your love, what happened?” Ironheart asked. “For all your claims of loving me, what happened to me? You did nothing to stop the hatred and revulsion that was showered on my head. You did not send them away to keep me safe. You left me alone to take matters into my own hooves. And that, I think, was the greatest thing that could have happened, for without that, I never would have ascended above the boundaries of flesh.”

“Don’t make me do this, Ironheart. Please.”

“What’s the point of bringing all of your strength to Manehattan if you do not use it?” Ironheart slowly asked. “I give you permission to fire upon me, Celestia. Give the command and fire on me, and prove to me, and to everypony else in the world, that I was right in what I believed.”

Celestia’s stance was stoic, although a bead of concern crossed her face.

Ironheart, annoyed with the absence of anything happening, took a long cylinder off his hip, tossed it in the air, and caught it. The instant he caught it, every single guard crouched down in a battle stance, and the one single sound was deafening and echoed around the tall buildings on all sides.

Ironheart looked amused. “Well, now. It seems like some of your guards want a fight, now, don’t they?”

“Do not force my hoof, Ironheart.”

“You’ve already forced mine.”

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked, giving a little gasp.

Ironheart only gave a small shrug and drew out another small cylindrical object from his flank.

It was a timer.

Counting down from only a little over thirty minutes.

“The Manehattan Project is underway to detonate,” Ironheart said, slowly and serenely. “I would advise you do something about it now, before you melt in the heat of the bomb.”

Celestia drew her lips into a tight snarl and ignited her horn in a long yellow sword on top of her forehead.

That was the automatic signal for Princess Luna, Princess Cadence, Shining Armor, and Princess Twilight to ignite their own horns in long, shimmering bars of color. The guards, glittering in their golden armor behind them, all leveled their halberds in one single swift motion so Ironheart was at the center of a crossing of blades.

“Now.” Ironheart threw his right arm to the side and ignited his sword with a loud, heavy buzz. He flurried it in front of his face in a mock salute, and his left arm folded open and out to show a thin-barreled Gatling gun in its place. He beckoned with his sword, an eerie smile gracing his flexible metal features. “Shall we begin?”

And all four princesses opened fire on him at once.

The white sword swirled around him so fast that it looked like he was in the center of a force field. The four bolts of colored energy struck the white area around him, deflected off into nearby display screens, and exploded in bursts of electricity and color.

Ironheart stopped swirling the sword, and, in the space of the next half second, spun around while loosening the restraints holding his metal feathers to his wings.

Twilight, Shining Armor, and the princesses saw the feathers coming in time, and put up their own shields with their magic.

The Royal Guard accompanying them, however, didn't.

Feathers ripped through the front lines of the Royal Guard on all four sides like the pattering of raindrops, and guards dropped to their knees and stomachs as the feathers tore through their armor like they were made of paper. Shining Armor drew his sword with his magic, and the hilt, coated in a pink aura, flurried around his head in an elaborate motion. “Don’t back down!” he commanded. “Hold him here!”

“CHARGE, MY SISTER!” Luna cried, and sped forth to meet Ironheart at the center.

Before she reached the center, however, he was already there to meet her, cleaving his sword downwards in an unstoppable strike.

Luna avoided the strike by swerving her head to the side, ignited her horn, and fired directly into Ironheart’s face. Ironheart let his head fling backwards from the strike, allowing his leg to be brought up and clutch Luna as he leaned backward. Ironheart twisted his hips to the side and slammed Luna down into the asphalt so hard she lay in a small indented crater.

A steady stream of golden energy hit him in the face and forced him to bend his head. Princess Celestia was keeping the laser’s energy up, unrelenting and fierce.

Ironheart put his sword in front of the golden beam, however, and the yellow laser reflected off the white blade and hit the side of a theater. Ironheart angled the blade, and the laser slowly carved a diagonal scar in the side of the theater until it hit the pavement and threw up a flurry of rocks and dirt.

Cadence and Twilight released their own lasers from their own horns to either side of him. Ironheart’s wings deflected the beams and sent them into the ground, causing burning scars to appear in the ground. For a few moments he was trapped in between the three beams from Cadence, Celestia, and Twilight, and it looked like they might have pinned him down.

But he flared his wings out, sending the beams hitting it out in wild directions, and he lunged to the side, avoiding the laser Celestia was putting out at him, and he jumped and whirled to the side to meet Captain Shining Armor’s swift sword strike.

The sword met against his Infinisteel skin and slid off the side in a shower of sparks. Ironheart, driven by momentum, backhanded him, and he flew off to the side and hit the pavement so hard a bump appeared on his forehead, right next to his horn. He lifted his head up, looking dizzy and hurt.

Ironheart drew his sword arm back above his head and got ready to deliver a blistering strike to him while he was lying on the ground. But before he could, a navy blue aura enveloped his arm and held it back. Princess Luna had recovered from being slammed down and was now holding him steady for Princess Cadence to react.

“Not my husband,” Cadence snarled at him as she marched in front of him. “Don’t you dare harm my husband!”

And the retractable pike in her foreleg shot out as she put her arm out to the side. And she raised it and swung it with all of her might at his neck.

The pike embedded itself in the joints of his neck. Ironheart straightened his neck, and the pike unstuck itself. He grabbed the shaft with his left hand and snatched it out of Cadence’s grip. He twisted his hips around at an unforeseen speed and threw the pike directly at Princess Luna.

Luna evaded the pike as it stuck itself in the ground next to her, but only barely, and the aura holding his sword arm back disappeared. Now free, Ironheart swung the sword at Cadence’s horn. The only thing that prevented Cadence’s horn from being shorn off was her abrupt ignition of it as the sword struck the tip. The aura surrounding the horn stopped the murderous plasma, but Cadence’s face was strained.

An explosion on his back between his wings made him spin around, kicking Cadence back hard as he did so. Twilight had tried to get his attention by firing a single heavy magic bolt into his back. As Ironheart narrowed his eyes and smiled at her, however, her expression turned from determined to fearful.

“Twilight,” Ironheart said simply. “You don’t have it in you.”

“You’d be surprised!” Twilight retaliated.

“So do it already,” Ironheart demanded out of her. “Come up with a way to harm me.”

A whining sound made Ironheart turn curiously. Celestia had risen into the air as her magic was building up in a sphere of pure energy on the tip of her horn. As soon as it had reached its zenith, she landed like a meteorite and slammed it into the ground.

A shockwave rippled towards Ironheart’s position, who, even after leaping in the air to avoid the wave of asphalt rolling his way, was thrown back by the sheer amount of force present in the shockwave. As he flew away, he fired a small explosive missile out of his shoulder directly at her.

Celestia’s impromptu shield held the explosion at bay.

But Ironheart didn’t focus on the explosion he had sent her way.

He instead focused on Cadence, whom he had been flung backward into.

His foot connected with her face, and Cadence went sprawling. Ironheart kept himself atop of her as she fell, and he drew his left fist back and pummeled Cadence’s face so hard the back of her head slammed into the pavement. Cadence lifted her head up weakly to see Ironheart flurry his electric sword above his head, ready to strike.

Cadence could only ignite her horn.

The war pike she had flew directly in front of her just as the jagged sword came down.

The pike just barely caught the murderous plasma, but as Cadence levitated it, keeping death from approaching, the specially-reinforced war pike began to crack from the point of impact.

Ironheart could sense Princess Luna charging up another spell from behind him. Just as Luna was done and was about to fire, however, he jumped off of Cadence. And the spell fired, now with nothing in the line of fire except for Cadence.

Cadence took the full brunt of the blow, and she was rocketed backward into the brick wall of a theater. Bricks exploded outward from the point of impact, and there was only a hole where she had been flung into.

Luna gave a cry of anguish and rushed to the hole where Cadence was. Twilight was stiff with fear.

But Celestia wasn’t.

Celestia was furious.

Ironheart whirled around to look her in the eye, seeing two of the three real threats occupied. He threw his sword out to the side and stared Celestia in the face without another expression. His grip around the sword hilt clenched even tighter.

With an expression of absolute rage, with clenched teeth and narrowed, furious eyes, Celestia ignited her horn, and Ironheart’s ribs were illuminated by a bright yellow light.

Celestia pulsed her horn.

With the sound of tearing metal and squeaking bones, Ironheart’s ribs clenched like the fingers of a fist. Ironheart bellowed and dropped to his knees, clutching his chest and coughing. His sword had rolled away.

He almost didn’t have enough time to see it coming.

Celestia, imbued with enhanced magic, had charged at him at the speed of a freight train and had almost rammed her long horn into Ironheart’s sternum. The only thing that had stopped it was Ironheart’s grip around her forehead near the base of her horn. The force of her impact had pushed him into the asphalt like he had crashed into water.

That close to each other, with Celestia lying atop of him, the both of them could see each other’s furious expressions. Their wrath transcended that of ordinary ponies. They were two unstoppable titans, titans of the sun and of steel. Each with nearly limitless power.

Snarling, Ironheart furiously, strugglingly, brought his leg up underneath Celestia’s chest and made it rest directly under her chin. Then he straightened his leg at the speed of a freight train..

Celestia’s face was in the way.

Crunch

Celestia was thrown off of him as her head was snapped back and she smashed on her back on the pavement. Ironheart weakly got to his feet, only to see, across the intersection, that Shining Armor had his hoof raised above his head, and all the Equestrian armies were paying attention to him.

Shining Armor sliced his hoof down, and the armies charged him from four directions at once.

Ironheart opened his hand, and his sword flew back to his glowing white palm. He whirled in a circle as his left hand opened up and to the side, and a long gun barrel poked out to replace it.

“Put up a shield!” Twilight cried, and Celestia, hearing her, put up a glowing yellow bubble.

Ironheart opened fire when they were only a few yards away.

The sound of firing bullets sounded like an electric drill as he fired in all directions, spinning around and throwing his tail out like a whip. Dozens of the Royal Guard dropped dead almost instantly with blood pooling out of irreparable wounds in their chests. Their dead bodies began to pile up on the asphalt, making it harder for more to keep coming.

But come they did, clambering up the limp bodies of their fallen comrades, only to get hit by bullets strong enough to kill a wild rhino. Limbs went flying over each other’s heads, blood went spurting out of multiple holes all over their torsos and heads, bodies went spinning like tops to the ground. Still they came on, with determination all the stronger in them to rid the planet of the plague that was gunning them down.

Celestia’s face displayed pure anguish at the sight. Already blood had seeped to the sides of the street and began to empty into the sewer drains there. Celestia pulsed her horn once more, and Ironheart was now in the middle of a yellow bubble. “Fall back!” Celestia said. “Open the way for the spellcasters!”

The Royal Guard, seeing no progress being made with their current attempt, withdrew as one. As they retreated, Twilight could see the bodies of scores of the guard. Limbs had been hacked off and lay in shallow puddles of bright red liquid. Entire bodies lay unmoving all around Ironheart like some sort of unholy aura. Ironheart’s gun barrel was smoking, and he was panting hard while holding a hand to his chest. His chest was still compressed by the clenching that Celestia had inflicted on him.

Lifting his head up, Ironheart noticed the hundred-odd spellcasters from the Crystal Empire step forward and ignite their horns as one. He saw them all crouch down, making a solid wall of pony after pony ready to fire their best spells at him.

“I’ll only be able to lift the shield for a few seconds!” Celestia cried out to them. “Make your shots count!”

The shield around Ironheart disappeared.

And every single unicorn spellcaster groaned as every last laser was fired.

But not fired by the spellcasters, oh, no.

But by Ironheart.

Singed and cauterized holes had appeared like magic in their heads and stomachs, regardless of how much armor they had equipped. They all swayed in their spots for a few minutes, then fell as one body to the asphalt. Ironheart’s wrists had small pointed stubs poking out, and they had small pointed guidesights on the top. The tips were glowing a bright red, and were whirring as they cooled down.

Celestia’s mouth had dropped open. Twilight was paralyzed in shock. Ironheart hadn’t displayed that amount of technological progress before. How had he been able to replicate the power of unicorn lasers?

“No,” Ironheart said to the street full of dead bodies simply. “No, I will have none of that.”

He turned around to regard the surrounding guards who had leveled their halberds and spears in fear. His clenched ribs were unfolding like an opening fist, and within only a few seconds, they were back to normal. He lazily stretched forth a hand, and his fallen electrical sword flew back to his hand like it was connected by a line.

“Princess Celestia,” Ironheart murmured. “You are outmatched. Your forces are decimated.” He raised his voice to speak to the rest of the guards that massed in front of him, with Celestia and Twilight at opposite ends of the mass. “Make peace with whatever god you worship now, for this is your final hour.”

He took a single step forward, and the entire mass of gold-plated guards swiftly retreated. The faces of the Royal Guard had changed from confident at first to deathly serious, and was deteriorating rapidly towards terrified.

“But,” he continued, his voice as calm and collective as ever, though his face displayed uncontrollable lust and fury. “Know that I still possess mercy, even at this time. I will award you a hero’s death.” He ignited his sword directly in front of his fiercely scowling face, and the blade made a dark shadow on the sides of his cheeks and forehead. “Prepare.”

Author's Note

Aaaaand there we go.