Pony Gear Solid

by Posh

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Metal Gear, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Other, Adventure, Violence, Crossover
Length: 281811

Solid Snake teams up with ponies to save Equestria, and gradually learns to love it.

Metal Gear has fallen into the hooves of an Equestrian revolutionary, who, with the backing of his human mercenary allies, intends to use it to depose Celestia and crown himself ruler. Having crossed into Equestria in pursuit of this rogue weapon, the legendary Solid Snake must ally with the residents of Ponyville to prevent a nuclear catastrophe.

See also Equestria Gear Solid, the hilarious spin-off EQG parody in which everything you know is wrong, and every single character from the story is an awful caricature of themselves.

Now with its own TVtropes page!

Published 2011-08-09 00:58:47 UTC
Last updated 2020-07-04 17:50:09 UTC

1. Can't Say Goodbye to Yesterday

"Using the old cardboard box trick, huh? Looks good on you, Snake."

“...and so then Pinkie Pie said 'oatmeal? Are you crazy?!”

Laughter erupted around the table in the Sweet Apple Acres farmhouse's dining room as Fluttershy finished her anecdote. “Dangit, Fluttershy,” Applejack panted, fighting against the giggles as she wiped a tear from her eye with a shaking hoof, “I can't believe I weren't there for that one. That story's a right classic.”

“Well,” said Fluttershy, pausing to take another sip of cider, “Ms. Cheerilee didn't find it all that funny at the time. The last time I paid her a visit, she still hadn't gotten the cheese smell out of her basement.”

“She'll come 'round,” said Applejack. “Time has a funny way of puttin' these things inta perspective.” She slid the nearest bottle of cider down the table into Fluttershy's waiting hoof. “Top yerself off there, iffin you like. We got plenty in the cellar.” She spared a worrying glance to Big Mac. “We do still got plenty, don't we?”

“Eeyup.” Big Mac smirked at Applejack, glancing at the half-empty cider bottle beside Fluttershy and arching his eyebrows.

“Like I said, then!” She turned back to Fluttershy with a broad smile. “It's been a par-ticularly fruitful harvest, after all, an' we got plenty to spare.”

“Oh, you're too kind,” said Fluttershy, pushing the bottle back down the table. “But I think I may have had just a bit too much already. I think it's startling to – starting to afflict – start – ” Fluttershy took a deep breath, exhaled, closed her eyes and concentrated. “Starting to affect the way I chalk – talk! Oh goodness, I can't even speak properly anymore.” Her voice had a fluttering, buoyant quality to it, despite her angst, and she maintained a dopey grin on her face, so very unlike her usual shy, quiet smile. “This is so embarrassing. Maybe it would be bitter – batter – better – if just stopped for the night.”

“Aw, don't be s'darn self-conscious. You ain't the first pony to get a li'l bit tipsy after imbibin' in Sweet Apple Cider.” said Applejack, relieved to no end that Fluttershy was calling an end to her bender. Sure, it was modest by most standards, but for Fluttershy, who hardly touched the stuff if she could help it, it was noteworthy. She'd invited the bashful pegasus to dinner with the hope that a social occasion would bring her out of her shell the slightest bit, and in that, the plan had succeeded, though she had to ply Fluttershy with considerably more cider than she'd thought. The anecdotes, however, were certainly worth the effort; Fluttershy was spilling stories that she doubtlessly would never have thought about sharing if she were sober.

“The stuff has a funny way of muckin' up words," Applejack added with a wink. "Loosenin' lips. Lowerin' inhibitions.”

“Applejack says that cider's the reason I was born in the first place!” Apple Bloom chimed in cheerfully as she trotted into the dining room from the kitchen, precariously balancing a tray of apple fritters on her nose. She set the tray on the table, oblivious to the gobsmacked, open-jawed expression of her big sister, the blushing face and subdued giggling of Fluttershy, or the bemusement of Big McIntosh.

Applejack flushed visibly beneath her orange coat. “Apple Bloom,” she said, gritting her teeth tightly together, “do we need to have another talk about what is and is not appropriate conversation when company's over?”

“Shucks, sis!” said Apple Bloom, nuzzling Fluttershy's side affectionately. “It's just Fluttershy! She's practically family!” She turned to her sister with bright, shining eyes. “An' if I can't talk that way around family, who can I talk that way around?”

“Preferably,” growled Applejack, “nopony. Yer too young t'be talking like that.” She paused. “Or to know what I meant when I said that.”

“Puh-leeze,” said Apple Bloom, jerking her head in Fluttershy's direction. “Not like what I said's any worse than some o'the stories she's been telling.”

Fluttershy smiled, genuinely touched by Apple Bloom's familial sentiments. “You're so sweet,” she said, leaning down to ruffle her mane and accidentally pushing a mop of hair into her eyes. “But m-maybe you should listen to your sister.”

“'Maybe,'” Applejack huffed under her breath. Big Mac chuckled from across the table.

“After all,” Fluttershy continued, picking an apple fritter from the tray. “As my mother always said, 'always keep your audience in mind,' I happen to know one or two stories about you that you wouldn't want to come out at a time like this.” She chewed her fritter somewhat more sloppily than she would have had she been sober, and set it down upon her plate.

“Is that right?” Applejack said, turning on Apple Bloom with a sinister grin on her face. “Now now, Fluttershy, don't y'all hold back on Apple Bloom's account. Let's hear some o'them tales.”

Apple Bloom's heart skipped a beat as she pushed her mane out of her eyes. She wasn't certain what, exactly, Fluttershy had in mind, but whatever it was, she'd either never live it down, or be grounded long enough to ensure that she'd be a blank-flank forever. “Th-that's okay Fluttershy,” she said hastily. “No need to say nothin' you might regret later.”

“Well,” said Fluttershy, leaning forward and resting her chin on her folded front legs, evidently oblivious to Apple Bloom's protest. Her voice was faintly distorted and her words noticeably slurred from a night of moderate cider consumption. “There was that one time with the Cockatrice...”

Applejack's expression of sinister glee winked out of existence. She stared blankly ahead, her eyes going out of focus. She no longer looked at Apple Bloom at all. Rather, she seemed to be looking beyond her, at something not visible to anypony else. The filly, suddenly very nervous, edged uncomfortably away from her sister's unfocused gaze.

“Cockawho?” asked Applejack, turning back to the table and staring blankly at Fluttershy.

“Oh, you haven't heard of them before?” asked Fluttershy, who was clearly too drunk to notice Applejack's change in demeanor.

“I do believe I have,” said Applejack in a slow, measured deadpan. “But why don'tcha remind me, jus' in case my memory's a tad foggy.”

“You know. A Cockatrice. Head of a chicken, body of a snake. They can turn you to stone just by making eye contact, you know. Very dangerous creatures.” She nodded sagely at her own statement, leaning down to sip from her cider glass, forgetting momentarily that she had cut herself off for the night (and, more importantly, that her glass was empty).

“Yes. That's what I thought it was.” Applejack's voice was still eerily calm.

Apple Bloom gazed cautiously at her sister. Now, now, she told herself. Maybe she's not so mad. It's not like her eyelid's twitchy or nothin'. Boy, wouldn't I be in for it if it were.

Applejack's eyelid spasmed subtly.

Horseapples, thought Apple Bloom sourly, wilting. She tiphooved towards the kitchen door, hoping to escape before the torrent of Applejack's fury hit.

“An' what, pray tell, were the circumstances of Apple Bloom's meetin' with that chicken-snake?” asked Applejack in her worryingly impassive voice.

Please, Fluttershy, Apple Bloom thought, willing her thoughts to beam into the drunk pegasus' mind. Please, please say that your lips ain't that loose.

“She and her friends ran into the Everfree Forest during their sleepover,” Fluttershy explained, her eyelids drooping sleepily. “And they almost got turned to stone too. Luckily I...” She yawned a graceful, gentle yawn, her closed eyelids preventing her from seeing the throbbing vein in Applejack's forehead. “Woke up and noticed they were out of bed,” she continued as the yawn drew to an end. “Otherwise, you'd have a rock for a sister.” Fluttershy giggled. “'Rockle Bloom.' Oh, the fillies at school would tease her so...” She smacked her lips, snuggled her head into her forelegs and began snoring.

“Apple Bloom.” Applejack's sharp call froze the escaping filly in her tracks. Fluttershy jolted awake, startled by the sudden change in Applejack's tone. Sobriety hit her like a ton of bricks as she saw the joyless face of her friend and the fear that radiated off of Apple Bloom.

A cold chill crept up Apple Bloom's back as she nervously turned back to her sister. “Is what Fluttershy's sayin' true?” asked Applejack, her voice reverberating with barely restrained anger.

Big Mac's eyes darted from Fluttershy, to Applejack, to Apple Bloom and back.

Apple Bloom shuffled her hooves nervously, eyes riveted to the ground. “Well... there's a li'l bit more to it than that...”

“I didn't ask for no hemmin' and hawin',” snapped Applejack. Apple Bloom jumped at the harshness in her voice and looked vainly to Fluttershy for help.

“You tell the truth now,” said Big Mac sternly, leaning forward onto the table as he gazed at Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom decided to stake her future on the chance that her family would treat her mercifully if she were simply honest. Planting her hooves and meeting Big Mac's gaze, she gave a firm, if timid, “yes.”

“Applejack,” said Fluttershy hastily, “if I could just explain—”

“I'm thinkin' I've heard all the explanations I need,” Applejack interrupted, pushing away from the table. “Apple Bloom, you go to yer room and you stay there 'til I come talk to you. I'm gonna see our guest out.” She trotted to the front door, keeping her eyes locked steadily forward. “Fluttershy, you'll come with me now.”

“Applejack—”

Applejack stamped her hoof against the floor so hard that the wooden boards splintered and cracked beneath her. At that moment, the open, sociable, funny drunk Fluttershy evaporated. Drooping her wings and her ears in tandem, she slid off of her chair and sullenly fell in step behind Applejack. She glanced back, hoping to catch a glimpse of Apple Bloom, but the yellow filly was gone from sight already. All she saw was Big McIntosh, whose silent, judging gaze followed her to the door.

“AJ, please don't be harsh with Apple Bloom—” Fluttershy began as they stepped outside together, before Applejack met her almost nose-to-nose and locked their gazes together, performing a near perfect simulacrum of the pegasus' legendary stare.

“I don't know what them fillies was doin' in yer house when they was supposed to be with Rarity that night,” hissed Applejack, “and I don't rightly care right now, though I probably I will when I swing by her place tomorrow mornin' to give her a piece o'my mind.” She jabbed a hoof accusingly at Fluttershy, who recoiled. “But for whatever reason, they was in your care, an' truth be told, that wouldn't'a bothered me none, if I'd known. I woulda figgered I could trust you with somethin' as little as my baby sister's life. Guess I know better now, on account of you lettin' 'em sneak out an' get jumped by a chicken-snake!”

“I-I didn't...” Fluttershy stammered. Abashed, she turned her head away from Applejack. “I-I wasn't... I wouldn't have—”

“Wouldn'ta what?” asked Applejack, advancing on Fluttershy, even as the latter backpedaled. “Wouldn'ta let 'em get stoned? Or et?! I know what Cockatrices do to their prey, Fluttershy, oh do I ever know all too well what they do t'their prey! Yer dang right you 'wouldn't have,' 'cuz if I lost my sister on account o'yer negligence..." Her face darkened.

Fluttershy's breath hitched and her chest heaved. She shut her eyes tightly, stifling the tears that Applejack's words had drawn out of her. But Applejack was unmoved, her anger providing a powerful shield against her friend's pathos. Still, unwilling to castigate the sobbing pegasus any longer – she had a sister who needed scolding, after all – she sighed and looked away. “'Git. We'll talk more 'bout this later, Fluttershy.”

“Applejack... I'm s-so—"

“Don't. Make me. Repeat myself."

Fluttershy nodded with a sniffle. Turning her back to Sweet Apple Acres, she trotted miserably down the road home, leaving Applejack to sweep up the tattered shreds of what had been, up until moments ago, a pleasant night.

Apple Bloom sobbed into her pillow, her muffled cries audible only to her. I'm such a loudmouth, she thought. Should'a never piped up. Fluttershy wouldnt'a got kicked out, I wouldn't be in no trouble, and we'd all be enjoyin' apple fritters right now. A fresh wave of tears spilled into her damp pillow. Or maybe if AJ weren't such a sourpuss sometimes. She didn't hafta be so mean to Fluttershy. Coulda let her explain... don't even understand what she's so rumphurt 'bout...

There was a harsh rapping at her door. Apple Bloom stiffened, swallowing her sobs as the door swung open, the silhouette of a pony in a Stetson hat obscuring the light that now washed into her room. She remained still, her back turned to the door, as her sister trotted in, her telltale heavy hoofsteps giving the filly a glimpse at her older sister's anger. “You wanna tell me jus' what you were thinkin', chargin' into the Everfree Forest like it were some kinda game?” she demanded as she came to Apple Bloom's bedside.

Apple Bloom made no reply.

“Silly me, Apple Bloom,” said Applejack, “I said that like I was askin'. I ain't. Talk.”

At length, Apple Bloom gave a sullen reply. “Why bother? Not like you'd listen to me anyways.”

“Now don't go givin' me that bunk,” snapped Applejack. “Dangit, Apple Bloom, you're lucky I'm even givin' you a chance to explain! S'more than Fluttershy got, an' it's more than you deserve!”

Apple Bloom pulled her pillow tightly against her chest, curling around it.

“What in Equestria were you tryin' to prove?” Applejack pressed. “You got jumped by a cockatrice, Apple Bloom. You could'a died!”

As if responding to a challenge, Apple Bloom whirled about, jumping to all fours atop her bed. “But I didn't, AJ!” she shouted furiously, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “Why are you even mad about this?! It was, like, forever ago! An' Fluttershy saved us 'fore anything could even happen!“

“If it weren't for Fluttershy,” growled Applejack, “you wouldn't'a been there in the first place! If she'd kept an eye on you like a responsible mare—"

“'Responsible mare?!'” Apple Bloom laughed a harsh, guttural, very un-fillylike laugh. “You mean like you? How many bits didja bring home from the Grand Galloping Gala, huh big sis? Didja fix the leaky roof yet, you responsible gal you? Can Granny Smith walk more'n two steps without fallin' over herself?!”

Applejack planted both hooves onto her sister's bed and rose to stand on her hind legs. Beneath her Stetson, her eyes narrowed to slits, and her flared nostrils gave her the appearance of a bull about to charge. Apple Bloom wasn't quite sure what had gotten into her, that she was talking back to her big sister this way – they got on famously at the best of times, granted – but she rather liked being able to stick up for herself. Maybe the events of the night had brought a simmering undercurrent of sibling rivalry to the surface. Maybe the fumes from the cider had given her the extra nip of courage she needed to push back against her overbearing, overprotective guardian. Or, more likely, she'd gone insane from misery and didn't realize the danger she was putting herself in.

“Yer the one in trouble there, li'l filly, not me,” said Applejack in that low, dangerous tone that she reserved for her most wrathful moments. “An' for your own sake, you better keep that in mind! I'm the one what puts food in your ungrateful belly, an' a leaky roof over yer head's miles better than no roof 't all! So I don't wanna hear that kinda backtalk from you, 'specially when I ain't done nothin' t'deserve it!”

“Yer dang right I'm ungrateful!” Apple Bloom met her sister's stare, met it and returned it in full force. “An' who wouldn't be with you lookin' after 'em?! I didn't ask for you t'raise me, an' if Ma an' Pa were still alive, I wouldn't hafta put up with it!”

Those words were the first to penetrate the armor of Applejack's anger, and her angry expression faltered slightly. “You don't know what you're sayin'.”

“I know dang well what I'm sayin'!” said Apple Bloom. The momentum had swung her way, and now she moved in for the kill. “I'm sayin' that I wish you was dead 'n not them!”

It was like being kicked full-tilt in the stomach. Applejack's eyes widened, the wind drained from her lungs, and her hooves slipped from Apple Bloom's bed, clopping against the floor. Apple Bloom knew she'd hurt her sister, though she couldn't have begun to guess just how deeply. And she didn't care. The fight now over, she lay on her bed and rolled around, once again treating Applejack to a view of her back.

She heard the soft tapping of hooves against the floor as Applejack exited the room, then the click of her door as it shut securely. And, as she strained her ears to listen for signs of life outside, she swore she heard a quiet sob.

Apple Bloom didn't give a good gosh-dangit-to-Heck how Applejack felt at that moment. She glanced at her window, still open a crack from that afternoon, when Applejack had told her to nudge it open a little bit to let the smell of their frying fritters waft out over Ponyville. “What better way t'drum up business for the Apple Family,” Applejack had said, “then by remindin' them what they're missin' out on?”

The memory wasn't a pleasant one anymore. Apple Bloom fought it down. She needed to focus on the task at hoof, after all. She took her blanket in her mouth and, with a bit of finagling, began knotting it into a rope.

I don't know how long I was out for.

Couldn't have been much longer than a few hours. I could tell because I didn't feel any older. And maybe that doesn't sound so significant, but after Shadow Moses, I'd wake up after a full night's sleep, and somehow, I'd feel older. As if I could sense that I had aged, substantially, overnight. It was years before the physical signs of my aging began to show, and when they did, I can't say I was surprised that it was happening. I think part of me could tell all along.

So it was important when I woke up from my nap, and I didn't feel any older. Meant that I hadn't been there too long, though that didn't help me in any event.

The first thing I felt, as I was regaining consciousness, was something cold and wet pressed against my face. I brushed at it, still mired in that no-man's-land between sleep and waking, and it went away, only to be replaced by something warm and wet dragging across my cheek.

“Cut it out, Meryl,” I muttered sleepily, rolling over to escape. But it persisted and intensified, even after I batted at my cheek to knock it away. I opened my eyes slowly, expecting to still be surrounded by the brilliant light that had knocked me out in the first place. But to my surprise, it was dark. Not pitch-dark; I could make out what was hovering over me, but dark enough that I had to strain a little bit to see it.

Beady black eyes stared into my own. Now very much awake and alarmed, my own eyes flew open, and I immediately scrambled into a sitting position, my hand shooting toward the Beretta on my hip.

The thing that had watched me in my sleep cocked its head quizzically, and my mind registered it as a familiar, recognizable shape. It was a dog, probably a collie, given its coat and general look. Friendly enough, too. But then, I'd always been good with dogs.

I relaxed immediately after discerning that what had roused me was a harmless dog. It wore a collar with a dangling gold tag around its neck – a domesticated dog at that. So wherever the portal had taken me, it was at least someplace civilized.

The first thing I thought to do was to call Otacon on the Codec. There was no answer but static on his frequency, nor on the emergency frequency that we'd set aside for rainy days. I'd been afraid of that, but I'd left him with instructions. All I could do was hope that he wouldn't have to follow them.

I figured that'd be an adjustment. I'd been a lone wolf for most of my career, but for years by that point I'd had Otacon looking over my shoulder, giving me intel, advice, technical knowledge whenever I needed it or asked for it. He was like a guardian angel. A nerdy guardian angel who liked crapping up my stereo with his anime soundtracks, but at least I always knew where he stood. Still do.

Putting that aside for the time being, I took in my surroundings. There was a wooden crate sitting just behind me, lidless and propped upside down, the open end stuck into the ground. Had to wonder what the point of that was, but it was me-sized and conveniently located, so who was I to complain? Figured whoever it belonged to wouldn't mind so much if I borrowed it without asking. If it was just dumped here haphazardly, then what right did he have to complain?

My muscles were a little cramped from laying and sitting for who knows how long, so I decided to stand. I climbed to my feet, shaking off the cobwebs and stretching as I rose. Felt good to move again.

The dog darted between my ankles, looking up at me with a lopsided, tongue-wagging grin. Whoever owned this dog evidently did not train it to be a guard dog. Not that I'm complain. I like dogs, always have; I'd sooner kill a person on a mission than a guard dog, and I'd always avoid it if I could. I reached down and scratched behind its ears, reasonably sure it wasn't going to bite me. It liked that. I figured it would. I used to race dogs, you know.

I was in a barn, I realized, as I wandered around the place. On an apple farm, no less. There were dozens of barrels all over the damn place, each one stuffed like a turkey with apples in all the various hues and shapes that apples come in. A wheelbarrow full of hay, too.

My stomach growled. That was the second indicator for how long I'd been asleep; not long enough to have aged, but long enough to have an empty stomach. Well, I thought, I'm on an apple farm, surrounded by barrels of apples. When in Rome. Or wherever the hell.

But then, I reasoned, wouldn't any farmer worth their salt-lick notice that someone had pilfered an apple or two from their harvest? It could raise an alarm. Could get me into trouble. Could get me noticed. Could make carrying out my mission that much more difficult to do.

Then again, I was damn hungry. And there were so many that, honestly, who would have noticed if one was missing? I guess I had started assuming, in my delirious, hungry state, that these farmers were not worth their salt-licks.

I reached into a barrel and selected a nice round golden delicious. I breathed on its skin, rubbed it off on the front of my suit (probably a bad call, given the amount of grime that's accumulated on that old thing over the years) and raised it to my lips.

The dog didn't like that. It started growling as soon as I picked the apple, but just before I could take a bite, it started barking this high-pitched, piercing yelp.

“There are plenty of other apples,” I said to the dog. “Who cares if I take one? Nobody'll notice.”

The dog didn't like common sense almost as much as it didn't like apple thievery. Its barks and growls rose in both volume and pitch.

I wasn't so hungry that I'd lost all reason; I knew that I was on a farm, and I knew that the dog could raise an alarm, call in its owner and get me spotted. So I undid the holster on my hip and drew out my Beretta. I didn't like killing dogs, and I didn't like killing animals in general, Raven's ravens notwithstanding (bastards startled me, alright?!), but tranq'ing them seldom, if ever, had any long-lasting side effects. So I was guilt-free.

But apparently, I was too late on the draw, because I heard a voice calling “Winona? Whassamatter girl?”

It was a man's voice – deep and rich, with a Southern twang to it. The farmer, no doubt. That damn dog (Winona? Really?) had drawn some unwanted attention to my activities, something which, in my line of work, is generally considered a bad thing.

The upshot was that farmers generally carried guns with them to chase out rustlers, so if nothing else, I'd get some genuine armament out of this. Three cheers for on-site procurement. I made for the upturned crate and raised the lip, sliding underneath into utter darkness. I could still hear the dog barking outside, giving away my location. Not that I forgot to tranq it in my hurry; it was a tactical decision to leave the dog awake and to let it narc on my hiding spot. I settled into a kneeling position, holding my Beretta tightly with both hands.

I heard hooves. Hooves. What kind of farmer rides a horse into a barn at whatever hour of the night it was to catch a rustler? The kind that doesn't need both hands to use his gun, that's what kind of farmer. So I'd get a handgun. Hoped it wasn't a revolver.

My stomach growled again. I wished I hadn't dropped that apple.

“What is it, Winona?” said the farmer's voice. He was right outside now, close enough that I could hear him clearly, even through the crate. “Somethin' under the box?”

How many unwary sentries had inadvertently made those words their last? Not that I was going to kill him. He was an innocent bystander in all of this. Probably.

"I ain't havin' a good night,” said the farmer. “Got no patience for this. I'mma count to three, an' I wanna see you in the open. No tricks. One.”

I had this trick, back in my youth. Whenever some poor dumb soul noticed me slipping from here to there in my box, I'd sit still and turtle up while he examined my hiding place, and just when he started to lift the box to see what was underneath, I'd throw it aside, startling him, grab him in a chokehold, and snap his neck. Or I'd just shoot him. Or tranq him, or get him in a sleeper hold. It was a flexible maneuver, one of my favorites for that reason. I planned to do just that when the farmer inevitably finished counting down.

“Two.”

I thumbed off the safety of my gun.

“Three. Now, I warned y'all—”

I exploded from beneath the box, tossing it rather higher into the air than I'd meant to, and raised my gun to what I had assumed would be eye level. I was, however, stymied by the fact that the farmer was not at eye level with me. He was several feet lower than that. Also, no less importantly, he wasn't a farmer with an antiquated gun, but a small red horse with freckles. And he stared at me with the same incredulity that I stared at him with.

The surprise made me hesitate for a heartbeat before I regained my wits, adjusted my aim, and fired. The gun emitted a pop, its report suppressed by its silencer, as the tranquilizer dart stung him in his throat before he could say a word. He hit the ground at the same instant that the box did, out cold.

The dog didn't like that either. It coiled its legs and pounced at me, driven to attack by what it probably assumed was the death of its master. It only got up to hip level, and its teeth weren't so sharp, but it startled me, got the drop on me before I could ready my gun for another shot. I kicked my leg to dislodge it, sending it skittering across the barn's floor, but it wasn't done with me yet. It got its footing back and charged at me, barking madly.

I raised my gun, racked the slide, and fired a second shot. The dog's momentum carried it a few feet more as it skidded along the ground, knocked unconscious, just like its master.

Its master who was a small red horse. With freckles.

I've seen and done some crazy shit in my time, and had crazy shit done to me in turn. Roasting my mentor being roasted alive. Seeing my best friend being ground underfoot beneath a giant robot. Being sniffed and groped by a bisexual knife maniac. But as far as sheer shock value is concerned, nothing quite beats the revelation that, wherever I had wound up, it was populated by sapient, talking ponies who practiced agriculture. Not a turn that I could have predicted.

Wherever that Stargate-looking thing had sent me – wherever it had sent Pegasus Wings – it sure as hell wasn't anywhere on Earth I knew about.

The pony would be out for a while (those tranquilizers could take down an elephant) but there was always the odd chance that someone would come across him and the dog. That wasn't a chance that I wanted to take.

I stooped beside the body and placed my hands beneath it, straining to lift it into the air. For something that was half my size, the bastard was heavy. His body was thick, powerful, and bulged with muscles beneath his red coat. This was a workhorse, one that could probably have done some serious damage to me, had my trigger finger not been so quick.

After a bit of effort, I got him into the air and slung him over my shoulder. Carrying him to the wheelbarrow of hay, I lowered him into it, then carefully arranged the hay over his body, leaving him room to breathe while still concealing him from prying eyes. I had meant to put the dog in there with him, but the pony was so big that there wasn't enough room for two. So I took the crate that I'd hidden beneath and placed it over the sleeping collie. The thing needed air holes though, so I picked up a pitchfork that rested beside the wheelbarrow and jabbed it through the top of the box. Instant air holes. I returned the pitchfork where I had found it and stepped outside.

On a hill, not far from the barn, sat a red farmhouse, two stories tall and kind of narrow. I didn't think much of it at the time, but one of the second story windows of the farmhouse was open, and a blanket, knotted into a rope, dangled from it to the ground. I figured that some rebellious country girl had snuck out for a rendezvous, and briefly wondered how a horse would have been able to tie a knot with its hooves in the first place.

The night sky was alien, but beautiful – a sea of rich purple, studded with stars. The moon was waxing, but even with a portion of it obscured, it was a good size bigger than the one I was used to seeing, at least four times as large. Gorgeous as it was to look at, that really got to me. It wasn't my moon. The craters scarring its surface weren't my craters.

This wasn't my world. What an unsettling realization to come to.

I drew a pack of cigarettes (a new brand that I was trying, The Boss) and lit one up. I missed Otacon's presence like hell, but if anything good came from being separated from him, it was that I could smoke in peace, without hearing the Surgeon General spiel. And I needed a smoke, right then and there.

I inhaled a breath of rich tobacco. The nicotine filtered into my system, and my nerves steadied. I held the smoke in my lungs for a few moments, then exhaled slowly, watching it curl and dissipate in the cold night air. I wanted to savor the few moments that I had to myself, outside of that big red barn, beside that big red farmhouse, because I knew, deep down, that I wouldn't be having too many like it for a while. So I stood there, alone in the nighttime chill, smoking my cigarette and reflecting on the turn that my day had taken.

There was a distant crack, a rapid sound, faint, but unmistakable as gunfire. I whirled in its direction, drawing my Beretta again. The sound had come from a ways away, I could tell, and there wasn't much else down the way it came from but a forest. I drew my scope and held it to my eyes, zooming in as far as it'd go, but I didn't have much luck. I couldn't penetrate that dense wall of foliage.

I heard the sound again – three-round burst fire, terminating as quickly as it had started – and asked myself what the odds were that a race of animals who didn't have the digits necessary to operate firearms could have made that sound. I didn't have an answer for myself.

Pegasus Wings had gone through the same portal that I did. Obviously, they didn't wind up in the exact same location as me, or else there wouldn't have been a farm left to wake up in. I found that curious. In any event, it meant that they were here, somewhere. I didn't have any back-up, nor any intel to guide me, and nothing at all by way of clues to go on besides the distant sound of gunfire. But something to go on was better than nothing at all.

I drew out my portable ashtray (a birthday gift from Otacon) and dropped my cigarette into it, hoping that I'd get another opportunity to smoke before too long. Taking one last look around the serene farmland, I stalked away, down the path that would lead me into the forest.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/7

-Changed formatting
-Fixed punctuation errors
-Minor adjustments to lines of dialogue/narration
-Changed spelling of Apple Bloom's name (from "Applebloom")
-Changed Applejack's threat of violence to Fluttershy from explicit to implicit

2. On the Ground

"If you see any UMAs, you tell me, okay?"

Something about walking through a jungle always gets me nostalgic. Not, oddly enough, for any of my past missions where I've had to go through a jungle, but for something else, something that's just beyond recollection. I hear there's such a thing as “genetic memory,” and maybe it's that, but I'll be damned if I can be bothered to look it up. I've heard enough gobbledegook about genes for one lifetime.

Judging by the position of the moon when I'd woken up, I put the time somewhere between ten thirty and eleven (provided, of course, that day/night cycles worked the same way here as they did back home). It took me at least a half an hour to get from the farm to the forest where the gunshots had come from, partly because I needed to navigate through an unfamiliar town with a surprising number of night owls. The streets were surprisingly well lit for such a rustic-looking town, so I kept mostly to alleys, darting from one to the next to reduce the risk of being spotted. Shooting out the streetlights was an option, but not an ideal one, due to the risk of drawing attention to myself. Glass shattering tends to make a racket, never mind the sudden darkness. So I stuck to my pattern of hiding and evasion. It was slow work, but little by little, I made my way from one end of the town to the other, where a faded, beaten path led into an unpleasant looking forest. It was the kind of repulsive place you'd find in a Disney cartoon. The path continued past the entrance, but it was faded and overgrown from disuse. I figured residents of the adjacent town avoided that forest, and judging by the look of it, they probably had good reason to. I wondered why a bustling burg was built on the threshold of such a horrible place.

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I swallowed hard, kept a hand on my holster, and followed that ancient path into the forest's darkly grinning maw.

It was a while before anything happened; the first leg of my journey was entirely uneventful. I spent most of that time trying to mentally come to grips with just how strange a turn this mission had taken since I discovered that archway in the island base. Throughout my career, I've always been able to recover very quickly in the face of the bizarre, but there is a great difference between a floating psychic in a gas mask reading my PlayStation memory card data, and waking up in a barn apparently owned and operated by a talking red horse. And after passing through the town, watching diminutive horses talk and smile and laugh and do decidedly non horse-like things, my mind was working in overtime preserving my sanity in the face of increasingly insane developments, just the latest of which was this overgrown forest where the air hung stale and heavy and damn near palpable.

Never before had I felt so uneasy about a place as I did in that forest. I felt like an intruder, like I was trespassing someplace that I had no business being in. Now, I'm a professional trespasser, so trespassing normally doesn't bother me at all, but this was the first time I actually felt self-conscious about it. It was even a different feeling from the domed structure where I'd found the gateway. That place had felt sacred; this place felt the exact opposite. It felt and looked like a perversion of the natural order. It felt evil.

But hey, I'd heard gunshots come from this place, and ponies don't have the necessary digits to operate firearms, so evil be damned, I was going to pass through the place. And I don't think it wanted me to, not one bit.

The path, already faded and worn, disappeared after a while, leaving me with nothing to indicate where I was going, if indeed I was going anywhere worth going to, or if I was simply getting more and more lost in a forest that looked at times like it wanted to grind my bones to make its bread. What kind of PMC would set up shop in such a place, I wondered? The kind that wanted to avoid detection, keep its activities strictly clandestine. What better place to hide an army than in the one place you know that nobody will bother looking for one? I had to give Pegasus Wings' commander some credit on that one. Tactically, it was a good decision to choose the scariest damn place in the world to hide a Metal Gear. The atmosphere alone acted as a deterrent, never mind whatever may have been lurking within.

Suddenly, I heard a shrill, piercing scream. I drew my gun and held it steady, checking my immediate surroundings for danger. Nothing met me but a second scream, shriller and more frightened sounding than the first. This time, it lasted about a second before it was drowned out by a bone-shaking, pants-wettening roar. The screaming voice picked up again. “Help me! Somepony, please help me!”

The first sign of any life in that forest, besides myself, was a terrified scream. That didn't bode well. Still, it seemed worth following up on, so I raced off in the direction that the screams were issuing from, dashing quickly through underbrush and leapfrogging rocks and fallen logs until I came to a wide, oval-shaped clearing. I ducked, staying out of the open as I peered through the shadows at the scene unfolding before me.

A lion loomed over a tiny yellow pony, pinning it to the ground with a ham-sized paw. Its face was pressed very close to the pony's, close enough for droplets of drool to splatter onto its face and run down its cheeks. I didn't see any gore, and the pony still thrashed and inarticulately begged for its life, so as far as I could tell, I'd shown up just in the nick of time. The lion pulled its lips back over its teeth and grinned as the pony begged for mercy.

I've seen animals kill and eat to survive. It's a part of nature; there's no more evil to it than if I were to eat a hamburger. But this was different. Fear was written on every feature of that pony's face, the kind of fear that a mere animal is incapable of experiencing. This pony – this child – was fully aware of what was happening to it, fully cognizant that its short life was coming to a brutal end. It wasn't my problem, and it wasn't a part of my mission, but nevertheless, I couldn't let that stand.

I rose from my place in the shadows and fired a tranquilizer round into the lion's flank. It yelped at the unexpected pain and stumbled off of the pony, whipping its great head back and forth in search of the source of the shot. The pony, perplexed, stared at the lion, perhaps trying to understand why it hadn't been eaten yet.

The lion caught sight of me (great night vision, those lions) and emitted a low growl. Otacon once told me that the tranquilizers in my gun could bring down an elephant. Now here it was, being tested against actual African wildlife, and it was working damn slowly, if it was even working at all. The lion was wobbly on its feet, sure, but it didn't seem to feel the full effects of the tranquilizer. But I did manage to get it away from the pony, which was a small victory, I guess. Of course, I also managed to make it angry at me. And I gave it an outlet for that anger, once again, in the form of me.

Whatever. I figured I could handle a big kitty cat, so I stepped out of the trees, into the clearing, and met the lion face-to-face. The pony, laying on her back between the two of us, rolled onto her belly, saw me standing there and gasped. I've always wondered what she must have been thinking right at that moment. Pity I never asked.

I cocked my gun. The downside to the modded Beretta was that I needed to manually load the next round whenever I fired a shot. Sure, it kept me from racking up a conspicuous body count, which made it invaluable on sneaking missions, but it was unwieldy in a fight due to the weak rate of fire, and at that point, it was the only thing I had on me. Of course, cocking a gun looks and sounds cool, and secretly, I've always gotten a little thrill from doing it, so it was worth the trade-off. “You don't look so tough,” I said to the lion.

The lion rebutted my taunt by unfurling a pair of leathery red wings and raising a multi-segmented, scorpion-esque tail of the same color. And by roaring. Loudly.

I may not be as familiar with mythological creatures as some of my more educated acquaintances. But I knew what a Manticore was. And that was a Manticore.

I was just asking myself how I could have ever missed seeing those wings and that tail when the Manticore lunged at me. I fired again, but the shot went wide right, and the beast crashed into me before I could load another round, knocking my gun from my hand. It flew out of sight behind me as the Manticore pinned me by the shoulders, snout pressed against my face, its hot, stinking breath searing my skin. Try pressing your face against a radiator covered in rancid meat and taking a big whiff sometime; you'll get an idea of what it was like to have that thing's breath in my face. Just as it had with the pony, it bared its fangs to me, opened its mouth and dove for my head. I caught it with both hands, straining hard to keep it away from me as it snapped its jaws and shook wildly to dislodge my grip.

My offensive arsenal being dangerously limited by that point, I took the only avenue available to me: I drove my forehead into the Manticore's nose with as much force as I could muster. The blow landed dead-on, although one of its teeth caught me by the temple, below my bandana, giving me a shallow, but painful, cut. I ignored the pain and butted it again, eliciting a snarl. It redoubled its efforts, bringing its jaws perilously close to my throat and snapping, millimeters away from tearing my jugular out. Realizing that I needed to get out from under that thing, I coiled my legs, pressed my feet against its belly and heaved.

Your average lion weighs somewhere on the order of six hundred pounds. My max leg press at the time was three fifty. Do the math. There's a disparity there. I strained against that monster's bulk, gritting my teeth and pushing as hard as I could, but to no avail. It was simply too heavy, impossible to lift.

So, as I often did in impossible situations, I changed my tactics.

The lion roared into my face; I opened my mouth and roared right back as I coiled my legs and slammed my feet into its muscular stomach. The Manticore wheezed and recoiled, stumbling backwards off of me. It recovered swiftly, but the momentary distraction was all the time I needed to recover. It shook its head and growled at me as I leaped back to my feet and into a fighting stance, hands balled, shoulders squared, legs spread evenly apart. My gun was behind me, and even with the drugs pumping through its blood the Manticore was quick enough that it could have intercepted me before I could even come close to snatching it back up. Fleeing was out of the question too, for the same reason. It was a mismatch, even with the Manticore handicapped, but hand-to-paw combat was the order of the night.

The pony, like an idiot, had stuck around to watch the fight, standing well behind me and just to my left. The Manticore's eyes flicked in her direction, then back to me. It dove at me again, but the glance it spared the pony had prepared me for a feint. Sure enough, as it came within striking distance of me, it quickly adjusted its course and rushed at the pony, who yelped in fear and cowered. I tackled the Manticore in midair and we rolled through the dirt together. Eventually, I came out on top, pinned it on its back, and bashed my fists against it. Again and again, I rained heavy blows onto its face, punctuating each punch with a grunt as I battered it into submission.

Something sharp dug into my right shoulder, just beside my neck, and a searing liquid heat suddenly spread into my body. I cried out in equal parts shock and pain, and the Manticore, taking advantage of my lapse, threw me off of its body. I rose to my feet again, shakily this time. The heat in my shoulder spread rapidly, to my arms first, then to my legs. My limbs felt like they weighed a ton each, and I struggled to hold my balance.

The Manticore dangled its tail over its head, and I swore it smirked smarmily at me. Through my blurring vision, I could see a droplet of blood, my blood, dripping from its stinger, staining the grass where it landed crimson. Venom, I thought. It injected me with... with... My thinking grew sluggish, mirroring my physical deterioration. The effects of the venom were becoming harder to resist; simply standing on two feet now required a Herculean effort. I'd gotten careless, let an unfamiliar monster get the drop on me, and I'd been poisoned for my trouble. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer.

I thought about Otacon, and wondered if he'd be able to follow my instructions. I trusted him, trusted that he and Jack could get the job done without me. I was about to die, but at least the mission would be in good hands. And at least I'd make sure my last act had some meaning to it, if it meant keeping that idiot child alive.

My Beretta lay in the grass beside the filly, who, defying all conventional wisdom, still held her ground like a moron. The Manticore stood between the two of us, digging its paw into the dirt and preparing to charge again. I needed to be quick and decisive. With the venom coursing through my veins, that wouldn't be at all easy.

The Manticore came for me, sailing through the air, wings spread wide, claws out, fangs bared. And I dove. I rolled beneath it as it hung in midair, coming to a halt a finger's length away from my gun. I scrabbled vainly for it, my increasingly heavy and inarticulate hand grasping nothing but wispy green grass. Behind me, the Manticore landed on all fours, turned around to face me where I lay, and roared again. My fingertip brushed against the grip of the Beretta, inadvertently pushing it away a half-inch more, ensuring that it was completely out of reach.

The filly – I could barely make it out by this point, even with it standing less than a foot away – looked at the gun, then at my hand, and without further hesitation kicked it closer to me, right into my palm. I made an expression which I hoped turned out to be a smile, wrapped my fingers around the grip, rolled onto my back, cocked the gun, raised it into the air, pointed it at the Manticore and fired.

I make it sound easy, but take my word for it, it wasn't. I was slow as molasses, and I suspect that the only reason the Manticore didn't snatch me up and shred me apart right then and there, why I'd survived for as long as I had, was because it feeling the effects of the first tranquilizer I'd fired into its body. Made us even, I suppose – tit for tat, sting for sting.

The strength was nearly gone from my limbs; the gun felt as though it were carved from lead. Raising it from the ground was difficult enough, but my numb fingers could barely grasp it well enough to work the slide and chamber the next round, and by the time that was all done, the Manticore was nearly on top of me. My vision had deteriorated to the point where I couldn't even see the laser painting the target, never mind the iron sights. It was all I could do to point at where I thought the Manticore was, shoot, and pray to whatever god this pony-infested deathtrap had that the shot was on the mark.

I honestly don't know what happened after that. My last memory of that battle was firing that last round. For the second time that day, I slipped away into unconsciousness, with the sinking realization that, this time, my number truly had come up.

Each pound to the door was like a hammer driving a nail into Fluttershy's skull. Moaning through the head-splitting pain, she trudged across her darkened living room to her front door on unsteady hooves. She nudged it open, blinking bleary red eyes and wincing as warm sunlight streamed onto her face. The light compounded her splitting headache, super-heating the nail in her skull to a glistening, white-hot spike, and she shut her eyelids tightly to block out the offending luminescence. “C-can I help you?” she mumbled to her early morning visitor.

The response was terse. “Is she here?”

Fluttershy's eyes snapped open at the sound of Applejack's voice. The sunlight fried her retinas and renewed her headache, and she squeezed her eyes shut again in the same instant that she opened them. “Appleja – n-no, I – is who here?” she asked cogently.

Fluttershy heard Applejack sigh heavily, then felt her flank brush against her wing as she trotted, uninvited, into the house. “Shoulda warned you about the consequences of late-night imbibin'. Guess that's another reason for you not to drink.”

Fluttershy groped for the opened door with a trembling hoof, found it, and shut it behind Applejack. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The memory of their argument from the night before was still powerfully fresh in her mind.

“I'm gonna ask again,” said Applejack slowly. “Is Apple Bloom here?”

“Apple Bloom?” Fluttershy shook her head incrementally. It irritated her hangover too much to move her head any more than the barest amount. “No, she's not. Why would she be?”

Applejack sighed again, though this time, Fluttershy swore she heard a trace of a stutter in her breathing, like a half-choked sob. She turned away from the door and opened her eyes halfway. The drawn curtains and dim lighting in her house muted the pain of sight somewhat, just enough to make looking at Applejack bearable (physically, anyway). Fluttershy avoided staring directly into her eyes, not certain it she'd ever be able to look at her with openness after the incident at Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack, too, took great care not to meet Fluttershy's bloodshot gaze. Her expression remained carefully neutral, betraying no emotion, but her posture sagged and the brim of her hat was drawn farther down over her face than usual. A saddle was slung onto her back, from which a worn saddlebag hung.

“She ran away,” said Applejack at length. “I woke up this mornin' to check on her, and she was gone. Her window was open and there was a blanket tied into a rope leadin' to the ground.”

Fluttershy gasped sharply, her eyes flying open again, though she ignored the pain that it brought this time. “'Ran away'?” she parroted “Why?”

“We had a fight,” said Applejack. “'Things were said. Leave it at that. I ran for Big McIntosh the second I noticed, but I couldn't find him anyplace. Figure he started early out in the orchard, took Winona with him. I didn't want to waste time findin' him that coulda been spent findin' Apple Bloom. He can take care of himself. She...” Applejack's voice hitched again. She coughed and cleared her throat. “Anyway.”

“But why would she be here?” asked Fluttershy, trotting closer to Applejack.

Applejack shrugged. “It seemed a good place t'start lookin', after the way she stuck up for y'all last night. An', uh, in any event, I needed to come by an' talk to you. See, uh...” She trailed off, glancing nervously away. “Dang, but I'm too hungover t'do this."

Fluttershy tilted her head, winced at the pain it caused her to do so, and tilted her head back to its starting position. "You don't sound hung over."

"Don't let that fool you." Applejack said with a ghost of a smile. She inhaled deeply, and lowered her gaze to the floor. “What I'm tryin' to say is that... I'm sorry, Fluttershy.” Her voice was even, steady, again. “For the way I talked to you last night, the way I treated you. You didn't deserve half of it. I could blame it on the cider messin' with my head, but that'd be the easy way out, an' Ma 'n Pa raised me right – taught me to responsibility for my words an' deeds. Truth is, I was mad, dang mad, an' I let it get the better of me. I got the right to be sore with you, and I ain't yieldin' that. But I shouldn'ta flew off the handle like I did. So I apologize for actin' like such a... well...” Applejack laughed mirthlessly. "Pick a word an' fill in the blank."

“I... I appreciate that.” Fluttershy fought earnestly to keep the tears away, and earnestly failed. “And I want you to know how... how sorry I am for what happened the night of the sleepover.”

“I know yer sorry. An' wanna say I forgive you, but..." Applejack sighed. "I can't say that an' be honest about it. Not yet, anyhow."

Fluttershy hiccuped.

“But I still need you,” Applejack continued. “I got a sister runnin' loose in a big ol' world chock fulla all manner o'nasty things that'd look to hurt her. A filly's a filly; to hay with what she says.” She stepped closer to Fluttershy, smiling guardedly at the pegasus. “I need to find my sister, an' I could use an extra couple'a eyes. Think you can spare yours?”

“You don't even need to ask.” Through her tears, Fluttershy returned the smile. Whether it was a trick of the light, or her own sleepy vision playing tricks on her, she swore that she saw tears welling up in those brilliant green eyes. But it was a passing thing, and any traces of mushiness on Applejack's part were gone as quickly as they'd appeared.

“Much obliged, Fluttershy,” said Applejack warmly. “I reckon we oughta start by roundin' up the others, six pairs of eyes bein' better'n two. First thing's first though.” She dug into her saddlebag, fished around for a moment, and retrieved a slender thermos with the Apple family crest stamped upon it. Applejack offered the thermos to Fluttershy, who hesitantly retrieved it and unscrewed the lid. Fluttershy held her nose over the thermos' opening and inhaled, her shy smile growing wider, less guarded. The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee danced in her nostrils.

“Yer prob'ly tired of bein' hung over, right?” asked Applejack as Fluttershy took a lengthy, savoring drink from the thermos. “This ol' family brew oughta fix you up right an' proper. Nothin' bucks a hangover like hot coffee, Apple-family-style. That'd be with cinnamon, if yer curious. Don't tell nopony. Family secret.” She winked.

Fluttershy giggled into the thermos and smiled gratefully as the caffeine entered her system, her headache dulling to a low throb, as opposed to the stab of hot iron from before. “I do feel better,” she said, “thank you.”

Applejack shook her head. “Thank me by helpin' me find my sister. That drink don't come free, y'know.” She strode past Fluttershy, opened the door and stood aside. “After you.”

Fluttershy trotted out of her front door, nodding her thanks at Applejack, who shut the door and followed briskly behind her. Though Applebloom's disappearance had fostered anxiety in her heart, she couldn't help but feel a small tinge of relief as she stepped into the brilliant sunlight of a newborn summer day. A friendship she'd feared irreparable was on the mend.

But Applejack said herself that she hadn't forgiven her yet. And as the two of them cantered resolutely down the road to Ponyville proper, Fluttershy swore to herself that she would earn that forgiveness.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/7

-Changed opening quote
-Fixed punctuation errors
-Fixed typographical errors
-Changed formatting
-Minor adjustments to dialogue and narration
-Changed Applejack's dialogue to reflect different characterization (part of the reason she seeks out Fluttershy is to apologize)

3. A Host of Sorrows

"Sad... so sad..."

I stood in a dark enclosure, the ground soft and cold beneath (and around) my feet. Before me was a narrow path, flanked on either side by concrete walls that jutted high, vanishing into the blackness of the night sky. Behind me was a mechanical door, built into the rockface and stamped with the number four. When I looked down, I saw that the ground was coated in a blanket of stark white snow. A wet, cold pinprick needled my face, followed by a second, then a third and fourth. I shivered, breathed into my hands, and rubbed them together.

I wasn't sure how I'd come to be here; the last thing I remembered was pulling the trigger on my Beretta as the world went dark around me. But the place felt familiar, and as the cogs in my head ground back into working order, I suddenly realized why. This was the path leading to the Comm Tower on Shadow Moses Island. The door behind me led back to the underground path, where the wolf-dogs made their dens. The ground beneath me, I remembered grimly, was heavily mined, and I dared not move for fear of setting off a Claymore. The snowy road in front of me led to Tower A. On the gantry outside of the tower, Sniper Wolf had laid a trap for me, and sprung it on the wrong person. The snow at the tip of the path was fresh and white, as though blood had never stained it, as though Meryl had never laid in agony while Wolf toyed with her.

I swallowed hard and tried to force the memory away, but an echo of it lingered, mocking my failure. I took comfort in knowing that I'd saved her life in the long run. I don't know that I'd have been able to live with myself if she'd died.

I tried the door behind me; it wouldn't open. Obvious, of course, since I didn't have the PAN card key, and hadn't for years. The only option available was to walk the path, and see where it led. Watching carefully for any trace of a laser sight, following the steps that Meryl had taken around the Claymore mines so long ago, I found my way onto the path. With nowhere to go but forward, I set off.

It wasn't a long march from the door to the Comm Tower, and it shouldn't have taken much time to reach the end, but the march from point A to point B was far longer than I remembered. On top of that, the snow was picking up in intensity. Without my notice, it had turned from a light dusting that tickled my cheeks into a flurry that battered me, stinging my nose and ears and obscuring my vision while heavy winds buffeted me. My feet sank deeper and deeper into the snow with each step. Before long, I was sunk up to my ankles, trudging through an ever-thickening blanket until I found myself too snowed in to move. I was contemplating digging into the snow and forming a temporary igloo to wait out the blizzard when I heard a ragged, raspy, whispering voice that made the chill of the frost seem like molten lava by contrast.

“You've returned,” it said to me.

A shape materialized through the whipping wind of the blizzard, black and billowing. My mind conjured images of the Grim Reaper, swaddled in a black cloak and brandishing a scythe. I wondered if I was dead. The surreal situation made such an illogical thought oddly plausible.

Whoever or whatever it was, I decided that I wasn't going to let it take me without a fight. I still had a job to do, after all. My hand reached for my holster and drew the Beretta, and I fell into as steady a shooting stance as I could fashion while up to my thighs in snow. “Who are you?” I demanded. “Show yourself!”

And it did. Or, rather, he did. He came into the open, and even through the blinding snowstorm, I could discern him as clear as day. He was cloaked and hooded in black, and though his face was hidden in the shadow cast by his hood, a pair of eyes, burning red like coals, peered out at me. His legs were clad in camouflage pants, of a pattern and color that I had never seen on the field before.

Rather than answer my question, he posed one of his own. “Why are you here again?” His soft voice somehow carried over the din of the storm. “You passed through here before, but I sent you back. It wasn't your time. It still isn't.”

True, I'd been to this island before, but I didn't recall ever encountering him. Figured I'd remember something like that happening. Up to my ass in freezing snow and with no understanding of how the hell I'd come to be there, I decided to press him for more detail. “What are you talking about? Tell me who you are, now!”

The ghost complied, raised a dangling arm to his head and pulled down his hood, baring a pale, bespectacled face and a head of gray hair, combed back and hanging stiffly behind his neck.

“I am The Sorrow,” he whispered. “And you are your father's son.”

I tightened my grip on my pistol.

“I will not test you, as I did he,” said The Sorrow. “You still have much to do before that time may come. As before, I will guide you back.”

The snow picked up once again, obscuring The Sorrow in a shroud of white. I could feel it gathering, rising to my stomach and climbing at a worryingly rapid pace. I was going to be buried alive. “Wait!” I called. “What the hell are you even talking about?! Come back here!”

But he was gone. The snow climbed to my neck, edging past my jaw. I couldn't move any of my limbs; I was helpless, frozen, watching snow gather over my body. I heard The Sorrow again, just before my head was covered completely.

“You look just like him.”

My first reaction upon waking was to bolt upright and gasp, but I had barely risen before pain shot through every inch of my body, and I fell back onto the bed with an agonized growl.

Wait. A bed? I was on a bed? That struck me as unusual; I had been in a forest, then I'd been in the snow, and now I was on a bed. Something didn't add up. I decided to test my vision. It was still blurry, but beginning to clear, with shapes growing more defined and depth perception returning – slowly, but steadily and noticeably.

I decided to take stock of my surroundings. First, I gingerly prodded whatever it was I was lying on. Definitely on a bed, not the softest or most comfortable I'd ever rested on, but a clear step above the floor of that barn from earlier. It was small, though, and I only fit on it from my head to my knees. Everything from my calves down dangled over the bed's edge. I was in a smallish, circular room. The walls, covered in wooden tribal masks, scowled at me from all sides. Tiny windows gave me vague peeks into the outside world. The wall of dark green that pressed against the them told me that I was still in the forest. I couldn't see any occupant, but then, I couldn't turn my head enough to look around the room completely.

My thoughts went to The Sorrow, and our encounter in the underground passage at Shadow Moses. I wanted to call it a dream, but it seemed too tangible, too real. The bitterness of the cold, the wet snow melting against my skin. Dreams are fleeting; they fade almost immediately upon waking. But what I had experienced was fresh in my head. It was so real, and yet it couldn't possibly have been.

“You've returned,” The Sorrow had said. Did he mean to Shadow Moses? I hadn't physically gone back there; that would have been quite impossible. To the memory of Shadow Moses? Deep down, I don't think I ever left that place. Was he speaking figuratively? Or was there something deeper to what he said, some meaning that was too far from the reality I confined myself to?

A fresh wave of pain hit me and I groaned. Trying to puzzle out the meaning of that fever dream clearly wasn't doing anything good for me. I was restless and I wanted to crawl out of bed, but I could barely move. Whatever the manticore had injected me with, it was potent stuff. I lay there, letting the steady ache pulse through me.

I heard the sound of hooves clopping against the floor and turned my head in its direction, wincing as my stiff, sore neck protested. One of the tails of my bandanna dropped over my eyes as my head turned, and so all I could see was a screen of dark teal. The clopping sound came closer; I heard a throaty chuckle, and felt something wet and a little fuzzy brush against my face for an instant. The bandanna lifted from my eyes, but the shape in front of me was too blurry to discern distinctly. All I could see was a mass of black and white, and what appeared to be yellow here and there. I tried to talk, to ask who it was and what I was doing here, but my tongue felt thick and clumsy, and the only sound I could make was incoherent mumbling.

The black and white shape stepped back, enough that I could see it clearly. It was a zebra, albeit the most unusual looking zebra I'd ever beheld. Gold bands ringed its neck and dangled from its ears, and its mane was done up in a Mohawk. The hell? First the lion-shaped manticore, and now a zebra? Was this supposed to be Africa?

The first impression I got was that of Mr. T in a zebra's body. The mental image drew a dry chuckle from me that built, despite the pain it caused me to laugh. As it died down, I silently wondered if it would talk like him too, call me a fool and tell me it pitied me, and I began laughing again, even harder. The pain grew with each exhale of breath, the ebbing ache rearing again to fill my entire body.

“You're laughing as much as your body will allow,” the zebra observed in a woman's voice, voice – deep, spoken from the chest. “Does that mean you're feeling better now?”

Oh no, it didn't talk like Mr. T at all. It rhymed. She rhymed. A rhyming zebra. This was too much. Too much. A step too far, too damn far. It was like a dam had burst. Every ridiculous, insane happening from that past night, from the mystic portal with the unicorn bust, to the city full of talking, diminutive horses, to this goddamn zebra, who had put me up for the night in its house, who wore jewelry like an African tribal – I couldn't stop laughing. The pain built with every guffaw, almost unendurable, yet still I laughed.

My host tilted her head quizzically. “Your boisterous laughter is troubling me. Is there something here that you find funny?” asked the rhyming, talking zebra with the Mohawk and the jewelry.

I rolled over, howling now with laughter. Every nerve in my body was alight; every synapse in my brain blazed. It was like being strapped to Ocelot's torture machine all over again, except without the hope that it'd shut off after a while and I'd be free to gather my strength. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but laugh myself to death. I slumped over the edge of the bed, reflexively propping myself against the floor with an open palm. There was no strength in my arms; my elbow bent and I collapsed against the floor, half of my body still hanging from the bed. Laughter gave way to wet, heavy coughing. Flecks of red spattered against the dirt floor.

“Zecora? Zecora! Is he alright?!” A girlish voice, squealing. Sounded so familiar.

The zebra has a name. I started to laugh again; it transformed into a cough midway through. My shoulders heaved and my chest pounded. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. Red spots mingled and grew on the floor in the center of my vision.

The zebra moved swiftly. She uncorked a nearby bottle, and shoved it into mine. Then she pushed her neck beneath me and, with a strained grunt, rolled my upper body onto the bed and rested me on my back. I coughed, choked, and sputtered on the bitter tasting yellow fluid. Most of it geysered out of my mouth, but I guess that enough of it went where it was supposed to go, because a warm feeling grew in my chest and, gradually, began to spread outward. It was unlike the searing pain of the manticore's venom; it was a different feeling entirely. Like cough syrup. Like that warm, settling feeling you get in your chest when you drink it, except spreading to my entire body, to my arms and legs, even to my digits. My psychotic fit of laughter was gone. I still coughed, but only to eject the fluid that had gone down my trachea. I growled, clearing my throat, swallowed hard – it didn't hurt so bad anymore – and gestured to the zebra for more.

Looking profoundly relieved, she set the bottle in my outstretched hand. My fingers found some of their strength as I grasped it, and I raised it to my lips. It put considerable strain on my muscles to lift it; the bottle felt like it weighed every ounce as much as the manticore, but I took a long swig. The drink tasted like crap, but I relished the way it washed comfortingly through my body. She watched me patiently, concernedly, as I digested her concoction.

The pain faded again, replaced by a gentle numbness. I dropped the bottle onto the ground, heard it impact but not shatter, and sighed, letting out a final, sputtering cough. I turned my head to the zebra to thank her, saw the Mohawk and the jewelry again, and couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh. The zebra – Zecora, that was her name – smiled back at me and offered a chuckle of her own, without understanding the joke.

My eye caught sight of a yellow-coated, red-maned figure peeking shyly from behind her legs. It was the filly I'd rescued earlier. She glanced at me, our eyes meeting for an instant before she averted them, hiding again behind Zecora.

I'm no good with kids.

Spike rubbed at his eyes fitfully as he opened the door to greet the fervent caller at Golden Oak Library, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “Whuzzat?” he mumbled.

“Mornin' Spike,” said Applejack. “Is Twi in?”

Spike mumbled something affirmative through a yawn and stepped aside to allow Applejack into the building. “Twilight!” he called sleepily. “Got a visitor!”

“Is it Derpy?” Twilight Sparkle called back from the loft. “Derpy, did you make sure to bring the actual order form? Because last time, you had me sign a receipt for muffins, and—”

“Unless Derpy turned orange and sold her wings to buy a hat,” said Spike, “I'm gonna say that it's Applejack.” He stumbled in the direction of the loft, passing Twilight as she descended the stairs to meet her visitor.

Applejack watched Spike retreat, then glanced at Twilight, her head cocked at a slight angle. “Expectin' a package?”

"Derpy sent me a letter to tell me that I had a delivery coming. She's a little off, y'know? Marches to the beat of her own drum." Twilight shook her head with slight exasperation. The motion shook loose a hairbrush that was stuck in her bedmane. It bounced off of her back and fell to the ground. She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I'm a mess. I'm afraid you've kinda caught me at an off moment.”

“Well, y'know I wouldn't trouble y'all this early if it weren't over somethin' important,” said Applejack with a sigh. “It's Apple Bloom.”

Applejack recounted what happened the night before, from the festiveness of the dinner, to Fluttershy's drunken admission, to the pitched argument with Apple Bloom. “And when I checked on her a li'l while ago, she was gone. Window was open, blankets were knotted up and hangin' to th'bottom.” She shook her head despondently. “If I weren't scared completely outta my wits, I'd be impressed with that girl. She's one o'the Apple Family alright, stubborn n'resourceful.”

Twilight listened to the whole of Applejack's story with a sympathetic facade, but her blood ran cold when the topic of the Crusaders' transgression came up. Applejack wasn't specific about what kind of trouble they'd run into, or where they had disappeared to that night, saying only that they'd sneaked out on Fluttershy's watch and nearly gotten themselves killed. She had no way of knowing, but Twilight didn't need to be told what happened, having been an actual victim of the cockatrice. Afraid that Applejack would hold her partially responsible for knowing the truth and saying nothing, she elected to feign ignorance.

“Sssssoooo,” Twilight drawled, struggling to maintain a nonchalant attitude.“Where's Fluttershy now?” Her voice spiked noticeably in pitch as she said her friend's name. Applejack raised an eyebrow, and Twilight offered a shaky, nervous grin. “Sorry, um. My throat's always a little cloggy in the morning.” She forced a cough and grinned again.

Applejack's eyes narrowed. “Uh... huh.” With a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes, she continued talking. “T'answer yer question, I asked her to round up the others, said I'd get you myself. I told her it was 'cuz we'd get through it quicker that way, an' that's plenny true. But deep down, I think it was 'cuz I can't look at her without feelin'... what's a better word for 'angry'?”

“Livid?” Twilight suggested. “Outraged?” Scrunching her nose and tilting her head worriedly, she added “Equicidal?”

“Kinda all o'the above,” said Applejack. “'Cept that last one. Don't know what it means.”

That isn't much of a relief, thought Twilight.

“Dangit though, Twi, I don't know who I'm madder at right now, her or me. I can't rightly blame Fluttershy for nearly getting' her killed without bein' mad at m'self for lettin' her slip out on my own watch. An' o'course I'm mad at m'sister too, but more the scared kinda mad, less the 'I'mma buck you to the moon an' let'cha play among the stars' kinda mad.”

Twilight glowered at Applejack. This was not the first reference she'd heard about ponies being sent “to the moon” as a punishment, and they'd only gotten more colorful and frequent since Princess Luna's return. Applejack being one of the six who had facilitated that return, Twilight would have guessed that she'd be above such humor.

“And do you want to, ahem, 'buck Fluttershy to the moon?'” Annoyance at Applejack's irreverence crept into Twilight's voice.

“Naw, not really. But I'm still...” Applejack lay on the floor, folding her hind legs beneath her and her forelegs in front of her, resting her chin on the latter. Twilight had always regarded Applejack as one of the strongest ponies she'd ever known, as tough emotionally as she was powerful physically. Seeing her here, baring her soul in so vulnerable a position, was difficult to watch. She suddenly felt guilty for having the slightest amount of annoyance with her troubled friend.

“I mean, I've known the gal a long while,” Applejack continued. “We've always been sorta close, 'specially now, after everything we've all gone through together. I figger somethin' like this ain't enough to wreck years an' years of friendship, right? So I can't really bring myself t'hate 'er, an' I feel like a heel jus' for yellin' at her. But then I think about how close I came to losin' Apple Bloom on her account; I think about her now, all alone an' scared wherever she is, an' I can't bring myself to forgive her neither.”

Applejack brushed an idle hoof against the wooden floor of the library. “Brought her a thermos of Apple Family-style coffee this mornin', told 'er I needed all the help I could get. Put on my very best face, smiled at 'er, treated the gal like my bestest friend in all th'world. An' you know what?” Applejack thumped her hoof lightly against the floorboards. “It felt... wrong. Unnatural. 'Cuz it weren't all true. I wanna forgive 'er, Twi, but I can't. An' at the same time, I wanna be angry; I wanna hate Fluttershy as if she killed Apple Bloom with her own hooves, an' I can't do that neither. 'Cuz whatever happened last night, that weren't her fault. She didn't lose her temper at Apple Bloom an' get in a screamin' match with her an' drive her out into the night. But that don't make me any less angry. It jus' means that...” She buried her face in her hooves and groaned. “Dangit, but I'm messed up in the noggin right now.”

“It means what?” Twilight asked softly. “You're not angry with Fluttershy, it sounds like. You're angry with yourself."

Applejack said nothing to that.

“And you can't hate her either, no matter how much you want to," Twilight continued. "Because you don't blame her for what happened – at least, that's how I'm interpreting this. You blame yourself. You're angry with yourself. And you hate yourself because of it." Twilight trotted beside her and rested a comforting hoof upon her shoulder.

“If it were yer flesh n'blood, Twi,” said Applejack at length. “Or, shoot, not even. If it were Spike, not Apple Bloom, in this situation right now, wouldn't you lay it on yerself? Wouldn't you have trouble forgivin' yerself over it?” She looked into Twilight's face, blinking rapidly over red eyes. “Wouldn't you hate yerself too?”

It hadn't been so long ago that she'd been in precisely that situation. Twilight thought about Spike's close encounter with the hungry dragon, the night he ran away. She didn't see any reason to talk about Spike's personal business, but she felt that she could convey her sympathies while remaining comfortably vague.

“If it were me in that situation – if it had been Spike who attacked by a cockatrice, then—”

“Hold on now.” Applejack's features hardened the moment Twilight said “cockatrice.” She brushed her friend's hoof off of her shoulder and stood. “Now, I don't recall tellin' you what Apple Bloom got attacked by.”

Twilight's bloodstream entered an ice age and her heart froze into a glacier. “Um... I... ” Her mind reeled. The little librarian in her head dug through every cliché, excuse and iota of knowledge she had, struggling to drudge up something that would satisfy Applejack. “I was doing some reading earlier about fauna in the Everfree Forest—”

“Don't recall sayin' where she went neither!” snapped Applejack accusingly.

It's been nice knowing you, Purplesmart, said Twilight's little librarian.

“Land's sakes, Twilight!” Applejack shoved her snarling face uncomfortably far into Twilight's personal space. “You knew about this!”

“Applejack,” said Twilight hastily, “if I could just have a moment to explain—”

“Yer gonna have to forgive me Twilight – Element of Honesty and all.” Applejack put on a false smile. “But it's a li'l hard for me to accept that so many of my friends would keep secrets from me, 'specially important secrets about my family that I got a right to know!” She whirled away from Twilight, who recoiled reflexively. Thankfully, Applejack was sane enough to not confuse Twilight's head with an apple tree in the heat of the moment (a defense which she'd learned, from a study of Equestrian frontier law, could hold up in court), and she merely paced irritably to and fro.

“Everypony and their granny knows 'bout this but me! Of all the – I expected more from my – you and everypony else who—” She whirled back to Twilight, stamping her hooves against the floor. “Dangit, Twi, she's my only sister! Does Rarity know too, or didja decide to leave us both in the dark for fun?! 'Hey, I got a doozy of an idea! Let's not tell Rarity or Applejack that their sisters nearly became lunch meat for a cockatrice!'”

Amid Applejack's shouting, Twilight achieved a serenity that she didn't know she had. She half-jokingly wondered if she was subconsciously certain that she was about to die, and if she'd simply accepted the inevitability. “I don't know if Rarity knows. But I imagine if she did, then she and Fluttershy wouldn't still be taking their weekly trips to the spa." Her voice held a steady, even cadence against the furor in the Earth Pony's voice. "It's not a grand conspiracy, Applejack. The only reason I know is because I was there.”

That caught Applejack's interest. She regarded Twilight with suspicion, but not with equicidal rage, to Twilight's relief. “Wanna tell me what'cha mean, sugarcube?” she asked, heaping acid onto the last word.

Twilight did. She recounted her afternoon trot to Zecora's hut. She explained how she'd stopped to gather a particularly interesting specimen of clover off the beaten path. She expounded upon how she'd been attacked by the cockatrice, and how the next thing she knew, she was facing a very relieved Fluttershy and three quivering fillies.

“She saved my life,” Twilight finished. Her friend still looked at her suspiciously, but her relaxed muscles and even posture told the unicorn that the fire had mostly gone out. Twilight decided not to relax, figuring that adrenaline was the only thing still keeping her going. “I decided that I wouldn't tell anypony what happened before Fluttershy did, because I didn't think it'd be right to go behind her back after what she did that for me. I don't blame you for being mad at me, Applejack, but at least try and understand my side of it. And hers. Look at yourself right now, and think about Fluttershy. Can't you think of a reason why she'd want to keep what happened to herself?”

“You sayin' she didn't tell me 'cuz... 'cuz she was afraid of me?” A look of hurt bloomed on Applejack's face as she made the realization.

“Not afraid of you, per se,” Twilight corrected. “But maybe of how you'd react. Correctly, too, if last night is any indication.”

Applejack's eyes trailed away from Twilight's and down to the floor. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, her expression shifting from suspicion, to depression, to resignation. Twilight felt a weight in her stomach. Worry for Apple Bloom blended with empathy for Applejack. She feared for her friend and for the cheerful yellow filly, but part of her – and she couldn't tell if it was a selfish or a noble part of her – feared, above all, for the future of their friendship. If something happened to Apple Bloom, would things ever be the same between Fluttershy and Applejack? Or between Applejack and herself? Something like this could forever drive a wedge between the six of them, ruin the friendship that she'd grown so reliant upon.

“I'm sorry about Apple Bloom,” said Twilight. "I truly am. But if we're going to find her, then we can't be so preoccupied with whose fault it is and why. You gotta forgive Fluttershy, Applejack. But more than that, you need to forgive yourself.”

Applejack shut her eyes slowly, chewing her lip. "Twi, I'm sorry. You don't deserve..." Tears pooled between her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. “My sister told me she wished I was dead,” she said with a quiet sob. “That I was dead an' our parents weren't. An' if I don't find her, then those'll be the last words she ever said t'me.”

Unsure of how to react, whether pity would be welcome or met with more anger, Twilight simply stood as a silent witness to her grief.

“Hell-OOOOOOOOOO!” sang a saccharine voice. “Anypony hooooooome?” Pinkie Pie poked her head through the still-open front door and smiled widely at Applejack and Twilight Sparkle. The former sniffed, exhaled and drew her hat's brim as far down over her eyes as she could. Then she craned her head around and smiled weakly.

“Pinkie?” asked Twilight. “Where are the others?”

“Waiting for you two!” Pinkie Pie hopped in place lightly on the tips of her hooves. “Rainbow Dash got bored with that fast, though, so she went looking in the air. I don't know what she's gonna find there though.” Pinkie shrugged. “Comin'?”

Applejack looked back at Twilight, her expression uncertain. “I don't know, Twi. Are we?”

“We are,” said Twilight with a smile and a gentle nod. “Always, no matter what.”

Applejack shut her eyes again and exhaled. When she opened them, they were still red and puffy, but her genuine smile belied her change in attitude. “I'm sorry,” she said again, in a hushed voice that only she and Twilight would hear. “Guess I'mma be sayin' that a lot today.”

Twilight looped her hoof around Applejack's neck and pulled her in for a quick hug. Then the hug grew tighter as a third participant wrapped around the two of them, squeezing them against her chest tightly. “Oh, what the hay?” Pinkie giggled. “Everypony loves a good group hug!” She squeezed them together one last time before releasing them, and bounced out the door.

Applejack smiled gratefully at Twilight one last time before following Pinkie. Twilight started to follow...

“Hey, Twi? You got a second?”

...and immediately stopped. Spike peeked at the retreating ponies from the loft.

“Go on ahead,” said Twilight to Applejack. “I'll follow in a minute.” Once they were alone, Twilight turned her attention to Spike. “Couldn't sleep?” she asked as he climbed down the stairs toward her.

“You kidding?” Spike said. “The way Applejack was yelling? No way anypony could sleep through that.” He sighed, holding his tail in his hands and twiddling it nervously. “Poor Apple Bloom, huh? Wonder where she is.”

“Yeah. All the more reason to find her quickly, right?” Her gaze drifted to where Applejack had knocked her hoof against the floor, and at the scuff marks she'd created. “Yeesh. Anyway, what was it that you wanted to say?”

“I wanted to thank you,” said Spike. He kept his eyes on the tip of his tail. “For not telling Applejack about what happened with me and that dragon.” He shuddered. “It wasn't my finest moment.”

“Hey,” said Twilight, nudging his shoulder with a playful hoof. “I wouldn't blab about your personal life for all the books in Equestria.” She glanced about the library shelves and winced. “Hey, speaking of, could you reorganize the books while I'm gone? I've still got that bulk shipment from Marelington that needs realphabetizing—”

“Actually,” Spike interrupted. He wrung his tail a little tighter. “Actually, I was hoping to go with you.”

Twilight's jaw dropped. She shook her head and shut it again. “Really?” she asked. “Any reason why? Or are you just looking to get out of your chores?”

“Hey, what are you implying? I got reasons,” Spike said defensively. “I wasn't much help the last time Apple Bloom went missing, and I wanna make up for it. Besides...” He looked past Twilight, at where Applejack had stood. “I've never seen her like that. I'd do anything to get the old AJ back.”

Twilight thought about the red-eyed, broken mare, who'd scuffed up her floorboards and snarled in her face. The mare who'd cried aloud where nopony but she could see, who was so unlike the bright eyed and easy laughing Applejack as to be almost frightening. “You and me both, Spike.” She sighed and lowered her head to the ground. “Climb aboard. Maybe you'll spot something the rest of us won't.”

His spirits brightened, Spike crawled up Twilight's neck, settling on her back. “Hey Twilight?” Spike asked as the door swung open in front of them, encased in a translucent purple aura.

“Yeah Spike?”

“When it was me out there, when you were looking for me.” Spike's palms played nervously with Twilight's mane. “Did you feel the same way Applejack does now?”

When Spike ran away, she and Owlowicious had found him just in time to save him from being devoured. Had they been a few moments later, or had they not been able to pick up his trail at all...

“Twilight? Are you there?"

"Yeah. Sorry." She licked her lips. "It doesn't matter, Spike. The past is the past. And as long as we're together, I'll never let you come to that kind of harm."

“Really? You promise?”

“Of course, Spike.” She blinked, and in the moment of darkness, saw Spike's scattered bones amid a dragon's hoard. “I promise.”

My host was gracious enough to answer my every question in exchange for the story behind my being there in the first place. So I offered her a very condensed version of the events surrounding the Pegasus Wings incident. Concepts like nuclear deterrence and military privatization would no doubt have flown over her head, so I gave her the gist of it and braced myself for questions. She had none, thankfully, so I took point instead. First and foremost, I asked where I was; she told me I was in the Everfree Forest, in the land of Equestria. Appropriate name for the country to have. The forest was some taboo location that few dared to venture into. I thought about the manticore and decided that these ponies had the right idea steering clear of the place.

“To a pony, there is nothing more deadly than a manticore's sting,” said Zecora thoughtfully while gathering ingredients from the shelves in the hut. “Yet to you, it seems a trifling thing,”

I eyed the darkening red stains on her floor. Guess I got off easy. How bad would it have been for a pony, though?

“I'm of hardy stock,” I said. Immediately after, I coughed, and my mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. I swallowed it and chased it down with another swig of Zecora's antivenom. The taste made me cringe on every swig; couldn't she just have injected it into me? Still, complaining out loud about the substance that saved my life would be a little classless, so I bit my tongue and held my nose whenever she wasn't looking. Didn't want to offend her, after all.

Zecora noticed anyway. She just smiled.

So what was she doing living in the forest, if it was such a deathtrap? Apparently, she liked her space. I got the feeling that there was more to it than that (what kind of insane loner would isolate herself in a forest filled with deadly supernatural beasts?) but she was evasive whenever I pressed her for more information.

“Alright, fine,” I grumbled after my third try. I sipped from the jar again. The stuff tasted like shit, but I was feeling much better. Not perfect, but not quite gagging on my own blood, like before. That was a step up. Zecora clearly knew her craft. “So what about her then?” I nodded at the yellow filly, Apple Bloom, who sat at the far side of the circular room, watching me and pretending that she wasn't. “Don't tell me she lives here too.”

“She lives in town, down the road away,” said Zecora. “Why she is here, she will not say.” Apple Bloom flushed and shuffled her hooves, staring silently at them. Was secret-keeping the national sport of Equestria? These things were damn good at it. I asked her how she found Apple Bloom and I.

“I was taking a late night stroll, you see, gathering herbs for herbal tea.”

Who takes a stroll that late at night? Either she was lying, or an insomniac. Or both.

"During my walk, I heard a roar, and ran to find Apple Bloom at the mercy of the manticore.”

Her rhymes lacked consistent rhythm and meter. I don't know why, but that just bothered me.

“By my honor, I would have intervened,” she swore, “but you had things under control, it seemed. When at last you bested the beast in the fight, I dared to see if you were alright.” She paused. “You were not.”

“Guess the tranquilizers did their job after all,” I muttered to myself. “Knocked it out before it had a chance to eat me.” The hand not clutching the jar of anti-venom reached for my hip holster to pat the Beretta appreciatively. It wasn't there. My breath hitched, and I quickly patted myself down in search of my one and only weapon, until Zecora cleared her throat to get my attention and gestured with her nose to where it lay on the nightstand.

“You have no idea how important it is that you saved that thing,” I told her. “So maybe you hadn't noticed, but I'm a lot bigger than you. Heavy, too. How'd you manage to get me from that clearing all the way back here?”

Zecora and Apple Bloom sighed the same tremendously exhausted sigh. The zebra's body sagged, and she smiled tiredly at me.

I asked her if she'd seen anybody else like me, any other humans. Ponies being the dominant race here, and all, the likelihood of humans being indigenous to Equestria seemed slim. Unless this was some weird Planet of the Apes scenario. But that seemed unlikely.

Turns out, she had. I had some conflicting feelings about that. On the one hand, I was relieved that I hadn't gone through that portal for nothing. On the other, there was an army of mercenaries with a Metal Gear REX knock-off hiding somewhere in Equestria. In some ways, a pointless journey based on a mistaken impression is the preferable alternative there.

“They appeared about a month or so past," Zecora explained. "Their forest forays grew bold, too fast. I would have gone to town and raised the alarm, but I feared that they could have done me much harm.”

I didn't know what to make of the zebra who'd saved my life. She was virtuous enough to nurse me back to health, but too cowardly to risk life or limb under serious circumstances. And she wasn't keen on telling me everything. I could almost respect that, let it go, but she was endangering countless lives through silence and inaction. From that point on, a lot of things happened at once, and it makes me wonder how much of the blame rests on Zecora's shoulders. I withhold complete judgment, though. Something tells me I won't ever have a full picture of who she was or what her motivations were.

“You're right to be afraid,” I said as she busied herself over a bubbling cauldron in the center of the room. “But those patrols are far from the scariest things they're capable of unleashing. The army hiding in this forest possesses what could be considered the deadliest weapon ever devised.”

“And you are here to stop them, yes? Before they can turn this world to a mess?”

I shrugged. Most of my muscles were still sore, and the ones that weren't were numb, but I was regaining feeling fairly quickly. Reclaiming my ability to shrug properly was a small victory to me. “It's my duty.”

“But you said so yourself, my bedridden friend. That weapon could bring you to a nasty end.” Zecora fished out a ladle and dipped it into the cauldron, then carefully poured a thin yellow soup into into a bowl that she offered to Apple Bloom.

“Hasn't managed to yet." I shrugged, working out some stiffness in my shoulders in the process. "Then again, something has to do the trick, sooner or later.”

Zecora offered me a bowl of the same soup. It smelled decent – better than the anti-venom, at any rate, and the rankness of the drug's aftertaste defies description – so I accepted it gratefully, sitting up on the bed and crossing my legs. “Besides, I'm the only one around here with a history in this sort of thing. I think.” I sipped the soup. It tasted like boiled weeds with a hint of onion, which made it about twenty percent more palatable than the antivenom. “I am, aren't I?”

“To my knowledge, yes you are,” said Zecora with a smirk. “But alone, without help, you won't get far.”

“I don't need help.” That was a lie. If no one else, I needed Otacon. “Fighting nuclear-equipped terrorists is just another day at the office for me.”

“That wasn't what I meant to say. I mean that you do not know the way.” She poured herself some soup and lay beside the cauldron to sip from it carefully. “Nor do I, before you ask; I cannot help you with your task. I can tell you where they're striking from, but not how to get there, by what way to come.”

The most impressive thing about Zecora, besides her life-saving apothecary skill, was her commitment to rhyming. “You're saying that I need a guide.”

Zecora took a drink from her soup and nodded. Her eyes were closed as she relished the bitter taste of the broth. I took another sip myself and wondered how she could drink the stuff day in and day out and not be driven to suicide just to escape from the monotony. Apple Bloom's nose scrunched as she held her face over her bowl. The steam curling around her head dampened her coat and mane. As far as I could tell, she hadn't touched it yet. Kids are picky eaters.

“In a castle in this forest, far from here. A legend surrounds it, fostering great fear. The outsiders camp within its wall, hidden by the fable's pall. Few ponies know how to reach that cursed place, but there are six in Ponyville who can take you to the outsiders' base.”

“Ponyville, huh?” Saying the name out loud nearly had me giggling like a madman again. “I passed through a town on my way here. Was that it?”

Zecora nodded at me with a mouthful of soup.

“Great. Backtracking. My number one passtime.” I drained my soup in one gulp and instantly regretted it, shuddering as the bitter mixture slid down my throat, burning all the way to my stomach. “How do I convince them to help me?” I asked. My scorched throat made my voice a little rougher than usual.

Zecora glanced at Apple Bloom and wiggled her eyebrows. “This one wandered away from the fold. Return her to them, and they'll be sold.”

“What?” Apple Bloom looked up from the soup that she was contemplating and stared at Zecora. “Whus goin' on now?”

“Bring them back their little lost filly? Sounds doable.” I brushed my gloved hand over the rough stubble on my chin, stroking it thoughtfully.

“Hey!” Apple Bloom jumped to her hooves. “Hey, don't I get a say in this?”

“No,” I said. “Eat your soup.”

“I don't gotta listen t'you!” said Apple Bloom defensively. “An' besides... s'gone cold.”

“What were you expecting?” I asked. “You've done nothing but stare at it.”

Apple Bloom glared at me like she wanted to dump her soup out on my head, but made no further argument.

I'm no good with kids.

Zecora sighed and smiled tiredly at me again. She trotted to Apple Bloom's side and bumped the filly's forehead with her nose. “You are dear to me, my Apple Bloom, which is why you should be far from this doom. Return to your home with our friend Snake, before this forest your life does take.”

She could butcher syntax for the sake of a rhyme, but she couldn't bother showing me the way to the fucking castle in the middle of the evil forest. Zecora was a creature of contradictions.

Apple Bloom sank back to her belly and buried her face in her folded arms (Legs? Hooves?), mumbling inaudibly to herself. Zecora nuzzled her again, then looked at me expectantly.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was flying blind. I was a lone operative in an unknown land populated by the least probable civilization that anybody could imagine, cut off from all support, completely at a loss as to where I was or what direction I was going. My only lead was phantom gunfire that I was starting to think I'd imagined, and my most meaningful conversation was with a ghost that may well have been a fever dream. Now I found myself pleasantly chatting with a talking zebra and sipping soup that made me pine for the richness and flavor of a battlefield MRE.

This was a weird, weird mission.

“Fine,” I said. “I'll play babysitter for a little while. Just, uh, just answer me one last question.”

“Anything and everything, my newest friend.” said Zecora. “Tell me, how can I bring your curiosity to an end?”

Friend. That was the second time she'd used that word to describe me. Were we friends now? I owed her my life. Experience taught me that that was a solid enough foundation for a friendship.

“Just wondering... what's with the rhyming?”

“'Rhyming?'” Zecora tilted her head at me, perplexed.

“You speak in rhyme,” I said. “C'mon, don't pretend not to notice.”

“I... do not understand your question,” said Zecora. “You are suggesting that I rhyme in succession?”

We stared at each other silently for a little while, neither comprehending the other.

Finally, Apple Bloom broke the silence with laughter. She giggled softly at first, into her hooves, so gently and muffled that I thought she was crying. But then she lifted her face, and I saw her grinning. She looked at Zecora, Zecora looked back, and soon they were both laughing, either at some unspoken joke, or at me.

I just groaned, lay back on the bed, and turned away from them. “Everyone here is insane but me,” I muttered to myself.

Zecora mentioned six ponies who could act as guides. I hoped to high heaven that they were more normal than she was. As I would later find out, that would be just one of the many disappointments I had in store over the next couple of days.

“My goodness gracious, it's finally happened!” groaned Rarity as Twilight, Spike, Pinkie Pie and Applejack approached. Fluttershy hovered beside Rarity, her wings beating gently and her face pensive. “You've cooped yourself up in that library for so long that you've utterly forgotten basic personal grooming!”

The unkempt Twilight looked sidelong at Applejack, who offered her a smirk and a wink. Spike nudged Pinkie Pie with his elbow, and the pony giggled quietly.

“Actually, Rarity—” began Twilight, but Rarity would have none of it, zooming to the unicorn's side.

“Oh, but if we only had more time,” fussed Rarity as she inspected Twilight's unkempt bedmane. “Poor Apple Bloom must take priority, I suppose. Still, in terms of crises, this is at least a close second. Here.” Her horn glowed a pale blue and an aura surrounded Twilight's mane, smoothing it into a presentable approximation of her usual do. “Now, I haven't checked,” continued Rarity, “but I assume that you've neglected your shampoo cycle as well? Lather, rinse, repeat until it shimmers?”

“I don't—"

“Ah! I feared as much. Well, no matter, my dearest friend.” She cheerfully wrapped a hoof around Twilight's neck, waving the other in an arc for dramatic effect. “Once this is all over and dealt with, you and I shall enjoy an afternoon at the spa – my gift to you!” She looked excitedly to the unfocused and contemplative Fluttershy. “We have room for one more, do we not?”

“What?” Fluttershy started a bit, glancing quickly between Twilight and Rarity. “Oh! Um, of course! You're always more than welcome Twilight. In fact, you all are!” She smiled, but the strain in her cheeks was evident.

“But they never accept, do they, Fluttershy? Tsk tsk tsk.” Rarity shook her head, sighed, and sauntered ahead of the group. “Well, we'll just put a pin in that, now, won't we?”

Twilight scowled. “Go one morning without brushing your mane, and suddenly it's time for an intervention.”

“I don't know Twi,” said Spike. He plucked a hair from Twilight's mane, drawing a startled “ouch” from the unicorn, and made a show of examining it closely. “I think Rarity's on to something. Have you seen these split ends?”

Twilight bucked him off of her back and turned her scowl on him.

Spike gulped and let the hair fall. “Just sayin' she's got a point, that's all,” he said, standing up and dusting himself off.

“Of course,” said Twilight. “And the fact that it was Rarity who said so has nothing at all to do with the matter, does it?” She smiled slyly at him.

Spike blushed. “D-don't go changing the subject now!” he stammered. “Hey, c'mon Twi; Apple Bloom's not getting any founded-er with us standing around like this. Get with the program!” His face now an interesting combination of purple and pink, Spike hurried ahead, a chuckling Twilight Sparkle close behind. Fluttershy looked to Applejack and Pinkie Pie, shrugged, and flapped tiredly after them.

In spite of her dour mood, Applejack couldn't help but smile and shake her head. “Tell you what, Pinkie,” she said, “I'm ever in a sour spot again, jus' remind me to look up Spike 'n Twi. Those two oughta go on tour.”

“I'd pay hoof over fist to see them on stage!” agreed Pinkie. “Not that I can make a fist anyway. Not that I'd even want to. Fists hurt, Applejack.” She nodded soberly.

“I reckon they do, Pinkie,” murmured Applejack.

“Aww. Don't be so glum, chum!” sang Pinkie with a nuzzle. “We'll find Apple Bloom before you can say 'Aeiou!' You'll see.” And off she went, whistling a song about giggling at ghosts, keeping her hoofsteps in time with the beat.

How's that song go again? Applejack found herself wondering. Somethin' like...”You gotta face your fears, learn to stand up tall...” She frowned. “Think I might be forgettin' somethin'.”

Well ahead, Applejack saw Pinkie catching up to the others, who came to a halt as a rainbow-tipped blur swooped gracefully in for a landing. Applejack frantically ran to catch up with her friends as Rainbow Dash completed her descent. She came within earshot just in time to hear Fluttershy ask “Did you find anything?”

Eyes closed, Rainbow Dash shook her head. “I scouted the entire town from the sky, even did a flyover of the surrounding area.” She looked apologetically at Applejack. “I wish I could have done more.”

“Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, Rainbow,” said Applejack. “Y'all did yer part, an' I trust your eyes more'n most. You say she ain't in Ponyville, she ain't in Ponyville.”

“Wherever she is, she didn't seek out her friends,” said Rarity. “I've thoroughly interrogated Sweetie Belle as to Apple Bloom's whereabouts, and she swears up and down that she hasn't seen her at all.”

“Scootaloo too,” said Fluttershy. “I visited her just before I picked up Rarity.” She fluttered to the ground and folded her wings. “How strange. You'd think they'd be the first ponies a filly like Apple Bloom would go to in a situation like this.”

“Didn't want them to talk her out of it, maybe?” Rainbow Dash suggested. “What if she had some crazy idea up her sleeve?”

“More like 'didn't want them to follow her,'” corrected Spike. “Crazy ideas are the Cutie Mark Crusaders' forté. And those three stick together like glue.”

“So you think she had an idea and wanted to do it alone, without help,” said Applejack. “But why?”

“To prove a point,” said Rainbow Dash, as if it were obvious. “I mean, that's usually the reason whenever I do something crazy. Somepony says 'Rainbow Dash, you can't break the sound barrier,' I say...” She inhaled deeply, then shouted at the top of her lungs, “'Sorry, can't hear you! This Sonic Rainboom's really loud!'”

Rainbow Dash glanced at each of her wide-eyed, ruffled friends. “Too much volume?” she asked sheepishly.

An uncomfortably silent moment passed.

“Think she was tryin' to stick it to somepony, huh?” asked Applejack at last. She chewed her lip and cast her eyes to the ground. “Can't imagine who coulda done somethin' to deserve it.”

Twilight saw the look on Applejack's face and quickly intervened. “Who says she's trying to prove something to somepony? She could be trying to prove something to herself.”

Applejack smiled at Twilight. “Guess that could be the case. Don't much matter why, though, I s'pose. If her crazy stunt gets her killed, ain't nopony gonna care why.”

'Cept me, she added silently.

The group moved in unison, trotting as one body to the outskirts of town. “Whatever she's put her mind to, she's not doing it in Ponyville,” said Twilight. “That's obvious enough. So think, girls; where could she be right now?”

“Lessee,” said Rainbow Dash, tapping a hoof against her skull as she thought. “Well, she can't be in Cloudsdale.”

“Very astute,” Rarity complimented, shooting Dash a playful smirk.

Rainbow Dash frowned at her. “Lemme finish. What I'm trying to say is that she can't fly.”

“I know,” said Rarity. “And I think that's very, very astute of you.”

Rainbow Dash flushed beneath her cyan coat, her chagrin exacerbated by the giggling of Spike and Pinkie Pie. Rarity batted her eyelashes at the flier.

“She's on hoof, okay?” sighed Rainbow Dash. “So her range isn't exactly very broad.”

“And she's only had a few hours to take advantage of,” added Fluttershy. “And a growing filly has to sleep, so she couldn't have used all of this time to walk.”

“Then she can't have gotten far,” said Rarity. “Off the tops of our heads, girls—”

Spike cleared his throat.

“Oh, Spike,” said Rarity sweetly, “you're one of the girls and you know it.”

Spike fumed and crossed his arms.

“Where in the immediate area could she have gotten to by now?” Rarity finished.

“Hopefully nowhere spooky and scary,” said Pinkie Pie. “Because we've got those in spades. Froggy Bottom Bog, the Everfree Forest...” She frowned pensively. “Ponyville sure does have a lot of deathtraps surrounding it. I can't believe we've never noticed that before! We really need to put up a sign or something. 'Welcome to Ponyville; Expect Death at Every Turn!”

“We're supposed to increase tourism, Pinkie,” Twilight said gently, “not drive it away. So, pick a compass direction, any one, and odds are you'll find a place that's infested with flesh-eating monsters. Any one of them would be a perfect spot for a stroll by a filly with a chip on her shoulder.”

“The question is, which one?” asked Rainbow Dash. “It's a lot of ground for us to cover. We need a place to start looking.”

“The Everfree Forest,” said Pinkie confidently. “If there's a spookier, scarier death trap in Equestria, I've never heard of it.”

“And it would make sense,” said Fluttershy. “If she were looking for something to prove, that is.” Applejack glanced over her shoulder at the shuffling Pegasus, but she looked away pointedly. “I-I mean... the last time she went in there... ”

“That is how this whole mess got itself started, innit?” asked Applejack, malice absent from her voice. Ahead of her, Rarity pursed her lips tightly. “But don't that mean she'd be less likely to go in there? Keepin' in mind what happened last time. Jus' seems to me like she'd wanna avoid it even more. Even if she's crazy in the coconut.”

“Well,” said Pinkie Pie. She trotted ahead of the group, holding her nose high in an astute manner. “'If you eliminate the impossible,' and we have – she isn't in Ponyville, she couldn't have gotten very far, and she's definitely not in Cloudsdale because she can't fly,” here she turned and winked at Rainbow Dash. “Thanks for pointing that out, Dashie.” On she went. “Anyway, 'whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth!'” She kept trotting ahead of the group a moment longer, before the hoofbeats behind her became conspicuous in their absence. Pinkie turned to see her friends standing stock still, their mouths agape. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She gasped. “It isn't bats, is it?!”

“No, not at all,” said Twilight, the first to close her mouth. “Just that... did you just quote Sherclop Pones?”

Pinkie Pie giggled a snorty giggle. “Oh, Twilight. You think I never do any reading in that library of yours?”

“Very astute,” said Rarity, unsarcastically this time. “So the Everfree Forest it is, then? My, with how often we venture in there, it's a wonder that anypony still considers it taboo.”

“Manticores, cockatrices, timberwolves, dragons, ursas both Major and Minor – all of them call that forest home,” said Twilight. “Forgetting that could be a death sentence.”

“Doubt she forgot. Apple Bloom knows dang well what's in Everfree.” Applejack's teeth set. “Supposin' she went in, then that's prob'ly why.”

Rarity cleared her throat loudly, somehow making the crass gesture sound graceful. “Not to be a broken record, but... the Everfree Forest it is, then?”

Seven heads and six ponies turned their attention to the forest's foreboding maw; by unlikely coincidence, they had arrived at its entrance without realizing. “If she isn't in there, I'll eat Applejack's hat,” said Pinkie confidently. “Uh, if it's okay with her, of course.”

“If she is in there,” growled Applejack, “I may jus' stuff it down her throat m'self for puttin' us through this.”

My legs were stiff and my feet achy, and I felt about as limber as a cadaver, but I could stand and walk without falling over myself, so I marked it as time to hit the road. Apple Bloom chewed her lip nervously as I broke the news to her. Zecora seemed almost relieved.

She saw Apple Bloom and I to the door, offering some parting wisdom. “The path is worn and faded to the eye, but follow it carefully and you will soon see the sky.”

“I think I can keep my bearings well enough,” I said. “And I've got a decent enough guide, I figure.” I nudged Apple Bloom with my toe. “How often do you navigate this thing, kid?”

“Hmph.” Apple Bloom turned her nose up at me and refused to look back, trotting ahead of me on the path.

“Something I said?” I asked, turning to Zecora. She clicked her tongue and gave me a sympathetic look. “I'm no good with kids,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

“An acquired skill, my friend. One you will gain before your end.”

“You say that with an awful amount of certainty,” I grumbled. “But you saved my life. I guess you deserve the benefit of the doubt for that.” I paused, unsure of how to properly express my gratitude. “I suppose I owe you, too. Would have died out there if it wasn't for your medicine.”

“A friend in need is a friend indeed,” said Zecora, dismissing my gratitude with a wave of her hoof. “Keep that in mind, and consider it well. You'll need to remember it, as time will tell.”

“I've worked on my own for most of my life,” I said to the zebra. “I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. But I know how to watch my own back on the battlefield.”

“Sometimes, we all need a helping hoof, I'll wager,” Zecora insisted. “Even you – a snake not created by nature.”

My eyes widened; a chill wind sent a shiver through my body. Far in the distance, a flock of ravens cawed.

I took a step toward Zecora. “Who the hell—”

“Hey! Slowpoke!” Apple Bloom shouted from down the road. “You waitin' for me t'get gobbled up or somethin'?!”

I stared intensely at Zecora, willing the zebra hermit to explain herself. All she did was smile blandly, keeping another secret to herself. She nudged me forward with her nose and backed into her open door, shutting it in my face.

I was a little too shocked to move from that spot. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to break down Zecora's door and demand an explanation.

“Snaaaaake!” called Apple Bloom in a sing-song voice. “I'm startin' to grow moss here!”

But, damn the luck, I had a world to save and a baby to sit. Zecora and her mysteries would have to wait for another time. I stared at the door a second longer, then turned my back on it and met Apple Bloom on the path.

If I were a paranoid man, I would have sworn that I could feel Zecora's eyes on me every step of the way.

At night, the Everfree Forest was a grim and depressing place, where every step was met with trepidation and every moment that passed weighed tensely on my shoulders. I'd hoped that it'd be more cheerful during the daytime. It wasn't; if anything, somehow, it seemed darker. No idea how that would even work.

Equestrian physics. Go figure.

Apple Bloom was quiet for most of the way. Her attention seemed elsewhere the entire time that we walked, her focus on some thought that lingered in her mind. Zecora was right about the path being faded and illegible. With that to worry about, along with my guide's lack of focus, I began to wonder if we were going nowhere in a hurry. So I voiced my concern. “You sure you know where we're going?”

“Whussa matter?” asked Apple Bloom. “Think I'm getting' us lost?”

“I didn't say that," I said, despite having clearly said that. “You just seem distracted, that's all. Should I be concerned?”

“That's no business o'yours,” Apple Bloom said shortly. “I know where I'm goin'. Jus' trust me for once.”

“'For once?' You sure you don't have me confused with someone else?” I asked.

“No business o'yours,” repeated Apple Bloom, her voice noticeably more acidic. And just like that, the discussion was over for the time being. We walked without a word passing between the two of us for a time. Only the constant pitter-patter of footsteps and the distant chirping of birds disturbed the silence.

Strangely enough, though, the footsteps sounded like more beats than Apple Bloom and I could make by ourselves. I glanced behind, seeing nothing but trees and shadows. Still, I patted my hip holster again for reassurance.

After a little bit of time had passed, I decided to engage her again. “Zecora said you wouldn't tell her why you were out here. Any chance you'll tell me?”

“That's—”

“'No business of mine,' right?” I supplied. “The thing is, it became my business the moment I saved your hide from that manticore. You gonna tell me why I had to stick my neck out for you in the first place?”

“Why?” asked Apple Bloom. She came to a stop to glare at me, her brow furrowed and her face pulled into a frown. I had never thought that a pony's face could convey the kind of malice she beamed at me. “You havin' regrets?”

“Not what I meant,” I reassured the filly, lowering my neck to meet her testy glare. “Just curious, is all. I'd like to know what I got pumped full of venom over.” I gestured to the foliage on either side and nodded at the dense, green canopy overhead. “Besides, you can't fault me for curiosity. If you don't mind my saying so, you look a little out of place in this forest.”

“What, like you don't?” she retorted. Had to admit, the girl had a point. I was as much a fish out of water in Equestria as she'd have been in a radioactive wasteland.

“The difference is that I've explained why I'm here,” I said calmly. Years of living on the battlefield has given me a deep reserve of patience, the kind that pays off when you're playing predator, or when a little girl keeps shoving overcooked eggs in your face and you're not allowed to hurt her feelings. I had to draw from that particular well to weather Apple Bloom's irritability. Of course, when it comes to pissy children, there's only so much I can take before I get testy.

A little less calmly than before, I said to her “If you weren't listening when I told Zecora about it, then I'm not going to explain again. Your loss.”

I probably should have seen her reaction coming. She beat her hoof against the dirt and stuck her neck out in my direction, as far as it'd go. I could tell that she was trying to convey anger and frustration, but on a little talking filly, the effect was altogether disarming. I maintained a stern poker face though.

“Why you gotta talk t'me like that?” Apple Bloom demanded. “Like I'm some dumb little filly, can't follow nothin' worth a hill o'horseapples? I ran away so that I wouldn't hafta deal with this kinda thing no more, an' you're takin' me home so that I can get it again, and worst of all, I gotta deal with it from you while you're takin' me home!” Groaning tiredly, she resumed her march, and I, a little shocked by the contempt in her impressive run-on sentence, followed along after a spell.

“So you're a runaway, huh?” I asked, once the initial surprise wore off. “What, things at home not going your way?”

“I got this sister,” said Apple Bloom. She spoke quickly; her rant was rushed, but impassioned. “Thinks knows best a'cuz she's bigger 'n older. But she don't.”

More feuding siblings, I thought. This is the very best mission ever.

“You wanna know how I met Zecora?” asked Apple Bloom. “Everypony thought she was some creepy ol' witch, an' ran an' hid anytime she came to town, 'cept for me. Applejack got all high and mighty 'bout it, but in the end, I was right, an' she was wrong. Figger she'da learn somethin' from that, but she didn't! Still treats me like a little filly!”

“You are a little filly."

Apple Bloom fixed me in a death glare. “I know that. What I mean is, she still treats me like I'm weak an' helpless.”

“You were almost eaten alive.”

“Ugh! You asked, okay?! Jus' forget it!” Apple Bloom hung her head and squared her shoulders, turning her back to me again. I just grumbled and looked into the forest, staring at nothing in particular.

I'm no good with kids.

The numerous beats that I'd heard earlier came into sharper focus as the conversation between Apple Bloom and I died again. She had twice my number of legs, and thus made twice the noise I did while walking. I heard the pattern in her steps, the four-beat repetition with every step she took, and could differentiate it from my own. Behind us – fainter, but unmistakable – were more patterns. I couldn't tell how many; they were too faint for that. Nor could I tell what it was that was following us.

I momentarily wondered if I should break the news to Apple Bloom, but quickly decided against it. My awareness was the one advantage that we had over our stalkers. Any change in our behavior could squander that advantage and tip our hand to the attacker. I could easily feign ignorance, but I doubted that she could. She telegraphed her thoughts with her body language and demeanor. Kids do that; they can't help it. So I chose to keep that knowledge to myself for the time being while I worked out a plan in my head.

Apple Bloom ruined any chance at my being able to concentrate by breaking the silence again. “You got any sisters?”

I was mildly annoyed at the disturbance, but figured that more conversation would play to my advantage and make us look more vulnerable. “No,” I replied. “No sisters. But I did have a... a brother. A twin.”

“'Had?'” Apple Bloom echoed. “What happened to 'im?”

“Have,” I corrected. Figured I'd have to get used to referring to Liquid in the present tense, after what happened atop Arsenal Gear the previous spring.

“Don't sound like you're very close, iffin' you're talkin' 'bout your brother like he ain't even alive,” Apple Bloom observed.

I eyed her curiously. Awfully perceptive thing for a kid to say. Of course, I was grading on a steep curve.

“He ain't nice to you?” she asked.

“You see?!” crowed Liquid as he ground my best friend's corpse underfoot. “You can't protect anyone, not even yourself! Die!”

“Not especially, no,” I said, and Apple Bloom murmured knowingly. “But you should understand, kid, that he and I, we were sort of a special case. An extreme.” I noted my use of the past tense, and quickly amended. “Are a special case.”

“What,” said Apple Bloom, turning her head to face me as we walked. “Like you're the only one with a siblin' what treats you like dirt? Don't even look at you like yer your own pony?”

I cleared my throat and looked at her out of the corner of my eye. She rolled hers. “Or whatever.”

From behind us, I heard what sounded like a muffled chuckle, followed by a distinct “shush”ing sound. Apple Bloom's eyes widened and she began to crane her neck to look behind us, but I stopped her by clearing my throat again, catching her attention. She looked at me and I shook my head infinitesimally. Apple Bloom caught my cue and kept her mouth shut. She turned her head back to the road, an expression of worry edging toward outright fear on her face.

“Nothing like that at all,” I continued, as though the interruption had never happened. I hadn't counted on the girl becoming aware that we were being followed, and didn't count on her being able to disguise it effectively, not with it at the front of her mind. I decided that keeping her distracted would help. Only way that I could figure to do that (without knocking her unconscious and carrying her, which was admittedly not outside the realm of possibility) was to continue pursuing the conversation. “Actually, he tried to kill me a whole bunch of times.”

Apple Bloom shot me a skeptical look that suited her better than her worried expression. She was distracted and I had her attention, so I kept talking. “Really, he did. Almost went through with it each time, too.”

“But he didn't,” said Apple Bloom matter-of-factly, and I started to rethink my praise for her perceptiveness. “How'd you get away?”

I shrugged. “I'm a little tougher than he is, kid.” But not by much, I thought. “So then, maybe I'm no expert in healthy sibling relationships. But in light of my own issues on the subject, can you really tell me that the way your sister treats you is all that bad?”

She didn't answer me, looking back to the ground instead.

“Why'd you really run away?” I pressed.

“...AJ found out I nearly got killed in the Everfree Forest an' yelled at me,” she mumbled at length.

Again, I raised an eyebrow. “And to show her up, you decided to get killed in the Everfree Forest?” For such a perceptive girl, she lacked forward thinking in the worst way.

“It made more sense last night,” Apple Bloom admitted. “Had a whole plan for what I was goin' to do. I forgot it the second I ran into the manticore though. Still can't quite 'member what it was,” she added with a quiet chuckle. The passion and defensiveness from before was gone from her voice.

“Let me make a suggestion.” The beats were becoming individually discernible; two-step beats, several pairs of them. Something bipedal. Humans? Either they were drawing closer, or just not bothering to mask their presence effectively anymore. Whatever the case, it was clear that they were planning to spring their trap soon. “I'm no expert in healthy sibling relationships, and I never had a nagging big sister treating me like a child when I was your age. Maybe I can't relate so well.”

I strained to maintain nonchalance as my body shifted into combat mode. The lingering aches from the manticore's venom faded, adrenaline suppressing the pain. “But an older sibling keeping a tight leash on a younger sibling? Telling her to stay out of the creepy, monster-filled forest? Sounds to me like she was just trying to keep you from getting yourself killed. Considering what happened last night, with the manticore, I'd call that good advice, and I'd even go so far as to say that you overreacted to it.”

I could see the tears gathering in her amber eyes as I imparted the most sagely wisdom that I could drum up under the circumstances. “I told my sister I wished she was dead,” Apple Bloom whispered to herself with a sniffle.

I really, really did not want to discuss this matter any further than I absolutely had to. Working out sibling feuds (without resorting to violence), as I'd learned not so long before, was, is, and will forever be well outside my area of expertise. Fortunately, I had an excuse to cut the conversation short. “We all say things we don't mean sometimes, kid.”

Apple Bloom began to reply, but I immediately cut her off in a hushed voice. “This isn't one of them. Listen close: when I say so, make a break for the trees on our right and stay there 'til I say to come out.”

Apple Bloom's eyes widened again as the imminence of the danger took center stage. She sucked in a quick, quavering breath and nodded shakily.

“Now!”

Apple Bloom was off, sprinting off the path as quick as her tiny legs would carry her. Immediately, I spun around, and in a single fluid motion, drew my M9, raised it to eye level and found a target, sizing him up in the instant before I pulled the trigger.

Human. Male. Clad in navy blue below the waist and black above. Midnight blue combat vest. Black helmet. The letters “PW” were stamped in the center of the vest. And there were three others, two flanking him on one side, a third on his other. All of them carried Kalashnikovs.

Pegasus Wings troops. Zecora was telling the truth.

I fired. The dart struck the soldier dead-on in his Adam's Apple. As soon as the round left the barrel I hit the dirt, rolling for some tall grass off of the path, on the side opposite the one that Apple Bloom had gone to. Automatic fire tore up the ground around me, but I reached my cover unscathed and lay perfectly still, flattening myself against the ground.

“Kirshner?!” one of the soldiers said frantically. “Get up, you Kraut bastard! That's an order!”

“No good,” sighed another, his deep voice embellished by a rich Caribbean accent. “He's out cold.”

“Hell, that's two of us gone” said the third soldier. His voice, underscored with a subtle Canadian accent, was shaky, high and cracked just slightly. He sounded younger than the other two. “Where the hell did Trenton run off to?!”

“Cut it,” snapped the first. He tried to keep his voice firm, but his nervousness bled through nevertheless. I guessed that he was the squad leader, and thus wanted to exert authority over his troops, but if his voice was any great indicator, he was too easily shaken by the loss of one of his number. This man was not cut out for leadership. I wondered if the rest of Pegasus Wings was so poorly organized.

“Split up. Baker, cover the left side. Keep an eye out for that guy. Ethelbert, the right; find that fucking horse. I'll cover the road.”

He was verbalizing his orders. Squads like that are supposed to operate via nonverbal signals, speaking sparingly (and quietly, if at all), and here he was proclaiming commands for the entire forest to hear. I reminded myself that a good portion of Pegasus Wings' ranks were wash-outs. Well, what idiot unit did this fool wash out from? Bad organization, poor leadership; these were the least likely conquerors in history. Equestria would have to be utterly demilitarized and helpless to be taken over by this pack of morons.

With my luck, though, these'll just turn out to be the bad apples, and the rest of the army will be competent. That was a happy thought to have while playing predator.

The three soldiers dispersed. I thought that I was concealed pretty well in the tall grass (or at least as well as I could be without any camouflage), so I stayed still, breathing shallowly, waiting to see if Baker would catch sight of me.

He didn't. His breaths were uneven and punctuated by nervous teeth chattering, and his footsteps dragged through the dirt loudly. I knew exactly where he was, could probably have guessed where he was looking too, just by the way he was carrying himself. Once again, I marveled at the discipline and rigorous standards of the Pegasus Wings PMC.

I spared a glance upward and saw Baker coming toward me through the grass, his back hunched, his knees trembling and his gun held entirely wrong. He inexplicably rested the barrel on his left arm, holding a knife in his left hand and the gun's grip in his right. His AK was pointed nowhere near me. He hadn't noticed me yet, but he was practically right on top of me. Be pretty damn hard for him not to notice if he stepped right on me, and I doubted that anybody could be that incompetent. There was something else about the way he walked, though. His stance, the way he carried himself, was familiar, if only distantly. It was almost like a Rorschach test, like I was being presented with an inkblot that was supposed to inspire a certain shape in my mind. I turned it over mentally, trying to match his pose with something recognizable.

Then it hit me. I knew where I'd seen his pose before. The stance was sloppy (his nervousness did nothing to help that fact) and he was holding his gun entirely wrong, but I was looking at what was supposed to be a standard CQC pose.

What happened next was pure instinct and muscle memory. I sprang, rising suddenly from the grass, and caught the AK's barrel in my hands. And I swear, even through the tinted visor, I could see his eyes. They were as wide as saucers.

Immediately, I twisted my body out of his line of fire, and cracked him in the chin with the back of my fist, throwing his head backward. Using his weight for leverage, I swung the rifle up and over, catapulting him into the air and wrenching the gun out of his arms. He hit the ground hard, expelling the air in his lungs. I leveled the gun at him, daring him to rise, but he remained still, out cold from the force of his landing. Two down. I swiftly stripped the gun, removing the magazine, ejecting the round in the chamber and separating the barrel, tossing the disparate pieces to the ground beside Baker. I doubted that he could put it back together again.

I hadn't used Big Boss' style of Close-Quarters Combat since my days in FOXHOUND. Those techniques were taught to me by a man who turned his back on his unit and his gun on me, and I swore never to use them after that betrayal. But seeing Baker in his shallow parody of a CQC stance awakened something in me, a part that I'd buried for the last decade and a half of my life up to that point. Despite my self-imposed ban on the fighting style, it came to me as naturally as breathing. It was half instinct, half muscle memory, and as I experimentally fell into the basic stance, drawing my M9 and cupping my free hand as though gripping a knife, I felt myself wondering how I'd ever done without it. It was like seeing the world in color for the first time. The other techniques and fighting styles that I'd mastered over the years felt like sticks and stones unto a tank. With CQC, I felt unstoppable. With CQC, I felt invincible.

Unbidden, the memory of a grayed man with an eyepatch blazing machine gun fire at me darkened my spirits. Mocking laughter, taunts, threats from a man I'd considered my mentor, my hero, echoed faintly in my mind. My free hand curled into a fist, and I returned my M9 to its holster.

CQC was the legacy of a traitor, an art I'd sworn never to use again. But these bumbling idiots brought it back out of me. I'd use it once, this last time, and never again. Until the next time some idiot mimicked Big Boss and came at me with that sick, cookie-cutter imitation, anyway.

But really, I told myself reassuringly, what are the odds of that ever happening again?

More on that later.

I knew the moves, owned a gun. Now, to complete the set, all I needed was a knife. I liberated Baker's Ka-Bar, raising it to eye level to inspect the blade. It was rusty, dull and the point looked blunt, but it would serve my purpose for the time being. I looked at the unconscious soldier, and at the field-stripped firearm beside him.

Deconstructing the rifle let me get a good look at it, and what I saw astounded me. It was an AK-47. Mind you, that in itself isn't astounding; the AK-47 is ubiquitous on the battlefield, being popular among revolutionaries, terrorists and militias all the world over. But this was a professional mercenary army. I'd seen their ship. I'd seen the cavernous installation surrounding the portal that brought me here. They had to have the money to afford better. Yet here I was holding an AK-47. Not an AN-94. Not an AK-102. Not even an AK-74, but an AK-47. The grandfather of all assault rifles. Light, reliable, dirt-cheap and obsolete.

Were Pegasus Wings' soldiers mercenaries on a budget? Was that why they were hiring unseasoned soldiers and arming them with outmoded weaponry? Nothing about this situation added up. Once again, I wondered if they were all like this, or if I'd simply drawn the most inept squad in the unit.

I heard the terse muttering of the soldier watching the path and filed my thought away for another time. Still had a job to do, after all. Turning my attention to him, I stalked, slowly and silently, through the tall grass and back onto the path. He stood in the center of the dirt road, darting his head from one side to the next, occasionally swearing under his breath. He kept asking the air what was going on, except he used more expletives than I'd care to type to make his inquiry. I guessed that he hadn't heard what happened to Baker. It's my experience that the soldiers I encounter on missions aren't very perceptive. Not that I'm complaining.

I stole behind him, coming close enough that he could probably have felt my breath on his neck. Fortunately, I'm not that careless. Before he could notice my presence, I wrapped my left arm around his shoulders, pressing the rusty blade of the Ka-Bar against the flesh of his neck and followed that by kicking the back of his right leg, causing his body to buckle. I used my right arm to draw his own behind him at an incredibly uncomfortable angle and felt around his hip for a holster. Finding it, I drew his sidearm and thrust my arm across his right shoulder, staring down the sights of the pistol.

If the gun was ID locked, then my improvised plan wasn't going to work, and I'd need to improvise a whole new one. “Call him,” I ordered. He obliged me.

“Ethelbert!” he yelped in a voice tinged noticeably with pain. Quite a number I was doing on his arm. The last soldier appeared from behind a tree, AK raised. I pulled my handgun's trigger twice the second his head came into view; my hostage jumped with each report. Ethelbert's helmet deflected the first bullet, but failed to stop the second, and he toppled onto his back with a hole in his headgear. I noted with interest that the gun was not, in fact, ID locked.

The last soldier whimpered at the sight of his dead comrade. “Please,” he sniveled, “please don't—” I cut him off with a hard shove forward. As he staggered and fell to the ground, I dropped his sidearm, drew my M9, cocked it and fired, hitting him in the groin with a tranquilizer dart. The leader briefly tried to rise, but his strength abandoned him before he could lift himself an inch and he collapsed with a quiet groan.

One soldier dead and three unconscious via the magic of CQC. Not bad for someone who hadn't used it in a decade. If the very use of the thing didn't fill me with such powerful self-hate, I might have decided to re-work it into my rotation

Still, wasn't there something that I was missing?

“Hell, that's two of us gone. Where the hell's Trenton?!”

Right after I'd taken out the first soldier, too. There was still one more out there. I cocked the M9 and held it ready, scanning the perimeter for any sign of movement.

A voice from above drew my attention: “Snake, look out!”

I turned my head in the direction of Apple Bloom's panicked cry. A black shape, vaguely blue tinted, was descending fast, holding something that gleamed faintly in a downward position.

A blade. A sword, more specifically, and there's only one type of sword that you'll find on a battlefield in this day and age: a High-Frequency Blade, utilizing ultrasonic vibrations to cut through objects on a molecular level. I'd seen them before, knew the damage they could do in the right hands. I dove, the sword missing by mere millimeters, and rolled headfirst, coming to a stop and rising to a kneel, then whirling to face my attacker as he recovered from his failed strike.

An almost featureless face with a single blazing blue eye stared back at me. He wore the same combat vest as the troops, but not the same uniform. His body was two shades of blue: the torso and everything down to the knees were a deep, midnight blue, and the shoulders, knees, calves and ankles were sky blue. In his right hand was the sword that had nearly impaled me. Slung under his left arm, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth, was Apple Bloom, who was clearly not happy with this turn of events. Her eyes stared fearfully at me as she struggled to escape the vise grip of her kidnapper.

This was no run-of-the-mill soldier. No incompetent buffoon who didn't know what end of his gun the bullets came out of. This was a Cyborg Ninja that I was dealing with, one of the deadliest things I have ever gone toe-to-toe with in my life. I've seen one shred a platoon of soldiers apart single-handedly, but I fought him on equal footing and barely walked away. But this one? My body was still weak from the manticore's sting. I could take down a foursome of buffoonery, sure, but any halfway competent idiot could do that. A superhuman abomination of science was a whole different ballpark.

I needed time. Needed to stall.

“Trenton, I presume,” I said. My eyes flicked between Apple Bloom and her attacker, trying to determine if I could get a shot in at the latter without harming the former. “Those suits standard issue now?”

Trenton responded by reversing his grip on the sword and leaping toward me, crossing the distance between the two of us in a single bound.

Not the talkative sort, apparently.

I had just enough time to roll again and evade a decapitating strike. Clambering to my feet and aligning my sights on the side of Trenton's head, I fired. Without looking, Trenton deflected the round, his arm moving in an imperceptibly fast motion.

Should have seen that coming. He wouldn't be a Cyborg Ninja if he weren't faster than a speeding bullet. Trenton came at me again, returning the sword to a standard grip. He delivered a series of shallow thrusts and slashes, executed with slight, simple flicks of his wrist, reminiscent more of European fencing than Japanese sword-fighting. I wove, evading his every strike, but only just barely; the ninja kept me very much on my toes. An opportunity finally presented itself when Trenton thrust the blade angled slightly upward. I side-stepped the lunge, caught him by the wrist in my left hand and pulled him toward me, simultaneously throwing a haymaker with my right. His head met my fist, resulting in a resounding metallic clang upon collision. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand, I quickly followed with a kick, pivoting on my back foot to drive it deep into his chest. The combat vest must have absorbed some of it, but there was still enough force in the kick to make him stagger backward, curling his body into itself. Yet Apple Bloom, somehow, remained tightly in his grasp.

I seethed. I couldn't go all-out against him with Apple Bloom held hostage like that, not unless I didn't mind hurting the filly too.

“Maybe you should put her down,” I suggested, trying the dialogue tactic again. “Unless you don't mind an uneven fight.”

“Unacceptable,” said Trenton flatly.

As surprised as I was to get an answer out of him, what really got me was his voice. It had the same mechanical filter as the past ninja's voices, but his was unique somehow. His low pitch was an obvious computerized disguise; it was clear to me that his real voice was significantly higher. I wondered what the point of that was. Were they seriously trying to mask an effete voice by altering it to sound lower? For what, intimidation's sake? More than that, though less unusually, Trenton had an accent, one that I couldn't put my finger on, thanks to the mechanical distortion effect.

“Does that mean you want me to wipe the floor with you?” I taunted. It was equal parts stalling for time and trying to goad him into letting Apple Bloom go. With luck, she'd take off to safety while I distracted Trenton. Sure, she was an annoying little runt, but I was interested enough in her well being to take on horrific monsters that were trying to harm her. I'd saved her ass from the manticore; I didn't want to let her down against a ninja.

“Unacceptable,” repeated Trenton. “Your suggestion contradicts my orders.”

“Orders?” I asked. “Were you ordered to kidnap her?”

Trenton surprised me again by returning his HF Blade to his sheath. Far less surprisingly, he leaped toward me, arcing through the air with his right fist drawn back and descending almost right on top of me, driving that fist forward. I backpedaled, evading the strike, and his fist sank deep into the dirt. Trenton ripped his hand out of the ground, flinging clumps of dirt and roots into the air, and rose back to his feet. I jabbed with my left hand. He deflected it easily. Undeterred, I swung a right hook; he ducked under it. I spun, jumping off the ground to deliver a roundhouse kick, but Trenton reacted by putting Apple Bloom directly in my line of fire. She shut her eyes tightly and squeaked, but at the last second before impact I withdrew the kick. Doing so threw off my balance, however. Gravity yanked me to the ground, and I landed painfully hard on my side. My wits returned in time for me to notice Trenton's fist barreling toward me. I rolled aside, scrambled to my feet and fell back into my combat stance.

Using Apple Bloom as a shield. I took that to mean that he had to fight dirty in order to match me. If I weren't still sluggish from my fight with the manticore, I might have been able to outfight him.

Whoever Trenton was inside that exoskeleton, he was certainly no Gray Fox. No, this ninja had no scruples.

“I have been directed to maintain the secrecy of our operations at any cost,” Trenton informed me. His computerized voice was calm and even, as though the previous exchange of blows hadn't taken place at all. “However, I have also been directed to not take the lives of any ponies. I cannot kill the child without violating my second directive, but the first must be obeyed at any cost. Thus, I have decided to capture her, in lieu of taking her life. It seemed a fitting compromise.”

My back and right flank ached where I had fallen. It formed an interesting combination with my lingering manticore venom soreness. “Yeah? So you and the Incompetence Brigade were sent out to silence her, specifically? Kind of funny that one little filly is such a top tier threat for a crack mercenary army.”

Trenton emitted a low, mechanical sound that I interpreted as a chuckle and squeezed his arm tighter around Apple Bloom. The filly let out a quiet puff of breath and stared helplessly at me. I set my teeth, smoldering with anger at Trenton's casual use of a child as an instrument of war.

“We discovered your presence quite by accident,” Trenton explained. “A manticore attacked a long-range forest patrol and devoured two of our sentries before we were able to drive it away. The cowardly lion fled at the sound of gunfire.”

That explained the rounds I'd heard the night before. Good to know I hadn't imagined them.

“Rather than risk letting the beast live, I and this assortment of buffoons,” and here he gestured to the unconscious (and dead) soldiers, “were sent to track it down and eliminate it. Command determined that night-time operations needed to cease in light of that development, however, and so we delayed the hunt until morning.

“The beast was found and dealt with swiftly. Examining the carcass revealed a curiosity: it was stuck with a dart containing a rather potent tranquilizer. Close inspection of the immediate area revealed the presence of three 9x19 millimeter shell casings and a trail composed of hoofprints that led deeper into the forest. The trail ended at a cottage built into a tree.”

They found Zecora. My throat tightened as concern for the cryptic zebra washed over me.

“I left a group behind to deal with the occupant. The rest of the soldiers followed me in pursuit of the filly and her companion. You see, we noted a set of human-shaped footprints beside a set of hoofprints. Under the circumstances, it struck me as odd. Wouldn't it strike you as odd?”

“The week I'm having, I don't think I could ever consider anything odd again." Or maybe I was just becoming cynical in my old age. "So what about me? Planning to take me into custody too?”

“You are not a pony,” said Trenton. “I can kill you without violating the first directive.”

Well. Look who had everything all figured out. “Think you can, do you?” I began to pace, walking in a counter-clockwise circle, with Trenton as my locus. Trenton mirrored my action, his burning blue eye focused entirely on me. “The last two of your kind I faced couldn't. What makes you think that you can?”

“Progress does,” said Trenton. His mechanical voice resounded with what I can only identify as smugness. “The prototype was a failure, by all standards. Unstable, psychotic. A weapon is only useful if you know that it won't backfire on you. Gray Fox betrayed and murdered his makers, and that is a failing that I do not subscribe to. I am the second, the refined product, built on the foundation of the first without any of its flaws. Not unlike yourself, son of Big Boss.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “You know who I am?” This was the second person in Equestria who knew more about me than they let on.

“Word was that you perished in Manhattan Harbor in 2007, but resurfaced last year. I suppose this would confirm your continued existence.” The blue fire in his eye flickered in a curious way. “Though I am curious as to how you came to be here.”

“Same way as you, right?” I asked. I was coming closer to the body of the last soldier I'd tranq'd. His sidearm lay where I'd dropped it. I started to map out, mentally, how close I'd have to be to nab it and shoot without Trenton reacting. Odds were slim. “I went through the portal on the island.”

“That is the only way to get here, to my knowledge,” mused Trenton. “But we have the terminus tightly secured. The odds of one being able to slip through and out of our grasp are slim, even for one such as yourself. More to the point, the portal has been rigged to disperse the atoms of anybody who attempts to follow us here. A precautionary measure.”

I was supposed to be dead? I wrote that off for the time being; I was supposed to be dead a number of times over. What's one more unto the multitude? “Obviously, you didn't do it well enough.”

“Obviously,” the ninja agreed. “I cannot say that I am surprised. The technology on that island is quite old. No doubt unreliable.”

“Then why didn't you say anything to your commander?” I asked. “If you knew that there was the possibility that your plan wouldn't work, then shouldn't that have come up?” I was almost right next to the sleeping mercenary now.

“Commander Cain is a busy man,” Trenton replied. “I cannot trouble him with my every errant thought.”

“You may have wanted to trouble him with that one.” Dive, roll, nab the gun, line up the shot, take it, drop the ninja with a single bullet. I had a window of maybe a second, if that. No time like the present. I drew a shallow breath and prepared to lunge...

“'Ey you!” shouted a woman's voice, rich with a rural accent.

Trenton about-faced sharply to meet this newcomer. His pose and body language told me that he'd been caught completely off guard. Suddenly, I found that my window had opened by a couple of additional seconds. I dove, rolled, nabbed the gun (an M1911, from the original production line no less; they were either on a budget or this Commander Cain appreciated antiques) and lined up the shot. In retrospect, I should have taken it, even though it likely would have been pointless. I experienced a momentary lapse, though, on account of what I saw just beyond Trenton.

Arrayed in a “V” formation were six ponies, each a different color. Two had horns; one was lavender and carried something pudgy, purple and spiky on her back, and the other was brilliant white. Two had wings, yet only one, the blue one with the rainbow mane, was airborne; the light yellow one stood on all fours. Two could have passed for normal equines but for their unsettlingly human facial features; one was pink, and the other, at the head of the group, was orange and wore, of all things, a Stetson hat.

Lucky for me, I'd gotten my giggles out in Zecora's hut. Otherwise, I might have experienced a full-blown psychotic episode.

Evidently, Apple Bloom recognized at least one of the ponies in the group, because she immediately wiggled free of Trenton's grip on her mouth. “AJ!” she shouted, her voice cracking on a high note. “Help me!” Trenton's hand clamped over her face again, and whatever else she had to say was shouted into the ninja's palm.

The orange mare with the hat (AJ, I guessed) dug her hoof into the dirt and bared her teeth at the ninja. “I'm only sayin' this once,” AJ said in a dangerous tone that left no room for debate. “Set 'er down now.”

Trenton responded by drawing his sword and holding the blade to Apple Bloom's throat. The cutting power of the HF Blade was such that the barest flick of his wrist would sever her head from her body. Of course, I knew that a Cyborg Ninja had the dexterity not to make such a mistake, and being under strict orders not to kill, he certainly wouldn't have done it on purpose. The threat was an empty one.

AJ didn't know that. With a mad roar, she charged at Trenton, closing the gap between them in moments. Trenton raised his leg high into the air and dropped his heel onto AJ's head the instant she came into striking distance. Her momentum vanished into the ether; she came to a full stop, stood stock still, wavered cartoonishly for a moment, and then toppled onto her side, groaning. Triumphantly, Trenton kicked her unconscious body aside. AJ rolled a few feet to the right, off of the path. Her hat fell off of her head and lay discarded on the road.

Suddenly, I remembered that I was holding a loaded handgun. Springing to my feet, I fired twice, striking Trenton in the back on both rounds. He jerked with each impact, but showed no other sign of harm.

Lightning-quick, super strong and bulletproof. A winning combination for anybody to have. I was barely holding my own against him at reduced strength; I doubted the ponies had a prayer.

Four of the five who hadn't charged the ninja snapped out of whatever trance they had been in and followed their friend's example. Purple Horn bucked its luggage to the ground before taking off, and it remained behind with the yellow coated, pink haired straggler. Rainbow got to Trenton first, turning in midair and bucking at his head with a pair of powerful back legs. Trenton sidestepped, raised his right arm and smashed his elbow, vertically, onto Rainbow's head. She fell beside his foot, unmoving but alive.

That seemed to stall the other three – Purple Horn, Curly Hair, and the Pink One – because they skidded to a halt upon seeing Rainbow getting dropped with one hit. Trenton took advantage of their shock; moving in a blur into their midst, he set to work. A kick to Curly Hair's side before she could react to his presence sent her sprawling to the dirt with the wind knocked out of her. Another kick at Purple Horn was deflected by a sudden violet shimmer that seemed conjured out of nothing. Trenton recoiled and recovered in the same moment, switching his target to the Pink One. He attempted the same heel drop that had felled AJ, but the Pink One bounced (yes, bounced) aside. With the broadest, most out of place grin possible, she reared her front legs up and stomped both of of her hooves onto that foot.

Trenton's agonized, computerized screech filled the air. He was bulletproof, but not hoofproof. I wondered if that was a design oversight.

Purple Horn attempted a charge. Trenton planted his back foot onto her face and shoved her away. She skidded through the dirt beside the Cowardly One and the spiky purple thing. The former gaped, wide-eyed; the latter knelt beside Purple Horn and cradled her head. I chose that moment to sprint at Trenton, dropping the useless gun as I went. Trenton kicked the Pink One in the belly, hard enough to raise her up a few feet into the air, then spun, pivoted and kicked her again, launching her like a cannonball at me. She and I collided, and I was sent backward, landing hard on my back once again with the grinning pink pony on top of me.

“Hi there!” she said, looking into my eyes with a smile. Our collision and the pain that it no doubt caused her apparently was not enough to dampen her spirits.

This was the very worst mission ever.

The Coward's shocked expression melted, solidifying into one of grim resolve. “No,” she whispered in a ragged voice.

Trenton hissed, but didn't turn to face her. His grip tightened on his sword.

“No!” the Cowardly One shouted, this time with iron in her voice. “How dare you hurt my friends this way! How dare you lay your hands on Apple Bloom like that! Don't you have a single shred of decency in your being you monster?!” Her wings unfurled and beat furiously, drawing her into the air, and she advanced on the ninja at eye level. Finally, he turned around to meet her furious stare.

A pair of gentle blue eyes, forced into a mask of anger that they looked completely foreign in, met a single, ferociously burning blue eye that betrayed no emotion but rage. The mask faded; the anger in her eyes gave way to fear, and the beating of her wings slowed. The Coward drifted back to the dirt, staring at the ninja and quaking. “I... I...” she stammered. The iron was gone from her voice.

Trenton raised his sword. It was a dramatic gesture, but a pointless one. The sharp side of the blade faced away from the Coward. He was going to strike her with the blunted end. It was nonlethal, but debilitating; a hardy man (or pony) could withstand a blow like that, but she didn't look too hardy from where I was sitting.

I pushed the Pink One off of my chest and climbed to my feet, breaking once again into a full-tilt sprint toward Trenton. The sound of hoofbeats from behind told me that my collision buddy was following closely.

We didn't make it in time. The sword descended on the terrified pony.

From the side of the road galloped a rejuvenated AJ; she slammed into the Coward, knocking her out of the path of the blade. The sword struck AJ in the back of her neck, accompanied by the crackle of electricity. AJ yelped; she didn't have time for anything longer than that before she crumpled to the dirt and lay fetal and motionless.

Apple Bloom shrieked the pony's name (“AJ” stood for “Applejack.” I guessed that was the sister she'd talked about) before devolving into incoherent sobs.

Trenton spared a glance to the purple spiky thing, who still knelt beside Purple Horn and stared back at the Ninja with a frightened expression. He looked briefly at the Coward, who shut her eyes tightly and whimpered. With a disgusted grunt and a shake of his head, he turned his back on her, sheathed his weapon and leaped straight into the air. A moment later, he landed in front of me, his faceless mask and burning blue eye mere inches from me.

“No witnesses,” he said, choking Apple Bloom again to stifle her. I heard the Pink One growl at the act, but she made no move to stop him. “I will take her, and they will follow, and you will be among them.”

“Go to Hell,” I whispered harshly.

Trenton headbutted me, driving his metal forehead into my bandanna-covered brow, and kneed me in the gut. It felt like a locomotive had plowed into me at full speed. I gasped and fell, clutching my skull in one hand and my stomach in the other.

"The castle in the forest's center. You will come. She will be imperiled if you do not.” I watched him shove the Pink One out of his path and stoop to retrieve my discarded M1911. He seemed to weigh the weapon in his hand for just a moment. Then he pointed it into the tall grass off of the path and fired a shot. The suddenness of the motion and the noise made the Pink One jump. I can't say it didn't surprise me too. Field commanders don't typically execute their soldiers for a poor job.

Trenton pointed to the first soldier I'd tranq'd and fired a second time, putting a bloody hole in his head. He aimed for the last one, the one I'd held hostage, and fired a third shot. The soldier jerked briefly in his sleep, then lay still.

The sound of the gunfire shocked Apple Bloom into silence. Trenton met my gaze again, leveling the weapon at me, and for a moment, I fully expected him to fire.

But he didn't. He hesitated. His hand trembled, and finally, released the gun, let it fall to the ground. Instead, he pointed at me with the hand that had held it. “No witnesses,” he repeated, as if that was all the explanation needed. And then he was gone, sprinting down the path into the forest with Apple Bloom in his grasp. In seconds, he was out of sight.

I'd saved her from the manticore, an otherworldly beast, only to let her get swept away by a monster that was far more familiar to me. Another failure for the pile of failures in the career of Solid Snake. Yet the pain in my head was excruciating enough to take top priority over kicking myself, and the pain in my stomach made that look like nothing. I shut my eyes and ground my palm against the spot where Trenton had hit me, as though that would somehow make the pain go away, and pressed my other hand tightly against my abdomen.

“Hey,” said the Pink One in her high, girlish voice as she trotted up to me and poked her face into mine. “You okay there?”

That was a very trying morning for me, one of the most trying I'd endured in recent memory. “Okay” was the last word I would have used to describe the situation, or myself. And yet, the question made me chuckle. The chuckle built into a pained, breathless laugh as I shook my agonized head and raised it to look the Pink One in her sapphire blue eyes. For an instant, I could have sworn that I saw the outline of a billowing black cloak in the air behind her.

“I haven't been okay in a very, very long time,” I replied through my fading laughter.

She always wore a smile on her face, even when locked in mortal combat with a monster. Against Trenton, it was one of glee. But the smile she offered me now was one of sympathy and reassurance. “At least you've got one thing down. When the world's got you on the ropes, sometimes all you can do is laugh.” The obtrusively pink pony with the cotton candy mane held her hoofed leg out to me. “My name's Pinkie Pie. What's yours?”

I heard stirring behind me, accompanied by the nervous voices of four young ladies. The rural Southern drawl, so similar to Apple Bloom's, was not among them, and in my heart was a festering concern for Apple Bloom. Not just on account of her kidnapping, but on account of the idea that, for all she knew, she just watched her sister die.

I didn’t have a loving sibling relationship. My twin tried to murder me. On a personal level, the bond between Apple Bloom and her sister, the aptly named Applejack, was alien to me; I couldn’t relate. But I’d seen loving siblings, who had been torn apart by feud, be brought together again for an instant... before one of them died tragically.

Otacon cradling Emma’s bloodied body in his arms...

Applejack could lose her sister forever because of a misunderstanding. For all Apple Bloom knew, her own sister was dead, because of that same misunderstanding. Otacon walked out of his family’s life, consumed by guilt, leaving behind a sister who thought that he abandoned them because of her. A grudge stewed in her heart that drove her to help create a weapon of mass destruction, because of a misunderstanding. Both parties bore blame.

And me? My hands were in this too. I’d let Apple Bloom out of my sight long enough for her to get caught. I was given the opportunity to pull her out of Trenton’s grasp, and I’d squandered it. I put someone in harm’s way, someone who should never have been there in the first place. I watched an innocent suffer the consequences of my failure. Worst of all, it wasn’t even the first time I’d let it happen.

Meryl writhing in the snow, begging me to shoot her, a tiny red dot hovering over her body...

Not again. There would be no more Emmas. That filly was going to survive.

I took Pinkie Pie's hoof in my hand and shook once, with as much strength as my envenomed hands could summon, and forced a grim smile onto my face.

“Call me Snake.”

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/15/16

-General copyediting/proofreading
-Changed spelling of "Applebloom" to "Apple Bloom"
-Minor alterations to dialogue and narration (trimming unnecessary paragraphs)
-Altered Applejack's dialogue to stay consistent with revised characterization
-Altered Zecora's parting line to Snake to a line that makes more sense in context

4. Life's End

“Light is but a farewell gift from the darkness to those on their way to die.”

Applejack awoke to indistinct voices whispering around her. A terrible pain ran down her neck and to her back. She tested her legs, wiggling each one gently to ensure that she still had her physical faculties. Satisfied, she braced herself against the inevitable pain and tried to push off of the ground. She managed to rise a couple of inches before collapsing onto her stomach.

“Hey, she's up. Applejack? You okay?” The boyish voice came from beside her. She felt a clawed hand rest upon her face.

“Careful, Spike,” a soften, calmer voice warned. Fluttershy, thought Applejack. “There's no way of knowing how serious her condition is.” Spike's hand was gone a moment later.

Condition? Applejack thought blearily. How bad was I hit? She lifted her head and opened her eyes, blinking slowly. Fluttershy stood in front of her; Spike was out of her field of vision. The former eyed Applejack cautiously.

“Hey, partner,” said Spike, imitating Applejack's accent. “I've got something for ya.” Applejack heard a quiet rustling, then felt the familiar feeling of her hat enveloping the crown of her head. “You lost it when you went all hero on Fluttershy.”

“Which I'm very grateful for!” Fluttershy added quickly. “Thank you, Applejack. You saved me.”

“Don't need no thanks,” Applejack said, her voice straining with effort as she attempted to stand once again. It shot up and down her back in waves, but she withstood it, rising to all fours with no slight effort. Years of applebucking had endowed her with an iron constitution which she prided herself on. No farmer worth her cider would let a little back pain keep her down when there was work to be done. “I'd be a pretty awful friend if I let that thing hurt anypony I cared about."

Almost as awful a friend as I am a sister. The horrifying sight of her sister in the clutches of that faceless monster flashed in her mind's eye.

Doubt and self-reproach gnawed at her as she silently chastised herself for failing to keep Apple Bloom safe for a third time. She kept the thought to herself, but her expressed sentiment brought out a guarded, but optimistic, smile from Fluttershy.

“Oh?” sniffed Rarity. “I suppose you're implying that Fluttershy is the only one of us about whom you care?” Ever graceful, she strode to her friends' side. Her expression relieved, despite her catty tone.

Applejack was well aware that Rarity was teasing her, but she still winced at the memory of the Rarity taking a hit from the kidnapper. “How're y'all holdin' up?” she asked.

Rarity made a brief show of inspecting herself and shrugged. “It hurt, if that's what you're asking, but it was more damaging to my pride than anything else. I'm more upset that I didn't get to return the favor.”

“Yeah. You an' me both.” Applejack worked her shoulders and cracked her neck. The pain in her body hadn't faded in the slightest, but it bothered her less as she regained her strength. “Was I out long?”

Spike tapped a claw against his chin. “Thirty minutes maybe. The others were on their hooves in about half that time,” he added casually.

Applejack scowled at him. The competitor in her was not at all pleased at being beaten to recovery.

“Then again,” Spike mused, not really noticing Applejack's displeasure. “You were hit harder than anypony else. I guess it makes sense that you'd take longer to recover.”

“Some iron constitution I've got,” muttered Applejack. “Speakin' of hurt pride.” A particularly bothersome spike of pain shot through her head and she shut her eyes tightly, willing it away. “What about the others? Twi an' Rainbow an' Pinkie?”

Spike clicked his tongue, but made no further answer. Applejack wrenched her eyes open, fighting the agony stabbing into her skull. Sweet mother of corn whiskey, it's like every hangover I've ever had hittin' all at once. “You gonna tell me?”

“Oh, I was—” Spike cleared his throat. “Right, your eyes were closed. Uh. I did this thing. Heh.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly, blushing. Applejack looked in the direction that he indicated.

Twilight Sparkle stood not far away, flanked by Rainbow Dash. The pegasus was massaging her rainbow-maned head with one eye shut tightly, still recovering from the savage blow that the kidnapper had laid on her. Nevertheless, she wore a tight-lipped smirk, a look she shared with Pinkie Pie. She sat in the dirt beside Rainbow Dash, a hoof pressed against her mouth as though she were fighting back giggles. Towering over the three of them, his back turned to Applejack, was a two-legged thing in a skin-tight blue/gray suit who stood with his arms folded, furtively discussing something with Twilight.

He was just similar enough to the thing that had stolen Apple Bloom for Applejack to grow overwhelmed with irrational anger. She barked a challenge at him, drawing everyone's attention. “You!” She staggered toward them, collapsed after one step, then dragged herself through the dirt toward him rapidly. “Yer one o'them monsters what nabbed my sister! You got some nerve stickin' around, you—”

“Applejack, calm down!” Fluttershy's legs clamped around her midsection. “Please, for your own sake, don't do something that you'll regret.”

“I'll regret not buckin' his face inna jam, that's what I'll regret!” snapped Applejack. “Now lemme at 'im!” She wriggled free of Fluttershy and resumed her enraged crawl For his part, the blue-suited thing regarded her with a raised eyebrow. Now that he was facing her, Applejack could see a stubbly beard on his face, and a blue/green bandanna tied around his forehead. She found him altogether quite ugly. It made her want to smash him more.

Rarity sighed. Applejack's body shimmered a faded blue, and she found herself floating just high enough in the air for her legs to not find purchase on the dirt. “What the hay? Rarity! Lemme down!”

“Applejack, it's alright,” said Twilight calmly as she edged toward her. She kept her voice as soothing as possible, as though she were speaking to a foal. The condescension only made Applejack angrier. “This is our new friend. His name is Solid Snake—”

Pinkie suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. The thing in the suit grumbled something under his breath.

“And he's here to help us,” said Twilight. “He was trying to save Apple Bloom from that monster when we found them. Remember?” She grinned at him. “Help me out here,” she said through her clenched jaws.

Snake glanced at Twilight, then at Applejack. “So you must be that overbearing sister that Apple Bloom was telling me about.” His voice was deep and sounded like crunching gravel.

Overbearing...?! “Why you dirty, low-down, no-good son of a diamond dog!” yelled Applejack. “I'mma break outta this spell an' when I do—”

Twilight facehoofed as Applejack made several violent and profane promises. “I said to help. How is that helping?” she asked, exasperated. “How?!”

Snake shrugged. “I'm not exactly at a hundred percent right now. Under the circumstances, I think I'm doing pretty well.” He took a few steps toward where Applejack hovered, suspended in Rarity's magic field, and observed her like she were an animal in a zoo. Applejack seethed. “But if it'll make things easier for you, I suppose I can make an effort to play nice.”

He came within striking distance of Applejack. She swung at him; he backed out of reach. “Of course, it has to be a two way street,” he said to Twilight. “I need assurance that this one isn't going to go postal.”

“Y'all might try talkin' to me, for starters,” said Applejack curtly. “Twilight ain't my lawyer.”

“Maybe she should be. You aren't making a good case for yourself.” Snake came back within reach of Applejack, and she fought back the urge to swing at him again.

“The thing that took your sister brought her to a ruined castle deep in this forest," said Snake. "I don't know where that is, but I'm told that you do. If you want to walk right in there and confront Trenton alone, after what he did to you and your friends, then go right ahead.”

Her friends exchanged uncertain looks with one another.

“Or you could show some sense and listen to what I'm trying to say,” Snake continued. “We have a common enemy and a common purpose. Get me to the castle, and I'll help you get Apple Bloom back. But you need to put your trust in me.” His eyes were grayish-blue and, somehow, ancient. “How about it?”

Applejack looked away from his face, to Twilight Sparkle behind him. She offered Applejack a nervous, encouraging smile and a slow nod. Please, the unicorn mouthed.

“Well...” Applejack sucked in a breath and exhaled it slowly, relaxing her muscles. “If you did right by Apple Bloom, then... I s'pose you can't be all that bad.” She glanced over her shoulder at Rarity. “Y'all can let me down now, sugarcube. No more rough-housin' from me.”

“Oh, thanks heavens,” breathed Rarity as her levitation field vanished. Applejack's heart fell at the sudden loss of buoyancy. She dropped, but Snake's hand lashed out and caught her by the hoof, and she dangled in his grip, the tip of her tail brushing against the grass. Applejack glared daggers at Rarity.

“My levitation isn't as powerful as Twilight's,” said Rarity, plaintively digging a hoof into the dirt. “It takes more effort to hold up something as heavy as a grown pony.”

“Yer lucky I ain't a sensitive gal, Rarity, or I'd think y'all were callin' me fat,” said a testy Applejack as Snake lowered her to the ground. She stood upon all fours, incredibly sore and deeply pained, but standing nonetheless. “I acted like a heel just now,” she said, straining through the pain to look up at Snake's face. “This just hasn't been a good day at all. Not that that's any excuse.” She offered him a hoof. “Applejack.”

Snake knelt, took her hoof and shook it gently, mindful of the pain she was in. “Solid Snake.”

Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash erupted into full-blown belly laughs. Rainbow Dash sank to the ground and plopped onto her bottom behind Pinkie, the two leaning back-to-back as they roared with joy.

Snake flushed and clenched his jaw. “Because 'Pinkie Pie' sounds so much better,” he grumbled.

“Girls,” said Twilight flatly. “Seriously? Are you four?”

With a mighty effort, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash forcibly repressed their laughter into less raucous (but still mirthful) chuckles. “Okay,” gasped Pinkie, in between bursts, “okay, you're right. I'm done. We're done” She grinned, giggled one last time, coughed, and grinned again, looking at Rainbow Dash. “Done?”

“Done,” agreed Rainbow Dash, returning Pinkie's grin.

Snake folded his arms. “You're crocked, aren't you?” he asked.

“Uh-uh,” said Pinkie, shaking her head. “I'm Pinkie Pie, remember? Silly.”

Snake pressed a hand against his forehead, shut his eyes, and groaned.

I hastily brought Applejack to speed, silently wishing that Twilight had waited until the orange pony regained consciousness before grilling me for answers. Would have saved me some trouble; I could have played the exposition game with all of them at once. Still, for someone who'd recently suffered a savage blow to the spine, no doubt impairing several cognitive functions, Applejack picked up the gist of my story with relative ease.

“You think that Trenton feller's usin' Apple Bloom as bait?” asked Applejack as she rubbed her sore neck. Fluttershy, the cowardly, butter-colored pegasus, kept shooting worried glances her way, but largely kept her distance. Figured I'd missed something; didn't care enough to ask what it was though.

“Could be. He told me that he'd been ordered not to hurt any ponies he encountered.” The word “ponies” felt thick and ridiculous in my mouth, and I hated myself a little bit more every time I found myself saying it. “But then he implied that she'd be in some sort of danger if I, or we, didn't come for her.” I drew my pack of cigarettes, selected one, and lifted it to my mouth. I hadn't had a smoke since waking up in Equestria, and it was starting to get to me. “Quite a contradiction.”

The cigarette left my mouth abruptly, dangling inches away from my face, wrapped in a translucent purple aura. I snatched at it; it danced away from my reach. Twilight Sparkle stepped in front of me and shook her head, dropping the cigarette to the grass. Shooting her the most antagonistic glare I could muster, I stooped, retrieved the cigarette, and returned it to the pack. I guess the universe figured that if Otacon couldn't be there to nanny me, then someone had to pick up the slack.

“Do you think that it was an empty threat?” asked the white unicorn, Rarity. I have never been and will never be attracted to an animal, but even I had to admit, there was a glamour to Rarity that was impossible to avoid noticing. “That he only said it to get us over there?”

“If that's the case, then we'd be waltzing into a trap just by showing up,” added Rainbow Dash. She hovered in the air with her hind legs dangling down and her forelegs crossed. Poor thing had a fine lump on her head. I thought about the pain that Gray Fox' punches wracked me with, then at the way he'd lobbed off Ocelot's arm, and reasoned that if a lump was the worst she got from a Cyborg Ninja, then she ought to have considered herself lucky.

“Y'know somethin'?” said Applejack, looking at Rainbow Dash and Rarity. “I don't think I really care whether it's a trap or not. I ain't leavin' my flesh-an'-blood with that monster.” She looked at me with those big green eyes, her face stony and resolute. “If you can help my sister, then I'll take y'all where ya need t'go, no question. You gals with me?”

I knew from experience how crippling a hit from even the blunt end of an HF blade could be, yet she not only withstood one, she was raring to go another round. No wonder Applejack was able to shrug off that spinal injury. Hers was clearly made of iron.

Rainbow Dash swooped in to land beside Applejack. “You can count me in,” she said with a grin. “Trap or no, I want to see that Trenton chicken try and take me on in an even fight.”

Rarity sniffed. “Darling, do you really think that you have to ask? I can't face Sweetie Belle and tell her that Apple Bloom's still lost out here.” She smiled.

Pinkie Pie bounced forward, light and buoyant upon her hooves. “This Pie's never met a meanie she couldn't get a giggle out of! Except for that one. And that other one.” She looked intently at me. “Are these bad guys dragons? Or griffons?”

Fluttershy shuddered. She shuddered so often that I now find myself wondering if I should even bother pointing out specific instances where she shuddered, or if I should just leave it unspoken that shuddering terror was her default state.

I stared, eyes narrowed, at Pinkie Pie, trying to decide whether I found the pony's non-sequitur-based method of communication charming or obnoxious. “I'll take that as a nope-a-roney!” She took her place beside Rarity and grinned at me. “And no more making fun of your name. Pinkie Pie swear! Cross my heart and hope to—”

She went on like that for a little while, illustrating the purpose and nature of a Pinkie Pie swear. I settled on obnoxious.

“Gotta admit,” said Twilight Sparkle, “I wasn't expecting to ever see that old ruin ever again. I guess history has a funny way of repeating—eek!” A look of surprise tinged with pain crossed her face. The pudgy baby dragon, the one who'd actually been less useful than a blunt and rusty knife in the fight against Trenton, had caught Twilight's tail.

She whipped it out of his hand and glared at him. “Yes, Spike?” she asked impatiently.

“I just wanted to know, uh...” Spike dug his toe into the ground nervously and linked his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his feet. It was a very human gesture that looked woefully out of place on a foot-and-a-half-tall lizard. “If you were still cool with me coming with you.”

Twilight started, clearly taken aback. “You still want to—no! Of course not!” She recovered her wits and took on an authoritative pose. “Things have changed, Spike,” she said tersely. “I'm not comfortable putting you in harm's way like this, not after getting a taste of what we're up against.”

There was a familiarity in her voice that nagged at me...

“Oh, it's way scary,” Spike agreed, nodding. “And I'm not in any rush to look that thing in its big blue eye again, believe me. But at the same time...” He held his tail in his hands and wrung it, a gesture that I interpreted as doleful and submissive.

“At the same time, I'm more scared for you guys, knowing you have to go up against it. And for Apple Bloom, too, knowing she's stuck with it. So going with you, and seeing it again, somehow seems less scary than sitting at home, knowing that you're in danger.” Spike twisted up his face and shrugged. “Does that make any sense?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Not convinced, Spike,” she said flatly.

Spike sighed, dropping his tail to the dirt. “Okay. Let me put it another way... I don't know if I'd have been any help against Nightmare Moon, or against Discord. I'm no Rainbow Dash, that's for sure.”

“Aw, don't sweat it, Spike,” said Rainbow Dash, elbowing Applejack for some reason and smiling smugly. “Nopony's perfect.”

“But being with you, and trying to help, that'd be actually doing something, and that's a lot better than what I usually contribute. Which isn't a whole bunch.” His voice, which sounded on the verge of breaking when he started speaking, grew more confident and secure with every word. “I don't want to just curl up in a ball and be useless while my friends are out there, fighting the good fight. I want to help, Twilight.” Spike dropped his tail, folded his hands, and stared hard at Twilight, making the puppy doggiest eyes I'd ever seen. “Can't you give me that chance?”

Common sense demanded that she drop him in a hole and leave him there. I could see no practical function that a stumpy lizard could serve on a mission of tactical espionage. But something in Twilight seemed to think otherwise. I took note of the precise moment when she capitulated. It was easy to tell from the way the look on her face shifted from annoyed beyond all reason to frustrated. It was a subtle shift, to be sure.

“You stay out of sight,” Twilight ordered. “Anything happens, you stay out of trouble and out of the fighting. Don't try to be a hero. Got that?”

Spike's face lit up and he nodded, climbing quickly onto the unicorn's back. She turned to the rest of her friends. “He gave me the eyes,” she explained. “What was I supposed to do?”

Her friends got a laugh out of that. I didn't join in; I was too busy thinking of how doomed this mission was to laugh. I thought back to the discussion that Twilight and I'd had, which ended abruptly when Applejack regained consciousness. Twilight wouldn't budge when I insisted on only taking one of them with me to the castle: “We're strongest as a group. Where one of us goes, we all go.”

There was no denying her friends' commitment to one another, their courage in the face of the unknown. It was admirable, but it was also ignorant and borderline suicidal. Moreover, it was help that I simply did not need. Otacon was my friend and lifeline, true, but in the field, I was on my own, and that's always suited me fine. Babysitting one green rookie is always a trying experience, but at least Meryl's butt was easy on the eyes. And Jack definitely could hold his own in a firefight, which went a long way toward mitigating him.

But I doubted that these seven had any redeeming features of their own, could pull their weight in the event that something went wrong. And having them along on what was supposed to be a solo sneaking mission was unnecessary baggage that further jeopardized my already unlikely chances of success.

I wrote “seven” just now, even though one of them hadn't yet committed to joining our little endeavor. Fluttershy was still off to the side, laying with her legs tucked under her body, looking very alone and very confused.

“What about you, Fluttershy?” Applejack asked softly. “You still with me?”

Fluttershy looked Applejack in the eye for just a second before looking away again. Slowly, she rose to her hooves, looking very insecure upon them. “I... suppose I still owe it to you...” she said meekly.

“Fluttershy...” Applejack paused for a moment, biting her lip and closing her eyes. She looked at Twilight Sparkle, who nodded encouragingly. I still didn't get it, and still didn't care enough to ask.

Applejack looked back at Fluttershy, eyes teary. “Of all the ponies here, you owe me the absolute least, sugarcube. Jus' tell me if you're in or out. I won't hold it against you if ya don't come with.”

Fluttershy's jaw went slack. She made a number of babbling attempts at vocalization before she was able to collect and articulate herself. “Th-then of course I'm going with you!” She galloped toward Applejack, sliding on her rump the last couple of feet and coming to a rest just in front of her. “If you really need me, that is.”

“We really do,” Applejack assured her. And then, in an action that made my blood sugar rise by a factor of twelve, they embraced, both of them shedding tears that rolled and splattered upon one another.

“I'm sorry for before,” Fluttershy said into Applejack's mane, her voice adorably muffled. Make that a factor of thirteen.

“An' I'm sorry about last night,” said Applejack, pulling back to look into Fluttershy's eyes.

Oh my God. That was more sugar than I could stand. I turned away from the love-in and rubbed my forehead, groaning. It was a grand stroke of fortune that I hadn't had solid food in more than a day, and thus couldn't splatter the dirt with my breakfast, but that didn't diminish the feeling of nausea that wracked my stomach.

“Uh, Snake?” asked Twilight Sparkle. “Are you okay?”

I glanced over my shoulder to see the entire group staring at me with confusion, including the still-embracing Applejack and Fluttershy. “I'll manage."

This was the worst mission ever.

Our first order of business was to investigate Zecora's hut. I didn't need to lobby hard for that detour; Twilight and the others were adequately aghast at the idea of something happening to Zecora , and they accepted the suggestion readily. By the time Applejack awoke, it was set in stone that we were looking into Zecora first and foremost. Would have made life difficult if she'd objected. She did, albeit half-heartedly, but it didn't take much to bring her around. All I needed to do was point out that Zecora had saved her sister's life for her to fall in line with the others. So we took off, walking in silence for the first leg of the voyage.

About twenty minutes into our walk, Applejack abruptly broke her silence. “Can you tell me more about how Zecora helped y'all? You didn't say much 'bout it, jus' that she did.”

I actually had “said much 'bout it,” with Twilight, while Applejack was unconscious, and didn't care to repeat myself. Then again, her request wasn't unreasonable, so I complied. “After the manticore stung me, Zecora found us and brought us back to her place. Nursed me back to health overnight.”

“You were stung by a manticore?” Fluttershy gasped. “But its venom is the most potent known poison in Equestria! Nopony survives a manticore sting.”

Wasn't she listening when I talked about this before? With Twilight? Wait, she was looking after Applejack while she was unconscious, wasn't she? So I guess she wasn't listening at the time. Made sense. “I'm not a pony. Maybe my immune system's better than yours,” I suggested.

“I... see.” Fluttershy withdrew into herself after that exchange, staying silent for much of our stroll through the woods. I'd catch her sneaking glances at me from time to time as we walked, but every time I noticed, she looked away, finding something else to occupy her interest.

Ten more minutes of this cycle wore on my nerves, and on what had to be her fifteenth glance, I called her out. “What?”

“Um, what do you mean?” she said with a slight stammer.

“You keep staring at me,” I said in a low voice. The others took notice, their eyes on me as I confronted the pegasus. “What do you find so fascinating?”

“I just...” She looked at the ground, at her hooves as they tromped through the grass. Despite her wings, she seldom took to the air, a fact that intrigued me. Maybe she just wasn't that good at it. “I've never seen anything quite like you before.”

Was she coming on to me?

“And I like to make a habit out of getting to know all the new creatures I meet,” Fluttershy continued.

Not convinced that she wasn't coming on to me.

“So, um, if you wouldn't mind... when this is all over...”

I battled the urge to dry heave.

“...could I maybe sit down and talk with you for a while?” she asked meekly. “I just have so many questions about you, and your life, and your kind, and... well, and about everything, really!”

Oh. Well. Okay then. “I'll think about it."

Spike turned around from his perch on Twilight and smiled at me, leaning backward on a folded arm that was braced against Twilight's neck. “She wouldn't be Fluttershy if she didn't try to make friends with everything she met,” he said. Fluttershy blushed. I grunted something non-committal and looked away.

Twilight suddenly came to a halt and held her foreleg up. “Stop,” she hissed. I crouched and came up beside her, a hand on my holster. We'd arrived at Zecora's hut.

The door to the hollow treehouse appeared to be shut. The interior was dark; I couldn't see into it. No way to tell if there was something nasty waiting in there for us.

“Let's go quietly, everypony,” she whispered. “If there's anyone in there, we want to take them by surprise.”

I rose a little, hunching my back slightly to keep a low profile. “I'll take point,” I said quietly to her. “If there are soldiers in there, then you'll want me front and center.”

Twilight nodded. “Agreed. Spike? Remember what I said?”

“Man,” sighed Spike as he dismounted. He found a spot next to a bush, plopped down and cradled his chin in his palms.

I crept forward, slowly drawing the M9. The soft, somewhat distant hoofbeats of the others followed me as I neared the door, settling into a CQC stance. It was incomplete without the knife, but with luck, I could spring on any hypothetical attackers before they noticed how unarmed I was. And having a gun certainly made me feel better.

I reached the door and placed my free hand against it. It was left ajar, and yielded slightly. That didn't relieve me any. I glanced over my shoulder. The others were arrayed behind me in that V-formation. Their expressions were variations on either determination or worry. Fluttershy embodied the latter; Applejack the former. Twilight's face was somewhere in between. The unicorn gulped and nodded at me. I turned back to the door, sucked in a deep breath, and shoved.

The door flew inward, striking the wall with a thunderous crack and rebounding toward me. It struck me in the shoulder; I barely felt it. I pushed into the house, gun at the ready, and quickly scanned the room for any threats. Visibility was nearly nil. I didn't see anything immediately obvious besides a bulbous, indistinct shape that cluttered the center of the room.

“Twilight,” I muttered. “Light?”

There was a hum behind me and a flash of pale purple light, and suddenly, a dozen candles around the room ignited.

Zecora's hut was empty. No zebra. No soldiers. No bodies. No immediately obvious signs or traces of battle. The hut was identical to how I'd left it, and I mean that literally. Nothing was different. And that's precisely what was so disconcerting. The object in the room's center turned out to be the cauldron, still full of that nasty soup Zecora had fed Apple Bloom and I. I dipped a finger into it; a skin had formed over the top layer, but the liquid was still lukewarm. Apple Bloom's bowl lay, untouched, where she'd left it, and the bed was still rumpled and unmade, just as it was when I'd risen.

The others filed into the hut behind me upon realizing that there was no danger. Twilight pensively examined the pots and jars on the shelves. Fluttershy avoided glancing at the walls, where Zecora's collection of tribal masks scowled at us from all sides. I saw Applejack looking downcast, with Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash trying to comfort her. Rarity trotted up to the cauldron and stopped beside me. She leaned her face over the edge and sniffed, then recoiled with a wrinkled nose. “I don't understand. What does it all mean?” she asked.

“Probably that Zecora could benefit from a cooking class,” I said. Twilight glared reproachfully at me from across the room, then resumed her examination of Zecora's pottery. Was she cataloging it? Checking to see if anything was missing?

“Snake,” sighed Rarity. “I realize you aren't from around here, but surely where you come from, sarcasm is never your first response to a lady's query.”

“Yeah?” I said, not looking at her. “I ever see a lady around here, I'll remember that.”

I imagined Rarity scowling at me and allowed myself a tiny bit of self-satisfaction.

“Y'know,” said Rainbow Dash, floating in the air beside Applejack. “I think I know what might've happened to Zecora. Trenton killed those guys that went with him, right? His teammates?” She talked with her hooves an awful lot, spreading, waving, and somehow clenching them as she spoke. How the hell did she clench hooves? “If he was fine with killing them when they were on his side, then why would he let Zecora live when she obviously wasn't? He probably offed her and ran away wearing her head like a hat.”

“Rainbow!” snapped Applejack. Fluttershy let out a pathetic whimper. “Not appropriate!”

“What?” said Rainbow Dash said, dropping to the ground and coming head-to-head with Applejack. “Look, I'm not saying that I hope that's what happened.”

“Oh, Applejack,” breathed Fluttershy, her eyes going impossibly wide. “You don't think that they would actually do that to poor Zecora, do you?”

“I don't know what to think, sugarcube,” said Applejack. “But I know we ain't gonna get anywhere by goin' all morbid-like. Rainbow's just talkin' out of her—”

“'Outta my' what, Applesack?!”

“I can't exactly tell you what y'all are talkin' out of if you innerupt me, you big blue lummox!”

I pressed my palm against my face, poking my fingertips beneath my bandanna to rub my forehead as Applejack and Rainbow Dash went at it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rarity performing a strikingly similar gesture, and I immediately dropped my hand back to my side.

Damn, but those ponies could argue.

A sudden, sharp noise like a thunderclap interrupted the burgeoning debate and caused everyone in the room to jump a meter into the air. I whirled and leveled my gun at the source of the noise, which turned out to be Twilight Sparkle. She stared down the suppressor-equipped barrel, her eyes wide, and chuckled nervously. “Sorry to startle you, Snake, but they were yelling, and I didn't know how else to, uh.” She coughed. I lowered my weapon. “Anyway. She's alive.”

“You know that for certain?” Rarity asked. She sounded skeptical. “How?”

“Because,” said Twilight, indicating the shelf behind her with a sweeping gesture, “of what isn't here.”

We stared at that shelf in silence.

“Is this a riddle?” Pinkie Pie asked. She tilted her head and perked her ear like a confused puppy. “Is the answer 'melon?'”

“Oh,” sighed Fluttershy, so quietly that I nearly dismissed it as my imagination before she repeated herself louder. “Oh! I recognize some of those!” She took wing and fluttered toward the shelf, scrutinizing the jars and their contents. “This is phlegmlock; I use it to treat flu symptoms in my animals. Ooh, and fegelein—with the right ingredients, part of a cure for poison joke!” Fluttershy returned to the ground and folded her wings. “These are herbal remedies and potions!”

I holstered my weapon and crossed to the shelf, picking up a jar full of blueish gunk and examining it. “Zecora's some kind of witch doctor, huh?” I said, turning the jar over in my hands. It was labeled in some jagged script that I didn't recognize. “Can't argue with the results. Her anti-venom saved my life.” I turned to Twilight. “But I don't see your point.”

The jar was illuminated by a pale, purple aura and floated out of my hand. It hovered a few inches in front of Twilight's face. “First of all, Zecora is not a witch doctor. She's a shaman. Very different." The jar full of gunk floated back onto the shelf. "And second, Zecora and I have talked pretty in depth about potions and remedies in the past. Between our conversations and my own research, I've gotten to know most of her supplies and what they do like the back of my hoof. The one you were holding is a zebra analgesic, colloquially referred to as 'Bottoms Up.' It's used to treat hemorrhoids.”

I heard Rainbow Dash snicker behind me.

“My point is that a number of very potent potions, of various uses, are missing from this shelf,” said Twilight, ignoring Rainbow Dash. “Primarily healing potions, but there are several missing which are multipurpose. One in particular has psychotropic properties.”

Zecora manufactured the Equestrian equivalent of LSD? That was a surprise.

“That doesn't prove anything one way or the other,” I pointed out. “For all we know, the soldiers left to guard this hut took them without knowing what they were for.”

Twilight shook her head. “There's a definite pattern to the potions that were taken,” she said. “Any idiot could fill a sack with them and be on their merry way. They'd have no way to distinguish between Bottoms Up and a bone-knitting potion. Whoever took these knew exactly what they were getting, and chose specifically.”

“That still don't tell us much,” said Applejack. “Jus' that Zecora was gone 'fore anyone could come lookin' for her. Don't say why she went, or where.”

I respect Zecora for her pharmaceutical skill to this day (hell, with my body the way it is now, I'd kill for some of those potions Twilight mentioned), but I came away from that investigation with even less of an understanding of her than before. I started to wonder whether Zecora had some agenda of her own, and if she did, what exactly it entailed. She could have left Apple Bloom and I to die, but instead, she took us into her home, fed us, and nursed me back to health. Yet, at the same time, she did nothing to help Apple Bloom when she was waylaid by the manticore, and did nothing to back me up when I intervened. If I hadn't attacked the manticore when I did, would Zecora have done anything to save Apple Bloom? Or would she have left the filly to die?

Now that I'm thinking about it again, the fact that the soldiers only caught up to us after we'd left the hut strikes me as convenient. That she was absent from the house when we returned, and that many of her more potent concoctions were missing along with her, makes it that much more curious. Was she approached by Trenton and his soldiers? Did she sell us out in exchange for her own safety? Or was saving us, only to sic a cyborg ninja on us later, just part of the plan?

Of course, that's all speculation; I had, and have, no proof that she betrayed me. The worst she did to me was save my life. So I didn't voice my suspicions, reminding myself that there was a job to do. Condemning my savior could wait until Apple Bloom was safe and sound and Metal Gear destroyed. So we emerged from Zecora's tree house with more questions than answers, one of which Rainbow Dash decided to voice.

“So let's say Zecora did skip town. What about the soldiers?” She looked searchingly at each of her friends, expecting an answer, then back at me as I ducked under the low-clearance door. “Didn't you say that Trenton left a couple guys behind to keep an eye on the place?”

The distinctive report of an AK-47 tore through the air. My hand flew back to my holster as the ponies froze in place. There came more gunshots; rapid fire, full auto, not in the immediate area, but worryingly close.

“What's going on?” asked Spike as he waddled toward the rest of us. “Is that gunfire?”

Twilight turned to me. “Have we been spotted?”

I shook my head quickly. “If those shots were meant for us, we'd know it. But someone's in a firefight nearby.” I looked at Rainbow Dash. “You were saying?”

Rainbow Dash frowned and opened her mouth to reply, but another burst of gunfire cut her off. Twilight stepped away from the group, her shoulders squared and her head lowered. “That could be Zecora they're shooting at!”

Or it could be some redneck washout gone hunting, I thought.

Twilight looked behind herself at us, her face grim and resolute. “C'mon, everypony! Hurry!”

“Right,” said Spike as he scrambled onto Twilight's back. He didn't look happy when she bucked him right back off.

“Stay in Zecora's hut, Spike,” she snapped. “Wait there, where it's safe, and we'll come back for you.”

Spike looked genuinely hurt. “But Twilight, I can help! You said—”

“No buts, Spike! I told you to stay out of trouble!” She turned her back to him. “Let's go, everypony!”

Looking at those ponies, with their inoffensive color schemes and funny hats and tramp stamps, it was easy to forget that they were animals who were renowned for their swiftness. Caught off guard by their initial burst of speed, I briefly had to sprint to catch up with them. I spared Spike one final glance before we left Zecora's house behind.

He wasn't staying put.

Six ponies and a human raced headlong toward the sounds of battle. The automatic gunfire cut off suddenly, and for a moment, it seemed as though the fight had ended before they could make their presence known. A series of five booming reports, distinctly louder than what the AK was capable of producing, told them that the fight was yet undecided. Before a great amount of time had passed, they came upon a scene that quite defied their expectations.

A human in Pegasus Wings livery stood in a clearing with a single tree in its center. There were several large rocks scattered here and there, and a large boulder rested against the trunk of the central tree. The human was surrounded by multiple attackers, nine in all. They were short, but their heads and shoulders were well above the tall, unshorn grass, and they stood upon four legs. Their bodies were brown, twisted, and gnarled. Their canine faces were dominated by a pair of bright yellow eyes, which they had narrowed to slits. The lights in their eyes glinted against the chrome finish of a long-barreled revolver, which the human was desperately fumbling to reload as his attackers tightened the circle around him. His AK-47 lay discarded on the ground not far from where he stood, beside the broken and splintered body of one of his attackers. There were several empty magazines littered around it.

Snake and the others crouched in the underbrush outside of the clearing. “What the hell are those?” he asked.

“Those are timberwolves!” Fluttershy breathed, her face lighting up. “I've never had the opportunity to see them up close before.”

“Timberwolves,” said Snake sourly. He rubbed his temple. “Of course they are.”

The human snapped the cylinder on his revolver shut, leveled it at one of the wolves and fired. The gun emitted a terrible crack that made the observers clench their teeth and cringe. One of the wolves' heads exploded into timber, and its decapitated body fell limply into the underbrush.

“I don't see any sign of Zecora,” said Twilight, once she'd recovered from the shock. “Whatever's happening here, I don't think she has much to do with it.”

Rainbow Dash whirled, turning on Twilight. “So what are you saying? We should just walk away?”

“He's the enemy,” Snake pointed out. “On the battlefield, one doesn't typically go out of his way to save his enemy.”

“So what?” Rainbow Dash turned on Snake now, her wings bringing her up to eye level with him. She stuck her face into his; Snake firmly held his ground. “He's in trouble, and he needs help. We can't just leave him like this!”

A second gunshot brought their attention back to the battlefield. This time, the wolves were ready for the human's attack; the one in his line of fire nimbly dodged, and the gunshot harmlessly tore into the underbrush. The soldier cocked the revolver and sought a new target, but at that moment, a wolf leaped onto his back and clamped its jaws onto his shoulder. It pulled hard and tore away a large section of his combat vest, spitting it into the grass, and attacked the flesh he'd just exposed.

The soldier valiantly tried to throw him off, but another wolf attacked him from the side, knocking him onto his back. The rest of the pack swarmed him as he screamed.

“You see that?” said Snake. Rainbow Dash trembled with helpless rage. “That's the universe taking care of a problem for us. We should take this opportunity to—“

“Stop!” cried Fluttershy. She leaped out of her hiding place and into the clearing. The tall grass rose midway up her legs, obscuring her full height and making her seem much smaller than she was. The wolves' ears perked, and they withdrew from the soldier, turning upon Fluttershy and baring their fangs.

“I'm rubbin' off on you, 'Shy!” crowed Rainbow Dash. She shot to Fluttershy's side and unfolded a wing, throwing it protectively in front of the yellow pegasus. The others raced to Fluttershy's side as well, taking up positions alongside her. Snake reluctantly joined them, towering over the others from the rear of the group.

“Hello,” said Fluttershy sweetly, a kind smile on her face. “My name is Fluttershy, and these are my friends. We were walking through this forest just now, and couldn't help overhearing the awful racket going on over here.”

“What the hell does she think she's doing?” Snake growled.

Pinkie Pie turned to him and held a hoof to her lips. “Shh! This is her thing!”

“Now, I know that you need to eat meat to survive,” continued Fluttershy. “And it would be terribly rude of me to tell you not to do that, or to try and shame you into not eating meat. You can't help what you are. You're predators, and predators kill to survive. I understand that completely.”

The wolves formed a line, keeping the largest and bulkiest of them—the alpha—in their center. He was a giant, larger than the average wolf, closer in size to a manticore. The second largest stood beside and just behind him; giant though that one was, it was easily dwarfed by the alpha. Though the pack kept their postures tense and their teeth bared, they held their ground and listened as Fluttershy spoke.

“But look at that poor thing,” Fluttershy cooed. “There are so many of you, and only one of him. You can't all possibly eat well just feeding off of him, can you? There isn't that much to go around, between the eight of you.” She leaned forward, bowing her head slightly and batting her eyelashes at them. “Surely, you can find a much more substantial meal somewhere else, right?”

The wolves' expressions faltered. Frowns crossed their wooden muzzles. They looked to one another, then to the alpha, who ran a long, leafy green tongue over thorny wooden lips. Then he bared his fangs again, this time in a sinister grin, and took a step forward. He barked twice, the second bark tapering into a prolonged, throaty snarl, and the other wolves soon joined in. Their shoulders hunched, their splintery hackles rose, and they began to advance.

Fluttershy's face went ashen. Her five friends snorted and dug their hooves into the dirt. Twilight Sparkle lowered her head and bared her horn. Solid Snake joined their ranks, arms raised and fists balled. “Very convincing,” he said to Fluttershy.

The wolves bounded forward. The ponies galloped to meet them. Snake held his ground and braced himself as a wolf broke rank and sprinted toward him, barking madly. It leaped and sailed through the air, its maw wide open, rows of black, gnarled teeth gnashing. Snake caught it in the air and threw it to the ground, using its momentum in concert with his beastly physical strength to enhance the force of the impact. The wolf yelped in pain, but the dense grass cushioned it enough to prevent the landing from crippling it. It scrabbled back to its feet and wove away from a stomp, then coiled its legs and jumped at Snake again. Snake caught it under its forelegs, twisting his neck to keep out of reach of its snapping, slavering jaws. Flecks of thick, sap-like saliva splattered his face and the front of his suit.

The wolf lunged with its face, again and again, and each time, Snake narrowly avoided having one of his cheeks or his nose torn away. He wrapped his right hand around the wolf's left foreleg, choked his grip upward toward the elbow, and began to twist. The wolf stopped moving and emitted a piercing whine. It struggled, vainly thrashing about to escape Snake's grip as its leg cracked, splintered, and finally broke off. The wolf howled. Snake beat his end of the broken leg against the wolf's intact foreleg, once, twice, a third time. The leg broke on the third strike, and the dismembered wolf fell into the grass, writhing and crying. Snake lifted his foot, preparing to deliver a killing blow.

A sharp bark distracted him, and he whirled around in time to see another wolf leaping toward him, slavering jaws bared for the kill. Snake spun on his back foot and struck with a kick that connected with the wolf's muzzle. Its body twisted in midair from the impact of Snake's foot against its face, and it fell into the grass. Quickly, it rolled back to its feet and bared its fangs. Snake left his crippled target where it lay and turned his full focus onto the newcomer.

Rainbow Dash locked eyes with one of the wolves and chose to meet him head-on. They closed the distance between them 'til it was mere inches, and the wolf snapped its jaws, expecting to bite down on supple pony flesh. But they clamped shut on air as Rainbow Dash broke her charge, unfurled her wings, and zipped to the side at a ninety degree angle. The wolf's eyes followed the spectrum of her contrail as she began to circle him, a whirlwind of color.

A hoof lashed out and smacked the wolf across the face. It retaliated with a fierce swing of its paw, but found no purchase, and received a kick in the back of the head for its trouble. Dazed and disoriented, the wolf didn't even notice when Rainbow Dash broke her pattern and shot straight into the air above the wolf. She peaked at the forest's canopy, flipped in midair, and hurtled at the wolf like a lightning bolt, keeping her body straight as an arrow. The wolf recovered just in time to look up at the triumphant blue pegasus hurtling toward it, and folded its ears against its skull sadly. Rainbow Dash barreled straight into the wolf's back, bending its body inward and breaking its wooden hide in several places. She springboarded off of it, flipped in midair, and landed on all fours with catlike precision.

The wolf whimpered, writhing painfully in the grass, unable to fully move from the force of Rainbow Dash's attack. The pegasus shook an aching hoof, and held it to her mouth, sucking gently. “Oh, be quiet, you baby. You think you've got it bad? That hit gave me a splinter.”

A savage bark behind her drew her attention. A second wolf bounded toward her, grinning a wolfy grin. Rainbow Dash tensed and unfurled her wings, ready to take to the air, but a length of rope shot from behind the wolf and wrapped around the its neck, jerking it to the ground. It landed with a thud and immediately began struggling, gnawing at the rope and shaking its head back and forth.

Applejack held her lasso tightly in her mouth, straining as hard as she could to keep the wolf under wraps. “Rai'ow,” she slurred through a mouthful of rope, “ake 'i' 'own.”

Rainbow Dash tilted her head. “Huh? Oh! You want me to—yeah! Right!” She shot forward, skidded to a halt in front of the bound wolf and reared onto her hind legs. She struck quickly and powerfully, brief jabs with her left hoof interspaced with powerful hooks with her right. Each strike elicited a yelp and a growl from the wolf, who frantically tugged and chewed at the rope to free itself. But each blow cracked its wooden face a little bit more, weakening it for the coup de grace.

Finally, Rainbow Dash drew her right forehoof back and swung it 'round for dramatic effect. “Looks like your bark,” she growled, “is worse than your—“

The rope snapped. The wolf's eyes shifted to glare at Rainbow Dash. She froze. “Uh—”

The timberwolf took hold the end of rope that Applejack held, and swung her toward Rainbow Dash. Pony collided with pony with a painful crash, and they rolled through the grass as a tumbling, entangled mass of legs.

Applejack shook her head and glared at Rainbow Dash. “You had to showboat,” she snapped. “Y'all jus' couldn't resist, could ya?!”

“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash defensively, “how often do you get to use a classic line like that, huh?”

The timberwolf barked, and the feuding ponies froze. It charged toward Rainbow Dash and Applejack, and they threw their forelegs around one another, screaming.

"Hi-yah!"

A white and purple blur collided with the wolf, knocking it off course and stunning it momentarily. Rarity landed, balancing on one hind leg, her other raised and bent at the knee and her forelegs held in a "Y" shape. The wolf regained its equilibrium and snarled at the insolent unicorn.

"And to think," said Rarity, "they laughed when I took that Krav Marega class. Well, who's laughing now?"

The wolf, who now assumed a defensive posture, stood midway between Rarity and a boulder. It leaped at her, but Rarity swung her back hoof and caught the wolf beneath the chin. The wolf staggered backward toward the boulder, caught off guard by Rarity's attack.

Rarity pressed her advantage; she turned her back upon the wolf, leaned onto her forelegs, and struck the wolf in the face with a powerful dual-legged kick. The kick spun the wolf's neck around, causing its head to collide against the boulder. Weakened by the sudden avalanche of cranial trauma, the wolf could only wobble uncertainly on its legs, blinking rapidly. Rarity maintained a tense stance, staring it down, until the wolf's eyes finally closed and it collapsed into the grass beneath the boulder.

Panting, Rarity looked at Applejack and Rainbow Dash. Applejack glanced at the boulder that Rarity had used against the wolf, then at Rarity, and broke into a smile.

“Don't say it,” Rarity warned.

“Don't say what?” asked Applejack, her smile broadening.

“You know what I mean. I know you do." Rarity coughed. "The 'T' word?”

“T?” Rainbow Dash stroked her chin. “Timber? Like what a lumberjack says?”

Rarity huffed and blew a lock of hair out of her face.

A cry from Snake drew their attention. The human had a wolf pinned against a tree with his left arm and was punching it in the face with his right, but another wolf had leaped onto his back and was now snapping its jaws at his neck. Rainbow and Applejack extricated themselves, and together with Rarity, charged to Snake's aid.

One of the wolves circled Fluttershy, licking its chops. Fluttershy quivered; her every plea for reason was either ignored or met with another hungry look from the wolf. She was losing faith that she'd be able to end this particular conflict nonviolently.

The wolf lunged at her. Fluttershy squeaked and dove out of the way, and the wolf passed over her, landing in the grass. It whipped around to strike again. Fluttershy took to the air, beating her wings rapidly in a desperate bid to gain altitude, but the wolf's jaws snapped shut on her tail, and it tugged her back to the grass. She landed on her belly and rolled onto her back, scooting away from the wolf as it stalked toward her. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth; Fluttershy guessed it was either happy or hungry (or possibly both). She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hooves.

Pinkie Pie suddenly bounced forward, interposing herself between Fluttershy and the wolf. “Oh hi!” she chirped. “I don't think we've met quite yet; y'see, I don't come into the forest very often and when I do it's usually for business and not pleasure, so I never get to make many new friends or meet anypony new! Oh, but I guess you're not really a pony, you're a wolf, so I should say 'anywolf' or 'anywolves' maybe if I want to go plural...”

The wolf took a stutter-step backward. Its swagger, its hungry confidence, were gone, and it now backed away nervously as Pinkie Pie bounced closer and closer, chattering ceaselessly and drifting from one topic to the next. Frightened, it turned to run, only to find its path inexplicably blocked by the same pink pony it was fleeing from.

"...not to mention the humidity makes my hair poof like you would not be-LIEVE!" sang Pinkie Pie, sticking her face into the wolf's and rolling her eyes for emphasis. The wolf shut its eyes and snapped at Pinkie, but it came up empty. It opened its eyes. The pony had vanished. Perplexed and fearful, the wolf turned left and right in search of her, finding nopony but Fluttershy. It growled at her. Fluttershy winced, coughed quietly, and pointed at the wolf's back. The wolf craned its head backward, as far up as it could, to see what Fluttershy indicated.

“...and that's how I learned the difference between trigonometry and tracheotomies," said Pinkie Pie, perched atop the wolf's hindquarters. The wolf's jaw dropped. It hadn't even felt Pinkie's weight until it noticed her. Suddenly, its legs buckled beneath it, and it collapsed to the ground, pinned by the pony.

"Hey, speaking of humidity, what's the weather like in here?" Pinkie Pie asked, once again shoving her face against the wolf's. "I guess because you don't have the pegasi regulating it it gets pretty hairy sometimes." She giggled, and the wolf moaned unhappily, physically pained by her pun. "Hairy? Like a dog? Geddit? Nah," she said, waving a hoof dismissively and obliviously smacking the wolf in the eye with it. "You wouldn't get it because you don't have hair; you're made out of wood. Do you ever get termites? Like some ponies get lice or worms? Ooh, can I check you for termites?!" Pinkie turned around and belly-flopped upon the wolf's back. It yelped in pain, the wind knocked out of it, and its wooden skin splintered from Pinkie's sudden drop.

"I never got them," Pinkie continued. "Not termites, I mean, you silly filly!" She propped her head up on her elbows, which dug painfully into the wolf's skin. "Even when I was living on the rock farm – oh, did I mention I grew up on a rock farm? Now THAT is an interesting story!" Pinkie began absentmindedly kicking her hind legs up and down, whacking the wolf in the back of the head each time. The wolf struggled to free itself from Pinkie Pie, but found itself impossibly pinned beneath her.

Pinkie, for her part, failed to notice the wolf's efforts, or the pain she was inflicting upon it with her playful, girlish kicks. She looked and acted as though she were laying on her bed flipping through a magazine, not fighting for her life against a woodland beast. The wolf's struggles grew weaker with each blow and each passing second, but Pinkie Pie kept right on telling her story.

"Well y'see, back when I was just an itty bitty little ittle twinkie Pinkie, I lived on a rock farm with my parents and my sisters, where there was no smiling or singing or laughing or even any cake. Can you believe it? Not even on birthdays!"

The wolf moaned pitiably.

"I know!" exclaimed Pinkie Pie. "It's like, DUH!" She punctuated her exclamation by slamming both legs, in unison, onto the wolf's head. It suddenly went very, very still. Pinkie Pie did not notice. "No, we had igneous rocks for our birthdays, and we'd carve them up and eat 'em with frosting – we did have frosting, but it was made out of shale and water—”

“Pinkie,” said Fluttershy softly, and a little sadly. She placed a hoof on the party pony's shoulder, then gestured at the silent wolf who lay still and prone beneath her. Its eyes were glassy and unfocused, and its tongue hung out of the side of its mouth.

Pinkie removed herself from the wolf and stepped in front of it. She tentatively reached a hoof toward its face, tapped it on the nose, and withdrew quickly. The wolf remained still. “Did I? Huh. I guess I talked it to death. I didn't even know I could do that.” She looked at Fluttershy, frowning. “You don't get that bored with my stories, do you?”

Fluttershy said nothing. An overpowering wave of sorrow struck her in the shoulders, forcing her to drop to her haunches and sit in the grass. Her eyes looked into the faintly yellow, lifeless, darkened eyes of the timberwolf.

"Fluttershy?" asked Pinkie Pie hesitantly.

The pegasus continued to stare silently into the dead wolf's eyes.

Twilight Sparkle dug her hooves into the dirt, staring down a large wolf who bulged with what could only be described as wooden muscles. It barked harshly at her, sap dripping from its chops.

A purple aura emanated from Twilight's horn. Thick, choking, purple smoke materialized between her and the wolf. The wolf's keen sight couldn't penetrate the dense haze. It tried to sniff out the illusive purple unicorn, but all it could smell was an overpowering grape scent.

There was a flash directly ahead of the wolf, and the silhouette of a pony appeared. Twilight’s horn shone brightly; a light expanded from it, tendrils of energy snaking in all directions like the rays of a miniature sun, before the light imploded inward, focused at the tip of her horn. A noise like a sonic boom ripped through the air and the wolf was gone, catapulted through the tree line and quite out of sight in less than a second.

Twilight Sparkle heaved a sigh and sagged her shoulders. “I wonder how high it'll go,” she mused to herself. “The stratosphere? At the least, according to my calculations.”

A low, rumbling growl behind her sent a shiver of panic down her spine. Her horn flashed as she tried to teleport away from the danger, but the wolf collided with her and broke her focus. Twilight lay on her stomach in the grass. She felt wooden paws pin her forelegs to the ground, and she had to grit her teeth to avoid crying out from the pain of the wolf's claws digging into her skin. Sap dripped onto her neck as the wolf lowered its muzzle to her neck.

“Hey!” shouted a boyish voice. “Get off of her, you big wooden jerk!”

Twilight's eyes widened.

She felt a sudden addition to the weight pressing down on her, heard a sharp intake of breath and the familiar searing sound of fire breath, and then the wolf was off of her, yelping and shrieking in pain. Twilight pushed onto her hooves, and saw a scene that made her heart leap with pride and sink with fear simultaneously.

Spike was on the wolf's back. His arms were locked around its neck and his face was pressed against its nape. The top and back of the wolf's head blazed like a vivid green mane. Tongues of flame licked at Spike's head, but he ignored them, unfazed. He lifted his head and sucked in another breath, but the wolf shrugged its mighty shoulders enough to break the grip he had around its neck. Then it bucked, catapulting him off of its back and into the grass. Howling with agony, the wolf turned and sprinted into the woods, its cries of pain echoing in the clearing long after it had vanished.

Twilight fixed Spike with a glare and sucked her teeth. The dragon smiled sheepishly, crooked his arm, and rested his chin in it. "C'mon, admit it Twilight," he chuckled. "You needed—"

A loud, feral, canine roar drowned the remainder of Spike's bragging. The dragon and the pony turned to see the timberwolf alpha, giant and bearlike, rumbling toward them like a freight train. Immediately, Twilight leaped in front of Spike and bared her horn at the wolf. She threw up a magic barrier, but underestimated the wolf's strength and momentum. It barreled through the shield, breaking it without breaking stride, and batted Twilight aside with a massive paw. Twilight fell to the grass with a grunt. When she lifted her head, she was greeted with the sight of the timberwolf alpha clutching her assistant in its gargantuan jaws. It glared at her with furious yellow eyes, snarling at the unicorn.

Spike trembled. He stared into Twilight's eyes, silently willing her to do something. Twilight quickly ran through her options. Short of teleporting Spike out of its jaws, she could think of nothing. The wolf itself presented too great a variable for her to do that with any reasonable assurance of Spike's safety; in a best case scenario, Spike would rematerialize with wolf teeth embedded in his skin. In a worst case scenario, he'd rematerialize with the wolf's jaw phased through his head.

Twilight swallowed. On her own, she felt quite useless.

"Drop him," growled a low, gravelly voice.

Fortunately, Twilight Sparkle was not on her own.

Solid Snake, flanked by Applejack and Rarity with Rainbow Dash overhead, rushed to her side. The human gripped a chunk of timberwolf leg like a cudgel. Behind the wolf, Pinkie Pie bounced lightly on her hooftips.

"Do what he says," said Twilight. She took a step forward. "Let the dragon down, and walk away from this." Her horn began to shimmer. "So help me, if you harm one scale on his head..."

The wolf barked through a mouthful of Spike and pounded its paw against the dirt. Twilight swallowed hard and tensed.

The sounds of the stand-off drifted through Fluttershy's ears. She heard them, but only distantly, as background noise. For the moment, the entire world was herself and the empty eyes of a lifeless timberwolf.

Not far away, another wolf whimpered and mewled, and for some odd reason, Fluttershy heard that more clearly than Twilight's menacing threats to the alpha male. A timberwolf, its forelegs broken off at the elbows, writhed in the grass, struggling to raise itself onto limbs that no longer existed. Syrupy blood dripped from the wounds.

It was the same everywhere she looked. Crippled timberwolves, their bodies splintered, shattered and broken, lay scattered all around. The acrid smell of burnt wood wafted past her nostrils, mixed with the lingering odor of cordite. Headless timberwolves lay as silent reminders of a fight that she and her friends had been late to. And, propped against a tree in the center of the clearing, a human tried desperately to staunch the flow of blood from a mortal wound.

A boulder hovered over the alpha wolf's body, outside of its line of sight. It was wrapped in a shimmering purple aura. Twilight Sparkle licked her parched lips.

And then, audible only to Fluttershy, came a loud, snapping sound.

"Stop it!" screamed Fluttershy. She took to the air, winging over the wolf and beneath the boulder and landing between the two groups of combatants. "Stop it! Stop, stop, stop it! Stop it right this second!" she cried.

“Move, dammit,” snapped Snake. “We're trying to clean up your mess.”

Fluttershy trembled, and she whirled upon Snake, her eyes wide and red. "I said STOP IT!" she roared. "Both of you, all of you, just stop! Stop and look around! Look what all this fighting's done!"

Her friends did as they were told, and as they looked about the clearing, they beheld what she did: the broken, beaten bodies (lifeless and otherwise) of a pack of timberwolves.

"Stop complaining," said Snake. "You were the one who wanted to get involved, remember?"

Furious, Fluttershy stomped toward Snake. "I wanted to help that poor human!" she rasped. Her throat was dry, parched from her screaming. "I wanted to prevent more violence and killing! I didn't want this! All this did was add to the body count! More bodies, more blood, more death!"

Snake said nothing, and did not move; if he was at all put off by Fluttershy's behavior, he did not give it away. Fluttershy turned her back to her friends and advanced upon the alpha male. It held its ground, eying her as though she were little more than a curiosity. The pegasus beat her wings and took to the air again, coming face-to-face with the alpha. "Why couldn't you have just listened?!" she demanded. "This could have all been avoided if you and your pack just left! All this fighting and carnage and death, all for what?!" Tears stung her eyes, flowed freely, but she didn't let up one bit. "Your pack is dead! The ones who aren't are crippled! You're the only one left standing, and instead of realizing what you've led them all into, you're still trying to pick a fight!"

The alpha glanced at the dragon in its jaws. Its grip relaxed somewhat.

"How dare you hold my friend hostage like that!" said Fluttershy, pointing at Spike. "How dare you use him as a tool in this ridiculous blood sport! This isn't hunting, this isn't living as a predator, it's meaningless—" Fluttershy's sentence ended abruptly. Her voice quivered. Fury was beginning to give way to sorrow.

"Stop it now," she begged. "Let him down and take what's left of your pack and just go. Don't cause anymore violence today."

The timberwolf alpha turned away from Fluttershy. It gazed around the battlefield, littered with the remains and crippled bodies of his pack. It looked at the human, still alive and holding his shoulder and staring with interest at the drama in the clearing. Finally, it turned back to Fluttershy. Their eyes met, Fluttershy's swimming with tears, the wolf's shining a pale yellow. It looked past Fluttershy, at her friends, who were still arrayed for a fight, and it bowed its head. Its great jaws released their grip on Spike, and he tumbled to the grass. Immediately, Spike vanished in a flash of purple, and reappeared at Twilight Sparkle's side. She pushed him behind herself with a hoof and held him there, her body still tense and her horn still glowing.

Slowly, the great wolf turned its bulk away from the group. Pinkie Pie quickly scrambled out of its way as it strode toward the crippled remains of the wolf who Rainbow Dash had beaten into submission. It leaned down and pushed beneath it, taking it onto its back. The alpha strode next to the wolf that Rarity had beaten, and gathered it as well. It looked across the battlefield, at the remaining wolves, dead and crippled, and bowed its head again. Then, mournfully, it strode out of the clearing and into the dark of the Everfree Forest.

Fluttershy gradually returned to the ground and folded her wings. Her body still trembled, and her head and shoulders slumped forward. Heavy, heaving sobs wracked her body.

"Fluttershy...?" Pinkie Pie moved on tiphoof toward the pegasus and wrapped a foreleg around her shoulders. Wordlessly, Fluttershy turned into Pinkie Pie's hug. Pinkie wrapped her other leg around her and held the pegasus as she wept.

"It's wrong," she gasped between sobs. "It's killing, and it's stupid, and it's so... it's so..."

"I know," said Pinkie. "I'm sorry." She held her tighter and brushed her mane.

The boulder returned to the ground, unnoticed by all, and the purple aura faded. “'Naught's had, all's spent,'” Snake said under his breath, dropping his makeshift cudgel and drawing a cigarette from his belt. “'Where our desire is got without content.'” He placed the cigarette in his mouth and reached for his lighter.

Another purple aura yanked it from his mouth, let it dangle in the air for a moment, then dropped it to the grass. Snake sagged his shoulders and sighed.

I stared at the crippled body of the timberwolf whose legs I'd broken, and thought of the dogs I'd raised in Alaska a lifetime ago. Sure, the similarities were few and far in between. I didn't even know that these things could technically qualify as wolves. Wolves aren't made of wood. But that plaintive noise it made reminded me of a time when I had to put down one of my dogs. My favorite, actually. A sweet and gentle male who'd rest his chin on my knee whenever I was sitting down and stare up at me with big blue eyes. He'd broken his leg in three places and wouldn't be able to race again, wouldn't even be able to walk without enduring a very unpleasant agony. So I took him out back, alone, with an old Winchester carbine, and I let him die with dignity. And right before I pulled the trigger, he looked me in the eye, and he made that noise, that quiet, resigned, pitiable whine.

For a moment, I reached my hand toward the head of the timberwolf. I wanted to brush my fingers over its wooden skin. I wanted to feel it stir, see its head lift and its tongue loll happily out of its mouth. But it whined, loudly and shrilly, as my hand drew closer. I withdrew before I came into contact and clenched my fingers tightly, dangling my arm at my side.

The wolf didn't even move anymore. It just lay there, crying, and staring into space.

“Hey Snake?” Applejack nudged my hand with her nose. “Everythin' alright?”

I wasn't that obvious, was I? “Fine. Just a little sore, I guess.” I looked down at the orange mare. She was bruised all over, and there was some very odd chafing around the corners of her mouth, but she stood tall and proud on all four legs, no worse for wear. “You're pretty good, y'know that?”

“Shucks, stranger, same to you!” she said with a laugh. “Happy t'have you on our side!”

“Yes,” agreed Rarity. She dusted herself off; it seemed pointless to me, because her effervescent white coat was still spotless, despite the tussle. “You know, you may be an uncouth ruffian, but you're handy in a tight spot.”

I smiled grimly and turned away from them. Fluttershy was at the side of the Pegasus Wings soldier, who rested his back against the tree in the clearing's center. She examined his wounds while Pinkie Pie stood a little ways away, looking detached. A whole chunk of his shoulder was missing, and blood coated the entire left side of his uniform. I doubted he would make it, but sparing him some comfort was a nice gesture from the pegasus nonetheless.

I began to walk toward the two of them, just as I heard Rainbow Dash burst into laughter. “Oh, I get it now!” she gasped between chuckles. “The 'T' word! That 'T' word!” Rarity groaned.

Didn't care. Kept walking. The tall grass tickled my calves and shins.

“What did I tell you, Spike?” demanded Twilight. She and her baby dragon were at the edge of the ring of trees, sitting alone together. “I gave you one very simple, very specific instruction. Remind me, Spike, what was it?”

“To stay put,” he said glumly.

“And what did you choose not to do?” Twilight continued, in that patronizing tone that parents always used for children who disappointed them somehow.

“But Twilight, that thing was about to eat you alive! If I hadn't shown up when I did—”

“Better me than you, Spike,” Twilight interrupted. I admit that I was eyeing them now, mildly interested in their spat.

Twilight rubbed the back of her neck with a hoof while glaring at the dragon who sat beside her. “One of the others could have helped me out of that spot. By stepping in yourself, by disobeying me, you put yourself in harm's way unnecessarily. You could have been killed, and what good would that have done? For me, for you, or for anypony?”

Spike heaved a trembling sigh. “I just wanted to help you, Twilight. I'm sick of being useless.”

“You're not useless at all. You help me every day, Spike,” said Twilight. Her words were kind, but her voice was tense and authoritative.

Spike was silent. They sat there together like that for a few moments before Twilight wrapped a leg around him and pulled him against her chest. Spike's eyes opened in surprise for a moment, but then he nuzzled his face against her and returned the hug. “I'm not ungrateful,” she said to him. “I just don't want to lose you because you're trying not to lose me.” She ran her hoof over his head. “Thank you for saving my life, Spike.”

Another family that was nearly torn apart. I thought about Applejack and her sister, and wondered what Twilight would do if she ever lost that dragon. What was he, her pet? Not quite the same thing, I guess, but she seemed to care deeply for him. I returned my focus to the soldier and Fluttershy; they were holding a conversation now.

“Please don't talk like that,” Fluttershy said kindly. “With the proper treatment, you're sure to pull through!”

The soldier ran a gloved hand through her mane. She trembled slightly, and her eyes betrayed a hint of discomfort, but she didn't move. “That's great,” he said. His voice, though weak and faded, was colored by a strong Brooklyn accent. “Can you get me the proper treatment?”

Fluttershy looked away from him, blushing. “W-well...”

He laughed softly. “I didn't think so. But thanks anyway.” He looked past her, at me, and for a moment, his eyes widened just a bit. “Well now. You're not regular infantry.”

“No, I'm not. I'm...” I looked at Fluttershy, over my shoulder at Twilight and Spike, and over my other shoulder at Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Applejack. The group was heading toward us now, slowly, like a funeral procession. The crunching sound of hooves through grass alerted me to Pinkie Pie's presence. She was edging closer to us now. “I'm a...” I thought for a moment. Should I even bother with a cover story? Ah, the hell with it. “A veterinarian.”

He coughed a familiar gurgly laugh. “Is that right? What, are you interning here?”

“Something like that.” I knelt in front of him and reached my fingers under the bottom of his balaclava. He said nothing, so I tugged it off of his head, exposing the face of a middle-aged man with a well-grown (if unkempt) yellow beard and fading blonde hair. The hair on his chin was stained red, his face pale from blood loss. His eyes were similarly bloodshot, so much so that I couldn't tell what color his irises were. They just looked black.

“Thanks, doc,” he said, breaking into a bloodied smile. “It was getting hot under there.”

I nodded. “What's your name? Your rank?”

He tried to hold his hand to his forehead in a mock salute, but stopped before he got anywhere near, gasping and groaning in pain. Fluttershy darted to his side and held his arm, gently pulling it back to his side.

“Case,” he said in a voice that sounded markedly weaker. “Captain Ronald Quincy Case, of the Pegasus Wings army. Second only to Commander Cain himself.” He paused, and made a face. “Or I was.”

“'Second in command'?” I repeated. “What's the second ranking officer of a military unit doing on a scavenger hunt out here?”

Captain Case bit his bottom lip and smiled. “'Scavenger hunt.' Appropriate.” With Fluttershy's help, he raised himself to a more comfortable sitting position against the tree. “There were seven of us. Five troops, myself. And the freak.”

“Freak?” A blazing blue eye flashed in my mind. “You mean the ninja. Trenton.”

Fluttershy shuddered.

Case blinked. “You've met, huh? Yeah. He's a real charmer. Took the five shittiest troops in the unit and dragged me along with him to keep an eye on them. Time was, I wouldn't have had to do what he said, but Commander Cain's been reevaluating the chain of command ever since bringing him on board.” He spat. Rarity made a quiet sound of disgust.

“We were sent to hunt a big kitty. Did that. But there were signs, y'see, of human life out here in these woods.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “So Trenton stuck us outside an abandoned house and went off in the woods to chase down whoever it was that was poking around in the forest.” Case closed his eyes and let out a pained breath. “They came not long after.”

“The wolves,” Spike supplied, and Case nodded. “How did they get you so far from your post?”

Case smiled sadly, his eyes still shut. “They got the drop on us. I didn't even see them 'til my partner started crying for help. By the time I noticed and went to help him, he was gone, dragged off into the woods. I pursued them. Then I got surrounded.”

I ran my tongue along the bottom row of my teeth as I processed this. “They killed your man to lure you into a trap. Interesting tactic.”

"Never found his body," grumbled Case. "Stupid kid, but he didn't deserve what he got." The captain gestured at the bullet-riddled wolf who was surrounded by spent magazines. “As for me, I wish I could have made a better stand for myself, but there were too many, and they were too quick.” He laughed. “I guess it's my punishment though; I used to poach wolves with my dad when I was a teenager.”

The aghast look on Fluttershy's face and the way she recoiled told me that she didn't care one bit for that revelation.

“You said you were the army's number two man,” I said. “Why was Trenton able to treat such a high-ranking officer like a common grunt?”

“Again, blame the chain of command,” said Case. “The Commander apparently thinks that he's more valuable than a man who's served at his side faithfully for fifteen years.” He finally opened his eyes and looked into mine. “Are you familiar with Zanzibar Land?”

Intimately. “The mercenary nation, right? The one that revolted in 1999?”

He made a finger-gun at me and pretended to shoot it. “Bingo, doc. Cain and I were both loyal members of the Zanzibar Land military. After the Christmas incident, with Big Boss dead and most of our army in tatters, Cain and I, and about fifty others, took what little we could scrape together and fled, less than a day ahead of the NATO mop-up squad. We stuck together after that, went our own way as a mercenary outfit. Eventually, that outfit evolved into the Pegasus Wings private military. Not the biggest, nor the best armed, but we were good soldiers, and we carved out a living for ourselves. Bought a freighter, refit it as a warship, and lived the good life on the high seas.”

I couldn't imagine how lost the ponies were, with all this talk about NATO and Zanzibar Land and Christmas. Well, shit, I thought, see how they like being confused by a lack of context.

“So what changed?” I asked.

Case licked his dry lips. “That fucker Trenton happened. We were acting as private muscle to a Russian unit assigned to root out Chechen rebels when, out of nowhere, that one-eyed blue bastard showed up and started talking about some new job. One that'd pay dividends a million times over. I wanted to get rid of him, but Cain was hooked, and they spent days hammering out an arrangement while me and the rest of the unit swilled vodka by day and shot Chechens by night. Finally, we pulled out of Russia and went to some coordinates that Trenton provided.”

“That's when you found the island,” I said. I looked over my shoulder at Twilight and the others. “And that gateway.”

“Yeah,” said Case. “You catch on quick, for a guy who disimpacts doggy bowels for a living.” Rainbow Dash snickered; I ignored her. “Cain and Trenton and I, and a few others, we went through, and... that's when we met our client.”

“'Client?'” I asked. “I thought Trenton was your client.”

“No, no,” said Case. “Trenton was just his representative, or a middleman. Somesuch. The client is some crazy pony fucker who calls himself Macbeth.”

“Macbeth?” asked Twilight, her voice suddenly fear-stricken. She pushed forward, shouldering past me to get into Case's face. “Macbeth of Stalliongrad? That Macbeth?!”

I glanced over my shoulder, at the rest of the assembled group. They all looked absolutely flabbergasted. Applejack looked expectantly at Spike, and Spike only shrugged in response.

“Well, he sure ain't the Thane of Glamis,” said Case, cracking a sardonic smile. He didn't budge an inch in the face of Twilight's sudden intrusion. “I take it he's a big name around here?”

Twilight pulled away from Case. “He's a revolutionary,” she said, still with that quasi fearful voice. “Years ago, he tried to start an insurgency against the Princess in the city of Stalliongrad. It got serious enough where Princess Celestia had to personally put it down.” She looked at her friends. “You girls have seriously never heard of this?”

They collectively shrugged.

“I heard about some trouble in Stalliongrad about five or so years back,” said Rarity. “But I didn't know the specifics. Nopony did.”

“Then how come you do?” I asked, nodding at Twilight.

“The guardsponies talk a lot,” she said with a nonchalant air. “I never saw anything about it in the news, but I overheard a number of conversations between those who'd accompanied Princess Celestia on the mission.” Her face molded into a sly expression. “You'd be surprised how easy it is to overhear sensitive information when you spend as much time around the palace as I used to.”

State secrets being discussed openly by the people involved in them? Woodward and Bernstein would have turned Equestria inside and out in days.

“Did they say what this revolutionary was like?” I asked. Case's face turned thoughtful, and he looked at Twilight with intrigue.

“Well,” said Twilight, shifting her weight from one leg to another. “It's been a long time, and I didn't overhear many specifics about the rebellion. But I do remember one guard saying how brave Macbeth was. How he looked Princess Celestia right in the eye and delivered a stirring and powerful speech.”

“An idealistic revolutionary who likes to talk?” I asked. I tried to picture Solidus as a pony, with writhing, mechanical tentacles instead of wings and a wakizashi for a horn.

“He's a fucking chickenshit retard,” snapped Case. He'd modulated his voice thus far in his discussion, but here he suddenly grew irate. The change was startling, to say the least. He spat again, and this time Rarity shuddered a little. “A raving asshole lunatic. Totally divorced from reality. I said as much to Cain, told him that nothing good was going to come out of this job, no matter what Trenton promised him. I was told that this was the direction that the army was taking, that if I didn't like it, I could take my walking papers and go back to America.”

“Why didn't you?” asked Pinkie Pie softly. I was startled; it was the first I'd heard her speak since Fluttershy's little speech.

Case fixed her with a stare. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and frowned. “I want to say that I had no place else to go,” he said at length. “Technically speaking, I'm a war criminal; I'd be thrown in the stockades the second I set foot in my home country. I hear some Zanzibar Land personnel were allowed to return to their countries. I knew one guy, in particular, this Inuit guy, who got picked up for an Army special operations unit.” He stared intently at me, then continued speaking. “But the truth is, I owe Cain my life. All us ex-Zanzibar Landers do. He kept us together, made us into something when we had no other recourse.” He leaned his head back against the tree and laughed. “Sounds stupid, I know. Following orders blindly, even when you know they'll go nowhere good.”

“Darn right, that sounds stupid," muttered Rainbow Dash.

"Rainbow," said Applejack in a low voice. Case raised an eyebrow at the pegasus.

Rainbow Dash shrugged. "There's a difference between being loyal, and being stupid. Friends don't betray each others' trust, and if they do, then they don't deserve any loyalty. Staying loyal to someone who betrays you is stupid."

"I don't believe the dying man asked for your opinion, Rainbow Dash," I said.

Case shook his head. The motion was slow and laborious. He was running out of steam. “Thanks, doc, but she's right. I was an idiot for following Cain after he turned on me. Especially when it turned out that I was right all along.” His eyes shifted back to me. “As soon as we took the job, we started making all these cutbacks. Had a platoon of ten M1 Abrams. Cain hawked 'em and bought a bunch of flatbed trucks and surplus APCs instead. He sold all but six of our Chinooks, and all but one of our gunships! You know what our standard issue weapon used to be? Steyr AUGs, just like Zanzibar Land. Cain sold 'em all and bought those pieces of shit.” He pointed at the chewed and broken AK-47. "Second-rate hand-me-downs from some blood diamond pissing contest in Bowa-Seko. Can you even find Bowa-Seko on a map?! And don't get me started on the fucking Arms Material shit!"

His voice now grew louder, bolder, full of zeal. For a man who was on death's door, who I thought was losing steam, he spoke powerfully. “Everything from sidearms to anti-armor weapons got downgraded. We're marching around with guns that haven't been cutting-edge since the fucking Cold War.” Case harrumphed. “That broke the camel's back for the last of the Zanzibar Landers; I'm the only one left besides Cain who's been with the unit from the start. Cain filled their spots with wash-outs like the ones I came out here with. Bunch of fuckfaces, can't tell CQC from CQD.” His chest and shoulders heaved with every painfully drawn breath. This tirade was sapping the last of his life. “I should have complained. I should have talked him down. I should have shot that fucker Trenton in the back of the head and chopped him into chum, but I held my tongue and followed orders like a good officer.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “And then he brought Metal Gear into our ship.”

The ponies had a vague understanding of what Metal Gear was, but they couldn't appreciate what it represented, couldn't comprehend what horrors it was capable of unleashing. Equestria was a world that had never experienced nuclear Armageddon; may it never. But Case and I knew.

"I have no doubt that Big Boss would have used the power of Metal Gear judiciously,” said Case. “But Cain isn't of sound mind or judgment anymore. Trenton's poisoned him. And Macbeth?” He spat a third time; Rarity let out a miffed “oh honestly.” I don't know what her problem was. He couldn't even muster any saliva on that last one.

“Anyone who listens to that prick can't have good judgment.” The fire in his eyes was fading, but all their remaining intensity was now honed on me. “He's not going to use Metal Gear as a deterrent. He's going to use it as an instrument of open war. He has a nuclear missile, and he's going to launch it. I don't know at what, and I don't know when, but I know that he will. My gut tells me he will.”

I leaned forward and gripped his intact shoulder. “Tell me where it is,” I said. “At the castle?”

Case tried to shake his head and failed. “No, no,” he said instead. “Primary staging area. He's moved most of the troops and equipment there. And don't ask me where it is; I haven't been in the know for a long time.” He exhaled sharply; I took it to be a laugh. “Trenton might know. Beat the shit out of him and he'll tell you. Even if he doesn't, it couldn't hurt to try.”

Maybe I would have laughed with him if my stomach wasn't so knotted.

“What're you packin' there?” he asked suddenly, indicating my holster with his eyes. “C'mon, show me.”

I drew my gun, a little surprised by the request. “Beretta,” Case breathed. “The John Woo special. Tranquilizer variant, if what we found on the big kitty is any indicator. Not good enough.” He held up his right hand. The revolver he'd used to kill the timberwolf was still clutched tightly in his fingers. “Smith and Wesson Model 500. The gun my dad used on those wolves we poached.” He offered it to me barrel-first. I ignored the faux pas and took it. It was heavy, but not unmanageable.

“Thanks,” I muttered, examining the weapon. It had a chrome barrel, and a smooth, black lacquered grip. I opened the cylinder; three rounds were chambered. All in all, a nice gun, but not much more than a collector's item. The Model 500 was and is the most powerful handgun in the world, but the force of the recoil and its absurd weight makes it impractical and unwieldy. It was mildly impressive that Case was able to hit anything at all with it, but then, he'd also spent a full five rounds without any luck, if the earlier shots were anything to go by. A gun like that is really nothing more than a fancy, expensive paperweight, never mind the limited ammo.

Still, I didn't want to offend the dying man, so I took it without complaint. I looked at him again; he was holding three additional .500 rounds. In his hand, they looked like giant brass fingers. I took the bullets, nodded my thanks, and began sliding them into the two empty chambers. The spare I slid into a pouch on my belt, beside my portable ashtray.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Twilight Sparkle. “Why help us? You're betraying your friends by doing that, aren't you?”

Case breathed slowly, deeply now. He seemed more relaxed, at ease, having gotten all that he wanted off his chest. “Young lady, you never served under Big Boss, so I don't expect you to get much of what I'm about to say.” He rolled his reddened, dying eyes to look at me. No, not at me. Through me. “But you will. Oh, I know that you will.”

I froze, midway through loading the last round into the revolver, and locked eyes with him. “A soldier's just a tool, see, unless he's loyal to himself. Unless he's fighting for himself. Not for king and country. Not for an ideology. And certainly not 'for the mission.' A soldier must fight for himself.” The way he said it, stressing every individual word in the sentence, he made it sound like the most imperative, empirical, universal concept. It was certainly one that I was very familiar with.

“I followed Cain on a mission that I knew was wrong. I took my orders unquestioningly while he and his new inner circle ran our army into the ground. I sold myself for the sake of loyalty that my commander no longer valued. And worse, I knew full-well that I was making the wrong choices. I lost sight of what was important, and in doing so, I betrayed myself and my honor as a soldier.” His breaths grew shallower with every word he spoke. “If I'd died out here, without you finding me, I'd have died a tool. But you've given me a chance to fight for what I really believe in, even if I'm only helping in some tiny, insignificant way.” He smiled, shut his eyes, and inhaled one final, shaky breath. “You've given me a chance to make amends. And that... young lady... that is worth dying for.”

I saw a ripple of transparent black cloth appear in front of Case's body, and then his head dropped forward over his chest. He let out a final, gurgling breath, and was gone. He still wore his dying smile.

“What do we do now?” asked Fluttershy. Her eyes were red and her cheeks streaked with tears. She'd been crying again; I hadn't even heard her. I almost answered her question, but swallowed my response and glanced at Twilight. These were her friends. I was the outsider. Better to defer that responsibility to her.

“No sign of Zecora,” sighed Applejack. “The feller we found instead died anyway. An' we're no closer to shuttin' down that Metal Gear business, or savin' Apple Bloom, than we were an hour ago. In hindsight, comin' this way seems like a wagon-sized waste o'time.”

Twilight sucked in a breath through her nose. She about-faced and looked at her friends, one after another. “We may have lost time coming out here. We may not have found who we were looking for. But in taking this detour, we may have saved a person's soul, and that alone means that this wasn't a waste of time.

“There's more than that, though. We're not flying blind anymore, because we now know more about what we're up against. More than that, we know who we're up against. Macbeth of Stalliongrad wants a second revolution? We'll bring it to his doorstep.

“We've beaten Nightmare Moon. We've taken down Discord. We stared down the Changelings and made them blink first. These new bad guys might be unfamiliar, they might be powerful, but they are not at their level. Behind their scary weapons and blue-on-blue color scheme is just a pony, like you or me.” Twilight winked at me. “Maybe not so much like you.”

Spike coughed loudly.

“Or you,” Twilight sighed, and Spike smiled. “We've saved Equestria from bigger and badder. So I know, in my heart, that we can save it now. We'll rescue Apple Bloom, take down Metal Gear, and hoof-deliver Macbeth to Princess Celestia.”

I could tell that Twilight was talking a big game for the sake of her friends. An unfortunate reality that being a leader presents is that you can't ever let on just how frightened you are, or just how high the odds against you loom. And Twilight, to her credit, was playing her role superbly, even if I saw through it. The others smiled, their spirits brightened; even Applejack looked somewhat relieved by the way she was speaking. Between the way they'd fought off the timberwolves, and the way Twilight rallied them, I was starting to develop a grudging, but genuine, respect for their abilities.

“Now, c'mon,” said Twilight, stooping to allow Spike access to her back. “Let's double-time it, everypony.” She trotted briskly ahead; the others fell into step with her.

I didn't. I glanced at the gun in my hand, and thought again of that long-dead dog. "Wait," I said. They stopped, mid-trot, and looked back at me.

"Snake?" asked Twilight. "Something wrong?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I walked back to the wolf I'd crippled, coming to a stop just above where it lay. It was silent, but still alive, and we looked at each other for a long, long moment.

Rustling in the grass told me that the others were coming toward me. I heard the gentle beating of wings and felt a brush of wind against me, and I glanced to my side. Fluttershy hovered next to me. She looked me in the eye, tears still running down her face, and gave me the most minute of nods.

"You're not going to leave it there," said Twilight Sparkle softly. It wasn't a question. I looked at the revolver in my hand, then back at the wolf, back into its bright yellow eyes. My mind wandered, drifting to the memory of a nighttime blizzard on a secluded island, of a sobbing, broken man with a family of fluffy white dogs, and of a proud wolf lying defeated in the red-stained snow.

I raised the revolver and pressed it against the wolf's temple. "Everyone's here now," I whispered. "Rest easy."

Beside me, Fluttershy returned to the ground. She pressed her hooves against her ears and turned away from the crippled wolf.

My thumb cocked the hammer on the revolver. The wolf blinked its baleful yellow eyes. My heart cracked, just the smallest bit, as it whined one final time.

I squeezed the trigger, and the gun roared.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/16/16

Chapter four marks a turning point in the story, both in-universe and on a meta level, and I was very happy to go through it again to keep it up to par.

-General copyediting and proofreading
-Slight adjustments to dialogue and narration
-Minor additions to Case's dialogue
-Toned down Snake's nausea and bizarre gay panic at the start of the chapter (the nausea was going to be a recurring thing, an aftereffect from the manticore venom, but that subplot got dropped when I rewrote chapter seven and I have no plans to bring it back)

5. Virtuous Mission

"Unfortunately, killing is just one of those things that gets easier the more you do it."

Coming out of the darkness of the Everfree Forest and into the daylight of the afternoon sun was an adjustment. In part because my eyes needed to adapt to the light after so much time in the dark, sure, but also because of how Equestria looked in direct sunlight.

The place was vivid. Brilliant, really. Everywhere I looked was saturated with color, from the sunlight that shone upon the blue bricks of the castle, to the bright, almost neon coats of my companions. By contrast, I and everything else from my world seemed drab and washed out. I kept looking down at my boots in the grass, and noticing how badly they clashed with the environment. I was a sore thumb which was not created by nature, and I put all other sore thumbs in history to shame. Camouflage, I decided, would not be an option.

In hindsight, though, I wonder how well the OctoCamo would have worked in Equestria.

The forest terminated at the edge of a wide chasm, and we hid in the moderate cover that the trees and underbrush provided. Across the chasm was a metal bridge, which seemed to have been fabricated using whatever scrap was on hand. According to Twilight, the castle was comprised of multiple structures, though only the outermost parts of it were visible from our vantage point. A wooden guard tower, which appeared to have been made from native Equestrian wood, stood in front of what had once been the castle's gatehouse. A single soldier, clad in a black T-shirt and navy blue combat vest, stood at watch on the tower, resting a sniper rifle upon his shoulder. The tower was shorter than the wall, but it still offered him a decent panoramic view of the area in front of the castle. Probably a good thing that they didn't stick the guards up on the wall itself. That thing didn't look at all stable.

"At least they did something about that tacky bridge," mused Rarity.

"Hmm?" I was only halfway listening, preoccupied as I was with trying to plot a way across the bridge without being spotted by the sentry.

"That bridge. The one that's right in front of you?" said Rarity, waggling a hoof at it. "The last time we were here, it was a rope bridge. Personally, as shabby as this one is, I like it a bit more. It looks less likely to break and kill anypony who crosses it."

I eyed it dubiously. "That's an upgrade?"

Rainbow Dash snorted. "It's an upgrade, but only because when you're at rock bottom, you can't go anywhere but up. It's in one piece, and it isn't dangling over the side of the canyon. So, yeah. Upgrade."

Fluttershy tiptoed (or would it be tiphoofed?) closer to us. "It does look safer than the old bridge," she said. "That was very helpful of those soldiers to replace it with something more secure. I suppose that's one nice thing to take away from all of this." She offered me an optimistic smile.

I didn't return it. "They're here to kill you," I said, over-stressing each syllable to patronize her. "Not to fix your country's crappy infrastructure."

Fluttershy's smile faded. She blushed and backed away, staring at the ground and mumbling contritely.

Twilight frowned at me. "That was unnecessarily rude, Snake" she admonished. She moved a little closer to me, close enough that I could see the clotted, discolored spots where timberwolf sap had splattered her, and spoke in a quieter voice. "After what happened back in the forest, I don't think that we should discourage Fluttershy's optimism."

I looked past her, at the baby dragon who sat a little detached from the group, and decided that I didn't want to take directions from someone who brought a child into a war zone. "I'm not here to wet-nurse you. There's no place for nannying on the battlefield." Forcing a subject change, I nodded in the direction of the guard tower and asked "Is that a new addition?"

Twilight clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes at me, clearly unhappy with my disregard of Fluttershy's feelings. Then you shouldn't have brought that child into a war zone, I thought.

She let out a sharp breath and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. The castle's new tenants probably threw that together."

Applejack trotted forward and knelt in the grass beside me. "Wonder what else they've done with the place," she remarked. "Could have all kinds'a nasty surprises waitin' for us in there."

"Yeah," said Rainbow Dash. "Sure would be great if we had somepony here who could, I don't know, fly or something. Then that somepony could get the lay of the land and come back and tell us what's waiting for us before we walk into it." She tapped her chin with her hoof pensively. Suddenly, her face lit up. "Wait a minute! I'M somepony who can fly! I can do all those things! Rainbow Dash, you are a genius!" She laughed and took to the air, darting toward the gatehouse.

Fortunately, her self-serving sarcasm telegraphed her intent, and I caught her by the tail before she could get out of arm's length. "Hold it."

Rainbow Dash glared at me, fruitlessly beating her wings. "Hey, I don't care how cool hands are. Keep 'em to yourself." She tried yanking her tail out of my grip, but I held tightly.

"Then use your head," I said, gesturing at the gatehouse. "You can't just dash in there and look at stuff."

"Oh yeah?" demanded Rainbow Dash. She floated closer to me. "And why not?"

Twilight nudged her shoulder and directed her attention to the guard tower.

Rainbow Dash's ears drooped. "Oh. Right." She chuckled.

Not the cleverest creature I'd run into, but she was nothing if not zealous. Zeal gets you killed if you don't have a level head backing it up, however.

"First thing's first," I said. "We take out the sentry. Once he's out of the way, you're good to go."

Fluttershy spoke, but her voice was quiet, and carried an air of dread. "How are you going to do that?"

"Think I'll try shooting him," I muttered.

Fluttershy made a little choking sound, like she was swallowing a sob. I could practically see the judgmental look that Twilight was giving me.

It isn't as though I didn't sympathize with what Fluttershy was going through. Twilight was right; it was a small miracle that she was capable of any semblance of optimism after how badly she was affected by the scene in the forest. But there wasn't any time to take her personal feelings into consideration. This was a crisis that needed solving, and she'd chosen to see it through. I don't know what her reasons were for staying with us after the fight with the timberwolves, but she was committed, and she couldn't renege on account of hurt feelings.

Still, I thought, the least I can do is throw her a bone here.

I drew the M9 and held it up for Fluttershy to see. She looked fearfully at it. "This is a tranquilizer gun," I told her. "It's what I used to save Apple Bloom from the manticore. Completely nonlethal. It'll knock that soldier unconscious, and he'll be out for hours, but it won't kill him."

Fluttershy took her eyes off of the gun and looked into mine. She swallowed and gave a tiny nod.

Well, that was one problem solved... or at least delayed. I turned back to the guard tower and eyeballed the sentry. He was resting the rifle across his shoulders and, for some odd reason, descending beneath the wall of the guard tower, and reappearing a moment later. "What in the world is he doing?" I thought out loud.

"Squat thrusts," said Rainbow Dash. "The two-legged kind."

I gave her a skeptical look. "This is a crack mercenary army. They haven't exactly been impressive so far, but they're not that unprofessional."

Rainbow Dash sucked her teeth. "Live in denial all you want, Snake. That guy out there is doing squat thrusts."

"He is not doing – look, I'll prove it." I reached for the scope on my belt.

It wasn't there. "Where the hell is my...?" I patted the other pouches and bags on my person, thinking that I misplaced it at some point, but no. It was just gone. "When did I lose it?" I groaned, growing somewhat agitated. Did it fall out while I was fighting the manticore, or the wolves, or Trenton? That had never happened before. Did Zecora steal it from me while I was unconscious?

"Yeah," said Rainbow Dash with a derisive snicker. "You sure showed me, Snake."

"What's the matter, Snake?" asked Pinkie Pie, bouncing toward me. "Lose something?"

I frowned at her. "My scope."

"'Scope?'" asked Pinkie with a tilt of her head. "Like binoculars? No problem-o!" Grinning, she darted into the high grass. The only sign of her presence was a tuft of pink hair that poked out of the grass like a periscope. A moment later, she emerged, a pair of binoculars clamped in her mouth.

What in the hell?! "Where did you get those?" I asked, gesturing at the binoculars.

Pinkie trotted up to me, a happy smile on her face, and dropped them into her hooves. "Oh, I have binoculars stashed all over Equestria." She nodded. "In case of binocular emergency."

All over Equestra. Not even "all over Ponyville," or "all over the Everfree Forest." I didn't know how to react to that. I just knelt there, staring at Pinkie Pie, my mouth hanging open as my mind tried to process everything she'd just said and done.

The pony held her binoculars out to me. I took them, nodded numbly, swallowed, turned back to the gatehouse, and raised the binoculars to my eyes without another word.

"Squat thrusts," I said. "I'll be damned."

Rainbow Dash floated beside me, her forelegs crossed, a smug expression on her face. "You've learned a valuable lesson about disagreeing with Rainbow Dash today, Snake."

God, she was irritating.

I lowered the binoculars and raised my pistol again. There was a little bit of comedy in it; what kind of sniper does squat thrusts in the middle of guard duty? Funniest damn thing I'd ever seen during a mission. For the first time in my career, I had to stifle a laugh as I prepared to shoot a man. This Equestria fiasco was full of firsts for me.

Some of you out there might be wondering why I chose not to use the Model 500 to take down the guard. Some of you might think it was a concession to Fluttershy. It wasn't (though like I said, I did sympathize with her). With respect to Captain Case, the Model 500 was not an option. Its ammunition was scarce, its weight was considerable, its recoil made it all but inoperable as a mainstay sidearm, and its noise made it absolutely useless on a stealth mission. I took it and kept it because it was a parting gift from a dying soldier, not because I foresaw any practical use for it. By contrast, the M9 was lighter, silent, and came equipped with a laser sight. It was the right choice.

Also, for obvious reasons, I really don't like revolvers.

I leveled the gun and waited for an opportune moment to pull the trigger. The sentry dropped into another squat, his head passed below the waist-level wall of the guard tower, and reappeared a moment later, right in my sights.

I fired. There was the usual soft hiss of the suppressed gunshot, and an instant later, I heard a muffled cough as the sentry dropped. Not a bad shot.

"You're good to go," I said to Rainbow Dash.

"Thanks, dad," said Rainbow Dash sarcastically. I heard her wings beat and felt a faint gust of wind as she passed. She dropped into the chasm, pulled up once she reached the opposite end, and skirted around the edge of the gatehouse wall, keeping low. Not long after, she rounded a corner and was out of sight.

I settled in, stroking my stubble thoughtfully as I stared across the bridge. "How far across is that chasm?" I wondered out loud.

"I don't know," said Pinkie Pie from above me. In a very thoughtful, earnest tone, as though it seriously meant something to her, she added "I didn't bring my ruler."

Suddenly, I became aware that she was perched upon my shoulders, resting her chin on the top of my head. I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth. "Get. Off."

After a moment, she complied.

"How in the world did you get up there without me noticing?"

"Climbed," said Pinkie Pie. She wasn't looking at me; her attention was fixed on the gatehouse and guard tower.

"How could you climb on me without my – ugh, forget it." I lifted my borrowed binoculars again, keeping an eye out for any trace of Rainbow Dash. I caught sight of a prismatic contrail darting into the sky, disappearing into one of those cheesy clouds. What was she up to?

"If you're anything like me, then you're probably frustrated right now," said Twilight quietly. "Take my advice: don't try figuring out Pinkie Pie."

"Yeah?" I asked. The cloud was moving now, edging closer and closer to where we hid. "You've tried?"

I heard Twilight sigh. "When we get back to Ponyville, I'll let you flip through my six volumes of notes on her behavior. There's no pattern to anything she does. It's one of her charms."

"'Charming' wouldn't be how I'd describe it," I muttered. "More like 'insane.' I thought Zecora was as out there as it got, and then I met Pinkie Pie." The cloud was right on top of us now. I set the binoculars down and reached for my Beretta, not sure of what was coming. "I keep wondering how this place is going to top itself next."

Suddenly, Rainbow Dash dropped from the sky. She beat her wings to slow her descent and landed lightly in the center of the group.

Admittedly, I probably should have seen that coming – she did fly into that cloud, after all – but adjusting to a whole new set of physical laws was tough going. I didn't like it.

"Didja see anything?" Applejack asked, apparently unperturbed by her friend literally falling out of the sky. "Any sign of Apple Bloom?"

Rainbow Dash shook her head. "The gatehouse is empty, except for a bunch of tents. There're a bunch of giant thingies in a courtyard outside of the main part of the castle—"

"The keep," Twilight corrected.

"The what?" Rainbow Dash looked askance at her. "No, the main part of the castle."

Twilight huffed. "What you're referring to is properly called—"

"Anyway," continued Rainbow Dash. Twilight pressed a hoof to her face. "One thing that's weird about the gatehouse though: Remember the pedestal where we found the Elements last time we were here? Well, the statue on top of it is gone. There's just this giant box on it now."

"You keep using vague terms, nonspecifics," I said. "'Giant thingies.' 'Giant box.' Describe them a little more."

"They're thingies. And they're giant," said Rainbow Dash matter-of-factly. "And there's a box on the pedestal, and it's also giant." She shrugged. "That's all I got."

A moment passed where I stared at Rainbow Dash with a blank look on my face.

"Fine," I said at length. I holstered the Beretta and picked up the binoculars, tossed them back to Pinkie Pie, then turned to the bridge. "We should be on our guard. Just because the gatehouse is..."

"Is what?" asked Spike, speaking up for the first time in a while. "You planning on finishing that sentence?"

I didn't answer. I was completely focused on the ghostly figure in black which had appeared in the middle of the bridge. Glowing red eyes bored into me beneath his hood-covered face. Illuminated by the light of his eyes was a sinister, toothy smile.

It was him. The thing that spoke to me in my dream. The Sorrow.

"Do you see that?" I asked, keeping my voice level and turning to look at the others.

Pinkie Pie raised her binoculars to her eyes. "Do you mean that knothole a quarter of an inch below the platform on the guard tower, or the cobweb covering the rightmost brick in the gatehouse?"

"What? No. I mean the—" I turned back to the bridge, half expecting it to be gone, like in those horror movies where the second the hero takes his eye off of something unusual that only he can see, it vanishes. Reality defied my expectation, however. The Sorrow still stood there, grinning that shit-eating grin at me.

Son of a bitch.

"Snake?" asked Applejack. "Y'all look like y'seen a ghost."

The Sorrow was not a ghost. I told myself, over and over, that ghosts did not exist. It was a hallucination, probably brought on from the effects of the manticore's venom. It hadn't been that long since the sting; I was probably still feeling the effects of it, however slightly. That thing on the bridge, the one from my dream, was a figment, and nothing more.

Besides, I thought, what would the ghost of a human be doing in a world populated by talking ponies? More evidence that I was simply hallucinating. In the dream, it knew things that only I knew, and out here, only I could see it. It was a lingering effect from the manticore's venom, and nothing more.

Then I noticed that I was putting a substantial amount of effort into reasoning my hallucination away, and that my rationalizations were, themselves, somewhat irrational. And that only made me more nervous.

I ordered myself to shake it off. Freezing up like that in the middle of a mission was unbecoming. "It's nothing," I said to Applejack. "I thought I saw another sniper, but I guess I was wrong."

Pinkie Pie offered me her binoculars. "You wanna borrow these again and make sure? 'Cuz I see plenty of interesting things out there, but no snipers."

"It's fine. Just a shadow. I must be getting old. Vision's starting to crap out." I drew my Beretta again, clenching it tightly in my hands. "Let's go."

I took point as we moved onto the bridge, stepping lightly and slowly. Upgrade or no, the bridge looked rickety as hell, and we were putting a lot of weight onto it together. I didn't want to take a chance by running across, putting undue stress on the thing. The Sorrow stood in the same spot in the middle of the bridge, smiling that ghastly smile beneath his hood. As I came closer to him, he moved aside, standing as far out of my path as he could. His feet made no sound against the metal floor. I couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.

"What're you looking at?" I growled quietly. He remained silently smiling, his coal-like eyes following me as I passed, but I forced myself to swallow my discomfort.

It's a hallucination, I reminded myself. Nothing more.

The ponies and the dragon climbed the steps to the front gate. I lagged behind, staring up at the guard tower. "Hold on a minute," I called over my shoulder.

"What's the matter?" asked Rainbow Dash. "Looking for someplace private to stare into space and mutter to yourself?"

I turned around and scowled at her, and she shrugged. "I calls 'em as I sees 'em."

I pointed up the ladder leading from the ground to the platform. "There's a high-powered rifle up there," I said in a less-than-friendly tone. "That's the kind of thing that comes in very handy in a pinch." I looked at Twilight. "Unless you don't think we need the additional firepower."

Twilight waved a hoof. "You know best."

I nodded, gave Rainbow Dash one last smoldering look, and began to climb the ladder.

"I don't like him," I overheard Rainbow Dash mutter.

"It doesn't matter whether you like him or not," said Twilight. "We need him right now."

"Twilight's right," said Applejack. "Look, he's done right by us so far, Rainbow, and he sounds like he really wants t'help Apple Bloom. Ain't that really what matters?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't work with him," said Rainbow Dash. "Gosh, AJ, you know I'd do anything for you or Apple Bloom, even if it means I gotta work with some crazy shaved gorilla." She snorted. "I just don't like him. That's all."

It's cute how they figured I was out of earshot.

I pulled myself onto the platform. The sentry lay curled in a ball, cradling his rifle in the crook of his arm like a teddy bear. He snoozed quietly, occasionally smacking his lips, but otherwise remained still and silent.

Slowly and carefully, I removed the rifle from his grip and examined it. It was an M24, an older bolt action rifle that's still in service with some armies around the world. Its age didn't bother me; as long as it could perform, I wouldn't complain. By the look of it, the gun was better maintained than the AKs that the soldiers in the forest had carried. I suspected that they had few dedicated marksman rifles in stock, and had to take special care of the ones they did have. It also had a sling so that I could carry it on my back; I wouldn't have to cradle it constantly.

I pulled back the gun's bolt. A live round sat in the chamber; presumably, it had a full five rounds in the magazine. I rolled the sleeping guard over to checked the pouches on his vest for additional ammunition, and was rewarded with multiple five-round stripper clips. Counting the rounds already in the gun, I had twenty-five shots to use against an army of more than three hundred. Maybe I'd get lucky. Maybe they'd all charge me in fourteen-man single-file lines, and I'd be able to fire each individual round from the front of the line to the back.

Or maybe I'd just have to make my shots count.

I glanced over the wall at the nearby bridge. The Sorrow had vanished. Good riddance. I slung the rifle onto my back and descended the ladder again, skipping the last two rungs.

"You can crack all the jokes you want," I said to Rainbow Dash, "but I expect you to take them back when I save your ass with this gun."

"Oooooooh," said Pinkie, like a child who'd watched her sibling get sent to his room. Rainbow Dash gave me the stink-eye and turned away.

I knelt in front of the wooden door, drew my M9, and nudged it open. Aiming down my sights, I stepped inside, and quickly scanned the gatehouse's interior for any sign of threat, but it was as Rainbow Dash described it: full of canvas tents, broken columns, and not much else. There were six smaller tents set up with no thought to organization, alignment, or pattern, and a larger tent set up in the middle of the room. Towering over that was the pedestal Rainbow Dash had mentioned, where a giant black box rested. There was some lettering on the box, but I couldn't quite make it out from where I was standing.

Rainbow Dash floated past me, snickering. "As scary as those tents are, I don't think you need to pull your gun on them."

She was starting to get on my nerves. I grumbled and holstered my gun as the others filed past me.

"I don't get it," said Spike. "Where are all the soldiers?"

"Captain Case said that they'd moved most of the troops to a staging area outside of the castle," said Twilight. "I guess it stands to reason that the castle'd be sparsely populated by now."

"But this is only the gatehouse," said Fluttershy, looking especially nervous. She must've had a phobia for old ruins. "The castle's bigger than this one structure, right? And there was that soldier in the guard tower, so we know it's not completely deserted."

"She's right," I said. "There could be troops in some of those tents. For all we know, this is the barracks." I looked at Rainbow Dash. "Good thing you loudly announced our presence as soon as we walked through that door."

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. "And if there were any soldiers in those tents, they'd have jumped right out and attacked us the second they heard us coming. Right?"

An unsettling, silent moment passed between the eight of us as we looked from tent to tent. I half expected someone to jump out right then and open fire, but again, I was wrong. I did hear a nervous squeak from Fluttershy, who was no doubt contemplating the same possibility as me with a far less cool head.

The blue pegasus smirked. "See?"

I sighed and lowered my voice, speaking quietly. "As a general rule, when you're on an infiltration mission, you don't talk unless you're absolutely certain that there's nobody around to overhear. To hell with your assumption; there could still be soldiers in those tents waiting to ambush us."

"Snake has a point," said Twilight, speaking softly. "Everypony, pick a tent. Let's clear this place before we do anything else."

The others scattered, each one selecting a smaller tent at random to poke around in, apparently leaving the large one to me. The only ones left standing there were myself and Spike the dragon. "So," he said, flashing me a fanged dragon grin, "I guess we're partners, huh?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. Bad enough that Twilight Sparkle decided to bring her pet child into a dangerous infiltration mission. One of us would always have to keep an eye on him, which made the situation so much more complicated than it had to be. Worse, though, was that she expected me to babysit him. If she were in earshot, I'd have given her a piece of my mind, but since she wasn't, I just turned away and walked toward the large tent.

"What do you think we'll find in that tent?" he asked. "You really think there's some—"

I looked down at him sharply and held a finger to my lips. He mouthed "oh," and pretended to draw a zipper closed along his mouth. I had the notion that if he were Pinkie Pie, he would have had a literal zipper to close. The thought was strangely therapeutic.

We reached the tent. I pushed the flap aside with one arm and thrust my gun inside with the other. Seeing no threats in the immediate area, I moved inside all the way, glancing quickly from one end of the room to the other for any signs of ambush. There were none. I motioned Spike inside, and he waddled in on his stumpy little dragon legs.

The tent wasn't palatial in size, but there was definitely more room to move around than the other tents. There was a workbench and assorted clutter at the far end of the tent, and ammunition boxes stacked all over the place, though not so high that a man could conceal himself behind them. I lifted the lid of one experimentally. Inside were dozens of magazines full of rifle ammo. Interestingly enough, there were no gun lockers or racks anywhere in the tent, so while they had plenty of ammo stored in there, they didn't have any guns to fire it with.

"You can talk now," I said to Spike as I holstered my M9. "Before you say anything though, I've got a job for you."

"Yeah?" asked Spike, his voice and face hopeful.

"Yeah." I tossed him one of the clips of rifle ammo I'd taken off the sentry. He caught it, turned it over in his hands, and frowned.

"Find me more like that," I told him, and I headed toward the bench.

Spike made an unhappy noise. "That's it? That isn't very important."

"It's plenty important," I said as I reached the bench. "Could be the difference between life and death. You should be honored to root around for bullets."

There were various gun parts littering the workbench's surface, along with a set of tools a vise, a typewriter (of all things), some scattered papers, and... was that a handgun? And not an M1911, at that? I blinked, shook my head, and reached out to touch it. The gun felt solid. Not a venom-induced hallucination.

"Give me some credit, Snake," said Spike. I heard him opening ammo boxes and rustling through their contents, heard the clicking noises of plastic against plastic and the jingling of unloaded bullets. I felt a growing irritation with the little dragon; even though I hadn't interacted with him much until that point, he was still getting on my nerves easily. At least Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash could contribute in a meaningful way. The dragon was ordered to find ammo, and he wasn't even fulfilling that role properly. Maybe I just have problems with children who develop self-importance issues.

"Any idiot can go on a scavenger hunt," Spike went on as he slid the lid back onto a box. "I want to do something important, something actually useful for a—"

I turned around sharply. "The last time you tried to be useful, you nearly got yourself eaten alive, and someone had to step in to save your life. Coincidentally, the same thing happened to the last child I spoke to, who also did something idiotic to prove herself."

Spike stared back at me, indignant and shameful. He had no reply, so I continued speaking. "This is a battlefield, and children have no place on the battlefield. If it were up to me, you wouldn't be here right now. But you are. So the least you can do is find me some damn bullets." I turned back to the bench. "Leave the fighting to the ones who know what they're doing." I didn't say it out loud, but regardless of our collective performance in the battle with the timberwolves, I think that group consisted entirely of myself. Possibly Applejack, too.

"Maybe you didn't notice," said Spike. His voice rose in volume as his own anger built. "I saved Twilight's life in that fight."

I inspected the gun on the bench. It was a Five-SeveN, a relatively new model pistol that fired 5.7×28mm ammunition. It was a superb gun with a high capacity, well built and well maintained. What the hell was it doing here?

"I imagine that's the only reason Twilight let you tag along this far," I said to Spike as I examined my new sidearm. "But one lucky shot doesn't mean you've somehow proven yourself to be an asset." I looked at him again. "You aren't. You're a liability."

"Well, I don't want to be a liability anymore!" Spike shouted.

"Then go home." I turned back to the bench. "And grow up." There were two spare magazines of ammunition for the Five-SeveN; I pocketed them and slid the gun into the holster that I usually reserved for lethal sidearms. "Because the cruel truth is that you don't know how to handle yourself, and that means that one of us will always have to look out for you. And it's hard enough to watch your own back without having to worry about someone else's."

The papers on the desk were mostly reports regarding ammunition stocks, personnel evaluations, or medical exams. Everything was typewritten, which explained the typewriter. I couldn't find a single writing utensil anywhere, which made me wonder how one was supposed to sign off on anything, or keep any sort of checklist. Maybe they wrote in blood.

I did find a few interesting documents. One was a duty roster with only twenty-seven names on it. Four of them I recognized – Kirshner, Baker, Ethelbert, Case. Trenton led a party of six others into the forest in pursuit of the manticore; all were killed, but the list didn't reflect that. I guessed that the other two troops, whose names I didn't know, were also somewhere on that list. Still, a handy thing to have. Assuming it was up to date (albeit imperfectly, if the dead soldiers names were still on it), that meant that there were only twenty-one soldiers occupying the castle.

The last was a memo. Whoever typed it must have been angry; there were holes in the paper where he'd struck the keys with unnecessary force.

TO: Quartermaster Loomis

FROM: Capt. Case

RE: Doing your []ucking job for you

Loomis,

I went ahead and repaired Lucky Number SeveN for you. You're []elcome, by the way. Just wanted to remind you that if we still had a single competent engineer on staff, your ass would still be sitting in a []ell awaitin[] cour[] martial. This morning I asked myself if I hated you or that lunatic in the basement more, and when I saw that gun sitting on your workbench, I decided on you. I wouldn't trust you to shine the shi[] off my []oots, let alone fix the commander's pr[]cious sidearm.

Shape the fuck u[]. It's no secret around here that I'm slipping fast on the chain of command, but I can still fix guns better than you, which means that if I slip much farther, I might just wind up with your job.

If you get promoted to XO over me, I'll kill you myself.

Eat shit,

-Ron

I touched the Five-SeveN in my holster, and felt a trace of gratitude for the dead captain. Case was still giving me guns from beyond the grave. At least he gave me something useful this time.

I turned away from the bench. Spike sat with his back against a stack of ammo boxes, looking sullen. "Find anything?" I asked.

Spike glanced at me and narrowed his eyes. He tossed me the clip I'd given him; I caught it and returned it to my belt.

"Does that mean you didn't find anything, or that you gave up and stopped looking?" I asked.

The dragon lifted himself off the ground, dusted himself off, and sighed. "I just want to help Apple Bloom."

I pressed my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. If I'd known that going through that portal meant spending so much time around whiny children, I'd have turned my back on it, gone back to the Nomad, eaten my dinner, and forgotten the whole thing.

"Look, you're here now, so you may as well contribute. Just don't do anything stupid." I knelt in front of the dragon. "I overheard your talk with Twilight back in the forest. She's right; don't get yourself killed because you're trying to help. There's no shame in realizing that something's out of your league. If we hit something that's beyond your ability to handle, then stay out of it, and leave it to us." Hesitating a little, I reached out and placed my hand on his tiny, scaly shoulder. "Alright?"

Spike glared at me, blushing. He brushed off my hand and made his way for the exit, leaving me kneeling alone. "Don't talk to me like I'm some stupid kid," he growled. He found himself entangled in the tent flap for a moment before he freed himself and left me kneeling alone in the tent like an idiot.

I'm no good with kids.

The others were gathered around the large pedestal when I existed the tent. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy floated next to the box, one on either side. Spike saw me coming and made damn sure he wasn't anywhere near me. Didn't care. It wasn't my problem if the kid wanted to be a brat, as long as he was a productive brat.

"Find anything?" I asked.

"Just moldy boxes and yucky food," said Pinkie Pie. She held an MRE packet in her hooves and stared into it with one eye. "This one says it's supposed to be banana pudding, but it's all dry and powdery." She emptied its contents into her mouth, swallowed them in one gulp, and shuddered.

"It's an MRE," I said.

Pinkie blinked at me.

"You're supposed to add water before you eat it."

Pinkie tilted her head at a ninety degree angle and blinked twice.

"Never mind."

Pinkie shook her head rapidly, her mane flying about like cotton candy caught in a tornado. "Oh, I almost forgot!" Out of thin air, she produced an object in one of her hooves, which she tossed to me. "I found a this thing. Don't know what it is."

I caught the this thing, and turned it over in my hands. It was a directional microphone, of all things, very similar to the one Jack had used during the Big Shell crisis. I had an antique one as a souvenir aboard the Nomad, though it was totally non-functional and strictly decorative.

"This is a valuable piece of equipment. Could come in very handy." I eyed Pinkie suspiciously. "It was just lying around in that tent?"

Pinkie shook her head again.

Then where the hell did you...?! "You don't have directional microphones stashed all over Equestria, do you?"

Pinkie held her hooves against her mouth and giggled into them. "Oh, Snake. You're such a kidder!"

But that just raised further questions! I tried to demand more answers, but I caught a furtively hissed "psst!" from Twilight. I looked at her, and she shook her head, frowning. "Don't try figuring out Pinkie Pie," she'd said to me.

Yeah, but... ugh.

I decided to change the subject completely. "So what're they up to?" I asked, nodding at the pegasi hovering around the box. Twilight's frown deepened, and she glanced at the directional mic with a cough. Relenting, I put it away, adding it to my steadily growing collection of new toys.

Twilight smiled brightly at me and winked, as if to once again tell me that she sympathized. I pray that I never reach her level of tolerance for insanity. "They're trying to make heads or tails of whatever's in there," she said. "Dash figures the lid's on the top, but they can't see any way to open it."

I folded my arms, chewing my lip idly. The less nicotine I had in my system, the more I'd chew my lips, and the more I chewed my lips, the more canker sores I'd have before the mission was over. Damn, I miss smoking.

"How do you suppose they got that box up there?" I cupped my chin. "And why?"

"Every party's gotta have a centerpiece," Pinkie Pie chirped. "Although I don't know why they had to go with such a yucky one. Gosh, it's yucky." She looked at me. "You agree, right? It's yucky?"

I ignored her. "What do the markings say?" I asked.

"They're very strange," said Fluttershy. She landed on top of the box and curled up, then peeked down at me. "I think one of them is supposed to be a symbol... it's a triangle with a lower case 't' inside of it. I hope that helps."

Triangle with a lower case... I pictured the image in my mind. "The logo for AT Corp."

"AT Corp?" asked Twilight. "What's that?"

"Rarity, you agree with me, right?" asked Pinkie Pie, a little desperately. "That's one yucky centerpiece, right?!"

"It's a weapons manufacturer," I said. "Used to be called ArmsTech Inc., before they absorbed a bunch of other corporations and changed their name." I frowned. "So they got their hands on something built by AT Corp, huh? I'd like to say that whatever's in there is a component for Metal Gear, but the one that Pegasus Wings stole was a black market copy, not a factory-made one. Couldn't have come from ArmsTech, unless they acquired it some other way."

"There's a word, too," said Rainbow Dash. She traced a hoof over the lettering. "And a whole bunch of letters that don't spell anything. Hey, what does 'IRVING' mean?"

"'IRVING?'" I thought hard, trying to come up with something to match the name, but I'd never heard it before in that context. I told them as much. "What do the letters say?"

Fluttershy hopped off the top of the box and hovered beside Rainbow Dash. "Excuse me," she said quietly, nudging her friend out of the way. "It isn't a word. Maybe an acronym? Hmm." She looked closely at the lettering. "'ATC...' and then there's a space. 'XMG...' then 'IRVING,' then '00'."

ATC XMG IRVING 00. I thought about what that could mean. "'ATC' obviously stands for 'AT Corp," I said. "The 'X' designation usually denotes a prototype weapon. 'MG...' could that stand for 'Metal Gear?'"

Maybe I was right the first time, and IRVING was some kind of new component for Metal Gear that AT Corp was developing, and Pegasus Wings got a hold of it somehow. But what would that—

"Doesn't anypony agree with me that it's a yucky centerpiece?!" Pinkie Pie all but shrieked.

I grit my teeth and snapped "Fine! It's hideous!"

Pinkie smiled. "Okie-dokie-loki!"

I felt like hitting her.

"I don't think frettin' over what's in this box is gonna get us any closer to savin' Apple Bloom," said Applejack. "We'll worry 'bout it when it becomes a problem, but right now, we need to get back on track."

I nodded. "Agreed. I found a duty roster in the quartermaster's tent. It was the only one of its kind in there, so I assume that it's today's. Six of the names on it belong to the soldiers who were killed in the forest, which leaves twenty-one men staffing the castle. That's good news, because I might have to perform a top-to-bottom search of the castle to find Apple Bloom, and having such a small number of guards means that I can slip through—"

"Hold on now," said Applejack, frowning. "Y'all keep sayin' 'I.' Not 'we.'"

"Yes. Because I'm going in there alone."

"My apple-buckin' hiney, you are," said Applejack flatly.

Could have done without the reference to pony butt.

"Her phrasing may be crude, but Applejack is right," said Rarity. "We're all here for Apple Bloom, Snake, and so we all go together." There was a slight look of disgust on her face, probably over what Applejack said.

"That's a lovely sentiment," I said, drawing once again on my deepest reserves of patience. "But—"

"'But' nothing!" snapped Rainbow Dash. She beat her wings furiously, raising herself to my eye level. "We didn't bring you to this castle so you could ditch us at the home stretch and go off on your own."

"One of us stands a better chance of getting through the keep undetected than all eight of us," I calmly pointed out.

"Yeah, right," said Spike bitterly. He folded his arms. "You gonna give us all the speech about how we can't handle ourselves now?"

My eyelid twitched. I'd hit my quota of back-talking children with Apple Bloom; I needed another one like I needed a melanoma.

"Everypony, stop," said Twilight in a commanding, authoritative voice, cutting me off before I could respond properly to Spike. "Girls, Spike, Snake, everypony just simmer down, and we'll talk this over."

Twilight looked at me first. "Snake, I understand that this kind of thing is your specialty, and I get that you want to do things your way, alone. But you can't possibly expect any of us, especially Applejack, to stay behind when Apple Bloom's life could be at stake. We came out here to rescue her, and we can't just sit back and wait while you get the job done for us."

Twilight turned to the others. "And I know how desperately everypony wants to get Apple Bloom back. But Snake knows this business better than any of us. Second-guessing him at this point isn't going to get us anywhere." She looked back at me. "We're so close to finishing what we set out to do. We can't start bickering like this, or we'll never get anything done. So let's compromise."

Compromise. I could have been halfway to liberating Apple Bloom in the time it took to get through that argument, and Twilight wanted to compromise. Otacon didn't throw himself into rescuing Emma personally. He let Jack take care of it, because he knew that he was needed elsewhere, and that Jack was better equipped to save her than he was. Then again, these ponies had proven that they could handle themselves in a fight better than Otacon could (a fact which I promised myself I'd tease him about if I ever saw him again), which probably inflated their senses of how valuable they were to this mission. Fending off a pack of bloodthirsty monsters and slipping past heavily armed soldiers undetected were not the same thing, though, and they didn't seem to understand that.

There was a brief moment where I thought about tranquilizing the lot of them and getting Apple Bloom myself, but I decided not to do that. I didn't know that they'd all be awake by the time I got back, or that I'd be able to rouse them, and while I have a history of carrying copious amounts of equipment without trouble, I doubted that I could carry six ponies and a dragon all on my own. Compromise it was.

"Assuming the memo was accurate, there are twenty-one soldiers in that keep," I said. "That means that they're spread pretty thin, but not so thin that all eight of us could sneak through."

"Okay," said Twilight. "Then how many of us could go without risking getting caught?"

I considered that for a moment. "Ideally, I'd go alone." Rainbow Dash flared her nostrils angrily. "Of course, that isn't an option anymore. So... two of you, I suppose." Honestly, the fewer of them that came along for the ride, the better, but Applejack would no doubt want to accompany me, and the other six of them wouldn't take kindly to being left out. I had to allow them a token presence, for the sake of unit cohesion.

"Prob'ly goes without sayin', but I'm comin'," said Applejack. Just as I thought. "Who else?"

"Well, um, before anypony asks..." Fluttershy looked meekly at Applejack. "I'm sorry, I know I said I'd go with you, but stealth is just such a stressful thing, and I—"

"Sugarcube, I meant what I said before." Applejack smiled kindly at Fluttershy. "Ya don't owe me anythin'. I won't hold it against you if y'all sit this part o'the trip out."

Fluttershy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness." She nodded apologetically to me. "Sorry, Snake."

"Don't worry about it," I said. Silently, I added I wouldn't have brought you if you'd begged.

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious who should go," said Rainbow Dash proudly. "Between me and Applejack, you won't find a more butt-kickin' duo. And I have a true gift for staying out of sight. Remember how good I was at scouting earlier?" She smirked at me. "Sorry, Snake, but it looks like you're stuck with—"

"Twilight," I said.

Twilight Sparkle started, her eyes wide, and Rainbow Dash's jaw dropped. Pinkie helpfully reached over and closed it for her. "Uh, heh, Snake," said Rainbow Dash through clenched teeth. "That isn't how you say 'Rainbow Dash.'"

"Twilight's horn gives her an added dimension of versatility," I said, avoiding the word "magic" at all costs. "Might give us an edge in there. Who knows?" I looked at Twilight, then at the group. "Unless there are any objections."

"Uh, well..." Twilight blushed a little. "Versatility? Really?"

I shrugged. Really, I was just fishing for an excuse to not bring Rainbow Dash along.

Twilight coughed and cleared her throat. "I mean, of course I'll go with the two of you. Happy to do it!"

Rainbow Dash folded her forelegs grumpily. "Yeah, 'versatility,' sure. Maybe there's a big scary bookshelf in there that needs re-alphabetizing."

"Oh, don't be so bitter," Rarity chided. "It's unbecoming." She looked at me. "What of the rest of us, then?"

I gestured at the door we'd come through. "Keep the exit secured. If we pull this off, we'll still need a way out. And if things go badly in there, we'll need reinforcements. Just wait."

"Sure. Waiting." Rainbow Dash fluttered back to the ground, trotted over to the pedestal, and flopped onto her belly beneath it. "I hate waiting."

"Don't mind her, Snake," said Twilight. "Rainbow's just passionate about getting Apple Bloom back, that's all."

I wondered how often Rainbow Dash had that excuse to act like a jackass.

"If there's nothing else," I said, turning back to the door that led to the keep, "then we we should probably get moving. Stay low, stay quiet, and stay out of sight. Don't attract attention, and don't get into a fight unless you have no other option."

"Don't get spotted, don't go buckin' critters left 'n right," said Applejack. "Sounds easy enough to remember."

My entire livelihood, boiled down to two sentences, spoken with a country-fried Southern accent. Never had I felt so belittled. I pushed the door open.

"Rarity?" asked Twilight.

I let out an exasperated sigh. What the hell—

"Look after him for me? Please?"

Oh.

"Darling," said Rarity, sounding almost offended. "Did you really think you needed to ask?"

Twilight couldn't not have been aware of Spike's growing inferiority complex. I wonder how she figured assigning him a babysitter would help matters at all. Maybe she knew something I didn't.

Irrelevant. I drew Lucky Number SeveN and stared down its sights, holding the door open as my two new partners followed me out.

The gatehouse led into the remnants of a corridor that, I guessed, once provided a handy killzone for the castle's defenders in the event of invasion. There wasn't much left of the corridor's walls, but now and then we'd pass a mostly intact section with an arrow loop carved into it, or a taller section with a notch where I supposed the defenders would have kept a boiling pot of lead. Old cliches are the best kinds of cliches. At the end of the corridor was another crumbling, unsound wall and gate. Taking point, I pushed the gate open, and scanned the area for threats, finding none. I motioned the two ponies through and shut the door behind me.

We stood upon an ornately carved staircase that rose no more than a meter off the ground. The door led into the spacious, circular courtyard that Rainbow Dash described. Pegasus Wings had turned the courtyard into a makeshift helipad. Chinook helicopters, six of them, sat parked around the edges of the circle, in front of the twisted, broken remnants of what had once been a fence that ran around the courtyard's perimeter. The centerpiece of the helipad, as Pinkie Pie would put it, was a sight that made my heart sink: A fully armed Hind D gunship. All the choppers were painted in blue camouflage.

Immediately, I understood what Rainbow Dash meant when she said "giant thingies."

"What are those?" whispered Twilight. She crouched low to the ground, following my instructions appropriately, if too literally. "I can see windows in them, but they don't look like they'd travel well on land. Airships?"

"Not a bad guess," I said quietly. "They're helicopters."

"They're what?" asked Applejack, squinting at the docked aircraft. "Heli-what-now?"

The wonders of a society of Luddite ponies. "Aerial vehicles," I explained. "Smaller and faster than airships. The ones around the circle are transports. The one in the middle is an attack craft."

"Oh," said Applejack. "Neat."

The path leading to the keep's entrance was at the leftmost side of the circle. The keep itself looked to be in better condition than the gatehouse. Its upper levels were crumbling and broken, but everything below looked reasonably intact, if overgrown. Separating the courtyard from the keep was a mostly intact wall and a portcullis, which had a rather odd, lumpy patch of moss on it. The early evening sun, already starting to descend, shone on the far side of the portcullus and keep, which, if nothing else, told me which direction was west.

There was no one in sight, but that didn't mean we were alone. There were, after all, multiple vehicles for people to conceal themselves in. Possibilities ran from engineers addressing mechanical problems to some non-coms enjoying forbidden fraternization away from the prying eyes of the chain of command. So I holstered Lucky Number SeveN, wondering why I'd drawn an unsuppressed firearm in the first place, and unslung the sniper rifle (to scout, not to be a voyeur).

Twilight noticed and asked "You aren't going to start shooting, are you? Because I thought you said to avoid conflict."

I glanced at Twilight and wordlessly tapped on the scope. She mouthed a silent "oh," (the same way, I noted, that Spike had) and went back to laying low, while I felt a slight pang of disappointment. I was kind of hoping that she had a hidden cache of binoculars that I could borrow from too.

Through the scope, I could see into the windows of the choppers. One by one, I checked them, but they all turned up empty. The crosshair fell on the Hind D, and for a moment, I contemplated taking a potshot at the rotors. A well-placed bullet might cripple the thing, saving me the trouble of shooting it down later.

The hatch on the side of the Hind suddenly opened, and out stepped a fair-skinned man with a buzzcut, wearing a stained, greasy jumpsuit. "Damn," I breathed. "Guess we aren't alone after all." And there we were, completely exposed.

I lowered the rifle and made for the left banister. Motioning for the others to follow, I vaulted over it and landed upon the grass below. Twilight and Applejack followed, one after the other, landing on either side of me. We moved swiftly, diving through a gap in the old fence, and took cover behind a Chinook. I dropped to my belly and crawled underneath the chopper, then stared through the scope at the man by the Hind. Judging by his clothing and state of cleanliness, I guessed that he was a mechanic. Judging by his presence at the helipad, specifically at the Hind, I guessed that he was performing some maintenance. Judging by the way he kicked at the gunship's chassis and swore in Finnish (faint echoes of which carried to our hiding place), I guessed that he wasn't having much success.

Good, I thought. If the Hind is down, then that's one less complication to deal with down the line. I crawled out from under the chopper, climbed back to my feet, and glanced out of our cover. Between us and the portcullis was another chopper, and between us and that chopper was nothing but open ground. I sucked in a breath. We'd have to go quickly.

"Something up on the portcullis just flashed," said Twilight worriedly.

"Flashed?'" I asked. "What do you mean 'flashed'?" I knelt beside her and raised the rifle's scope back to my eye.

"See that mossy overgrowth?" asked Twilight, pointing a purple hoof. "It was only there for a split second, but I definitely saw something flash."

Upon closer inspection, the overgrowth looked very odd and out of place. It was a different color than the rest of the moss covering the castle, and it didn't resemble moss at all. It looked more like grass. Lumpy, man-shaped grass, with a long, protruding section, which itself looked less like grass and more like the concealed barrel of a rifle.

"It's a ghillie suit," I said in mild amazement. "That's a sniper up there. That flash must have been..." I glanced over my shoulder, at the sun shining its orange light onto the portcullis. "It was the glare from the sun on the rifle's scope. There's just enough light there that the scope reflected it." With sincere respect, I added "That was a good catch, Twilight."

"What do we do now?" whispered Applejack. "That guy'll see us 'fore we get anywhere near him."

"I could take him out right now," I said. "But the gunshot would alert that mechanic, and he could call for help. The M9's suppressed, but it's too difficult a shot with a handgun." I lowered the rifle and swore.

Twilight patted me on the shoulder, looking quite pleased with herself. "You know," she said slyly, "Starswirl the Bearded once wrote 'Where conventional thinking ends, the unorthodox begins.'"

"Uh-huh," said Applejack dryly. "I think I got that in a fortune cookie once."

Twilight glowered at her.

"You're suggesting we think outside the box?" I asked. "Do you have any ideas?"

Twilight looked long and hard at the sniper in the ghillie suit. Slowly, she turned to me, looking intently at my rifle. A sinister grin spread across her face.

If her suggestion was to shoot him, I'd whack her.

Designated marksman Dan Hoyer lay on his belly and stared through the scope of his rifle at the courtyard stretched out in front of him. He was not the sharpest knife in the squadron, having been forced into military service after failing the GED three consecutive times, yet even he had the sense to notice that his role was redundant and pointless, because if the gatehouse were actually well protected, there wouldn't be any need for a sniper to keep watch over the helicopters. He'd brought his concerns to Captain Case that morning, as the captain and a squad prepared to follow Mr. Trenton into the forest, in pursuit of the beast that had ambushed a patrol the night before.

Captain Case had listened thoughtfully to Hoyer's suggestions. When he'd finished explaining his feelings on the situation, the captain clapped him on the shoulder. "Son," he said, "I could spend the rest of my life writing about all the idiot mistakes that this army's made lately, and I still wouldn't scratch the surface."

"Then you'll talk to the commander?" Hoyer had asked hopefully.

When the captain finished laughing and drying his eyes, he said "If the commander gave half as many fucks about my opinion as he did about sucking up to our chickenshit client, we wouldn't even be here right now, and there'd be no need to complain." And that was that.

The ghillie suit was itchy, heavy, and uncomfortable, and barely resembled the moss it was supposed to mimic. His M1903 Springfield rifle, an antique in the 21st century, was badly maintained, prone to jamming, and the lens on the scope had a crack in it. He'd given it to Quartermaster Loomis to repair, yet it seemed to have returned to him in even worse condition than he'd left it. Just once, he wished he could use one of the M24s, but those were reserved for the front-line sentries at the staging area. If he ever found out that someone at the castle was using an M24, he promised himself, he'd steal it out from under the poor idiot's nose.

Once again, the sun glanced off of his scope, and he pulled away with a grimace. "Stupid sun," he muttered. "Thinks it's such hot shit." He shook his head, grumbling, and raised the scope back to his eye.

The gun suddenly began to shimmer. A purple aura encased it, barrel to stock, and to Hoyer's shock, it levitated out of his hands. "That's new," he said astutely. He grabbed for it, but it moved out of his reach, and rotated in midair until the barrel pointed directly at his forehead.

Suddenly, designated marksman Dan Hoyer felt very afraid.

"O, pathetic human!" the gun spoke in a deep, warbley voice. "Thou hast displeased the guardian spirits of this place! We have come to lay our judgment upon thee!"

Hoyer rose to his knees, trembling, and swallowed hard. "R-really? No foolin', huh?"

Far away, hidden behind the bulk of a Boeing CH-47 helicopter, Twilight Sparkle kept the rifle levitated, projecting her voice through the aura she used to manipulate it.

Beside her was Applejack, her face hidden in her hooves. "Twilight, this is dang foolish," she said, her words muffled.

"Quiet," hissed Snake, kneeling behind the two ponies. He held the directional microphone in one hand and used the other to press an earbud, which was connected to the microphone, into his ear. "He's buying it. Pull back on the bolt. The little lever on the side."

Twilight felt through her aura for the lever Snake was talking about. She found it, but hesitated, and looked at him, biting her lip. "It won't fire, will it?"

"No," said Snake. "Just do it."

Relieved, Twilight complied, but it jammed before she could pull it back. She glanced at Snake, who just shrugged and waved for her to continue.

"Listen well, thou insignificant... worm!" said the gun. "In ancient times, we swore to keep watch over this place, in the name of our Great and Powerful lord... the Great and Powerful..." The voice paused, as if hesitating.

"...The great and powerful lord...?" prompted Hoyer. "Hey, is the gun jammed?"

"Thou impudent and wretched mortal!" boomed the gun, thrusting itself into Hoyer's face. Hoyer recoiled and fell backward onto his ass. "We expect patience when we pause for dramatic effect! Our lord, the Great and Powerful... er... Smooze... demands it!"

Hoyer glanced nervously between the gun's barrel and scope, wondering which part the voice was coming out of. "He demands patience, or long pauses?" he asked.

"Indeed!"

At the Chinook, Snake rose, patting Twilight on the shoulder. "Nice. Keep him focused on the gun. Take him out when we're through. Applejack, let's move."

"This is never gonna—"

"Applejack!" snapped Snake. The orange mare sighed, rolled her eyes, and darted for cover behind the next Chinook. Snake followed closely, keeping the microphone in one hand trained on the sniper, and his Beretta in his other hand trained on the Hind's mechanic.

"All this time, thou hast encroached here, and what hast thou given back to the spirits of this place?" demanded the gun. "Nothing but... iron deficiency, and a... a bloated, constricted... gastrointestinal system!"

"What the hell does that even—"

"Well, the spirits will have nothing more of it! The Great and Powerful Smooze will have thy backsides for lunch! And for dessert, he will devour... thy very souls!" Deep, forced-sounding laughter rolled from the rifle.

"I'm sorry!" said Hoyer. "I didn't mean to, uh... encroach! How can I make it up to you?"

Snake and Applejack passed beneath the portcullis, and Twilight felt fulfillment at the success of one of her plans. "Thou must nap! Yes, nap! For one thousand hours!"

"'Nap?'" asked Hoyer. "How will that—"

Twilight swung the rifle, hard, cracking its buttstock against Hoyer's face. The sniper fell, unconscious, against the cold roof of the portcullis. "I didn't realize being a ham was so much fun," she mused. "No wonder Trixie loves it so much." She galloped to the portcullis.

The Finnish mechanic chanced to look up as Twilight sprinted. He caught sight of the purple unicorn, opened his mouth to shout, and promptly collapsed into a sleeping ball as a tranquilizer dart stuck him in the neck.

Snake cocked the M9, nodding his approval at Twilight. He looked sidelong at Applejack beside him. "Some fortune cookie."

I didn't have any complaints about Twilight's plan, or its success. It was deeply gratifying to have the patented Equestrian lunacy working for me for a change. I figured that as long as the wind was blowing my way, I had no cause to bitch.

The double doors of the keep were shut. I braced myself against one door; Twilight and Applejack pressed against the wall behind me. I counted down from three; on three, I pushed my door open and moved into the keep's antechamber with my M9 drawn.

The room, while large, was smaller than the gatehouse, and had the advantage of an intact ceiling. It was rectangular, with the same worn, Roman-esque columns jutting from floor to ceiling. Wedged between two columns was a pair of man-sized lockers, which I took note of as potential hiding places. Crates and cardboard boxes were stacked along the wall on my left. Fluorescent lamps were placed in the four corners of the room, but the lighting they gave off was dim at best. Each lamp had a neon orange cord that ran down a winding staircase on the room's right-hand side. Besides that staircase, there were two other corridors that led out of the room. On the left was another staircase leading to the upper levels, which I only noticed after passing the stacked crates and boxes. By hiding behind them, I could avoid the line of sight of anybody coming from the upper level. Directly ahead of us was a corridor that stretched far, its endpoint shrouded in darkness. There was no way to tell how it extended, or in what direction it ultimately ran. Like the gatehouse, the antechamber was unguarded, a fact which I found difficult to swallow. There were supposed to be twenty-one soldiers in this castle. Where the hell were they?

Twilight trotted to the stairs on the right and looked down. "If I remember the layout correctly from last time, then there isn't much down the front corridor besides the great hall and a couple of adjoining rooms – the kitchen, maybe a lavatory; we didn't explore. I doubt they keep prisoners on the upper levels. If they're keeping Apple Bloom anywhere around here, it's got to be in the lower levels, out of sight."

"You sure 'bout that?" asked Applejack. "I could see 'em locking her upstairs in a tower or somethin', like in some old mare's tale."

"Could be," said Twilight. "But I'd think that the upper levels would be reserved for things like crew quarters, or offices. That leaves the lower levels for things like holding cells, storage. What do you think Snake?"

What indeed. "Something isn't right here," I said. "Trenton all but threw the doors open for us when we fought in the forest. We've been here for a while now, and aside from a couple of idiot sentries and a mechanic, we haven't faced any opposition."

"You're suggesting Rainbow Dash was right before? That this is a trap?" asked Twilight. "If it is, it isn't a very good one. They could have ambushed us in the gatehouse as soon as we walked in, but they didn't."

"Maybe it isn't as simple as a trap," I suggested. "Maybe there's some other element at play here." Trenton made a threat on Apple Bloom's life to ensure that we'd follow him to the castle, even after telling me that he had standing orders not to attack ponies. It was an obvious ploy, but we walked into it regardless. So how come we hadn't been captured or gunned down yet?

The sound of footfalls descending the left-side staircase brought us back to the moment. I rushed to the stack of cardboard boxes. By a stroke of luck, there was one empty box piled on top. I looked at it, then at the two ponies. If a box this size could fit a grown man comfortably, it stood to reason that it could fit two miniature horses.

"Here," I said, tossing them the box. "Get under there and stay quiet."

Twilight looked skeptically at the box. "How many missions did you say you'd gone on again?" she asked.

The footsteps drew closer now. I could see the shadows of two men cast upon the wall of the stairwell. "Just do it!" I hissed. Twilight didn't look sold, but she complied, levitating the box over herself and Applejack. The two ponies huddled close to one another as Twilight dropped it over them and, moving together with a surprising amount of efficiency, they scurried into the corner.

"...but you know what I miss the most?" asked a voice coming from the stairwell.

Hiding in the locker was not an option. I dove for cover behind the crates stacked against the wall, braced my back against them, and held the M9 ready just as the two soldiers entered the room.

"Not having to deal with that maniac Nigel every time you want to take a crap?" asked the other of the two.

"Close," said the first soldier wistfully. "Indoor plumbing." The two sighed together.

"Hey, wait a second." I heard a soft click, the sound of a safety being switched off. "That box."

"What about it?" said the first. "C'mon, it's just Loomis pulling the Solid Snake prank again."

I admit a slight curiosity as to how that prank worked.

"Loomis left for the staging area this morning," said the second. "Besides, after Nigel put him in a sling that one time, he wouldn't even think of trying it again." He edged toward the box with his AK leveled, walking right past the stacked crates I hid against. "Whoever's in there, come out now, and I promise to only shoot you a little bit!" He chuckled at his witticism.

My grip on the M9 tightened, and I inhaled deeply. I raised my gun, aiming for the soldier's neck.

A purple aura encased the box, and it flew forward, smacking the soldier in the face. It was a purely diversionary move, same as what I'd pulled on the red pony back in the barn. Applejack pivoted on her front legs, reared her hind legs back, and bucked the soldier squarely in the pelvis. He curled into himself and fell backward with the wind knocked out of him, dropping his AK.

Regardless of their quirks (or, in Pinkie's case, lunacy), these ponies had initiative, and I liked that in them. I jumped from my cover, spun around, and fired a dart into the neck of the first soldier before he could react. He thudded against the cold stone floor.

I released a long sigh of relief and moved to stand over the soldier Applejack had taken down. She advanced on him slowly, teeth set and eyes narrowed. The soldier struggled to catch his breath and draw his sidearm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said, cocking the M9 for emphasis (and to load a new round).

The soldier rolled his balaclava-clad head backward to look at me, and his eyes bulged. He'd managed to draw his M1911 halfway from its holster, but now his fingers slowly uncurled from it, and he raised both hands over his head in a submissive gesture. He still panted hard, and I think he was crying a little bit.

"Catch your breath," I ordered, kneeling beside him. I rested my arm on my bent right knee and leaned forward. "Then start talking. Where are the other soldiers?"

The soldier squeezed his eyes shut. He made a series of guttural choking sounds, but failed to form a coherent word out of them. "G... g... " Gradually, he formed a syllable. "Go..."

"Gone?" Twilight supplied. "Gone where? And why?"

"God," he whimpered. "God, God, please God help me, please..."

Twilight pressed a hoof against her face and shook her head.

My sentiments exactly, I thought. By Case's count, there were three hundred good soldiers in Pegasus Wings and fifty incompetents, and I kept running into the latter. Sure, it made my life easier, but it was also embarrassing to see grown men acting so pathetically.

The soldier's eyes opened. He looked around the room quickly, no doubt searching for a potential avenue of escape. Given how hard Applejack had hit his pelvis, though, I figured it'd take a miracle to get him mobile. His eyes fell on my right leg, where Captain Case's Model 500 was strapped to my ankle, and they bulged again. "God," he whimpered pitiably.

I set my M9 on the ground and drew the revolver, holding it up so that he could see it. "You know this gun, don't you?" I asked. "You know who it belongs to."

The soldier's lower lip trembled, and he nodded. "Trenton said that the captain got eaten by the big cat," he sobbed.

"Well, he done fibbed. Now, you're gonna answer my question first, y'hear?" growled Applejack. "We're lookin' for a filly, heard your buddy Trenton brought her here." She placed a hoof on his stomach and started applying pressure. "Be real nice if you could help us find her."

The soldier's red eyes leaked a couple more tears. I glanced at Twilight; she was looking hard at Applejack, her mouth hanging open slightly, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Was Applejack typically this violent, or was she just having a particularly bad day? With her sister missing, I could believe the latter.

"Dungeon!" he gasped. His voice was harsh and breathy; he still hadn't recovered from Applejack's attack "She's in the dungeon – oh God, help me please..."

Applejack leaned in close, coming almost nose-to-nose with the soldier. The length of her hat's brim was the only thing keeping them apart. "If any of you've done a thing t'hurt her..."

The soldier shook his head rapidly. "No! No! I mean, Nigel wanted to, but I stopped him! I-in fact, I tried to help her! I brought her food, and tried to get her to talk to me, and—"

"You think this is a pettin' zoo?!" snapped Applejack. The soldier shut his eyes tightly and sobbed.

Twilight interceded, placing a hoof on Applejack's shoulder and drawing her away. "Better not be lyin'," said Applejack. The soldier rolled onto his side and sniffled.

"Moving on to my questions, now," I said, pulling back on the gun's hammer (once again, strictly for emphasis). "For your sake, we'll start off slow. Who's Nigel?"

The soldier shook his head fearfully. "Oh, no no no no no, you don't want to fuck with Nigel, man. He's crazy."

"I asked who he was," I said. "Not for advice."

"Right!" squeaked the soldier. "Right! Nigel. He's on prisoner detail right now, because he spends all his time off duty in that basement. I told the officer on duty not to let him watch her, but he said it was the commander's decision, and—"

"Enough." I exchanged a look with Applejack. She nodded, grimacing. I almost pitied poor Nigel. "Where are the other soldiers?"

The soldier swallowed hard. He reached up to tug his balaclava over his nose, wiped it with his sleeve, and pulled it back down. "M-most of the army's at the... at the s-s-staging area already. The only ones left are the chopper pilots and the armor crews."

"'Choppers?'" asked Twilight. "Does he mean the—"

"Big metal thingies," I interrupted. "Stay focused." I leaned forward a little more. "Where is Metal Gear? Is it already armed with the nuclear missile?"

Our hostage never took his eyes off of the revolver. "Staging area. We trucked it there in pieces, then started putting them together. I-I don't know if it's ready yet; I'm not assigned to that part of the base. And I don't know how close to being ready it is either!"

Dammit. Then there was no way to know how much time we had. "How do I get to the staging area?"

The soldier pointed weakly down the corridor at the front of the room. "Head out the Great Hall and take the path that leads past the way you came in. It's a couple hours on foot."

"'The way I came in?'" What was he babbling about? "I came in through the gatehouse."

"No, no, not that. Not the backdoor. I mean the way you came in here." His voice was stronger now, with a little more energy to it, and he wasn't sobbing on every other syllable anymore, which I guessed was progress. "There's only one way in and out, right? And we're sitting on it."

I glanced at Twilight. She looked away from Applejack to meet my gaze, and shrugged.

"Thanks," I muttered, shooting Twilight a look. I returned the revolver to its spot on my ankle, collected my Beretta and rose to my feet. "You've been a real help."

"I just wanted to, you know, because..." He pointed at Applejack. "She hits really, really hard, and the guy who had that gun before you was a real badass... so if you killed him, that means you're an even bigger badass... so that means—"

Without looking, I shot him in the neck with the M9, and he fell asleep. "Threaten him into talking, and he never shuts up," I muttered, racking the gun's slide. I nodded at the two ponies. "Nice job on that ambush."

Applejack molded her grimace into a smirk that disturbed even me. "Years of applebuckin'. It's kept me in shape. That Nigel feller touches Apple Bloom, he'll get the same."

"Backdoor, huh?" Twilight murmured. I raised an eyebrow at her. She clarified. "He corrected you when you said we came in through the gatehouse. 'Not the backdoor.'"

That was a nice catch. I didn't even notice it; I was too busy trying to get a sane answer from the idiot. "The gatehouse is at the front of the castle, but the way he talked, it sounds like we came in through the rear of the base," I said. "But why would they leave their backside exposed like that?"

I was grateful that Rainbow Dash wasn't there to hear that last bit.

"Well, they've got the Everfree Forest on their doorstep," said Applejack. "Guess they prob'ly figure that nothin's ever gonna get through that, so they don't need to worry so much 'bout coverin' it."

"We got through it," I pointed out. "And Zecora lived in there."

"Didn't say it was smart, Snake," said Applejack.

Twilight levitated the cardboard box off the ground and floated it over to herself. "Does this trick ever actually work?" she asked, turning it over to examine the interior. "I can't see anypony being fooled so easily."

"I never used it on a pony before, so I don't know," I said. The red stallion flashed in my mind again. "Actually, that's not entirely..."

Applejack, apparently uninterested in the story, turned to the descending staircase. "So I guess you was right after all, Twilight. Dungeon it is."

"Normally I enjoy being right," said Twilight. She dropped the box and peered down the stairs. "But I have some mixed feelings this time. Dungeons, ugh." She shuddered. "So cramped, so claustrophobic. So filthy."

Applejack rolled her eyes. "The way you're talkin', it sounds like we brought the wrong unicorn by mistake."

I looked between the stairway leading to the dungeon and the other corridor. The one that led to the Great Hall, to the staging area, to Metal Gear. The doomsday clock was ticking, and I had no idea how close it was to midnight. Metal Gear could be ready to fire at any moment; there was really no time to lose. But Apple Bloom still needed rescuing. That was still on my shoulders.

Then again... I'd gotten them this far. If they pulled Apple Bloom out of this, then I'd have done my part to save her. If that idiot was right, then there was precious little standing between them and liberation. Just a crazed man named Nigel, and at that point, I didn't doubt the ponies' abilities against Pegasus Wings. And if the others stood their ground, as instructed, then there would still be a way out. They could coast on home and go back to their lives, doing whatever the hell it was that colorful ponies did when they didn't have to worry about nuclear annihilation. There were a lot of ifs, sure, but at least they were plausible ifs.

And I could do what I came to Equestria to do, and put an end to this insurrection once and for all.

"Hey Snake?" asked Twilight. "Are you coming?"

I looked past her, over her shoulder at the stairs leading to the dungeon, and shook my head. "Sorry. But I think this is where we part ways."

"What? What're you on about?" Applejack asked, incredulous. "You said you'd help me get m'sister back, remember?"

"And I have," I said. "The way is clear. Your friends have the exit covered. Go down there, spring your sister, and go home."

"Well, what about you?" asked Twilight. "What are you going to do?"

I gestured at the corridor that led to the great hall. "We don't know how much time's left until Metal Gear is ready to fire. If I'm going to have any chance at stopping that thing, I need to go now."

"Snake, get serious," said Applejack, adjusting her hat on her head. "How big an army are you goin' up against? You really think you can get through 'em and take out that weapon all by yer lonesome?"

"Approximately three hundred and fifty strong," I said coolly. "And believe me when I say that I've faced longer odds than that."

Truthfully, I hadn't; this was as bad as it'd ever been for me. At least on Shadow Moses, I was better armed. Right now, the closest thing I had to artillery was a useless revolver.

"We don't have any other options," I said, as much to myself as to Applejack. "For all we know, it's already too late. Get Apple Bloom back, go home, and get word out to the powers that be about everything that's going on out here. If I don't make it, then at least you'll still have a fighting chance."

Neither of them looked like the enjoyed the idea of me going off on what sounded like a suicide mission alone. But gradually, Twilight nodded. "If you're sure, Snake," she said softly. She sounded hurt, downcast. Worried.

Shit. We'd just met and she was already attached enough to worry for me. Maybe I had it all wrong worrying that Fluttershy was the one with the inappropriate cross-species attraction.

"We might not meet again," I said. Part of me was grateful; another was, for some reason, disappointed. "For what it's worth, I couldn't have gotten as far as I did without your help."

"Neither could we," said Applejack. She doffed her hat and held it against her chest, smiling sadly. "I won't forget how you helped us, Snake. How you helped Apple Bloom... an' how you helped me. Thank you." She bowed her head, turned, and began making her way down the stairs, leaving Twilight and I alone.

I stooped to retrieve the box she'd dropped and offered it to her. "Believe it or not, a cardboard box is indispensable on a sneaking mission," I said. "I can't even begin to list the number of agents whose lives were saved by a handy cardboard box."

Twilight blinked, squeezing her eyes shut a little longer and a little tighter than normal. She levitated the box out of my hands and smiled. "I'll keep it close, Snake. Don't get killed out there, okay?"

"You too." I was about to turn away when another thought occurred to me. "Assuming things go sour, though, I left instructions for back-up to follow me in. You'll know them when you see them."

"Back-up?" Twilight asked. "More guys like you?"

That was almost insulting. Not that she'd know.

"Something like that," I said. "You'll be in good hands, take my word for it. Now go save the day. I've still got a job to do."

Twilight nodded. She gave me one last smile before she, too, vanished down the stairs and around the corner. The only trace of her was the purple glow of her aura around the box as she descended, and soon enough, even that was gone.

I felt oddly hollow with her and Applejack gone. Figured it was because I didn't do anything to directly save Apple Bloom, the way I told myself I would. It didn't matter anymore, though. Odds were good that I wouldn't be seeing them ever again, and I had no time to dwell on the thought.

The most pressing matter on my agenda was hiding the two soldiers I'd tranquilized. Fortunately, in a rare stroke of luck, the doors to the out-of-place lockers opened easily. One of the lockers was empty, to my disappointment, but it would still serve a useful purpose. I hefted the body of the first soldier, dragged him to the locker, and stuffed him inside, slamming the door shut and locking it after him. Then, because one good turn deserved another, I opened the second locker.

"Hot damn," I muttered.

Five grenades (four of them frags, one incendiary) and a small supply of C-4 sat in a box inside of the locker. It doesn't sound like much, but without any sort of explosive or missile, I may as well have attacked Metal Gear with a water gun. I thanked whatever idiot thought it would be a good idea to keep the explosives in so random a location, and pocketed them. Then I dragged the second soldier over, stuffed him into the locker, and shut it in his face.

Feeling better than ever about my odds, I drew the Beretta and continued on my way.

Twilight found Applejack waiting for further down on the stairs. "You know somethin', sugarcube?" she said, speaking softly. "Sure, Snake's kinda gruff, but I think I'm gonna miss him all the same."

"Yeah. Yeah, me too," said Twilight. She made sure that Applejack wasn't looking, then wiped at her eyes. "He's definitely a unique character."

"You sound upset, Twi," said Applejack. "Everythin' okay?"

I made a new friend and let him go off on a suicide mission on the same day.

"I don't like goodbyes. That's all."

Quietly, they descended the stairs. There were incandescent lightbulbs strung along the ceiling, but their light was so dim as to be next to useless. The light from Twilight's aura was far more helpful in illuminating the way. Their hooves against the stone steps made an unavoidable clopping sound, so they stepped as lightly and carefully as they could to minimize it.

Twilight kept her eye on Applejack as they wound their way down the spiral staircase. She could only imagine the extent of Applejack's duress, with her sister kidnapped and her body battered by the day's series of confrontations, but her behavior since they met in the morning exposed a side of her that she never thought she'd see. From her fury in the library, when Applejack discovered that Twilight hid a secret from her, to her advancing on that hapless soldier with murder in her eyes, Twilight actually felt afraid of one of her friends for the first time.

They were none of them killers. Even during the fight with the timberwolves, when their lives were at stake, they fought only to win, not to kill, and what death the battle did produce nearly broke poor Fluttershy's spirit. Sure, there were moments in the past – intense, life-or-death situations – where Twilight had asked herself how far she'd be willing to go, if she'd kill in a situation that necessitated it. Up until then, she never thought she could go through with it, but mere hours ago, she'd put a boulder over a wolf who held Spike in its jaws. She thought about Applejack threatening the soldier, hurting him to get the answer she needed, and realized that, at heart, the situations weren't so different from one another.

So, she thought, if Fluttershy hadn't stepped in and scared the timberwolf away, what would have happened? Would I have killed to save Spike's life?

"Applejack," she asked hesitantly. "I... can I ask you a question?"

"Ain't really the best time for it, sugarcube," said Applejack, keeping her voice hushed. "We've gabbed a lot durin' this mission, but Snake was right; it ain't smart t'flap yer gums when sneakin' around."

"I know that," said Twilight. "But I've been thinking—"

"See," said Applejack with a soft chuckle, "now there's your problem."

Twilight tried to laugh with her, but she couldn't find humor in the joke. "That soldier from before, the one you..."

Applejack slowed, halting mid-step.

Twilight took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to ask is... would you have killed him, if it meant saving Apple Bloom?"

Slowly, Applejack rotated her head to look Twilight in the eye. The glow of Twilight's aura, combined with the shadow cast by her hat's brim, kept most of her face shrouded in shadow. Her bright green eyes stood out, however, and the image disturbed Twilight enough that she had to look away from her friend's gaze.

"Why do you ask, Twi?"

Twilight forced herself to look Applejack in the eye, and tried hard to gather her thoughts. "You're scaring me," she whispered hoarsely. "I thought you might hurt me when we talked this morning, but I told myself that you were just mad because I'd mislead you. That you wouldn't ever do that. But then, when you interrogated that soldier, you..." She swallowed. "I've never known you to be like that. It..." She swallowed, tried to drudge up more to say, but nothing came.

Applejack bowed her head, sighed softly, and trotted back up the stairs to Twilight. She wrapped her forelegs around Twilight's neck and pulled her in for a hug. "I'mma say this once, an' I think you know me well enough t'know that I'm not blowin' hot gas by sayin' it." She rested her cheek against the back of Twilight's neck. "Apple Bloom is my flesh and blood, my one an' only baby sister, an' I promised myself a long, long time ago that I'd never let'er come to no harm. If it ever comes down t'takin' a life for her sake, then there is no choice to make, nothin' t'think about, an' nothin' t'feel guilty about."

She pulled away, and held Twilight at hoof's length, looking into her eyes. "Remember before when I asked you how you'd feel, iffin' it were Spike an' not Apple Bloom? If you'd blame yourself? If you'd hate yourself? I didn't give you a chance to answer, an' that was unfair of me, an' I apologize. Apologize for scarin' you, too. But after what happened back in the forest, with Spike an' the wolves? I don't think I need an answer."

Twilight wet her suddenly dry lips. "What if it was one of us, and not Apple Bloom?" she asked hesitantly. "Me, or Pinkie, or Dash?"

Applejack sucked her teeth and looked away, knitting her eyebrows together in thought. She drew herself up, raised her head high, squared her shoulders, and looked Twilight straight in the eye again.

"Y'all are my family. An' I would kill for any one of my family."

Without another word, she turned away, and resumed her march down the stairs.

A few moments passed where Twilight, too stunned to move, simply stood rooted to her spot. She shook it off and took the stairs in twos to catch up with Applejack. "And," she said, panting, "is that a new feeling? Or have you always felt that way?"

"You might'nt have noticed, Twilight," said Applejack, "but my folks're dead. Losin' yer ma an' pa at a tender age makes you treasure the kin y'got left." She laughed once, quietly, mirthlessly. "Hated Braeburn when we was kids. Hated the way he never shut his dang mouth. Must've been all that time I spent doggin' Big Mac. I got used to the quiet, grew t'prefer it, even." Applejack broke off abruptly, and Twilight wondered if she would stop talking altogether.

"An' then my folks died." Applejack's voice was somber now, more quiet and reserved than before. "Suddenly, puttin' up with the chatter became a hay of a lot easier. Ain't just kin, neither. Once upon a time, I thought Rainbow Dash was a jackass, Pinkie was a brainless buffoon, an' Rarity was a stuck-up snob. Now? I'd lay my life down for any one of 'em. Got a funny notion of family, I s'pose."

She paused in her stride, and Twilight had to stop at the last second to avoid colliding with her. "Guess what I'm tryin' t'say is that, deep down... yeah, I prob'ly always felt this way. Or at least, I felt this way f'r most'a my life. It just took somethin' like this t'bring it outta me." She shrugged and continued down the stairs, Twilight following close behind.

The farther down they went, the colder it got. Twilight wondered how far into the earth they were going, how deeply delved the castle's catacombs were. She began to notice a sour, acrid stench. It was light, for the time being, but the deeper they went, the stronger it became.

"So, hey, my turn to ask questions," said Applejack.

"You? Asking?" said Twilight, surprised. "I thought you wanted us to keep quiet."

"Yeah, well, these stairs're takin' a while," said Applejack. "Gotta pass the time somehow. An' besides, I'm a li'l bit worried about you m'self. Yer gettin' right morbid with yer questions. What's eatin' ya?"

"In magic kindergarten, I read an entire volume about proper autopsy procedure," said Twilight. "So this is comparatively normal, by my standards."

"Shucks."

"Yeah..." Twilight looked down at her hooves, watching them tread the worn stone steps one by one. "Do you remember when Snake put down the timberwolf?"

"Considerin' it happened jus' a couple'a hours ago, yeah. Crystal clear."

"I think that's what got me thinking about... killing." The memories played back in her mind. The broken body of the wolf. The quiet, resigned whimpering. Snake's expressionless, emotionless face as he pulled the trigger, his enigmatic final words to the beast. "He was so... cold, so detached when he took that thing's life."

"Maybe not so much," said Applejack. "He seemed almost like he didn't wanna do it, from where I was standin'. I think it got to him a li'l bit."

"But he still did it. Regardless of how he felt, he killed that wolf without hesitation." The gun's deafening roar still reverberated in her mind. Patches of her face were still sticky from where the wolf's sap-like blood had splattered her "I don't want us to get to that point, where we become so desensitized to killing that it just comes naturally to us."

"We won't, sugarcube," said Applejack softly, comfortingly. "Things'll go back t'normal for us after this. You'll see."

"Everyone's here now. Rest easy." He pulled the trigger, and the gun roared.

"Maybe. I hope you're right, Applejack."

The staircase ended in a long, rectangular room, the sight of which sickened and horrified Twilight.

Decaying torture implements – a rack that still bore the skeletal remains of a long-dead pony, an iron maiden with its door shut partway, a board that held a variety of rusted, but intact, implements – littered the room. The walls were lined with splintered wooden stable doors, each with a tiny, barred window, and a taller, windowless door that didn't seem to resemble a stable. A latrine, she guessed, which would explain the sour smell. She noted with detachment that the cables from the lightbulbs in the stairwell and the extension cords from the lamps upstairs led to a steadily humming generator at the end of the hall.

This is horrible. Ghastly, she thought. Another thought, unwanted but unshakable, surfaced in her mind. The Princesses ruled Equestria from this castle a thousand years ago. This couldn't have been their idea. Princess Celestia disavowed any involvement with the inequinity of torture a long time ago; she ordered herself to believe that fact, but her heart still felt heavy and cold.

Applejack nudged her, hard, to draw her attention. The orange mare lay low, pressed closely against the ground, and she motioned for Twilight to mimic her. Applejack pointed at the left side of the room, which bore a long, wooden table and a single chair. A muscular giant of a human soldier, wearing a blue sweatshirt embroidered with the Pegasus Wings sigil, camouflage pants, and balaclava, sat in the chair, leaning its backrest against the wall behind him and propping his feet upon the table. His arms were folded and his head bowed, and he snored softly.

"That'd be our buddy Nigel," muttered Applejack. "S'bigger than I thought he'd be."

Twilight lowered the cardboard box over herself and her friend. "This place – it's a nightmare," she whispered. "You don't think Princess Celestia knew that there was a torture room here, do you?"

"It's her castle, sugarcube," Applejack whispered back. "I think it's dang unlikely that she wouldn'ta known about this.

"But – no! I don't accept that! I know her better than that. You know her better than that. This isn't like her!"

"It's a dungeon, sugarcube. What in the hay were you expectin'?"

"I..." Twilight faltered. "I wasn't expecting... Applejack, what if there's one in Canterlot too? Oh, Princess..."

"Twilight Sparkle, you will not go crazy on me. You will keep it together," said Applejack sternly. "I don't like the idea any more than you do, but it ain't worth losin' yer kibbles 'n bits over. Not right now."

Twilight heard, and understood, what Applejack said. She was right. But this wasn't the kind of thing she could just dismiss. "This is too much. Too much. I can't—"

"My sister is in this room."

Twilight's train of thought stopped cold.

"You think this doesn't bother me none? Of course it does. Makes my blood boil, in fact. But my sister bein' locked in this dang torture chamber is more important than some thousand year old skeletons in the Princess's closet. I need you in the moment, Twilight."

Still shaken, still unsteady, but remembering why they were there in the first place, Twilight gathered herself. She took a deep breath, sucking in the stale, acrid air, and exhaled slowly.

"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't need to apologize. You need to have a nervous breakdown every couple'a weeks to function. Puzzled that out myself a long time ago."

The joke brought a smile and a hollow laugh from Twilight. That specter of doubt still gnawed at her, but she pushed the thoughts from her mind, forced herself to concentrate on the moment. Whatever this room represented, whatever it meant, would have to wait. She would have to wait. And the Princess deserved a chance to explain herself.

"Now," said Applejack, all business again, "the guard's asleep, so we gotta move real quiet-like, an' those doors prob'ly need a key to open. Which he's prob'ly got on 'im. Ideas?"

Twilight gave her fears one final shove from her mind, and thought hard for a solution. "Searching him for the key would run the risk of waking him. We don't want that."

"We could break the doors down," suggested Applejack.

Twilight looked sidelong at her. "Don't be ridiculous. The noise would wake him."

"So we follow up by breakin' him down. Easy as line-dancin' with a rattlesnake."

"Be serious," said Twilight, smiling despite herself. She felt a deep-seated gratitude and affection for Applejack for making an effort to keep Twilight at ease, despite juggling her own distress.

This is a nightmare for her, and here she is joking to keep me from losing my mind.

There were some moments where Twilight loved her friends especially.

"Hey, jus' trying to keep our options open," said Applejack. "Not like we need a key to open a locked door, right?"

"If you want to do it the right – wait a minute." A memory surfaced from the recesses of Twilight's mind, a memory of long nights studying alone, pouring over scrolls defining the inner workings of a—

"No. We don't need a key."

"Uh, Twi, I was jokin'. Bustin' the doors down is a dumb idea," said Applejack quickly.

"Yes, it is," said Twilight. Pride at her own ingenuity swelled in her, pushing her horror further out of her mind. "Fortunately, we won't have to. Because I happen to know how to pick a lock."

"How to pick a – what?!"

Twilight nodded, smiling. "One time, back in Canterlot, I had the misfortune of getting locked out of my dormitory, and I had to sleep out in the hall. The next morning, I marched straight to the library and learned everything I could about every type of lock in existence, promising myself that I'd never let that happen to me again." She turned her smile on Applejack. "Well? Think it'll work?"

Applejack's head was cocked, her left eye squinted, her right eye wide, and her jaw hanging open. She held that expression for several long moments, before she shook it off. "Sorry, sugarcube, but y'all broke m'brain for a minute there." Her face became stern and resolute again, and she tensed her muscles. "Alright. Let's get crackin'. Start with one door, an' move on from there. Quietly, now."

Twilight nodded and swallowed. "On three. One – "

The box suddenly lifted, exposing Applejack and Twilight. The ponies looked up to see the dungeon's warden towering over them, the box dangling from his right hand. From a distance, he'd been giant. Up close, he was nothing short of mountainous. He stared at the ponies like they were insects.

Applejack and Twilight glanced at each other, exchanging a blank look, then looked back at the soldier holding the box and glaring murderously at the two of them.

Reasoning that meaningful dialogue had to begin somewhere, Twilight cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly at the guard. "So..."

Nigel dropped the box and lunged. Before either of them could react, he'd wrapped a bear-sized hand around both of their necks, lifted them off the ground, and slammed them against the wall.

"How in the hell did you two get past security?" he asked in a calm voice that defied his violent demeanor.

"What security?" Applejack managed to rasp through his iron grip. The soldier slammed her against the wall a second time, harder, and she gasped a silent cry of pain.

"You smart-mouthed bitch." He squeezed his thumbs against their throats, cutting off their airflow. Twilight choked and flailed, struggling to draw breath. Her lungs burned, and her vision swam, as oxygen deprivation started to take its toll. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled back into their sockets.

Distantly, she heard a voice screaming. "Please, stop! Whatever you're doin' out there, jus' stop it! Don't hurt 'em!"

And, closer to her, a response. "You'll be next if you don't shut your mouth, you—"

Twilight's eyelids snapped open.

The light that filled the room shone through her closed eyelids, and the thunderclap noise that accompanied the flash was deafening. Nigel flew across the room, propelled by the force of Twilight's attack, and Twilight and Applejack, caught in his grip, flew with him. They collided painfully against the cell door at the far end of the hall. Twilight heard the wood burst apart from the force of their impact, and felt Nigel's grip around her neck release. She rolled away from him, coughing heavily, struggling to breathe. She inhaled; her throat burned with every breath, but oxygen filled her lungs. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, but felt him seize her by her mane and pull. Twilight cried out in pain as he dragged her, blind and helpless. She scrabbled vainly for release, struggled to focus her magic for another attack.

There came a loud, cracking, snapping sound, bone and cartilage breaking apart, and he released her again, screaming.

Applejack?

"Fuck you!" Nigel shouted. Twilight heard a thudding, crunching noise, and a grunt of pain from her friend. "Fuck you!" Nigel bellowed. Gunshots, three of them, echoed in the torture chamber. "FUCK YOU!" A fourth. "FUCK YOU!" A fifth, a sixth, a seventh. She heard nothing from Applejack.

Twilight shut her eyes tightly, mustered what magical strength she had left, and stretched out with her senses. She felt the livid Nigel, distantly sensed a terrible pain like nothing she'd ever felt. She felt Applejack, alive, but hurting; she didn't know where or how. There was a third presence, too – Apple Bloom's – and, mysteriously, a fourth, which she couldn't quite discern. But she filtered the others out and focused on Nigel. The weapon she needed was in his hand. Twilight felt the metal frame of Nigel's pistol, and wrenched it away from him. She turned the barrel so that it faced its owner, who fell curiously silent midway through another curse.

Twilight's magic stroked the gun's trigger. She wondered how Snake felt each time he fired a gun, each time he took a life. She remembered his inscrutable expression as he killed the crippled timberwolf, and wondered what emotion it was hiding. Such a slight amount of pressure to fire so terrible a weapon...

She pulled on the trigger.

There was no explosive report, no sound of brain and bone splattering against the stone floor. Was it jammed, like the rifle she'd turned against the portcullis sentry? No. It was empty.

Laughter. The guard was laughing, at Twilight, at his cheating death, it mattered not. Something was outrageously funny to him. It built to a crescendo, then was cut off abruptly by another heavy, bone-shattering blow.

An eternity passed before Twilight heard Applejack's voice. "Sugarcube. Are you alright?"

Twilight numbly opened her eyes. Her vision had returned, though colors and objects still bled together. The only thing she saw, with any clarity at all, was the soldier who lay on the ground amid the indistinct fragments of the broken jail cell. There was an indentation in the side of his head, visible even through his balaclava. His left leg was bent inward.

"Twilight." Applejack's voice came again, more firmly this time.

Twilight heard Applejack, felt her comforting hoof upon her shoulder, but couldn't see her, couldn't see anything but the dead Nigel. The room around them moved out of focus.

"He shot at you," she said in a vacant, lifeless voice. "Are you hurt?"

"Fit as a fiddle," said Applejack. Though the room faded around her, the sound of Applejack's voice still rang through loud and clear. "He missed every shot. Got me with a mean right hook though. Gonna bruise nicely."

Twilight became aware of the gun, still floating in the grip of her purple aura, and dropped it like it was diseased.

A quiet voice, resounding with barely constrained hope, carried to Twilight's ears from across the room. "AJ...?"

Twilight felt Applejack leave her, heard her hooves against the stone again. The room vanished completely, so that Twilight was alone with Nigel. She fixated upon the corpse, memorizing every detail. The left leg, bent at the knee, at so unnatural an angle that her gorge rose. The red fluid dribbling from his balaclava and down his neck. She wondered what his face looked like beneath that mask. She wondered if the expression that he wore into death was one of fear, or of pain.

He was laughing when he died.

"It's me, li'l sister. I'm right here."

"How can you be alive? That monster... his sword..."

"I'll always come for you, Apple Bloom. Even if I gotta crawl back from the grave."

I almost killed someone. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her throat burned and ached with every inhalation. If he'd pulled that trigger one less time, I would have killed him.

"Applejack, I'm sorry! I'm so, so—"

"Hush now, quiet now. I gotcha, li'l sister. It's gonna be okay."

Twilight Sparkle stared at the corpse of the man who'd nearly killed her, who she'd nearly killed in turn, and desperately repeated those words to herself. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay.

Something took shape over the body of the soldier, a bespectacled human, cloaked and hooded in black. Fiery red eyes gazed at the body behind his glasses, regarded it expressionlessly. Then, as if noticing her for the first time, his head lifted, and he fixed his gaze upon Twilight. A thin smile curled across his lips.

It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay.

Slowly, the ghostly human shook his head from side to side. No, he mouthed.

Twilight shut her eyes as tightly as she could, willing the phantasm away. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay.

It's gonna be...

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/21/16

-General copyediting and proofreading
-Minor alterations to narration and dialogue
-Snake no longer carries the paperwork out of the tent
-Reduced number of grenades Snake finds from eight to five (four frag, one incendiary)

6. Clients

"You've served your purpose. You may die now!"

In the context of the castle, the term "great hall" was a misnomer. I'm sure it was great, once upon a time, but all I saw was another crumbling ruin cluttered with the out-of-place trappings of modern civilization.

A hall of its size was probably used for social gatherings, feasts. Fittingly, Pegasus Wings had turned it into a mess hall. The path to the dais on the far end of the hall was lined on either side by rows of dirty aluminum benches. A chilly wind blew through one of the long-shattered windows lining the walls, tickling my face and tossing the tails of my bandanna around my head. How the hell the troops ate in a room so exposed to the elements was beyond me. At least the gatehouse had tents.

The dais sat in front of a "U"-shaped alcove, and upon the dais rested a rotted-out, cobweb-covered throne. Assuming it was as old as the rest of the castle (and it suited the crumbling ruin atmosphere far better than the more modern aluminum benches), I couldn't figure out what it was still doing there. According to the others, they'd already replaced the old rope bridge and whatever used to rest on the gatehouse pedestal. Why remove them, and not the throne?

In the alcove behind the throne were a pair of moss-covered windows with only shards of glass stuck in the pane. Built into the right side of the alcove was a tall, wooden door, or rather, the bottom half of one; the top had long ago broken away. Curiously, the door was tall enough to accommodate me. I'd have to duck my head to get under it, but it had significantly more clearance than the size of the ponies it was built to accommodate would suggest. Everyone I'd met until that point was pint-sized, barely coming up to my hip. I think the red one in the barn could meet my stomach, but that was the high water mark for pony height. Comparatively speaking, this door was enormous. Who or what the hell was it built for?

I leaned against the empty windowsill and gazed outside. The sun was almost down by then; the sky was a mix of blues and reds, fading gradually into rich purple. The spectacular height of the great hall gave me a panoramic view of a courtyard far below, one which put the makeshift helipad between the gatehouse and keep to shame. This one was huge, and mostly empty, though the stony remnants of ancient buildings scattered about told me that it wasn't always so spacious. Many of the buildings still retained a semblance of form, but many more had simply been smashed to bits. That accounted for a lot of the rubble, which carpeted large swaths of the courtyard. I got the feeling that some sort of battle took place in that courtyard, one which shattered whatever structures had stood there so long ago.

Even with so much rubble, the size of the courtyard was such that there was enough room to comfortably house several trucks. I saw a flatbed, and a covered truck which I assumed was a troop transport. The courtyard was encircled by a looming curtain wall that was only slightly shorter than the window I stood at. The wall was cracked and weathered, but seemed to have held up rather well over time (or at least, better than most structures in that dump of a castle). Whatever fight took place here seemed to have largely spared that wall. That didn't make much sense, unless the fight was localized entirely in the castle. Maybe it was a Trojan Horse situation. Or an uprising from within that razed most of the buildings.

Off to the right was another partially intact structure: a tall, ring-shaped wall, shiny and black, whose circumference took up an absurdly large percentage of the absurdly large courtyard. I tried to get a glimpse into the ring, but the only entrance I could see was a colonnade of the same color and material as the rest of the wall, perpendicular to my vantage point. The wall looked very much out of place, more elegant than the utilitarian gatehouse and keep. The rest of the castle was clearly built from individual bricks stacked upon one another, but this other wall seemed carved from one giant piece of obsidian. It was seamless, polished even. The dying sunlight glinted off of it.

At the far end of the courtyard was another gatehouse, which vastly outsized the one I'd passed through on my way into the castle. Instead of an enormous set of double doors, however, this gatehouse possessed a pair of portcullises. The one facing the inside of the courtyard was open; past it, I could see the one which separated the gatehouse from the outside world. Through that portcullis, I could see the shadowy treeline of the Everfree Forest. Flanking the gatehouse were two jutting turrets. I held the scope of my rifle to my eye, and saw sentries posted on either turret, one each, both armed with rifles whose states of disrepair would make Master Miller quiver with fury. I thought of the note from before, and wondered just how bad Quartermaster Loomis was at his job.

The first portcullis being open made my job somewhat easier, but I'd still have to circumvent the second somehow. The mechanism to open it had to be inside of the gatehouse, but I couldn't open it without drawing attention to myself. Maybe there was another way?

My mind drifted back to my previous missions, searching for something in my experience that would be relevant. I'd encountered a similar situation on Shadow Moses, when I needed to get through the tank hanger, but I had Meryl to open the hanger door for me then. In this instance, I was on my own. Sure, I could have doubled back and asked one of the ponies for help, but time was a consideration, and backtracking would only eat more of it than I could spare. Besides, in this situation, I doubted that they would have been able to do anything that I couldn't have done by myself, talented as they were.

In any case, inspiration struck when I thought about the duel with Liquid's gunship on the comm tower. I didn't have enough firepower to take him on at that point, so I found a sturdy length of rope and rappelled down the side of the tower to get to a conveniently located Stinger missile launcher. I looked again at the manned turrets and the sturdy wall. Finding my way up there would be easy enough. Knocking out the guards, even easier. Now, all I needed was a rope.

I made a cursory search of the great hall, but I wasn't expecting anything, and found no lucky surprises. Backtracking is a pain and a last resort for me, so I decided to keep moving through the fortress, hoping that I could find either a rope, or some other solution to my dilemma. So out the door I went, back into the chilly Equestrian dusk, and down an enormous and steep flight of stairs. Back in the old days, castles were built by sticking a wooden fort on top of a raised mound; they called it a "mott-and-bailey" fortress. Judging by the height of the keep and the slope of the hill I descended, I'd say that this particular castle was initially constructed under that principle. Everything else – the walls, the gatehouses, the other structures – must have been added over time.

I kept a careful watch on the sentries in the turrets, hiding and ducking behind rubble for cover, but I needn't have worried. They kept their eyes on the forest in front of them, without variation, without fail. I suppose there's something to be said for that kind of dedication, but the whole practice struck me as redundant and silly. There was nothing out there but the staging area, and nothing between the castle and the staging area to look out for. Everfree fauna, maybe? I guess they just didn't see any point in covering the courtyard, since the only entrance into it was adequately covered, or so they probably thought.

Still, given what I'd seen from Pegasus Wings infantry up until that point, the fact that they were performing their duties at all was something else.

I decided to look in the ring-wall first. From a distance, I was struck by the grace evident in its construction, the way it clashed with the rest of the ruin, looking clean and new amidst the keep's decay. But up close, I felt – no, knew, with a certainty that made me nervous – that its appearance was a lie. It was old. The age and scale of the thing struck me; looking at it, I could tell it was a labor of love, a monument to something... or someone... long forgotten. A feeling of almost palpable sacredness radiated from the structure. I recognized the feeling; I'd experienced it before, in the sleek structure that housed the portal on the island base.

I knew, then, that I wouldn't be likely to find a rope in there, and that what I did find would raise more questions and answer none. Metal Gear was still out there, waiting for me, but I felt irrationally compelled to see what was in there with my own eyes.

And, you know, there was always the possibility that what I needed was down there. Remote though it may have been, it was worth checking out, at the very least.

The space inside the ring spiraled downward, with circular rows of what looked like stadium seating flanking me on either side. In front of me was a path that descended down a steep slope into a deep pit, the locus of which was a wide, towering black arch, capped at its apex by a bust of a black unicorn.

It was even more magnificent up close. Its surface shone as though painstakingly polished. No, "polished" implies that it was tarnished. This thing looked as though dirt and grime had never once touched it. Despite its fresh appearance, I knew, instinctively, that it was ancient, as ancient as the ring at the top of the pit. Yet it looked timeless, ageless. Pure.

I rested my hand on it gently, felt the cool, smooth stone beneath my palm. It was as faultless as it was clean; I couldn't feel a scratch upon it. Through all the unknowable years that this thing had lain in this pit, it remained intact, whole, and untouched by the passage of time. How could that be possible? But then, there was precedent for this sort of thing. The arch in the island base, while also clearly ancient, was just as intact as this one.

But there were differences between the two, besides simple color. Now that I was close, I could see the bust at the top in greater detail. The bust on the first arch had been of a white unicorn, gazing serenely at the world before it. This one was black, its eyes shut, its expression mournful.

Tire tracks ran from the entrance of the arch and back up the path I'd just walked down, yet they didn't run through the arch, just out of it. I'd seen the same phenomenon at the other portal.

"There's only one way in and out, right? And we're sitting on it."

So that's what the idiot soldier had meant. Pegasus Wings set up shop here because it was the point where their world – our world – intersected with Equestria. But then, I went through the same portal that they did, back on the island. Yet I had no memory of coming out through this one, slipping through the castle's defenses and out the back door, and winding up in a barn in Ponyville, unconscious and at the mercy of a red horse with an apple tattoo. I figured that Pegasus Wings emerged from the portal in another spot of Equestria, but that matter took a backseat to the mere fact that they were there and posed an immediate threat. Standing face-to-face with that mystery, though, I realized that I didn't know what to think.

"More to the point, the portal has been rigged to disperse the atoms of anybody who attempts to follow us here."

Trenton's words. I'd ignored them at the time; as with the mystery of Pegasus Wings' point of origin, Trenton's remark hadn't seemed worth dwelling on. Thinking on it, though, it sounded as if I should have died when I crossed that threshold. Yet I'd emerged, alive and intact, albeit in a barn. Maybe they rigged it poorly. Maybe, instead of turning my component atoms into nothing, they set it to rearrange me in some random location. That seemed the most likely explanation. Thinking back, Trenton had agreed with me when I pointed out that they'd done their job improperly, that passing through the portal wasn't lethal.

“You passed through here before, but I sent you back. It wasn't your time. It still isn't.”

Or maybe it was. That hallucination, The Sorrow, spoke to me as though I'd died once before. Could I have died crossing the portal into Equestria after all? Could he have "sent me back," so to speak, because it just wasn't my time? Up until then, I'd considered The Sorrow a hallucination, a fantasy brought on by an overtaxed mind, fueled by a potent nerve toxin. But seeing that arch turned my world upside-down, put all options back on the table. Suddenly, intervention on the part of a smugly grinning ghost seemed plausible.

I was jarred out of my ruminations by a sharp, yet furtive, "psst!" coming from above me. Startled, I drew Lucky Number SeveN and leveled it at a curiously low-hanging cloud that was almost directly over my head.

"Oh, put that away!" hissed a raspy voice. A rainbow-crowned blue head poked over the edge of the cloud and frowned at me. "Those things'll put your eye out!"

"Rainbow Dash." I lowered the gun and released a sigh of exasperation. Of all the ponies to tail me after I'd thought I'd parted ways with them for good, it had to be the least tolerable of the bunch. Pinkie Pie, even, would be an improvement. And how did she expect me to put an eye out with my own gun? It was a pistol, not a Red Ryder BB Gun. "What are you doing here?"

"What?" hissed Rainbow Dash. She cupped a hoof over her ear. "Speak up; I can barely hear you."

Not surprising; low-hanging as her cloud was, its altitude was several times my own height. Raising my voice ran the risk of alerting the castle's few sentries to my presence, and I didn't want to risk that just to accommodate the world's worst pony. I told her that, as patiently as I could.

Rainbow Dash did not appreciate my patience. "You're going to have to speak up," she hissed.

Of all the... Unable to articulate my exasperation with words, I pressed my fingertips hard against my cloth-covered forehead and grumbled.

"Fine, fine. I'll come to you." The beating noise of tiny wings grew closer and closer, until a slight gust of displaced air washed over me.

"There," said Rainbow Dash, glaring sternly at me. "You happy now?"

I returned the look with my hand still cupping my forehead. "Ecstatic. Now, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I've been tailing you from the sky ever since you stepped into that first courtyard." she explained, her voice still bearing a sharp edge. "I came out here to ask you why all three of you went into the castle's main building, and only you came out the other side."

"There was a fork in the road. We split up."

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow. "Are you down here looking for Apple Bloom?"

"No, we found out where she was. Applejack and Twilight are getting her out as we speak."

Rainbow Dash lowered her brow and narrowed her eyes. "So why aren't you with them?"

"Because there was someplace else I had to be." I was starting to think that walking down that path to this secluded archway had been a bad idea. Rainbow Dash would not have had the gall to confront me in the open, with the sharpshooters keeping watch, meaning I'd have been spared another tedious tactical debate. Maybe that arch had a will, and putting me under its thrall was just part of a scheme to piss me off.

"We discussed this in the forest. I'm on a mission, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember that," said Rainbow Dash, the edge in her voice sharpening considerably. "I also remember you agreeing to help us rescue Apple Bloom, but you went ahead and ditched us the first chance you got."

"I didn't 'ditch' anyone. I suggested that we split up, and they agreed. I'll go on through the forest to the staging area to finish the mission, while you and yours get Apple Bloom out of here."

Her angry expression faltered, and she looked blank for a few moments, before incredulity crossed her features. "You suggested splitting up?" she asked. "And they agreed?"

I nodded curtly.

Incredulity gave way to anger, and she rose into the air, wings flapping furiously. "That wasn't the deal," she snapped. "You were supposed to help us get her out of here, which means that you were supposed to stay with us until she was safe. None of this 'splitting up' pile of horseapples."

"The situation's changed." I pointed off into the distance, in the general direction of the portcullis leading to the rest of the forest. "Metal Gear could be ready to fire at any moment. If I'm to have any hope of stopping it, I need to go, and I need to go now."

"So you're just gonna abandon my friends? Turn your back on us after all we've done to help you?!" The pegasus jabbed a hoof at me accusingly. "What if they get caught before they make it out of the castle?"

"Caught by what?" I flung my hands up, opened my arms wide. "Who's there to stop them? The only resistance they could possibly meet is unconscious."

"Did you forget that we were practically invited in here?" Rainbow Dash punched one hoof into the other. "Trenton told us to come, made it as easy as possible to get in – why?"

"Why don't you tell me, since you're an expert on tactical infiltration all of a sudden?"

"You're supposed to be the expert," she retorted. "But you can't even see that Trenton made it possible for us to get in, and he's going to make it impossible for us to get back out! This is a trap!"

As if I hadn't considered that exact possibility. As if I hadn't sprung a hundred traps before, knowingly and unknowingly.

"Some traps are unavoidable," I said. "Sometimes, you have to spring them, and make it look like you blundered into them so that the enemy lets their guard down." I turned away from her, and began to climb the ramp that led back to the courtyard.

Rainbow Dash, however, was not finished with me. She darted over my head and landed in front of me, her wings splayed and her back flattened. "Maybe," she said. "But if you're going to do that, then you better damn well make sure you can fight your way out of that trap. And as much as I hate to admit it, our odds are better when you're with us than with you gone."

"This is bigger than you and your friends." I stared her down, meeting her outrage with a cool and steady gaze. "None of what we've done today will be good for a thing if Metal Gear goes online."

"Snake." Rainbow Dash's voice sounded plaintive now, and her expression softened to match her tone. "That trap, whatever it is... if it springs on my friends, then they could die."

My stomach knotted as her words sunk in. I'd watched whole fire teams gunned down, sat back in my cover and waited for the chop to die down while men and women dropped before my eyes. I'd listened to Jack babble in fear about a SEAL team being blown to bits by Fortune, and I didn't feel a damn thing. There was a disconnect in all of those instances, though. It's different when a comrade dies. It's different when someone you know, personally, lays the losing card on the battlefield.

I could deal with it. Maybe Rainbow Dash couldn't. I empathized with her; I'd been green once too, lost friends and didn't know how to handle it. But this wasn't Desert Storm.

"And how many lives would be saved if I took out Metal Gear before it fired? If your friends' lives are the price of stopping a nuclear apocalypse, then so be it. I'll live with their deaths on my conscience." Leaning forward, towering over her, I asked, "Can you live with the deaths of thousands on yours?"

That froze her. She didn't reply for several moments. Figuring the discussion over, I stepped around her and continued on my way up the ramp. I didn't hear any sign of pursuit for the first few steps, and fooled myself into thinking that Rainbow Dash had chosen to leave me alone after that. Then came the sound of hooves beating rapidly against stone, growing louder as she drew closer to me.

"You know somethin', Snake?" Rainbow Dash's hoofbeats cut off, replaced again by the sound of her wings beating, fanning cool air over my shoulder. "I'm getting pretty sick of that attitude of yours."

"'Attitude?'" I swatted half-heartedly in her direction, but my hand didn't make contact, which only served to frustrate me more. "I'm trying to save your damn country from destruction. If you don't like that I have an 'attitude' about it, then go back to your friends and don't deal with it anymore."

Rainbow Dash wove in front of me again and pressed a hoof against my chest. She pushed, putting enough weight behind herself to stop me from taking another step. It wasn't enough to set me off, but it did get me mad.

"You shut up and listen," she said. "We've done a lot for you so far, enough to earn a little bit of respect. So I don't know where you get off treating us like we're just corpses in the final body count."

"Were you listening to a word I said?" I asked in a low growl. I placed my hand on Rainbow Dash's hoof and firmly pushed it off of my chest. "Metal Gear could fire at any moment. I stop to help your friends out of whatever trap's waiting for them, and we lose everything. You care more about yourselves than preventing a holocaust? Fine." I jabbed a finger into her face, centimeters away from her eyes. "But stay the hell out of my way."

Rainbow Dash's eyes crossed, focusing on my finger. She clenched her jaw, bared her teeth, swatted my hand away, and struck me across the cheek with the back of her hoof.

I held my cheek where she'd struck me, pain throbbing beneath my touch. Her hoof was like a rock, and she had a hell of a lot more muscle backing her punch than I'd have thought by looking at her. It was impressive.

It was also enough to set me off.

I aimed a haymaker at her face, but she dodged to my right, accidentally exposing her stomach as she fluttered away. Seizing the moment, I swung a left hook at her, and this time, my fist sank into her belly. She expelled a pained breath, but, unbowed, jabbed me hard in the chin, splitting my lip against my teeth. She jabbed again, but I wasn't so stunned that I didn't see it coming, and I caught her midway up her foreleg. I swung her, up and over my head, and threw her hard against the stony slope behind us. She rolled down the ramp, and I drew my M9, leveling it at her as she came to a halt.

Rainbow Dash scrambled back to her hooves. She panted, her chest heaving with every inhalation. Warm, sticky blood ran from my lip and down my stubbly chin. We stared at each other; she, silently daring me to take the shot, and I, daring her to test my shooting reflexes.

But neither of us moved, and the stand-off stretched on, until the rumbling, mechanical cough of an engine cut through the silence that hung between us. I glanced over my shoulder, tilting my head in the direction of the noise. "Do you hear that?" I whispered, tasting the tang of my blood.

Rainbow Dash cocked her ear. She didn't take advantage of my lapse in attention, so I assumed that meant she was listening too. The engine was idling now, and the steady, reverberating beat was joined by a cacophony of rusty, metallic clanking noises. The portcullis, I thought. The engine roared to life again, and I heard the sound of tires crushing ground underfoot, then the scraping of brakes kicking in.

I looked back at Rainbow Dash, gauging her intent. She looked past me, at the top of the ramp, the direction where the noise had come from. There wasn't any point in continuing to fight after that interruption, so I holstered the gun and ran back up to the ring-wall's entrance. Pressing myself against one of the burnished black columns framing the entrance, I leaned out ever so slightly, peeking at a covered truck that had just pulled into the courtyard.

The portcullis, which had opened to allow the truck in, slammed shut immediately with a hideous shriek that grated on my ears. Out of the covered back end of the truck came a group of soldiers, five in all, filing out in an orderly fashion and forming a single-file rank beside the truck. Oddly professional of them. Behavior like that could only be expected from a military unit which met basic competency standards, a feat which I'd thought beyond the Pegasus Wings infantry. I guess I really had just been seeing the dregs of the unit.

I heard the cabin doors open and slam shut, and saw a figure disembark from the driver's side, though I couldn't make him out clearly with a wall of soldiers blocking my view. The distant sounds of conversation carried over to where I was. I remembered the directional microphone that Pinkie Pie had somehow retrieved, drew it, and affixed the accompanying earbud.

I felt the gentle rustle of air being displaced beside me, and knew that Rainbow Dash had decided to be a looky-loo. As long as she stayed out of sight and didn't take another swing at me, she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

"...have your assignments," said a deep voice, rich with an English accent. "Stick to 'em. That'll be all, now. Get on with it."

"Sir!" said the soldiers in unison, snapping off crisp salutes. Two immediately turned and jogged to the keep, cradling their AK-47s in their arms. The remaining two moved out of sight, heading toward the spot where, I recalled, the other two trucks were. With the soldiers out of the way, I got my first decent look at the man who'd spoken. He was tall, thickly muscled, and wore a navy blue T-shirt beneath his body armor, and a ballcap bearing some sort of insignia that I couldn't make out (I guessed it to be the Pegasus Wings sigil). In one hand was a submachine gun of some sort, and I squinted hard to get a look at it.

"Looks like an HK MP-7," I murmured.

"What's that mean?" whispered Rainbow Dash. She peeked out at the courtyard from a vantage point behind my leg.

"Advanced gun," I said, using the simplest possible terms to explain. "More cutting-edge than what we've seen so far from these clowns."

Another voice came over the earbud; it was fainter and more distorted, but clearly higher in pitch than the muscular Englishman's. "Make no mistake; I'm glad that Mr. Trenton called us over here, but I worry that we'll fall behind schedule."

The Englishman looked over his shoulder to reply. "If we do, it'll be by a matter of minutes. Insignificant. Besides, it's not as if we're keeping to anyone's schedule besides our own."

"You sound less than enthused," said the other voice, coming through louder now. A shape on four legs came into view, trotting around the front of the truck and coming to a rest beside the Englishman. It was a haggered, emaciated old gray earth pony with a long, unruly gray beard that nicely contrasted with the clean-shaven face of his human contemporary, and a matching tangle of gray mane. His left eye was milky and glazed over, and I could make out a faint scar running vertically through it. There wasn't anything on his ass where the other ponies had tattoos; nothing but a patch of pale, bare skin that was tinted slightly red. Maybe he'd had his removed.

"Macbeth?" whispered Rainbow Dash.

I nodded, swallowing. "He's got the revolutionary look down pat," I remarked. "Nice to see some stereotypes transcend borders."

"The guy with him," said Rainbow Dash. "Must be that Commander Cain."

"Must be."

Macbeth and Cain turned and walked, side-by-side, to the keep. "Looking forward to meeting the prisoners?" Macbeth asked, sounding casual.

Cain snorted. "More looking forward to asking Trenton how he got my XO killed. He can tell me all about it while they're offing 'em down here."

My heart skipped a beat.

Rainbow Dash whacked me over the head with a wing. "You can hear them through that, can't you?" she hissed. "What're they saying?!"

I glared at her briefly, then turned my attention back to Cain and Macbeth. "That'd be that trap you were so worried about. They're talking about meeting the prisoners."

"Prisoners?" Rainbow Dash said, her voice cracking. "As in more than one prisoner?"

"Yeah," I sighed. Macbeth and Cain were out of sight now, and I couldn't pick up anything else on the D-mic, so I put it away and looked down into the mussed and concerned face of Rainbow Dash. "Guess they got the others. It sounds like they're planning to stick them down in the courtyard and execute them."

"What?!" Concern bloomed into full-blown fear. "Then we've got to do something!"

The steady, rusty clanking of the portcullis, followed by the truck's motor roaring to life, reverberated in my ear again. I peered out from my cover, and saw the truck backing out of the castle's gate slowly. "Why didn't they just park outside and send the personnel in?" I muttered, thinking out loud. "Could've saved themselves the hassle of—"

"Would you focus?!" Rainbow Dash snapped.

"It's just odd, is all," I said, leaning back into cover. I unslung the sniper rifle and cycled the bolt halfway, then looked at Rainbow Dash. "Looks like you got your wish." Her quizzical expression prompted me to elaborate. "If I want to move on and finish this mission, I'm going to have to help your friends out of this mess. Help you, help myself." I glanced into the breech to ensure there was a round chambered and slammed it shut.

"And that's all that matters to you, huh?" Rainbow Dash asked acidly. "Helping yourself?"

"If it were, I would never have come to Equestria in the first place," I replied. "Much less, stuck with you for as long as I have." Leaning out of cover, I raised the rifle's scope to my eye and set the crosshairs over the sentry in the right turret. He was leaning over the wall facing the forest, gesturing to someone below. Truck driver, probably. Maybe he was giving the guy directions?

I turned to place the crosshairs over the sentry in the other tower. He still faced the courtyard, resting his useless Springfield on his shoulder. "How are they playing this? Execution by firing squad, maybe have the sentries... but no, there're only two snipers for five targets, assuming they aren't executing the children. Want to make it numerically even, or else they'd panic whoever didn't get shot straight away. Make it harder to get a clean shot. Maybe that's why they trucked in those extra troops... then again, there's already a small garrison at the base. Enough for a firing squad, no doubt. So what's the point?"

"I think the point of it matters less than the fact that they're doing it," said Rainbow Dash.

Had I been talking to myself? I suppose I've just grown so used to having Otacon on an open channel over the years that I think out loud out of habit. I returned to cover, leaning the rifle against the wall beside me. Rainbow Dash was getting twitchy; her feathers rustled and her right front hoof tapped rhythmically against the cobblestone.

"If they're bringing your friends down to the courtyard to execute them, then we might be able to effect a rescue," I said. "First, though, something needs to be done about those snipers."

"You've got a gun," Rainbow Dash pointed out snidely.

"An unsuppressed gun," I said. I drew the M9 and held it out for her to examine. "This is the only weapon I have that can take them out silently, and it's an impossible shot to make from here."

Rainbow Dash snorted and rolled her eyes. "Thought you were supposed to be a badass."

I frowned, mildly stung by her barb, but mostly annoyed with her ignorance. "Quick lesson on guns, Rainbow," I said, holstering the M9 again. "Pistols are good for close and medium-range encounters, not for sharpshooting. At this range, the M9's useless. And this," I added, indicating the M24, "is perfectly suited for a shot like that, but it's conspicuous. I'd get one shot, and that'd bring the whole base down on us."

"Afraid to fight your way out?"

"Our only advantage is the element of surprise. We waste that, and we're as dead as the others." I glanced out of cover again. The other trucks, the flatbed and the covered one that were parked in the courtyard when I first passed through, were now passing beneath the portcullis. But for the ruined bits of castle dotting the area, the courtyard was now completely empty. Maybe they moved the trucks out to avoid the possibility of shooting them by mistake?

"Hmm." I cupped my chin in my hand, running my thumb along my jawline as I thought. If they sent the captured ponies into the courtyard, accompanied by a firing squad, I'd have to break cover and draw their fire. As soon as I did, the snipers would take me down, rendering the whole thing pointless. Snipers, I could handle. A firing squad, I could handle. Not together. No way to take out the snipers without drawing the rest of the personnel's attention. Might delay, or even ruin, the execution, but slim chance of making it out alive, myself. Other options?

I glanced at the frustrated cyan pony who'd bloodied my nose. She'd done a decent job as a scout before, managed to stay hidden. Might have been a fluke, given the understaffed nature of the base. Then again, maybe she was just that good. And she had that cloud manipulation ability. Couldn't argue against its usefulness.

Rainbow Dash shifted uncomfortably and averted her eyes. "Would you quit staring at me?" she muttered.

Odd; she didn't strike me as the self-conscious type. I briefly thought of Meryl, then dropped the thought with a shudder as I remembered what a pain in the ass the self-conscious type was to work with. "Don't flatter yourself," I said, rising to my feet and taking hold of the M24. She had a retort coming, but I cut her off before she could get the words out of her mouth. "It doesn't look like I'm gonna be able to take out those sentries. It'll have to be you."

"Me?" Her eyes widened, her body stiffened, and her unfurled wings drooped. "What, you mean – you mean kill them?" she stammered, her voice cracking on "kill".

"You don't have to." She seemed to relax a little. "At least, it isn't necessary. If you know a sleeper hold..." She shook her head. I considered. "A sharp enough blow to the head or the jaw should knock 'em out, if you think you can manage one."

"'Manage?'" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," I said. "You got some shots in on me, and the worst you did was split my lip. Think you can do better on them?"

Rainbow Dash tightened her lips and narrowed her eyes. "When this is over," she muttered, "you and I are going another round."

"One thing at a time," I said, nodding knowingly. "Get going, and make it quick. And don't worry; if anything goes wrong, I'll be watching from right here."

"And if it were anypony but you, that'd be a relief." Rainbow Dash turned and fluttered down the ramp, back to the cloud she'd ridden in on. I turned back to the exit, dropped to my belly, crawled into the middle of the walkway, and pressed as closely as I could to the ground. In broad daylight, the poor camouflage might have meant my end, but hopefully, visibility was low enough to conceal me.

I rested the rifle's stock against my right shoulder, held the barrel steady in my left hand, and peered through the scope, running the crosshairs first over the sharpshooters in the turrets, then over the entrance to the keep.

Not much time on the clock, I thought grimly. Rainbow Dash had better pull through.

"Twilight?"

Twilight Sparkle blinked, and the ghostly vision was gone. She was back in the dank, feculent dungeon, with her friend, a filly, and a human corpse for company. It was like the set-up to a bad joke.

"Yeah," said Twilight. Surprised at how raspy and hoarse her voice sounded, she cleared her throat and shook her head. "Yeah, sorry. What were you... what were you saying?"

Applejack exchanged a look of concern with her sister, then turned it upon Twilight. "I said that we need to be on our way. We've still got a job t'do, an' all that."

Twilight nodded absently, muttering an affirmative. Her gaze drifted over the human guard's corpse, at the unnaturally bent leg and the concave wound in his head.

He was laughing when he died.

"Twilight...?" Applejack trotted to her side. Hesitantly, she extended a hoof toward her friend. "You in there, sugarcube?

Twilight jerked away, wrenching her gaze away from the body. "I'm fine," she said quickly. Her heart hammered in her chest, her legs trembled, and she struggled to steady her breathing. "Just fine."

"Twi...?"

Twilight shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm fine, alright? I just – you're right, we need to get going. Like Snake said, we should get back to Ponyville and send a message to the princess."

"Snake?" asked Apple Bloom, sounding hopeful. "Snake's here too?"

"We separated a li'l while ago," said Applejack, "but he helped us get down here to rescue you." To Twilight, she asked "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes," Twilight sniffed. Tears pooled behind shut eyelids, stinging her eyes, and she slowly released a long, staggering breath.

Shake this off, Twilight. Finish this crisis, and...

A phantom gunshot rang out in her mind, followed by the wet, splattering noise of a man's brains landing against the ground.

...and then worry about ever being able to look your friends in the eye again.

"I'll lead the way," she said softly. Her horn glowed with the same dim, purple light that had led them into the dungeon, and she strode upon trembling legs toward the stairwell. "Stay close behind me, girls."

There was no conversation as they ascended the stairs, the silence disturbed only by the soft clopping of their hooves against the stone steps. The eerie stillness was somewhat calming to Twilight, who, freed from the disturbing atmosphere of the dungeon, found herself lost in her own thoughts.

She'd told Applejack that casual killing was something that she wanted to avoid. Her attempt at shooting the guard hadn't been casual; there was no question that it was in self-defense. She knew it. Applejack, evidently, knew it, given how well she was taking her own act of killing. And the gun had been empty anyway. There was no blood on her hooves.

But I did it without hesitating. Even if she hadn't actually shot the human, the intent was there. I may as well have killed him myself.

It was irrational, she realized, to hold herself morally culpable for something that never happened. It was necessary. It was kill-or-be-killed. And I didn't even kill him, Applejack did. But her justifications rang cold and hollow, and her guilt was not so easily dismissed.

She could only wonder how Applejack felt, if this was another facade for her own benefit, or if she felt as sick with herself for killing the human as Twilight felt for almost killing him.

It wasn't long before they reached the top of the stairwell. Twilight ascended the final steps and came into the keep's antechamber, lost in her thoughts and oblivious to the world around her. Applejack's sharp cry of surprise snapped her out of her stupor in time to see a Pegasus Wings soldier on her right leveling his rifle at her. On her left was another; they must have pressed themselves against the walls beside the stairwell entrance to avoid detection. And she, so wrapped up in her ruminations, completely missed it.

Stupid, she berated herself. Stupid, careless, irresponsible.

"Stay where you are," the soldier on her right commanded her.

Twilight's aura intensified. A brilliant burst of pink shot from the tip of her horn and struck the soldier in the chest, knocking him backward into one of the fluorescent lamps. Both tumbled to the ground, one of the lamp's bulbs shattering upon impact.

There was a sharp crack, the sound of bone shattering. Twilight whirled, and saw the other soldier doubled over in pain, clutching his pelvis, Applejack standing with her back to him. The soldier dropped to the floor and lay on his side, curled into himself and gasping breathlessly.

"Trap," said Applejack. "Looks like Rainbow was right."

"Yeah." Twilight turned the the double doors that led to the makeshift helipad. "We need to book it. Keep Apple Bloom close." She inhaled sharply, dug her hoof against the floor—

The doors burst inward, their sudden motion and loud creaking startling Twilight into stillness. Into the antechamber came Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. Rarity looked dejected, Fluttershy terrified, and Pinkie Pie wore an apologetic smile. Towering over the three of them was Trenton, his burning eye focused upon Twilight alone. Slung under his left arm was a little bundle of purple and green, whose plump face was frozen in an expression of terror, and whose wide, green eyes darted fretfully around the room, before landing on Twilight and lingering there.

Twilight's breath caught.

The shock of seeing Spike in Trenton's clutches was enough to wipe away any and all traces of guilt and trauma. She didn't see the human with his broken leg and skull; she didn't feel revulsion at what she'd nearly done to him. All she saw was Spike in the arms of a monster. All she felt was an overriding need to protect him.

Perhaps this is what Applejack was talking about.

Trenton drew his sword and placed the blade beneath Spike's chin. "This cuts matter at the molecular level," said Trenton, his voice perfectly conversational. "Your friends may not know what that means, but I know that you do."

All eyes were on the baby dragon, all save Twilight's, which burned white-hot at Trenton.

"I've long wondered whether that means it is capable of cutting through dragon hide," Trenton continued. "I theorize that it would. Stand down, or we will find out together."

The glow enveloping Twilight's horn shone brighter, and her mane and tail billowed, caught up in a shimmering purple whirlwind that swirled around her body. A low, unsettling hum began to fill the room. All the while, Trenton stared, unmoving, his blade millimeters from Spike's neck.

"Twilight," Spike whimpered. "Please."

Spike's pitiable, frightened tone, and the pleading look in his eye, pierced the armor of Twilight's outrage. The blind anger that overtook her slipped away, and the heavy weight of the day's events again settled onto her shoulders.

I'm sorry, Spike. But I can't risk losing you.

The storm of her aura died down; her mane and tail hung limp and unkempt, and she lowered her gaze to the floor. Trenton pulled his blade away from Spike's throat, and the dragon released a quiet sigh of relief.

Applejack spat. "Dirty coward. Hidin' behind children's all yer good for."

"The tactic works," said Trenton. He pointed his sword at the corridor which led to the great hall. "Walk. Make no move to escape, or we will revisit my theory."

Unable to look her friends in the eye, Twilight, head bowed, simply did as she was told.

By the guardsponies' accounts, Macbeth was supposed to be a bold and charismatic revolutionary. He may well have been, but to Twilight, he certainly didn't look the part.

The scruffy, unwashed gray earth pony stood on the dais at the far end of the great hall, in front of the old throne. At his side stood a tall, heavily muscled human in a black T-shirt and blue combat vest, a Pegasus Wings ballcap on his head. In one hand, he held a gun that was larger than the pistol Snake had used, but smaller than the soldiers' rifles. The human leaned against the alcove wall, staring disinterestedly out the window. The old pony saw them, and curled his chapped and cracked lips into a pensive frown.

"Five intruders," said Macbeth. His decrepit appearance did not match his voice, which transformed every spoken word into a velvety purr. "Five intruders, for six elements. Mr. Trenton, forgive my skepticism, but I just don't know that these ponies are who you said they were."

Trenton knows who we are? But of course he did, after the way he spoke to her before.

How, though? Despite their status as three-time saviors of Equestria, she and her friends enjoyed a quiet life of anonymity in rural Ponyville. It was rare that somepony outside of their hometown recognized them; even among the Canterlot elite, they were simply nameless country folk. But Trenton knew who she was by sight. And that didn't make a great deal of sense.

"I assure you," said Trenton, "these are five of the six bearers of the Elements of Harmony."

So Trenton knew who they all were – or at least, he knew enough about Twilight to make an educated guess about the others' identities. She could write off his knowledge of the Elements of Harmony; Macbeth could easily have told him about. But he'd also been in exile for years; there'd be no way for him to know who the current bearers were. Trenton did, by sight. And that made very little sense.

She noted that Trenton and his employers did not seem to consider Spike an intruder, then noted with a jolt of shock that Trenton failed to mention Snake entirely. She glanced over her shoulder at the ninja, whose fiery blue gaze stared straight ahead at Macbeth.

What is he playing at?

"You said you had a complete set," said the human in a bored (yet strikingly accented) voice. "There's five of them; there ought to be six. Maybe you've got the wrong ponies."

"These are the same ponies I encountered in the forest – Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy – the Elements of Magic, Generosity, Honesty, Laughter, and Kindness, respectively," said Trenton. "Where the Element of Loyalty, Rainbow Dash, has gone, I know not."

Rarity's eyes lit up. "That showboat?" she said primly, tossing her head and throwing her mane about her shoulders. "She simply couldn't stand that she was part of the rearguard and decided to be a drama queen about it. We came to the conclusion that it would be best for everypony involved if she just left."

"Oh yeah," Pinkie said in a long, thick drawl, rolling her eyes. "I mean, Rainbow Dash has her bad days – I call those days 'Gildays' – but she just totally lost it this time."

Rarity and Pinkie Pie glanced expectantly at Fluttershy. After a few moments of nervous stuttering, she managed a timid nod. "She had... hurt feelings."

Hurt feelings? Losing control? Ditching us because of an argument with Rarity? Twilight crinkled her nose. That doesn't sound like Rainbow Dash at all.

"Not that it particularly matters," Rarity added. "We do have an able replacement. Do we not, Spikey-Wikey?" She flashed the hapless baby dragon under Trenton's arm a comforting smile, and he, despite himself, returned it a little.

"Sixth member of their gang buggered off," the human remarked. He turned to regard the group directly for the first time. He looked old, maybe slightly older than Snake (though Twilight admittedly hadn't seen enough humans to make anything more than an educated guess on the subject), and his face, unlike Snake's, was hairless. "No telling what she knows. If she talks, that'll definitely complicate matters. No way we can let ourselves fall behind schedule now."

Macbeth nodded without looking at him. "Agreed. However, for now, I believe I am satisfied regarding the identities of our prisoners." He hopped off of the dais and trotted toward the prisoners, coming to a halt a few paces away from the assembled group. His left eye was damaged, blind, but his right was amber, with a wide, wild look to it.

"So. I know who you are." The stink of his breath forced Twilight to breathe through her mouth. Quiet sounds of disgust, and heavy breathing, told her that her friends had a similar reaction. To have such fetid breath as to disgust ponies standing so far away was downright impressive.

Macbeth didn't seem to care about their reactions. "However, there's still the matter of my introductions. I am called Macbeth, late of Celestia's cabinet, last Equestrian Secretary of War. You may or may not have heard of me. If there's one thing in this world which Celestia loves more than tea, it's airtight control over the history books. The gentleman behind me is Commander Alistair Cain, of the Pegasus Wings army, a mercenary unit which has pledged its loyalty to my cause."

Cain nodded at them, then turned his attention back to the window.

"And you have, of course, already met Mr. Trenton, the freelance specialist who brokered our arrangement."

Twilight looked over her shoulder at Trenton, to see if he had any sort of reaction to his introduction, but he stood perfectly still, at attention.

"Together," said Macbeth, drawing himself up proudly, "we aim to force an end to Equestria's thousand year history of unbroken autocratic rule." He threw a grin over his shoulder at Cain. "Isn't that right, Commander?"

Cain murmured in agreement, shrugged, and continued to stare out the window.

Never had Twilight met somepony with so little regard for Princess Celestia, or the golden age her reign had brought about. A thousand years of unbroken autocratic rule meant a thousand years of peace and prosperity. Little in the way of war, or internal conflict, and an economic bounty that benefited all citizens everywhere, under the watchful eye of a benevolent ruler. Who, in their right mind, would want to put an end to that?

But I guess I shouldn't assume that he's in his "right mind," should I?

"Let me get this straight," said Twilight. She pulled back a pace, hoping to gain some relief from the mad revolutionary's breath. "Equestria exists in a state of utopia, which has persisted across a millenium, and you not only think that this is a bad thing, but you want to put an end to it?"

"Oh, it sounds silly when you put it that way," Macbeth chuckled, shaking his head.

"It doesn't just sound silly," said Twilight. "It's madness. We're in a golden age. Why the hay would anypony want to tamper with that?"

"Equestria has prospered, I do not deny that," said Macbeth, nodding. "But consider this: our nation is now as it was fifty years ago, and it was then as it was five hundred years ago. The evolution of our society has plateaued, and there is no change in sight." His intact eye flashed, and his grin widened dangerously. "I intend to force that change."

"But you just said that things were fine the way that they are," said Pinkie Pie, tilting her head. "If things are dandy, why mess with 'em?"

"Because the world continues to change," said Macbeth. "And we do not change with it. And if we continue, dead in the water as we are, then the world will eventually evolve beyond our capacity to adapt to it."

"We've known peace for a thousand years," Twilight said skeptically. "I don't think that's liable to change anytime soon."

"What you call 'peace,' I call 'stagnation,'" said Macbeth. His voice was cool and calm, and his every word sounded deliberate, as though rehearsed. He might have been planning to give this speech for a long time.

Or maybe he's given it before.

"Change never comes of its own accord, Ms. Sparkle." Macbeth drew in a deep breath before he continued speaking. "This truth is written into our very history as a nation. Unless we will the change that Equestria needs into being, our society will remain static for all time. The pattern of change, of forced adaptation, must continue."

"Yer really gonna lecture Twilight about history?" asked Applejack. "Ain't a contest of wits that yer likely to win, partner."

"The facts need no interpretation; they are what they are," said Macbeth. "One thousand years ago, Princess Luna attempted to seize the throne for herself. Conflict ensued, and Equestria was changed. Before that, Luna and Celestia cast down the demon Discord, and Equestria was changed. And untold eons before that, Discord wrested Equestria from the rule of the god-emperor, and Equestria was changed. Every iteration of our civilization came about as a response to a world-changing conflict; each time, we fought, we struggled, and we were forced to adapt."

"The god-emperor?" thought Twilight. What does that even mean? No history she was familiar with went much farther back than the union of the three races and the founding of Equestria, though granted, there were gaps in that history attributed to the rise of Discord. If he was referencing some event which predated Equestria itself, it was nothing with which she was familiar. Her mind was a vast repository of arcane and historical knowledge, perhaps rivaling even that of the Canterlot library. Pig-headed as it made her feel to think it, if she wasn't familiar with it, it likely didn't exist. There was no "god-emperor" in Equestrian history, and while the Princesses may have fit that bill, they never proclaimed themselves as such.

"All this, of course, is to say that conflict is the greatest agent of change," Macbeth added. "This I am quite certain in. Meeting Commander Cain, and learning the history of his world, only confirmed my belief."

Cain released a minute, disgruntled sigh. "You wanna leave me out of this?" he grumbled.

"He's a fucking chickenshit retard," Captain Case had said of Macbeth. Twilight found herself beginning to agree with him. The Macbeth standing in front of her, speechifying with abandon, was a marked contrast to the charismatic revolutionary she'd overheard the guardsponies describing. Still, Macbeth feeding them his story and philosophy might have its benefits – "know thy enemy" was a cynical expression, but not an unwise one.

"Is this why you staged that revolt in Stalliongrad, all those years ago?" asked Twilight.

Macbeth's eye focused on Twilight, and his grin turned wolfish. "One among the Elements has heard of me," he purred. "Celestia is losing her touch. Though whatever you've been told about me, I doubt it's the complete story."

His tone and continued disrespect for the Princess drew a shudder from Twilight.

"Long before I met Cain, and learned of his human army," said Macbeth, "I raised a cadre of followers and assailed a very specific location in Stalliongrad, in order to bring about the change that I longed for." He rounded on Twilight, leaning close enough to her face that her horn poked noticeably into his forehead. She tried to back away from him, but he pressed closer, digging her horn deeper and breaking the skin.

"Do you know why I chose Stalliongrad, specifically, to launch my revolution?" whispered Macbeth. The stink of his breath was inescapable now, and Twilight's disgust was further compounded when she noticed a thin trickle of blood running down the length of her horn. "I'm waiting, Ms. Sparkle."

All eyes, even that of Trenton and those of the bored Commander Cain, were on Twilight as she stammered out a sub-audible "No".

"Because it is a symbol," hissed Macbeth. He pulled away, dislodging Twilight's horn. The gash in his forehead was not deep, but blood dripped down his muzzle all the same. "A symbol of Celestia's devotion to her static regime. Thirty-seven years ago, in the midst of a dispute with the griffons over settling rights north of Griffonstone, Princess Celestia vanished. I stepped in as regent and mobilized our armies for a preemptive strike. By the time she returned from wherever she had gone, the disputed zone was a tinderbox, ready to ignite. All it would take was a single shot."

"Now, that's as poor a fabrication as I've ever heard," sniffed Rarity. "Tension with the griffons all those years ago is common knowledge, but as to your embellishment about the Princess disappearing? I may not be a scholarly as Twilight, but I know quite well that none of what you're saying—"

"The Princess tells you it didn't happen!" roared Macbeth, suddenly livid. "All information regarding her disappearance was suppressed to prevent the population from panicking, and to avoid alerting the griffons to a weakness they could exploit! At the time, nopony in the cabinet knew what had happened, but she was gone, and in her absence, I rose to the occasion!" Macbeth angrily smacked his chest with his hoof. "I served Equestria as its highest civilian officer, bypassing the legions of distant relations making up the royal family through whom the line of succession ran. Not one of them could ever have driven our great engine of war to victory. Not one of them had the vision or the tactical acumen to overcome the griffons. So I took power, to wage the conflict which would usher in the next evolution of our society! And then..."

He dropped his voice to a low, rumbling whisper. "Then she returned. Said nothing of her whereabouts, nothing of the time she had lost. But whatever happened to her, wherever she went, it was enough to change her mind entirely about the use of military force. She unilaterally withdrew our forces from the griffons' borders and stripped me of my title for what she called 'taking unnecessary liberties'." He spat. "Two years later, that pacifistic drivel she called the Pax Equestria took effect."

The Pax Equestria. Twilight knew the accord well. In the wake of that territorial dispute, Celestia declared that Equestria could never live up to its ideals of peace and universal friendship so long as it maintained standing army. She decreed that Equestria forever forsook war as a means unto an end, as a way of life, and disbanded the military. Many ranking officers and members of the infantry found their way into the Royal Guard, or into other civilian militia bodies, but as a national institution, the military simply did not exist.

And life is better for it, thought Twilight. We're untroubled by our neighbors; we've enjoyed good relations with them. The griffons, the minotaurs, the zebras. The yaks remain recalcitrant, but they'll come around sooner or later. The Pax Equestria has done more for the security of the country in thirty-five years than the military ever did in a thousand.

And Macbeth wanted to undo that, to enact the military, and war, as an institution. All in the name of progress.

"So some of what'cher sayin's true," said Applejack, "even if the rest of it sounds more sour than a jug'a horse cider. Say we take your word for it, though. What's that got ta do with whatever happened in Stalliongrad?"

Macbeth giggled – giggled, like an unhinged schoolfilly. The shift from livid to melancholic to manic was more disturbing than the tittering shrillness of the laugh.

"Oh, everything, my little hayseed," he said, and Applejack snorted, stung and annoyed. "The war may never have happened, but the engine was never dismantled – merely retired, and left to gather dust. Equestria's entire cache of modern military marvels was put away, like a toy that a schoolfoal has outgrown. That cache was located in Stalliongrad. It took me many long years to learn this – and many more to formulate my scheme, still more to convince enough of my old lieutenants to follow me once more – but I finally seized that cache, and declared myself in open rebellion of the crown. The crown herself soon arrived to personally draw my scheme to an end."

His eye glinted. "Little did Celestia know that seizing the cache was never the whole of it. It was merely to act as a spark, which would ignite the flames of rebellion all across Equestria. Only... that never happened." Disgusted, he shook his head. "The complacent ponies of Equestria failed to act by my example, and our stagnation continued unabated. And from that, I took the lesson that ponies cannot be counted on to advance their own society."

"A-and..." Fluttershy gulped as she nervously stammered her question. "And w-what did the Princess decide to do w-with you?"

The smarmy, self-satisfied grin that Macbeth wore wavered, shifted, until it changed into an expression of real emotion – a sad, reflective smile.

"She knew I was broken. Knew I'd learned that nopony would ever side with me against her. So she exiled me from Equestria, for all time. And here, I came, deep in the Everfree, to live out my final, agonizing days in seclusion." The mad grin split his face again, and he stared up into the blazing eye of Trenton. "But sometimes, the universe has different plans. Once again, I am given the chance to save Equestria from stagnation. I have learned the lessons of my past failures; I will not trust in ponies to bring about their own change. Equestria will sail into the future, borne aloft by Pegasus Wings."

Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. "I've eaten chunky peanut butter that was less nutty than you."

"Genius is never understood in its own time." Macbeth's wild eye narrowed. "I must admit, this is not how I'd hoped our meeting would go. I had hoped to win you to the cause, rather. Surely, the six saviors of Equestria condemning Celestia would rally Equestria to my banner, perhaps even convince her to step down without my having to fire a shot." He sighed and drooped his ears, but brightened almost instantaneously. "Thankfully, I know another way you can serve the revolution. Trenton?"

A loud and sudden thud drew Twilight's attention to Trenton. The ninja had dropped Spike to the ground; he'd landed on his belly with a groan and a sheepish look. Trenton strode to the door in the alcove where Cain stood, pushed it open, and stood to the side, pointing stiffly through it like a wooden doorman. "Through there."

Rarity took a few steps forward and peered at the door. She stared up at Trenton, blinking in confusion. "You're not going to tell us how walking through a door will benefit your scruffy employer's cause?"

"Ms. Sparkle," said Trenton, "please inform your friends what it means for a blade to cut at the molecular level."

"Rarity," said Twilight. "Just do what he says, please."

Rarity scoffed and glowered at the ground, trotting reluctantly toward the door. "It figures. We're all going to be executed, and I'm going to die looking frumpy."

Spike followed Rarity, with Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie in tow. The pegasus looked the dragon over cautiously, examining him for any boo-boos that the ninja's rough handling may have left on him.

"You know," grumbled Spike as he strolled past the ninja, "you could have just set me down."

Pinkie nudged his rotund head with her nose. "Aw, like a little old pratfall could hurt a guy like you."

"Well, yeah," said Spike, casually rubbing his chest with his knuckles. "Dragon scales, and all that. It was just rude. Just because you're a crazy cyclops, you can't have manners? Geez louise."

Applejack and Apple Bloom walked ahead of Twilight, who felt Macbeth's steely gaze on her as she moved, sending a disturbed shudder down her spine. Trenton's eye was on Applejack as she passed through the door, but before Apple Bloom could reach the threshold, he stepped in front of her. "Not you," he said.

"What?" asked Applejack incredulously. She turned on Trenton and dug a hoof into the dirt. "You two-timin' snake! Get away from her!" She lunged at Trenton, who swiftly drew his sword and leveled the tip at her face. Applejack skidded to a stop with Trenton's sword centimeters away from her nose. Her gaze ran up the single-edged blade, to Trenton's eye, where she glared furiously at him.

Macbeth laughed and stomped his hooves in applause. "Oh, I thought something like this might happen. Allow me to explain." He trotted to the door and leaned in the frame, draping a foreleg over Apple Bloom and drawing her close. The filly's eyes went wide, and she released a quiet, mewling sound of discontent.

Addressing Applejack, Macbeth spoke. "Miss... I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Applejack," said Trenton.

"Miss Applejack." Macbeth dipped his head in a gesture that faintly resembled courtesy. "When Trenton informed us that we had a filly in our midst, and that there were six ponies en route to retrieve her, we determined that we had no compunctions against disposing of the latter, but that we were less inclined to let the former share that fate."

"Oh, give it to me straight," snapped Applejack.

"He means that they're fine with killing us," Twilight supplied, glancing from Trenton, to Macbeth, to Cain. "Just not with killing a foal, like Apple Bloom." She frowned.

"I couldn't have put it any better myself," said Macbeth. He paused to consider his words. "Well, actually, I did, and it was too much for your provincial brain to handle."

"I'll provincial you," Applejack growled. "We didn't march all this way out here just so you could—"

"Applejack," said Twilight. "Do what he says."

A look of shock came over Applejack's face, and she stared at Twilight open-mouthed. "You serious?" she asked. "You expect me to leave my sister with these sons of—"

"Yes," said Twilight tersely. "I do. Because if we do, then she'll at least be out of harm's way."

"So?!"

"So she'll be safe while we break free from whatever asinine trap they've laid for us," said Twilight, shooting the assembled group of villains a dirty look. "We'll come back for her."

"Such certainty," Macbeth cooed condescendingly. "Carry that certainty a while longer, and the next several minutes might be interesting."

Apple Bloom, fearful, looked at her sister with wide, watery eyes. "AJ..."

"S'alright, sister; no need t'fret." Applejack looked into the eyes of her sister, softening her stony expression. "Twilight's right. This ain't the worst jam we've ever been stuck in."

"I jus' got'cha back, Applejack." Apple Bloom looked away, at the floor, and shut her eyes. "Don't make me lose you all over again."

Applejack's expression softened further. Blinking rapidly, she ducked under Trenton's legs and embraced her sister tightly. The hug lasted mere moments, as Trenton roughly took hold of the back of Applejack's neck and pulled the ladies of the Apple family apart. Wresting herself from Trenton's grip, Applejack fired a final seething look of hatred at the ninja, and skulked away to join her friends in the expansive, ruin-dotted courtyard.

"I don't expect you to believe this, Miss Sparkle," said Macbeth. Twilight looked sidelong at him, narrowing her eyes. "But I do intend to take care of this little one in the absence of her family. I've always wanted a protégée of my own."

Apple Bloom's lips quivered, and she broke into open sobbing.

Twilight felt cold anger once again come over her. "You're a hypocrite," she growled. "Ordering your cowardly minion not to kill ponies, only to turn right around and execute us."

"Trenton mentioned that little rule, did he?" Macbeth's eye glinted.

Twilight froze, as she realized that she just came close to blowing their cover. Trenton inclined his head slightly at Twilight.

But Macbeth just shrugged and smiled blithely. "Tainting the revolution by spilling the blood of innocents before I reveal myself is not how I'd prefer to go about this, but one plays the cards that one is dealt. I don't long for bloodshed, Ms. Sparkle. I just accept its inevitability."

It was a lie. At best, it was a pathological lie. Case's warning about Metal Gear, and Snake's assurances of its raw power, mixed with Macbeth's megalomania to create the unsettling certainty that he planned to kill thousands with it, that he'd do so without a moment's regret. But if Trenton didn't tell them about Snake, then they couldn't have known that she knew about Metal Gear, and that was a precious advantage that Twilight did not want to give away.

"And what about your treatment of children?" Twilight pressed. "You'll hide Apple Bloom under your skirt, but not Spike?"

Macbeth cocked his head and blinked. "'Spike?'"

Once again, Trenton clarified. "The pet dragon."

"Ah!" Macbeth chuckled and shook his head. "Of course; how silly of me to forget that dragons are people too. Just like pudding skins, and wheelbarrows." He laughed and mirthfully whacked Trenton in the thigh. Trenton, rock-steady and dispassionate as ever, failed to react.

"However attached you are to your pet dragon, it is a thing, and I will not afford it respect," said Macbeth. "The most I'll allow is letting it die with you, with dignity, and even that taxes the limits of my generosity."

"None of us are dying today," said Twilight firmly.

Macbeth reacted with the same knowing, condescending smile. "Again, Ms. Sparkle, I'm counting on that certainty to make what's coming interesting." He nodded in the direction of the stairs. "Go to your friends, now."

Once again, with no other visible option, Twilight Sparkle could only do as she was told, and slink away to join the others. None of us are dying today, she repeated to herself, again and again. She wasn't sure what to expect, or what Macbeth intended to visit upon them, but as she took in the familiar scenery around her, she remembered that the castle was already the site of their first great victory together, and that thought offered her some comfort through the uncertainty.

The one-eyed earth pony watched Twilight descend the stairs for a short while, before returning to the great hall to stand beside Commander Cain. Behind them both was Trenton, still and unmoving as a statue.

Macbeth looked to his human comrade. "You seem rather disinterested in all of this, Commander."

Cain shrugged and adjusted the visor on his ballcap. "I've heard your sales pitch before. Can't say that it has quite the same impact after the ten millionth time." He raised and crooked his left arm, and glanced at his wrist-mounted keyboard. "Would have preferred that we just shot them here and now. We've got a genuine sense of urgency now."

"You can't fault me for trying to sway them," said Macbeth. He rested his chin on the bare window sill and deeply inhaled the night air. "And besides, I'm eager to see if Trenton's machines live up to their considerable hype."

Cain glanced over his shoulder, regarded Trenton for a moment, then looked back down at his wrist. He raised his right hand to the keyboard and brushed the keys delicately with his fingertips. "Waste of time, waste of energy. But you're the one signing my paycheck."

Twilight joined her friends in the center of the courtyard, and was immediately greeted by a warm nuzzle from Pinkie and a proud grin from Rarity. "I'm beginning to wonder if I missed my calling," the white unicorn mused. "Perhaps I should have gone into acting, rather than fashion."

"Acting?" asked Twilight. She looked over her shoulder, at the brijeb window where the revolutionary and his human minions stood watching them, and then back at Rarity. "What was the act?"

"Oh," said Rarity, waving a hoof, "that bit about Rainbow Dash getting her feathers in a fuss and flying off? A little collaborative misdirection that we all worked out together, just in case something went wrong."

Hope lit within Twilight's heart, and she cracked a tiny smile. "So Rainbow Dash, right now..."

"Is ready to swoop to the rescue at any moment!" said Pinkie Pie. "So don't worry, Twilight. We got this."

"Which is also why we let ourselves get captured, instead of putting up a fight," added Fluttershy. She bashfully lowered her head and glanced up at Twilight. "I mean, if it were anyone else, we probably could have... but Trenton grabbed Spike before we could do anything, and..."

Rarity stiffened at Fluttershy's words, and her grin faded. For a fleeting instant, she glanced at Spike, who sat upon a piece of rubble that was close to twice his height, cradling his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his thighs.

Fluttershy noticed Rarity's change in demeanor and sniffled. "S-sorry."

"Y'all made the right call," said Applejack. "For Spike, 'n for yourselves. This way, we got ourselves a fightin' chance."

"Yeah, yeah," Spike grumbled. He kicked the back of his feet against the heavy piece of rubble. "I still think I could have taken him."

Twilight's spirits, lifted briefly by the news that Rainbow Dash was their ace-in-the-hole, died down again at the sight of the dejected dragon. "Speaking of," she said, trotting to his side, "are you okay Spike? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Who, me? Nah." Spike shook his head emphatically.

He was making an effort to be brave. It may have fooled everypony else, but Twilight knew him better than that, and could see right through him.

"Still..." Twilight lowered her voice and leaned in closer. "That had to have been scary, what he was doing to you. If you need to talk..."

"I'm fine," Spike insisted. "No need to worry about me, Twilight. It happened. I'm over it." His words were confident, but there was an uncertain waver in his voice.

Twilight leaned closer and looked him in the eye. "Spike..."

Spike sighed and turned his head away from Twilight. He shut his eyes and cupped his hands in his lap, nervously pressing his thumbs against each other. "Can we talk about it later, Twi?" His voice was quiet, but thick and choked.

Proving himself had been Spike's entire motivation for accompanying them on this journey. Being held hostage by Trenton had to have been a serious blow to his confidence, never mind whatever psychological trauma it inflicted. His relative maturity made it easy to forget sometimes that Spike was still very young.

And I agreed to bring him along. She regretted the decision after the encounter with the timberwolves. Seeing Spike helpless in Trenton's grasp only reinforced her belief that she'd made the wrong call.

Whatever happens to him out here is my responsibility. I can't let him go through that again. I won't.

Twilight bumped her nose against Spike's forehead affectionately, drawing from him a hiccuping laugh and a smile. "Of course, Spike," she said softly. "Whenever you're ready." She turned back to her friends, bottling up her self-blame and crushing it down. They had to survive now, and she had to ensure it, so that she'd be able to castigate herself properly later.

"Twilight," said Fluttershy. "Where is Snake? He wasn't with you when we met up in the keep."

Applejack glanced at the nearby portcullis. "We split up. We heard that the bad guys' world-blowin'-up machine was just about up an' runnin', so he ran off in a hurry to take it out."

"Leaving us behind to fend for ourselves?" asked Rarity flatly. She raised an eyebrow. "How heroic."

Twilight glared at Rarity. "We wouldn't have gotten this far without—"

"Uh, Twilight?" Pinkie Pie interrupted, cutting off Twilight mid-rebuttal. "Sorry to butt in, but..." She turned and raised her rear into the air, looking over her shoulder at Twilight and blinking.

Rarity stared, perplexed. "That hardly seems appropriate, Miss Pie. You've been consorting with Rainbow Dash far too often for your own good."

"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter," said Pinkie. "I'm trying to show you something important!"

Twilight was about to ask just what was important about Pinkie Pie's posterior when she noticed her tail. It was ramrod straight, and shaking rapidly. She blanched. "Twitchy tail."

"Twitchy tail?" Spike repeated. He leaped off of the rubble and grabbed his own tail, wringing it tightly. "Twitchy tail?!"

The distant crash of heavy metal carried to their ears from the direction of the gatehouse. A second later came a noise that shocked – and confused – everypony in earshot.

"Um..." said Fluttershy, "there's no grazing land in the Everfree Forest... right?"

Twilight, trembling and backpedaling with a slow, tremulous gait, shook her head

"Then..." Fluttershy looked back at the keep. "Why did we just hear a moo?"

Occupying the pedestal in the center of the castle's gatehouse, where once the Elements of Harmony had lain dormant, was a large metal box, stamped with the emblem of an arms manufacturer and labeled with what appeared to be a nonsensical string of letters. Within the box was a slumbering giant, the first of a line of weapons meant to usher in a new era in unmanned warfare.

At an electronic command from Commander Cain, made via wrist-mounted keyboard and delivered via sophisticated CODEC technology, the giant stirred, awakened, and stretched its legs. The top of its head struck the lid of its container forcefully with a heavy clang, creating a convex dent on the box's outside. It crouched as low as it could, and sprang upward, this time knocking the lid of the box clear. The sound of metal striking metal with such force carried over the castle grounds, to the ears of five frightened ponies and a baby dragon standing in a courtyard.

It rose upon legs of cloned tissue, artificial muscle, and sinew. Its head was a T-shaped metallic construct, a diminutive copy of the head of another two-legged engine of mass destruction. At the top of its head, a dome-shaped eye swiveled, taking in the world for the first time.

When designing Metal Gear REX, Dr. Hal Emmerich incorporated an element whose necessity his superiors questioned: a loudspeaker, and the ability to project a beastly roar through that speaker. Officially, he contended that it was designed for psychological warfare, that the sight of so gargantuan a fighting machine roaring would cripple the morale of any enemy on the battlefield (off the record, he included it because he thought it was cool). But the designers of this weapon had a far different design influence. They wanted to put the enemy at ease, lull them into complacency, before trampling them underfoot.

And also, there was just something deeply ironic about a killing machine which mooed.

The weapon, now cognizant of its surroundings, quickly determined the fastest way to reach the source of the signal which awakened it. Coiling its mighty legs, it leaped through the hole in the gatehouse ceiling and landed in the makeshift helipad, barely avoiding (and entirely failing to notice) the sleeping body of the Finnish mechanic. In another bound, it landed on the arch where the ghillie suit-clad sniper lay unconscious. With a final bound, it landed atop the roof of the keep. Magic-enhanced masonry protected the ancient structure from collapsing under the weapon's weight, but the shock of its landing sent waves through the building's aged walls. A layer of dust shook from the ceiling of the Great Hall. Its occupants, save the despondent Apple Bloom and the stoic Trenton, glanced upward as they were peppered.

In the courtyard, six pairs of eyes were drawn to the roof of the keep. Six jaws dropped, and six hearts skipped the same beat.

On a turret adjacent to the courtyard's portcullis, a young and tempestuous sniper rested his rifle against a wall and leaned forward, awestruck at the sight of the weapon. Behind him, poised to strike, was Rainbow Dash, who likewise forgot herself, and gaped.

Hidden behind a wall which enclosed an arcane portal, Solid Snake stared at the weapon through a rifle's scope. His jaw clenched, his teeth crushed together, and his finger lightly traced the trigger of his gun.

"Metal Gear."

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/22/16

-General copyediting/proofreading
-Minor alterations to narration and dialogue
-Rewrote parts of Macbeth's speech for cohesiveness and specificity

7. By a Starving Beast

"this doesn't strike you as a bit unfair? i mean, all you've got is a helicopter."

Atop its perch, IRVING coiled its legs, and Twilight’s gut instinct told her to move. "Everypony, scatter!" Her friends dove aside, and she vanished in a violet flash, popping back into existence several meters behind where she'd been standing. By that time, IRVING was airborne, and dropping rapidly onto the spot which, moments before, was occupied by five frightened ponies and a baby dragon. It landed upon the piece of rubble where Spike had sat, crushing the block beneath its bulk.

"Well," said Pinkie, dusting herself off, "that explains the twitchy tail."

In the tower overlooking the courtyard, Rainbow Dash hovered behind an oblivious sniper, jaw agape and eyes wide. "What is that?" she whispered, forgetting herself.

The sniper she’d been preparing to ambush whirled at the sound of her voice and raised his rifle. "Who's—"

Dash’s ears drooped. Oh yeah, he’s here too. She jabbed her hoof into the sniper's jaw the moment he glimpsed her, stunning him, and followed through with a fluid kick across the cheek that sent him sprawling to the floor. He fumbled for his sidearm, but Dash landed on his wrist with all of her weight. She felt it twist beneath her, heard a snap, heard the sniper scream, knew she had to shut him up, and back-hoofed him across the jaw. He fell silent.

In the courtyard, IRVING uncoiled its powerful legs, rising to its full height with a shuddering bovine groan. Rainbow Dash’s ears perked at the sound. She peeked over the turret, once again staring in awe at the newly awakened war machine. It wasn't the largest beast she'd ever seen, but it was still enormous, dwarfing her friends and making her feel very, very small.

She smacked herself and shook her head. Stay focused, she thought. Still got one more to take care of. She glanced at the other tower. The second sniper had his eye on the courtyard, and rested the barrel of his rifle on his shoulder. He spared no attention to anything else around him.

So there's my opening.

Rainbow Dash sprang over the side of the tower and landed on the wall below. Pressing herself as closely against it as she could, she slowly crept toward the other tower. She thought about the giant standing amidst her friends, gulped, and clenched her jaw.

"WAYPOINT REACHED," IRVING said. The voice startled Twilight, who hadn't expected so bizarre a machine to be capable of speech. Though distinctly feminine, it sounded as sterile and lifeless as the machine itself looked. "XMG IRVING UNIT 00 AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS."

In the keep, Macbeth turned to Cain. "Commander?"

Cain sighed. He tapped another series of commands into his keypad.

The group below watched, tense, as IRVING stood still for several long moments. A sudden shudder ran through its body. "ORDER CONFIRMED. WATCHDOG MODE ENGAGED."

"Watchdog mode?" Pinkie parroted. The party pony hid behind a piece of overturned rubble, but poked her head out of her hiding spot to glance confusedly at IRVING. "So it's gonna start barking now, instead of mooing?"

IRVING swiveled its head to focus on Pinkie. A yellow hoof and a clawed, purple hand rose from behind her and dragged her head down and out of sight.

"HOSTILES DETECTED. DEFENSE PROTOCOLS ACTIVE. ASSESSING THREAT."

Applejack acted first. She charged, skidded to a halt beside IRVING's left leg, pivoted and raised herself onto her forelegs, and struck it in the calf with a double-hoofed buck.

IRVING's leg jolted a little, though more from surprise than from pain. It craned its head down to Applejack, who, initially put off by its lack of reaction, set her jaw and reared back a second time. IRVING didn't give her the chance, and kicked her lazily in the chest, swatting her like a nettlesome fly. Said fly sailed backward, slamming the rubble which concealed Pinkie, Fluttershy and Spike, and slumping face-first against the ground.

Fluttershy peeked over her cover and gasped. "Applejack!" She leaped to the prone earth pony’s side and knelt. She held Applejack steady as she struggled to her hooves. "Easy, now. Don't push yourself."

Satisfied, IRVING swiveled its head to regard Twilight. She swallowed her fear and mustered a glare; her horn shimmered and her aura rippled around her, kicking up a dust storm and whipping her mane about her head. Sparks danced up and down the length of her horn. A sphere of lavender light built at its tip, no larger than a pea at first, but immediately expanding to twice her own size.

She was interrupted by a sudden jet of flame which shot from IRVING's “beak”. Twilight reacted quickly, reshaping the offensive manifestation of her aura into a shield and enveloping herself in it, warding away the ignited gas which washed over and past her. The ground around her crackled and burned, but she remained unscathed. But her eyes were wide and her jaw agape, her confidence badly shaken. This She'd been caught off guard; had her reflexes been infinitesimally less sharp, she'd be a charred corpse. Normally, she'd take a measure of pride in her ability, but fear canceled it out.

"ASSESSMENT COMPLETE." Though certain it was all in her head, Twilight swore she heard a smugness in IRVING's voice. "THREAT NEGLIGIBLE."

Pain stabbed through Applejack. IRVING hadn't put much muscle into its kick (and ain’t that thought fright’nin', thought Applejack), but that didn't make her hurt any less. That wasn't even counting her collision with the rubble, not to mention her lingering pains from every other hit she'd suffered that day. Heck, she swore she'd been hurt more in the last twenty-four hours than she'd been in a lifetime of working on a farm. But pain wouldn’t hold Applejack back when her friends were depending on her.

She looked to the yellow pegasus at her side, who stared transfixed at IRVING. "Fluttershy," she said in a pained whisper. "I know y'all mus' be scared outta yer wits right now, but y'need to focus. You with me?" Fluttershy made no reply. "Fluttershy, did y'hear me?"

"D-dragon," she whimpered.

Of course her mind would have gone to her dragon phobia. The thing breathed fire; was she expecting Fluttershy to not make that connection? "I know what it looks like, but it ain't no dragon. It's a... it's a thing, which is definitely not a dragon."

Applejack's fumbling was lost on Fluttershy. "Dragon," she repeated, louder, but squeakily. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, her breathing picked up, and Applejack swore she could hear the sound of her heart hammering in her chest. "Dragon! Dragon!" Her voice rose in volume until she was practically shouting. "Dragon!"

IRVING took notice, swiveling its head toward the two of them. "DRAGON!" shrieked Fluttershy, rooted to the ground by fear.

Twilight shouted a warning, but it was lost as IRVING unleashed another jet of flame at Fluttershy. Applejack threw herself on top of the pegasus, protecting her body with her own. The flames themselves passed overhead, but the superheated air singed her coat and scorched her skin, making her scream as the nerves on her back blazed. A sudden and frightening burst of heat on her head made her panic; her hat had caught fire. She doffed it, and watched with dismay as it shriveled and burned on the dirt.

Twilight summoned her aura again, and fired blast after blast into IRVING. The shots that struck its armored head were shrugged off, not even noticed, but the shots which struck its legs made them jolt and shake with every impact. They did no damage, but annoyed it enough to draw its attention. IRVING lowered its head and charged toward her, impacting a hastily erected shield which flashed upon impact and strained inward. Twilight dug her hooves into the ground, taxing her muscles with the effort to remain firm and unwavering. But IRVING pressed against her shield with all of its weight, and she felt herself sliding backward. She grunted and channeled more energy into the shield, but quickly realized that her approach was all wrong. The shield was working fine; the amount of energy she'd initially put into it was enough to repel IRVING. IRVING was simply bigger than her, stronger than her. It could throw more weight against her than she could throw against it, and no amount of magic could change that.

So, she concluded, there was no way to fight a defensive battle against the thing. She needed to go on the offensive. The energy she'd summoned for her attack before, reformed into a barrier out of necessity, was still largely untapped. Most of it was channeled into reinforcing her shield at that moment.

Twilight collapsed the shield into a singularity, focused at the tip of her horn. Momentum carried IRVING forward for a fraction of an instant, then there came the sound of a thunderclap, and it rocketed backward, careening toward the window in the keep.

Trenton caught Cain by the collar, hooked an arm around Macbeth, and pulled them both to the ground, throwing his own body over Apple Bloom. IRVING crashed through the window, taking much of the wall with it, its weight and the force with which it was thrown far more than what the ancient masonry could withstand. Debris pelted Trenton, but his exoskeleton held beneath the bombardment, and IRVING passed him overhead. It skidded down the hall, upending tables and lamps, before slamming into the hall's entrance and coming to a stop. There it lay, crumpled and motionless on its side, its legs tucked under its chin.

Macbeth stirred first. His eye, shut tight when he was thrown to the ground, reopened. He regarded IRVING bemusedly, then looked at Trenton with an arched brow. "I hope you saved the receipt."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," snapped Cain. "Shut up and wait."

In the courtyard, Twilight took a tentative step forward. Her chest heaved and her heart hammered as she struggled to catch her breath. A tired smile crossed her face, and she sighed in relief. Her body swayed, and she nearly toppled to her side, but something caught her and propped her up.

"Twilight?" It was Spike; he'd come to her side, and now braced his stubby arms against her flank. "I’m sure that took a lot out of you, but please don't do your Berry Punch impersonation right here."

She exhaled sharply in a tired simulation of a laugh. "It's... okay," she panted. "I think—"

An outraged bellow echoed from the ruined keep, and any and all traces of optimism in Twilight Sparkle died a sudden and inglorious death. IRVING stirred in the great hall, rolling onto its knees, then pushing off of them to stand on its three-toed feet. The twisted remains of a bench entangled one of its legs, and it kicked the offending piece of metal off, throwing it through the hole it had created and nearly striking Rarity, who backpedaled rapidly to avoid being crushed.

Cain, smug, glanced at Macbeth, who scoffed, folded his forelegs, and rested his chin upon them. "Could have fooled me."

IRVING lowered its head and charged, forcing Trenton to grab his employers and roll out of its path. Apple Bloom, no longer pinned beneath the ninja, gasped for breath and drank in a deep gulp of air. Her eyes widened at the sight of IRVING sprinting, heedless, toward her. Trenton grabbed her by the end of her mane and yanked her backward, then clutched the filly to his chest.

IRVING leaped from the hole its impact had made in the keep, landed in the courtyard, and stormed toward Twilight like a locomotive. She'd poured virtually all of her energy into the attack, hoping to incapacitate IRVING all at once. There was very, very little left that she could bring to bear against it.

She felt Spike's hands leave her, and, as he'd predicted, she dropped onto her side like a stringless puppet. The baby dragon stood in front of her, arms spread wide, feet planted firmly, chest puffed, and stout tail thumping against the ground. She wanted to warn him off, to tell him to get out of the way, but she couldn't catch her breath enough to form an articulate sentence.

IRVING drew closer, head bowed like a ram, and Spike opened his jaws wide. A plume of green fire burst from his mouth and washed harmlessly against IRVING's armored head. It struck him before he could make a second effort, tossed its head back, and threw Spike up and over. He landed hard on the ground behind IRVING. It didn't didn't break stride, didn't even slow, and it closed what little distance remained between itself and Twilight.

Twilight threw up another shield, but too much of her energy had been expended before to make it effective. IRVING collided with the shield; it bent inward, strained for a split second, and burst. Its individual pieces winked into nothingness, and IRVING's plowed into Twilight, slapping her hard on her jaw with the front of its beak and throwing her backward.

Twilight was unconscious as she arced through the air; she was still out when she struck ground and her limp body rolled, until she came to a rest against one of the turrets flanking the castle gate. From there, IRVING wasted no time, leaping across the courtyard and landing beside Twilight, its right foot narrowly missing her head.

Spike cried out Twilight's name and sprinted toward her on stubby dragon legs. IRVING's head swiveled to stare at Spike as he made his mad, vain dash to his oldest friend. The glowing red sensor dome on IRVING's head seemed to shine a little brighter as it lifted a foot high over Twilight.

A length of rope snared that foot, and IRVING, surprised, turned to its attacker. Applejack, unsteady but unbowed, clutched her lasso tightly in her jaws. She dug her hooves into the ground and strained her neck, putting every bit of weight and muscle into an effort to save her friend.

IRVING did not budge. It kicked the bound leg forward, yanking Applejack off the ground, and swung her like a ball on a chain into the curtain wall. IRVING kicked again, to the side, swinging Applejack a second time. At its full length, the rope snapped, letting Applejack fly freely. Momentum carried her through the air, over scattered debris, toward the entrance of the pristine ring-wall. She hit the ground and tumbled through the entrance, a groaning, rolling, bruised and bloodied ball.

"What in the..." The voice came from beside her; it was gruff, gravelly, and sounded incredulous. Applejack felt gloved fingers on her neck. "Still ticking, huh? What the hell are you made out of?"

Applejack made a noise that was an amalgam of a laugh and a cough. "Sterner stuff'n most."

A crash from the courtyard drew their attention. IRVING's foot was lodged in a shattered piece of debris; Pinkie Pie, somehow, stood upon IRVING's head, thrilled to no end with her own antics. Rarity stood, poised and tense, at IRVING's feet. Together, they'd drawn IRVING away from Twilight, and Twilight was still in one piece. "Atta girl, Pinkie," said Applejack hoarsely, breaking out a weak smile.

Applejack felt Snake's fingers rap her on the neck. His touch, while light, still stung, and she winced. "The plan seems to have hit a snag," said Snake. "Want to fill me in?"

Rainbow Dash was unhappy with herself.

The day's events had been stressful enough. The ease with which Trenton had cast her aside in the forest was a terrible blow to her pride. That her defeat came so quickly hurt enough, but that it was followed by Trenton making off with Apple Bloom, with everypony unable to lift a hoof to stop him – that just made her feel downright useless.

She wondered if that wasn't why she lashed out at Snake so often. Sure, he was unlikable and weird and left her friends to fend for themselves in a hostile environment surrounded by heavily armed soldiers, but did he really deserve the kind of treatment she subjected him to? Or was she just acting out her frustrations on him? His presence in the group, an intruder to their group dynamic, made him a convenient outlet.

Should I treat him better? Maybe thank him for his help? Assuming he hasn't run off on me by now.

Adding to all of this stress was the knowledge that her friends were fighting a battle which she not only couldn't participate in, but couldn't so much as observe without breaking cover. She was impatient, restless. She wanted to ditch the mission Snake had sent her on and throw herself into fight, alongside the rest of her friends, where she knew she could make a difference. Heck, on more occasions than she could count, her speed and skill were the only things standing between a pony and messy oblivion. Yet she, valuable resource that she was, was a non-factor, and that killed her inside. The battle might be going terribly, for all she knew. How many of her friends were maimed, crippled, or dead? Whose bodies would she find when she did leap into the fray?

Warring with herself over her inaction, Rainbow Dash fluttered into the turret and folded her wings against her body. She pressed her belly close against the ground and crawled toward the remaining sniper, closing the distance between them inch by inch. The sniper kept his back to her. He cradled his rifle close to his chest, but Rainbow Dash could see that it was a decrepit old thing. The wooden furniture desperately needed a new coat of varnish; the scope's casing was rusty; the stock, visible beneath his right armpit, had a thick piece of duct tape wound vertically around it – it looked like it'd fall apart if it were fired just once.

She was directly behind him now. He had no helmet; his head was covered only by the same black balaclava that the other soldiers wore. A good hit to the back of the head would be enough to drop him. She unfurled her wings and kicked off of the ground, drawing back her right foreleg in the same motion.

The sniper whirled and side-stepped, barely avoiding her attack. He rammed the butt of his rifle into Rainbow Dash's chest. The blow sent her tumbling backward onto the floor of the turret. "Nice try," he said. She recovered in time to see him raising his gun. The end of the barrel was in hoof's reach; at such close quarters, he wouldn't even have to aim.

A faint, plaintive wail carried up to the turret from the courtyard below. Rainbow Dash recognized the voice as Spike's. He cried a single word, a name.

"Twilight!"

And suddenly, Rainbow Dash had a very good idea of how the battle was going.

A surge of anger shot through her. She smacked the barrel out of the way before the sniper could fire, jarring his finger away from the trigger. She pounced again and sucker-punched the sniper in the stomach. He doubled over, the force of her attack expelling the oxygen from his lungs, and she ascended 'til she was at eye level with him. Dash struck him with a right hook to the cheek, then a left, then an uppercut that drove his jaws together. She registered the sensation of something wet and warm splashing her face, but only distantly; she didn't have the presence of mind to stick a label onto the sensation. She pulled a foreleg back, and, with a yell, drove it directly into the sniper's nose. Bone and cartilage snapped beneath her hoof, and he stumbled, falling and striking the back of his head against the lip of the turret. He slumped forward, twitched for an instant, then lay still.

Wings beating, chest heaving, Rainbow Dash hovered in that spot for a long, long moment. She touched her hoof to her cheek, smudging the warm, sticky substance that had splashed her, and held it in front of her face, trembling. Against her cyan coat, the blood looked almost purple.

She dropped to the turret. Her eyes passed over the brutally beaten sniper, and she found herself suddenly compelled to vomit. "No," she moaned, "no no no no no...!" She groped at his neck with her blood-stained hoof, until she felt the tiny beat of his pulse beneath his skin. The nausea passed; the trembling did not. Rainbow Dash's legs gave out, and she fell onto her haunches, breathing hard and quickly.

In the courtyard, a fetal Fluttershy watched with wide eyes as Rarity sprinted toward IRVING, with Pinkie Pie bouncing close behind her. The unicorn skidded to a stop and lowered her hindquarters, and Pinkie bounced onto her back. Pinkie bounced again, Rarity providing her a boost, and landed on top of IRVING's head, her hooves producing a metallic clank as she struck its armor.

Aware of its unwanted headgear, IRVING backed away from Twilight, swinging its head from side to side in a vain effort to dislodge her. It launched a clumsy, ill-aimed kick at Rarity, missed completely, and wound up thrusting its foot through a half-buried chunk of rubble, obliterating it.

"Whoo! They should put you in a carnival!" Pinkie lunged for the dome-shaped sensor and pressed her face right up against the electronic eye. "Whussis do? Is it like a second head?!" She giggled. "'Second head.'" Pinkie spun her new toy experimentally and caught it after a full rotation. "S'fun! I can make my head do that too, but it kinda hurts my neck if I wind it up too tight. Ever wish you were made of rubber?"

IRVING stumbled dizzily away from Twilight, futilely rolling its head back and forth. Unshaken, Pinkie spun the dome again, watching with child-like glee as it whirled like a roulette board. A jet of flame, perhaps fired in some artificial approximation of desperation, spewed from its beak. Like a flashbulb, the flames bathed the courtyard in light before burning out.

Rarity bared her horn toward IRVING's exposed leg, even as Pinkie continued her antics atop its head. A thin, black cord extended from IRVING's underside and snaked up its back, coiling around Pinkie's rear leg.

"...I don’t even know what she was so upset about; I’ve never even seen a platypus, much less—" Pinkie froze mid-anecdote at the sensation of something tugging at her leg. She dipped her head down to glance between her forelegs, and saw IRVING's prehensile tentacle wrapped tightly around her right hind leg. She lifted her head and grinned sheepishly at IRVING's sensory dome. "Well, I prefer to wait until the third date—"

IRVING tugged, yanking a yelping Pinkie off of its head. She dangled, upside-down, and flailed her limbs helplessly. With strength belied by the tentacle's slender appearance, IRVING slung her into Rarity's path, and Pinkie bowled her over before the unicorn could so much as cry out in surprise. They collided, and rolled together across the rubble-strewn courtyard, finally coming to a halt when they struck the half-crumbled remains of a structure.

Twilight stirred. Pain assaulted her, compelled her to stay down, but she fought it off and raised her head enough to get a glimpse of where the fight now stood. Pinkie and Rarity were down – unconscious, or worse. The miniature Metal Gear hunched down, head pressed almost against its knees, and made a noise like a horse's nicker. It aimed the top of its head, where Pinkie had danced moments before, at the helpless and unconscious ponies, and charged. They weren't dead yet, Twilight knew, but that was about to change.

She felt a stirring in the deepest recesses of her chest – a spark of warmth, accompanied by searing anger, that died out as quickly as it came. She wanted it back; it was comforting, and oddly familiar. But she couldn't find it, and she was alone. Applejack was nowhere to be seen; Fluttershy was crippled with fear, and Pinkie Pie and Rarity were about to be ground to paste. She glanced sidelong at the hole she'd made in the keep, where she knew Macbeth and his dogs watched the show. She hoped they'd enjoyed the performance.

Something latched onto IRVING's right calf just then, something purple and green and pudgy. IRVING, its assault stalled, reared to its full height, stumbling and bellowing in a sudden fit. Spike's arms and legs formed a tight ring around IRVING's leg. He opened his jaw wide, and sank his teeth deeply into IRVING's meaty calf.

Twilight felt an instant of relief that Pinkie and Rarity were safe, one which promptly gave way to renewed terror. Spike was attacking IRVING. Spike, who'd been held so precariously in the jaws of the timberwolf, who'd had a sword that rent molecules held to his throat, who'd choked back tears and begged Twilight to let him keep his pride, brewer of tea, baker of cookies, shelver of books and number one assistant in Ponyville, in Equestria, in the world, a baby who'd barely lived a thumb of a life, now sank his teeth into the leg of a beastly machine, fighting a battle that wasn't his to fight, that he never should have been involved with. Spike – her Spike – was in danger.

A ripple of energy danced through Twilight, like the spark before, but magnified tenfold. Shocked – she hadn't expected it to return – she tried to seize it, but again, it danced away before she could take hold of it. She felt like a child groping for a balloon caught in the breeze. Once again, the comforting familiarity of that power vanished, leaving her alone and broken and watching the ones she loved drop like flies.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut and sank his teeth deeper into IRVING's calf. Blood – or some artificial substance resembling it – flowed from the wound, through his teeth, down his face and IRVING's own leg. Spike pulled, wrenching his head back as hard as he could, and with a sickening ripping noise, tore out a chunk of meat. Blood sprayed from the wound, spattering Spike’s face. The baby dragon spat the bit of leg out of his mouth, coughing and sputtering, frantically trying to erase every hint of the blood's bitter taste from his palate.

IRVING's cry was one of agony: high, warbling, and manic. The prehensile cord wrapped around Spike's midsection, and he gasped at the unexpected cold constricting around his body. The cord wound tighter, forcing air from Spike's lungs and turning his breathing into shallow, gasps. Dragon skin may be impervious, but the boy still needed to breathe.

It started pulling. Spike, in response, dug his claws deeper into IRVING's muscle. Artificial blood pooled around his fingers and ran down his palms, slickening his hands and loosening his grip. The reeking, metallic taste still festered in his mouth, but Spike closed his eyes, drew in what breath he could, and chomped down on IRVING's calf again.

The cord fell away as IRVING cried out in pain again. It took a different tactic; it raised its leg high over an exposed block of rubble, and swung it down, Spike-first. The block shattered into bits, and Spike, shaken free by the shock of impact, fell into the pile. A twitching, purple arm stuck out of the rubble. The rest of him was buried.

Applejack charged (or tried to, limp and bloody as she was) toward the courtyard, restrained only by Snake's hand catching her by the back of her mane. "Get offa me!" she snapped, her voice cracking. She slapped ineffectually at his hand. "Lemme at it! I'm gonna—"

"Get yourself killed?" Snake finished. He yanked hard on her mane, pulling Applejack back into cover. "A corpse won't be able to rescue Apple Bloom."

IRVING's whip-like arm slithered into Spike's cairn. It drew him out of the rubble, dangling him by his right ankle. His eyes were half-open, but his breathing was labored, and punctuated with heavy coughing. His scales had kept him safe from serious harm, but he was still in pain... and terrified. IRVING pulled him close to its beak. He dangled, centimeters away from its flame thrower aperture, almost nose-to-nose with the mechanical beast.

Spike spat a cloud of fire, but his breathing kept him from mustering much air to put behind it. It came out small and weak, and vanished against IRVING's armored beak. The weapon made a sound reminiscent of a laugh. Drawing Spike closer to its beak, it bellowed at full volume. Spike shut his eyes reflexively at the noise and turned his head away, covering it with his in arms in an instinctive, protective, gesture.

IRVING emitted a mechanical click – not a vocalization, but a noise like some part shifting within itself. A moment later, a river of molten fuel, different from the ignited clouds of gas from before, rolled from its beak and engulfed Spike. It ran off of his scales like rain on a slicker, leaving Spike completely unharmed. IRVING bellowed again, its synthesized voice soured by a note of irritation, and released its grip on the dragon. He dropped with a sharp gasp onto the pile of rubble from which he'd been extracted.

Twilight's blood thrummed in her ears at the sight of Spike lying helplessly. With some effort, she was able to aim her horn at IRVING's head. Shutting her eyes tightly, she focused, summoning every stray bit of energy she had left. "Get away," she panted. Pain ran the length of her neck, down her spine and through her legs, but she forced herself to endure it. "Get away from him!"

IRVING swiveled its head to stare at Twilight, and nickered. She focused harder, trying to summon the strength to project a bolt at IRVING.

"I said..."

Something inside her began to rise, and she felt it again – that primal feeling, deep within herself. A white glow came into her eyes, and a purple shimmer built at the tip of her horn.

"I said, get away from him!" she screamed.

Her voice boomed unnaturally, deep and bass, and her words reverberated through the courtyard, carrying to the turret where Rainbow Dash lay. The sound of her friend's magically amplified voice broke her state of shock. Dash remembered herself, leaped to her hooves, and pulled herself over the lip of the turret to stare into the courtyard below. Her eyes were drawn to IRVING, standing above Spike. Still facing Twilight, it raised its bitten leg high over the dragon.

"NO!"

The unexpected cry pierced the armor of Twilight’s rage. Her aura vanished, her eyes stopped glowing, and she collapsed back to the ground. But she saw a cyan blur with a rainbow contrail strike IRVING in the beak, knocking it off balance, and smiled. Rainbow Dash springboarded off of IRVING's armored surface, backflipped, and landed gracefully on the ground, folding her wings.

That works too.

"Well," said Macbeth. "The cat came back."

A piece of cement the size of a fist fell onto Trenton's head, pinging gently. The ninja glanced up; he and the others stood in the spot where the throne and dais had been, in the wound created by IRVING's impact with the keep. Bits and pieces of the ceiling pelted them intermittently. The last had been the largest yet.

"Indeed," said Trenton softly.

Apple Bloom looked at the ninja, and followed his gaze upward.

Knocked off balance, IRVING staggered backward, away from the frightened dragon. Scrabbling for purchase on his bed of loose rubble, Spike frantically dove aside, scrambled back to his feet, and sprinted on stubby dragon legs toward a visibly relieved Twilight.

IRVING's head rotated, tracking Spike's movements. "Hey!" Rainbow Dash barked. She kicked a chunk of concrete into the air, reared onto her forelegs, pivoted, and bucked it at IRVING's head. IRVING jerked backward and grunted, startled, now turning to look at Rainbow Dash.

"You're not touching him." Rainbow Dash arched her back like a wild cat and unfurled her wings to their full breadth. "Or any of them. You got ears on that ugly body of yours? Use 'em: You are not going to hurt my friends ever again!"

IRVING bellowed. The flame thrower clicked again, shifting away from napalm, and it launched a burst of flame from its beak. Rainbow Dash kicked off the ground and took to the sky, flapping hard as she ascended vertically, barely ahead of IRVING's attack. The stream of fire cut off, and Rainbow Dash darted toward its head. She halted just above its sensory dome and swung her hoof, striking with a resounding metallic clang and causing the dome to spin on its axis. Stunned and dizzied again, IRVING stumbled backward. Its manipulator cord extended from its undercarriage, and it clumsily swung it like a whip toward Rainbow Dash, lashing her across the face.

Rainbow Dash gasped from the sudden, stinging blow, and held a hoof to her stricken cheek. Blood seeped from a long cut and ran down her face and over her hoof, mingling with the blood of the sniper she'd beaten into unconsciousness on the turret.

As rational thought fled, replaced by blood-red rage, a distant part of Rainbow Dash wondered if she might have an anger problem.

The manipulator cord danced in the air, and Rainbow Dash dove for it, catching it in her mouth. She swooped beneath IRVING, between its legs, pulling the cord behind her. The cord, at the end of its length, snagged. Straining her neck and beating her wings, Rainbow Dash forced herself to move through the air. Her teeth bit harder into the cord. The pain in her jaws, and from the exertion in her muscles, was excruciating. To a pony like Rainbow Dash, though, pain was just one more measly hurdle. She bit down harder and, screaming her throat raw through the cord in her mouth, forced herself to pull harder.

The giant fell to its back, bellowing, flame thrower blazing wildly in the air. Rainbow Dash released the cord. IRVING's sensory dome was now directly behind her, and she slammed it apple-bucking style, denting its metal casing and eliciting another outraged bellow from IRVING.

Down, but not out, IRVING somersaulted backward. Rainbow Dash darted away to avoid being crushed when IRVING pressed the top of its head against the ground and raised its legs vertically into the air. It tilted backward, its legs shifting, gradually bringing its feet to rest on the ground, and pulled the top of its body up after itself. Now standing at its full height, IRVING kicked backward, striking Dash dead-on without sparing her a glance. Rainbow Dash tumbled head over hooves, but spread her wings to reduce her momentum and righted herself in midair. She streaked toward IRVING, weaving beneath a flame thrower burst that trailed her as she flew. She adjusted her course and lowered her head, aiming the top of her skull at IRVING's knee. The leg shook from the impact, but then IRVING pecked Dash – pecked, like a hen – between the wings, catching her just right of center. Her eyes widened, and she dropped to her belly, furling her right wing defensively.

Pegasi in schoolyard brawls have an unspoken rule: Never, under any circumstances, go for the wings. It’s just something that’s commonly understood, the same way boys – of any race – don’t go for the ‘nads. Aside from wings being symbols of a pegasus’s freedom, which every sky-dwelling pony wears as an emblem of pride, hitting them runs the risk of doing serious, lasting damage. Dash’s own wings were well-kept and strengthened from years of training, but they were still as much a weak point as they were her greatest asset. She grimaced as she tested her wing, extending and furling it experimentally. It was difficult to extend all the way; she’d been hurt, there was no way around that, and she wasn’t sure if she could fly anymore.

Of course, IRVING didn’t care about her new handicap. So Rainbow Dash scowled and climbed shakily to her hooves again, defiantly tossing her mane over her shoulder. "I don’t need wings," she said. Her raspy voice shook, and sounded faded and weary. "I got four hooves’ worth of whoopin’, right here. So come and get it."

IRVING's response was a jet of fire.

Snake had released his hold on Applejack's mane some time before, but she stayed in cover with him, watching Rainbow Dash from a distance. Still, with the fight turning against her, she felt a swell of irritation with Snake for his passivity. "What the hay do you think you're doin'?" Applejack hissed. "She's gettin' her butt kicked out there; they all are! How much longer d'you plan on jus' watchin'?!"

Snake didn't look away from his scope as he replied. "What do you expect me to do? I don't have the firepower to go toe-to-toe with that thing."

"So the gun's just for show, eh?" Applejack snorted. "So much for savin' Dash's ungrateful butt with it."

"The point of espionage is to avoid open conflict," said Snake. "Especially when it's an uneven fight that runs a high risk of getting you killed. I could take a shot at that thing right now, but it wouldn't make a difference. All it'd serve to do is blow my cover, at which point it'll come after me."

"So it's got one more target t'deal with! That just ups our odds of survival, don't it?"

"It would still be a pointless fight, one that neither of us would walk away from. If we die, then what we’ve learned dies with us, and your people don't have a prayer. I know you want to help, but there's nothing that you or I could possibly do for them now." His hands tightened around his rifle. "All we can do is wait for an opening. You can make another go at your sister, and I can make another break for Metal Gear."

Applejack exhaled sharply through her nose in anger. "That sounds an awful lot like you're tellin' me to let my friends die."

Snake took his gaze away from his rifle scope to look into Applejack's eyes, a resolute frown on his face. He made no immediate reply, and an unsettling silence fell between the pony and the man, broken by the not-so-distant hiss of IRVING's flame thrower and the heavy thudding of its footsteps. Snake finally returned to his scope. "I won't tell you to do anything."

Applejack's jaw went slack. She shook her head, her singed mane fluttering around her face, and planted her forehooves on Snake's shoulder. "Dang it, Snake! You've already written them off, haven't you?!" She beat a hoof half-heartedly against his shoulder. "Those ponies out there, they might not mean a lick to you, but they're my friends. My family! They ain't jus' disposable!"

Snake curled his lower lip into his mouth and bit lightly into it. He lowered his rifle and pushed Applejack off of his shoulder, turning away from his vantage point to confront her directly. "I don't enjoy watching them die, if that's what you're implying. But I'll tell you what I told Rainbow Dash." He jabbed a finger in Applejack's face. "If it comes down to choosing between saving the world, or saving our lives, there is no choice." Curling his finger back into his fist, he added, in a grave voice, "We're all disposable."

He spoke with such gravity that Applejack found herself momentarily stunned into silence. It would have been easy to mistake Snake as a disinterested mercenary, sending her friends to die for his own gain. But his words conveyed a sense of self-sacrifice that she'd be hard pressed to find in anypony. We're all disposable, she thought. Like he'd long ago accepted that he would die in the pursuit of his cause, whatever that cause might be. Like he was okay with that.

The problem, Applejack knew, was that she wasn't okay with death – for herself, or for her friends. And she counted Snake among her friends.

Accepting Applejack's silence as an concession, Snake turned back to the scene in the courtyard and knelt. Before he could raise his rifle again, Applejack softly rested a hoof on his upturned knee. "Nopony is disposable," she said. "'Specially not you. Right now, yer the only human in Equestria who ain't tryin' ta turn the world upside-down, not to mention the only one tryin' ta keep it rightside-up. An' that makes you precious – not disposable."

Snake growled something unintelligible under his breath.

"I appreciate what y'all wanna do, Snake, but it's our world on the line, and we got every right to fight for it ourselves. You let my friends die out there, an' you take that right away from them. But if you help 'em, they at least have a chance t'survive. Maybe we make it, maybe we don't, but what matters is that we try." She paused in her speech, glanced at the ground, and slowly removed her hoof from Snake's leg.

The flame thrower in the courtyard hissed again, and muted amber light flickered against the two of them. In that instant of illumination, Applejack saw the lines, the creases and folds, that age had carved into Snake's face. She hadn't noticed before, but in the right light, Snake looked very old.

Applejack noticed something else, too – a brief twinkle of orange in the distance, caught from the corner of her eye. "What was that?" she asked.

"Mm?" Snake raised the rifle and gazed down the scope. "What was what?"

"Left tower, by the gate. Some kinda sparkly nonsense. Like a flash."

"A flash?" There was an uncertain quality to Snake's voice that worried her. "Like a..." He moved the rifle in the direction Applejack had indicated, and grunted with mild displeasure. "Sniper," said Snake in response. "Good catch. There were two; I only see one. He looks like hell. Rainbow Dash must've taken the other out of commission, but she didn't quite finish the job on this one. Hm."

"Shucks," said Applejack. She leaned forward, squinting at the top of the tower where the flash had come from. She barely made out the lumpy shape of a human head and shoulders, and something else, too – another rifle, probably like the one Snake had.

"Dammit!" Snake snapped suddenly. His hurried, harsh tone brought Applejack back to a state of worry. "He's gonna take a shot!"

"Take a shot? At what?" Applejack looked into the courtyard, frantically glancing between her friends. Pinkie and Rarity were out, Fluttershy was nowhere in sight, and Twilight and Spike were both out of the sniper's line of fire. The only one he could logically be aiming at was the cyan pegasus, who daringly rolled between IRVING's legs, away from another deadly burst of flame.

Applejack looked at Snake, heart racing. "Snake, please...!"

A shot rang out from across the courtyard. The unexpected noise brought the battle to a sudden halt. All participants stood (or lay) in tableau, save a collective turning of their heads in the direction of the ring-wall. A human figure and a hatless orange mare stepped out from behind the colonnade that defined the wall's entrance, and strode into the courtyard. The human held in his arms a sniper rifle which he aimed at a turret beside the castle's gatehouse.

Spike and Twilight stared, disbelieving. The dragon braced himself against his friend's shoulder and grunted with pain, trying to raise the unicorn to her hooves. Fluttershy, jarred out of her catatonia by the sudden cessation of noise, dared to peek from her cover. Pinkie Pie, still unconscious and curled into a ball, snored and scratched her nose with a hind leg. Rainbow Dash climbed to her hooves and moved to Rarity’s side. She nudged the unicorn; Rarity stirred and looked at her, at Applejack and Snake, at IRVING, then back at Rainbow Dash. They promptly backed away.

In the broken shell of the keep, Alistair Cain slowly unfolded his arms and let them dangle at his sides. Macbeth glanced at Trenton, awaiting an explanation. The ninja made no sound nor movement, but stared impassively at the figure in the courtyard.

Apple Bloom planted her hooves on the wrecked window and pushed herself over it slightly to peek into the courtyard. A smile slowly broke across her face.

Unseen by anyone, a rifle fell from the turret to the ground below, accompanied by bits of red-tinted cranial matter.

Solid Snake turned away from the turret and leveled his rifle at IRVING. The machine, like its opponents, stood in a frozen state of shock, focusing squarely on the intruder. In a swift motion, Snake cycled the rifle and fired a second shot. The bullet bounced harmlessly off of IRVING's beak. It emitted a deep, low nicker, and bent its legs until its prow nearly touched the ground.

Snake chambered another round. "The hell is it waiting for?" he asked.

Applejack looked from Snake, to IRVING, and back. "Maybe it's surprised. Prob'ly didn't count on runnin' into a human it weren't workin' with. We have a shortage o'those in Equestria."

In the keep, Cain stepped to the edge of the broken window. He leaned against the jagged, stony remnants, and squinted into the courtyard. "Can't be," he muttered. "Can't be."

Trenton's head turned, and his eye drifted over Cain, lingering on his fingers. They tightly curled around the remains of the window sill, clenching tightly, until they trembled. "Can't be," the commander said, louder this time.

Rainbow Dash and Rarity had moved to Pinkie's side. The unicorn nudged Pinkie's nose with a hoof, and Pinkie grumbled, batting sleepily at the spot where Rarity's hoof had been. Rarity nudged her harder. Pinkie smacked her lips, batted again, and rolled onto her other side, mumbling to herself. Rainbow Dash frowned. "Is she unconscious, or napping?"

Slowly, IRVING rose from its crouch. A tremulous groan rumbled from its synthesized voice, and a shudder ran through its body, one which built in frequency and intensity, until the machine vibrated from head to toe. Snake tensed and braced himself; Applejack squared her shoulders.

The hideous groan rose in volume and pitch. What was once a bass, animal noise was now a high, shrill, feminine shriek. IRVING turned its beak skyward, stretching its legs to their full height, and projected its wail to the moon and stars. All at once, the noise cut off, and the vibration ceased. It relaxed its legs, returning to a more natural height, and lowered its head to regard Snake once again. When it spoke, it was once again with the synthesized woman's voice. Its response – starkly calm and composed – was spoken in monotone.

"JACK."

"'Jack?'" Twilight repeated.

"'Jack?’" Rarity and Rainbow Dash echoed together.

Commander Cain's hands slipped from the window, and fell to his sides, balled tightly into fists to mask their trembling. "A ghost," he whispered. "It's a ghost."

Trenton, unnoticed, watched the commander intently.

And in the courtyard, Snake tilted his head in confusion, then glanced at Applejack. "I think it's talking to you."

"JACK." IRVING repeated the name, louder now, with a frantic edge to it. "JACK!" Now it was a yell. IRVING crouched and lowered its head. "JACK!" The name became a battle cry when IRVING charged.

Snake's eyes widened as IRVING swiftly closed the distance between the two of them. "Move!" he snapped to Applejack. He dove head first to his right; Applejack went in the opposite direction, and IRVING passed them both by. Snake rolled, tucking the rifle close to his chest, and quickly rose to his feet to confront IRVING. The machine turned its head to him. Crouching so that the flame thrower aperture on its beak was level with Snake's head, it let loose a stream of napalm which Snake leaped backward to avoid.

From behind IRVING, Applejack landed a double-kick upon a coiled leg, but her blow rebounded harmlessly off of the powerful calf muscle. Ignoring Applejack, IRVING pivoted on its back foot and stabbed at Snake with a kick, its toes pointed and sharp claws bared. Snake backpedaled, but his feet lost purchase and he slipped and fell; IRVING thrust its claws again, and Snake rolled backward, barely avoiding being impaled. He emerged from the roll in a kneel. Now at point-blank range, Snake raised his rifle for a retaliatory shot. IRVING's leg was perpendicular to Snake's head, and the wound from Spike's bite was big enough, and close enough, to render scoping pointless.

Snake fired. The round ripped through the still-tender chink in IRVING's calf and emerged out the top of its thigh, accompanied by a splash of blood and tissue. It yelped – a canine noise, so unlike the guttural, bovine sounds of before – and dropped the leg immediately, the rest of its body sagging after it. Snake backpedaled again to avoid a flame thrower burst and chambered a new round, watching IRVING carefully for another opening.

IRVING struggled to raise itself again, hobbled as it was by bite and bullet. It succeeded, partially, but the amount of weight it put on the injured leg kept it unsteady. Applejack took advantage of that, sprinting toward the leg at top speed. Rather than kick, though, she drew inspiration from Rainbow Dash's failed attack, and threw herself at her target, slamming into IRVING's lame leg with all her weigh and momentum behind her. The force of the blow knocked the leg out from beneath it, and IRVING fell to its side with a groan.

In the keep, Apple Bloom hollered joyously at the sight of IRVING tumbling over. "Thatssit, Applejack, take it down! Hit it again!" She propped herself up on what remained of the window to get a better view of the action in the courtyard. Her hooves practically danced on the ruined sill. The sight of her sister emerging from the ring-wall, and with Snake, no less, was enough to stir her out of the morose slump she'd fallen back into. That she – no, they – were taking on that monstrous machine and not only holding their own, but winning, just made her giddy.

Beside her at the window was Commander Cain, and he looked a fair bit less happy with the situation than she did. Before and during the fight, he'd seemed detached from, and almost bored with, the situation. Something changed in him when he saw Snake and Applejack, though – no, probably not Applejack as much as Snake, Apple Bloom decided. He'd already known that Applejack was around. Snake was a surprise. Truthfully, it was kind of satisfying to see Cain – whom she'd decided, in the brief time that they'd known each other, was a Very Bad Apple – so shook up, but it left her wondering what was the reason behind it.

Fun as the thought was, though, it was more fun to watch her sister clean the clock of an ugly robot, so she mostly ignored him and focused on the fight.

She heard a shuffling beside her as Cain turned away from the courtyard, and a soft tapping noise as he fiddled with the thing on his wrist. Then she heard him speak, with a tremble in his deep voice that was almost silly. "All castle personnel, this is the commander. I am ordering an evacuation, effective immediately. Take to the skies, and salt the earth."

Apple Bloom's ears perked up, and she looked away from the battle and at the commander with an expression of confusion. She didn't need to be an expert in voices and the like to pick up on the terrified waver in his words. It wasn't hard to miss; it hadn't been there at all before when he spoke. Now, though, when he talked, he sounded almost like Fluttershy did at dinner the other night, when Applejack's anger with her boiled over. She didn't completely understand what he was talking about – the meaning of "evacuation" eluded her – but the last part of his sentence seemed mostly clear to her, salt notwithstanding. They were leaving the castle, and going off someplace else.

And, she thought, her good mood evaporating, they're prob'ly takin' me with 'em.

Macbeth's jaw dropped, and he focused his good eye, wide with shock, on Trenton. "An evacuation? On what grounds, Commander?!"

Trenton watched with curiosity as the commander lowered his arm to his side, appearing to ignore his client. "What of our assets here?" the ninja asked.

"Nothing here but the choppers that we can't live without," said Cain, "and we're taking those with us." Sparing the courtyard one last glance, he clenched his fists tighter and strode down the path to the exit.

Trenton stared after him. "The Hind is still inoperable—"

"Then leave it!" roared Cain over his shoulder.

Apple Bloom jumped at the sudden harshness in Cain's voice. Her confusion persisted; what could have gotten into him to make him so afraid? He hadn't shown a lick of fear until he saw—

Her eyes widened with sudden realization. Looking at Snake, one who wasn't familiar with him might write him off as just a hairless ape in a silly outfit who smelled like smoke and wasn't any good with kids. But she'd watched him tackle a manticore, fight it off unarmed, survive the deadliest death sentence it could give to a pony, and be fit as a fiddle the next day. She knew what he was capable of.

And, judging by the way Cain reacted to the sight of him, so did he.

Macbeth rounded on Trenton. "This is mad," he said pleadingly. "Trenton, say something! Do something! What the hell has gotten into him?!"

"The situation has changed," said Trenton. "That man's presence has affected our mission's parameters – possibly beyond his ability to contain." The ninja's voice carried a hint of curiosity, a decidedly non-robotic lilt.

"Why?" asked Macbeth, baffled. "I grant that the presence of another human is disconcerting – his performance against your machine moreso – but to think that one man could so radically alter the course of the plan is beyond ludicrous!"

Trenton still stared down the hall after Cain. "You don't know who that is. What he is. What he represents to the commander. No fault of your own, of course." Trenton turned to Macbeth and stared down at him. The blaze in his eye seemed to freeze over as he spoke to his client coldly. "But you were not at Zanzibar Land, and I cannot expect you to understand." He jerked his head in the direction of the exit. "You should follow him."

Curling his lip into a sneer, Macbeth spat and trotted after Cain. "And shooting the bastard is out of the question?" he said to himself. "What do I pay you for?"

Trenton was left alone with his thoughts for all of ten seconds, when the soft voice of a filly spoke to him. "Are you takin' me with you too?" Apple Bloom had been bright and fiery upon seeing Applejack again, but the news of the evacuation seemed to deflate her. Now she stared up at him with eyes reddened from a night's worth of tears, her mouth drawn into a pitiable pout.

"On the contrary," Trenton said, in an expressionless voice. "I have no further use for you."

My first impression of Applejack was that she was the only one of the gang of seven that I'd want on my side in a fight. Squaring off against the timberwolves had forced me to revise that impression: Applejack wasn't the only fighter among them, just the most competent. Even when I was wrong, events had a way of proving me right. Now, there's another side to that, of course. We'd gained the upper hand for the moment, with one hell of a display of teamwork, but I'd initially rated the odds of defeating IRVING in combat as suicidal. We'd lasted a little longer than I'd thought, but, like I said... even when wrong, I tend to be right.

So it wasn't a surprise (though it was a kick to the metaphorical balls) when IRVING proved itself lethal, even when knocked on its ass. It swung its wounded leg like a club at Applejack. She nimbly ducked beneath it, but she didn't see the other one coming straight at her. IRVING was swinging them like the blades of a fan, and the second hit her like a Wasilla redneck on a bender (I've been told that not everybody understands my library of Alaskan analogies, but this one should be self-explanatory). She caught a blow across the face that knocked her away, and didn't get back up. Goodnight, Applejack.

IRVING didn't move in for the kill. Either Applejack was dead, or it didn't figure it had to waste time taking her out. With two rounds still in the gun's magazine, I fired again, aiming for the unhurt leg this time. The shot struck, tossing up a little spurt of blood, but did no appreciable damage. Disheartening, but not unforeseen. If it was made of the same synthetic tissue as RAY, then it’d take a much higher caliber than the rifle offered to penetrate it – anti-material ammo, at the least. Judging by the lack of reaction, it seemed to know that too. So I'd lost a round of precious ammunition demonstrating that shooting an unhurt leg wouldn't be a feasible plan of attack.

Well, the more you know. Fortunately, the other leg had a Spike-sized gash in it, which made for a prime target. Had to hand it to the runt, he was less useless than I'd thought.

"YOU'VE GOTTEN STRONGER."

Shit. It was talking again. Funny thing about that, though. Whereas before, the voice had a sort of unnerving, robotic monotone to it, its current vocal tone was... not. When it talked, it sounded like it was trying to convey emotion. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear it sounded proud.

I chambered a new round and took aim at the open wound on its hobbled leg, when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cyan pony with a rainbow tail flapping behind her like a pennant gallop toward IRVING. Goddammit, Rainbow Dash, you had your chance, and you grounded yourself in the process of blowing it. I saw the shot she’d taken to her wing; the girl had spirit to get up after that, but if she couldn’t fly, then her primary advantage was gone, which meant that she was fighting IRVING on the same terms as the others. Not to mention, as long as she was mucking about with IRVING, I didn't have a clear shot.

Without looking, IRVING raised its good leg (slumping noticeably as it rested its weight upon its wounded leg) and thrust it toward Rainbow Dash as soon as she came within kicking distance. The claws on its foot caught her across the muzzle, and droplets of blood trailed from three parallel gashes on her face as she tumbled backward. And, yet again, it focused on me rather than finish off another fighter.

With Rainbow Dash out of the way, I had a clear shot at IRVING's wounded leg. I fired, but in the instant it took for me to tighten my finger around the trigger, IRVING had bared the top of its head at me. The round bounced off its armor, and it charged. And here's the funny thing about IRVING, something that fighters all around the world have learned by now. Even when they're hobbled by unfortunate leg wounds, they are still damn fast.

Of course, at the time, I didn't know that. I was expecting it to be slowed considerably by the damage we'd inflicted onto its leg. Its speed caught me off guard. I had an instant to react, and I seized it, diving out of its path and rolling to a kneel. It passed me by, and it kept on running, then shocked the hell out of me by coiling its legs and springing into the air toward the curtain wall. It raised its good leg, toes pointed, and struck the wall, bending the leg to absorb the impact and digging its claws into the masonry. It clung to the wall like a cat, toes splayed and legs spread vertically. It swiveled its gargantuan head and the sensory dome stared expectantly – not at me, but at the spot just a meter or so to my right, the spot where I'd been standing.

IRVING had laid an egg on that spot. It was a long, cylindrical egg, painted red, with its tips rounded off at either end and a nozzle stuck on one side. Gas tank, I figured, probably the fuel source for IRVING's flame thrower. Around the nozzle was a complicated series of wires, cords, and a blinking red LED, all connected to an ugly-looking black rectangle.

It took about half a second to connect the dots. The little black box was a detonator. The gas tank was an improvised explosive device, probably meant as a last-ditch attack, given that IRVING was apparently sacrificing its primary weapon by using it. The blinking red LED, which pulsed in faster and faster sequences, was a countdown mechanism. And given how quickly it was pulsing, I probably had moments before it blew, which I'd squandered figuring out that the thing was a bomb, and that I had moments before it blew.

What a day.

I turned to run – pointless, given how short the countdown was, and how big the explosion would likely be – but a feeling of sudden warmth and weightlessness enveloped me. I glimpsed a shimmering, lavender aura surrounding my body, then a white flash which blinded me. For a moment, I assumed that the bomb had gone off, but I didn't feel the instant of searing pain that I was expecting, nor did I hear the terrible roar of the explosion. The light cleared, but the afterimage still muddled my vision. It was like a flashbang, sans bang. I was still running, though, and I felt my foot catch on something that yelped in surprise. I tripped, cracked my forehead on something hard that I couldn't see, rebounded off of it and fell backward, landing painfully on the ground. That sucked. Not as much as being swallowed by a fireball of ignited gas would, for which I was peripherally grateful, but still – kind of graceless, kind of painful. And there was something spiny digging into the small of my back.

Then I heard the sound I was expecting: the heavy boom, the explosion as the fuel tank burst and set the area around it alight. I felt the heat wash over me; it was uncomfortable, but not, as I'd expected, lethal, not as hot as it should have been, and kind of distant, overall. Blinded, confused, and with a throbbing pain in my forehead, I tried to puzzle out why I wasn't dead.

"Sorry," said a sheepish voice. "The way you were looking at that thing worried me, so I decided to do something. Given how impressive that explosion was, I think I made the right call."

"Uh-huh," said another voice – younger, more boyish. Beneath me. "Real impressive, Twi. So, uh, Snake, you gonna hang out there much longer? Should I start charging rent?"

So that's what I'd landed on. I rolled off of him, squeezing my eyes tightly and rubbing at them. "Thanks," I said. "Guess I owe you one." She teleported me. Right; I saw her pull off that trick against the timberwolves. That was on herself, though. She could do that to others? From a distance?

As an experiment, I opened my eyes to slits, to gauge how much of my vision I'd recovered. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the afterimage effect was almost completely gone. The temporary blindness was unpleasant, but at least it was short-lived. Twilight had yanked me a considerable distance. The spot where the bomb had gone off was ablaze now, a great big bonfire in the center of the courtyard. Luckily, there didn't seem to be much combustible material around for it to consume. It’d stay contained, and probably burn out before too long. I glanced up at the spot where IRVING had embedded itself in the curtain wall. It still hung there, orange light flickering off of its armored head, which was positioned to stare down at me. Son of a bitch looked about as mad as a faceless robot could possibly look.

I dug into my pocket in search of a clip. "That was a good trick you pulled off," I said to Twilight. "That mean you still got some fight left in you?"

"I think so," she said, stepping up beside me. "Teleporting you took a little bit out of me, but you and the others bought me enough time to regroup. I think can hold my own."

"Good." I found a clip, stripped the bullets into the open breech of my rifle, and tossed the useless clip away. "Round two starts now." I stared down the my scope at IRVING. Its legs were splayed vertically, with its unhurt leg beneath it, and its wounded leg above. The legs were too tough to knock out with a single shot, but I wondered if its toes were a little more vulnerable. Each foot had three toes on it; I set my crosshairs on the middle toe of its unhurt leg and fired. The shot took the toe clean off, and the shock jarred its foot from the wall. It barked and scrabbled to get a new foothold in the wall, but its other foot tore free, bringing down with it a solid chunk of wall the size of a pony. IRVING fell, striking the ground with a crash.

The impact tossed up a dense cloud of dust and debris, one that made it difficult to get a view of the thing, much less a clear shot. "Twilight," I said. "Can you do something to clear up that—"

The chunk of wall that IRVING had torn down with it came flying from the cloud, hurled through the air and hurtling toward us. I dove, tackling Twilight and shoving her out of the way as the rock struck where I'd been standing and rolled. I heard Spike yelp, glanced over my shoulder, and saw that he'd narrowly avoided being crushed by it. I wondered if his scales could withstand that kind of impact.

IRVING emerged from the cloud, bellowing and charging, head lowered. There was no way I could get a shot at its legs, and it closed the distance too quickly for me to dive out of the way. Twilight magicked up a shield, but IRVING powered through it without slowing, and bashed her aside with its beak. Spike shouted her name; IRVING raised its bitten leg and stomped on Spike. I heard a sharp exhalation as its foot crushed the air from his lungs. Teeth grit and heart pounding, I brought the rifle to bear on its gaping leg wound, but IRVING's prehensile manipulator cord curled around the barrel and wrenched the whole thing free from my arms. It kicked Spike away, and he thudded against the curtain wall, lying still.

Its head craned down at me; its sensory dome stared into my eyes. It thrust its leg toward me suddenly, catching me on the shoulder and knocking me on my back, pinning me to the ground. I felt a sudden popping sensation in my shoulder, and an expanding swell of pain across the right side of my body. Dislocation. Had to be. Blood seeped from hole where I'd shot off IRVING's toe, and it pooled on my chest. Its two remaining claws splayed across my body, one digging into my right shoulder and exacerbating the pain from the dislocation, the other pressing painfully against my jugular.

"THAT ARM STILL HURT?" The claw on my jugular pressed down harder. I could feel it slowly breaking the skin, and knew that the machine was planning on taking its time to rip out my throat. "GO HOME!"

I assessed my options. My right arm was useless. The only weapon that had proven effective against IRVING was the rifle, and that was out of the question now. Twilight and Spike, the only ones in striking distance who could save my bacon, were both down for the count. With my left hand, I groped for my hip holster, felt the Beretta, and despaired. Hell of a way to go, I thought grimly as IRVING's claw curled deeper into my throat. To hell with it; what could it possibly hurt? I started to draw the Beretta from its holster.

And then I saw it: chrome, cylindrical, hovering beside IRVING's leg, encased in a lavender aura. My ears rang with what I can only describe as the godfather of all gunshots – less like a report, more like a bomb going off. IRVING's right calf exploded into a confetti of synthetic meat and blood, and it stumbled off of me, collapsing onto its side. Pinned no longer (and confused, but grateful), I flopped onto my belly and quickly rose to my feet as I saw IRVING eject something from its underside: another fuel tank, this one clearly marked "NAPALM".

Right. It was equipped with two kinds of flame thrower.

The detonator was nearly at the end of its countdown when Twilight appeared at my side. Her horn flared brightly, and a shimmering dome of purple light emerged around us just before the tank blew. Twilight's shield held against the heat and the flames, but not the kinetic force of the blast. We were thrown backward, and collided hard against the wall, pained and bruised, but alive.

I heard a rumbling noise from above, and, farther off, the distinctive chopping noise of a helicopter's rotor. Glancing up, I saw chunks of wall break free and descend rapidly toward Twilight and I. The ancient castle, having clearly seen better days before, had hit its breaking point with IRVING's last-gasp attack.

"Never rains, but it pours," I growled, and I threw my left arm over Twilight's prone body. With two arms, I could have carried her properly; I did not have two arms at my disposal, so I just wrapped her under my arm, and rolled with her onto my stomach again. With very little time to move, I pushed onto my feet and sprang feebly forward, just far enough to avoid being crushed by the largest chunks of debris. Not far enough, I'm afraid, to avoid being pelted with the smaller chunks. My back and shoulders were battered by a hailstorm of debris. Knocked to my knees, I pulled Twilight tightly against my chest and squeezed my eyes shut. A particularly large hunk of wall nailed me between the shoulders, and I collapsed completely, falling to the ground with Twilight clutched against me.

The pain sustained me – pain in my dislocated shoulder, pain throughout my body from a day's worth of abuse, pain from the rocks that pinned me, pain from Twilight's horn digging into my chest. I grit my teeth and endured it, though. Pain became an ally. Pain was how I knew I was alive. The absence of pain, the comforting, gentle numbness – you feel that, and you're dead.

The cacophony of falling rock petered out, replaced by the spinning of the helicopter's rotors, no longer so distant. My knees held, although my calves were stuck beneath a heavy chunk of rubble. The piece of wall on my back had knocked me further down, and I'd be flat on my belly if I weren't propped up by Twilight beneath me. The back of my head was sore, but it didn't feel wet. No blood. Good sign. Blind, dumb luck; a big enough blow to my head could have killed me. I should have kept it covered with my one good arm, the one that clutched Twilight like a life preserver.

No use staying down. I pulled my arm off of Twilight and placed my hand on the ground, elbow crooked, fingers spread. Pebbles dug painfully into my palm, and ground against my finger bones. It was uncomfortable, but nothing unendurable, especially compared to the pain which coursed through my every other bone and muscle. Bracing myself, resting my weight on that arm alone, I pushed up. It was slow going, but gradually, I rose. I shrugged my shoulder, letting the offending hunk of rock slide to my left and rest on the ground beside us. Freed from that particular weight, I reached behind myself and lifted the debris pinning my calves just enough to wrench my left leg out from beneath it. My right followed in short order.

I staggered to my feet, cradling my right shoulder close to my side. I could see Twilight more clearly now. Her eyes were open, though half-lidded, a fact which I found surprising. She wasn't unconscious at all, just exhausted, and probably in a great deal of pain as well. So much for catching her breath; IRVING's last attack must have really taken it out of her. She tilted her head and looked at me with those wide purple eyes, but didn't say a word. I got it though, understood what she was trying to tell me without needing her to speak.

I nodded once at her, and winced at the pain it caused me to do so. Then I looked around, took stock of my surroundings. Things had changed noticeably. The wall was in shambles where IRVING's device had gone off. The gatehouse, too, was a pile of rubble; the teeth of the portcullis jutted out from it like broken javelins on an old Laconic battlefield. It didn't look like it could be scaled, especially not in my present state. So much for slipping out of the castle.

IRVING itself lay on its side, remarkably intact, and, judging by the intermittent twitching and guttural cow noises, still alive and in a great deal of agony. The rubbery black skin on its legs, from its toes to its lower thighs, had been seared away by the explosion. The exposed flesh was red and raw, but the hole in its calf – about the size of my fist – no longer bled, cauterized by the blast. Patches of flame burned the charred ground where the weapon had detonated.

The sound of whirring helicopter rotors overhead drew my full attention at last. I looked upward, and saw one of the Chinooks from the other courtyard hovering over the battlefield at a curiously low altitude. Its side hatch was open, and in the port stood a tall, muscular, bald-headed man, staring directly at me.

Cain.

The chopper was low enough to the ground that I could just make out his expression. His gaze was steely and unwavering. His jaw was clenched, his nose wrinkled. The man's expression was downright livid. I couldn't do much of anything, at that point, besides draw my Beretta and open fire, but I doubted I could beat him in a quick-draw at that point. So I just stared right back at him, locking eyes and holding his gaze.

He blinked. Shook his head. Leveled his MP7 at me. I wanted to dodge, roll aside, but I could barely stand, let alone move. I drew in a deep breath through my nose and stared defiantly at him.

And then, as if he'd ridden in on a cloud, Trenton fell from the sky, interposing himself between the commander and I. Slung under his left arm was a yellow bundle with a red tuft of tail sticking out of its behind. Apple Bloom was alive and intact, after all. Trenton raised his own head to gaze at Cain; his body blocked my view of him, so I could no longer see his expression, but I couldn't imagine him looking particularly pleased.

The chopper was low enough to the ground to kick up a hell of a dust storm. Trenton stood like a rock in the face of that storm, and his body shielded me from the worst of the wind, though I still had to cover my face with my good arm and squint just to see anything. I glanced below; Twilight still lay there, watching the scene intently. The others were where we'd left them. Rarity was still with Pinkie Pie. Rainbow Dash and Applejack stood together, leaning on one another for support. I didn't see Fluttershy anywhere; she must have still been hiding. All of them recoiled from the gust of wind and the swirling dust stirred up the Chinook's rotors. All, that is, but Trenton.

He did something that surprised me, just then. He raised his right arm, crooked it toward his sword, and grasped its hilt in his fingers.

I waited for the rattle of submachine gun fire and the dancing sparks from Trenton's sword cutting bullets out of the air. Neither came. Instead, the wind died down and the dust settled as Cain's chopper ascended. It rose far above the treetops and headed away, following the path out of the castle and back into the forest.

I wondered, as another Chinook rose from the courtyard beyond the Great Hall and turned its nose down the same path Cain had taken, just where, exactly, they were going.

"Shnaek?" Rainbow Dash had come up beside me; her raspy voice sounded slurred and indistinct. Looking at her, I noticed it was because she had something in her mouth: Captain Case's Model 500, the barrel clenched horizontally between her teeth. "I sink yoo drof dis."

At least she had the sense not to point it into her mouth. I accepted the gun, and thumbed the catch to open the cylinder. Four rounds left. Not a problem; so far, I (or, rather, Twilight) had used one more shot than anticipated.

Trenton released his grip on Apple Bloom, and she dropped to the ground with a quiet "oof". She rubbed her behind and glared at the ninja, but if he noticed, he certainly didn't care. He kept staring off into the distance, in the direction where the choppers continued to fly. Apple Bloom looked away from him, at Twilight, then rotated herself to look at me. For the first time in almost a day, our eyes met. Before, when we'd met in Zecora's hut, she'd gone from looking at me with shy curiosity, to seeing me as an annoyance wrongly foisted upon her. Just then, as she stared at me, tired and wounded as I was, I wondered how she saw me.

"Apple Bloom!" Applejack's cry was audible, even over the heavy beating of helicopter rotors. Apple Bloom and I both looked across the courtyard at the walking, hatless, partly cooked orange bruise.

Applejack, smiling radiantly and shedding tears, looked more full of life than I'd ever seen her before.

Apple Bloom spared me another glance. I nodded to her, and then she was off, galloping across the courtyard toward her sister.

I watched Apple Bloom for a little bit. The eagerness in her gait, the smile on Applejack's face as she prepared to receive her. I looked away from them, at Trenton, and thought this is too good to be true. Too easy, too simple. There needed to be a catch.

Twilight's eyes shot wide open, pupils dilated. "Spike," she whispered.

I looked over my shoulder, at the spot where the falling debris had nearly crushed Twilight and I, and saw a tiny purple arm sticking out from under a very large piece of wall. Our blood price. Solving the ongoing mystery that was Trenton's motivation would have to wait. I had a little boy to rescue. God, if it wasn't one idiot child getting herself into danger, it was another.

Frustrated as I was with the situation – with Spike, for insisting on being a burdensome little shit, and with Twilight, for putting him in harm's way in the first place – I wanted to rush to that pile and dig the poor stupid dragon out with my bare hands. So I turned – turned right, which, as it turned out, was not such a good idea. Jostling my shoulder sent a fresh wave of pain up my right arm, and I bit back a cry of pain.

Twilight had to be in a pretty severe amount of pain as well, if not from being swatted aside by the lizard before, then from the beating she'd taken earlier. Her wounds weren't as severe as mine though, or if they were, they just didn't impede her so much. Whatever she was running on, I could've used a cup of it right then. She frantically, and ineffectually, tried lifting the debris by hooking her hooves beneath it and lifting. Didn't work. She set her horn against it, squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and grunted as the faintest shimmer of an aura enveloped the offending chunk. It trembled, rose up a centimeter, and then she lost her hold. It settled back against Spike, and she collapsed against the thing, panting deeply. Either she was too tired to move it, or it was just too big. Regardless, she needed help.

I squatted beside her, on her left, set the revolver down, and wormed my good arm beneath the block pinning Spike. Rainbow Dash went on her other side, planting her hind hooves on the ground and curling her forelegs beneath the block. "We lift together," I said, "on three." Without my right arm, I'd have to rely even more on my lower body strength to raise it. Rainbow Dash would have to pick up the slack. "One... two..."

And before I could reach three, Trenton appeared beside me. He reached down, took hold of the block, and raised it like it was made of cardboard. With a shove, he sent it away. He looked down at me, silently judging me for squatting like a moron. I squared my jaw and and glared right back, empathizing very much with Apple Bloom's frustration.

"Oh, sweet Celestia..."

Twilight's pained whisper broke up our little staring contest. Looking at Spike, there wasn't any obvious outward sign that he'd been hurt at all; the upshot to having impervious skin, I guess, is that you don't scar easy. His mouth was ajar, his eyes shut. His chest rose and fell, for whatever that was worth, but only slowly, slightly. His breathing seemed labored and pained, and he didn't look conscious at all. I watched the unicorn slump, like her whole body suddenly went limp. Her jaw was slack and her eyes wide as she stared at Spike. She looked almost as lifeless as he did. Rainbow Dash shut her eyes and turned her away, choking back a sob. Her eyes opened on Twilight, and she unfurled her good wing to wrap around her friend's shoulders.

"Spike?" Rarity, carrying an unconscious and snoring Pinkie Pie over her back, nudged herself and her burden under Rainbow Dash's wing. She moved with surprising quickness, considering, as she rushed to Spike's side. "Spikey-Wikey?!" Her voice was strained and frantic, the opposite of Twilight's limp and lifeless countenance. I wondered which of the two was more upset.

I glanced over my shoulder, at where the reunited sisters stood. Applejack's head was bowed, her eyes closed and tears drying on her cheeks. She had a leg wrapped around Apple Bloom, pulling the filly close against her chest, where she nuzzled against her sister's coat. A familiar weight grew in the pit of my stomach as I marveled at the irony. Applejack's sister's safety was secured. The price just happened to be Spike's well-being.

"Come now, darling," said Rarity, her voice building in pitch as she grew more desperate. "On your feet, then! It's nothing, really – you're alright; you have to be alright!"

I saw Fluttershy approach, having apparently wrenched herself out of whatever hole she'd been hiding in. She fluttered toward Spike, her lips trembling. "Rarity," she whispered. "He isn't..."

"Wake up, please," Rarity begged. "Spike, you brave little dragon, you need to wake up now. You need to... you need to—"

"He needs medical attention," said Trenton, rather bluntly interjecting.

Rarity whirled her head to glare at Trenton, mane flying and tears sparkling in her eyes. "You stay out of this!"

Trenton was not cowed. "You mourn him prematurely. He is not dead."

Now I was getting angry. "You trying to be helpful now?" I asked, rising and looking Trenton in the eye. I reached for the Model 500, calculating whether or not I could get a shot off at him in my present state before he cut me in two. "I don't know what your game is, Trenton, but nobody asked for you to step in."

"Had I not, you would be likely dead," said Trenton. "Ignore what I say now, and you will undoubtedly be."

"That a threat?" Twilight was exhausted; I was disarmed in a literal and figurative sense, and the only capable fighter left among us was a one-winged Rainbow Dash. If Trenton decided to start something, I didn't like our chances.

"No. Advice."

Wasn't expecting that.

"Commander Cain has ordered a complete evacuation of this installation. Scorched earth."

"Scorched earth?" They were gonna burn the castle down? How and why?

"This castle is old, and built upon a ruin stretching back hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years. Its remains still run beneath this castle, serving as sub-levels, catacombs, dungeons. In the event of a rapid evacuation, to prevent the equipment here from falling into enemy possession, demolition charges placed in key structural points, in the structures and on the castle's foundations, will detonate. The keep, and most of the surrounding complex, including much of this courtyard, will implode and collapse into those catacombs and sub-levels, burying or destroying everything beyond salvage. In minutes, virtually everything you see here will simply be so much rubble in a giant pit. "

That got everyone's attention. "What?" asked Fluttershy. "But why? What could motivate someone to do that?"

Trenton looked at Fluttershy, then jerked his head in my direction. "Him."

"Him?" Rainbow Dash asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Me?" I asked, perplexed.

"You." Another Chinook displaced the air around us with its rotors as it passed overhead, tousling the ponies' manes and my bandana. "Your sudden appearance has caused an unexpected change in his demeanor, no doubt affecting the way the rest of this situation will unfold." I detected a faint note of curiosity in his mechanical voice.

"Lemme get this straight," said Rainbow Dash. "So you kidnapped Applejack's sister to lure us into a trap out here, but you totally forgot to mention to your boss that Snake was here too? You an idiot, or something?"

"This man's arrival in Equestria was not something I had anticipated," said Trenton, looking at Rainbow Dash. "Our meeting in the forest was a further complication. I needed to play for time, to factor this new data into my simulation, so I lured you out here to keep you occupied while I devised a means to contain this development."

Trenton had a funny habit of standing rail-straight when he talked, betraying nothing through body language, which made what he said just that much more unnerving.

"And not telling Cain about me?" I asked. "That was part of the plan?"

"I wanted to see how he would react to your being here," said Trenton. "It was not what I had expected, but informative nonetheless."

So everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours – Apple Bloom's kidnapping, the trap in the castle, the fight with IRVING – was all part of some ruse that Trenton staged, simply out of curiosity. Why did that sound so familiar?

"You no doubt have many questions," he said. "You will have to save them for later. This is neither the time, nor the place, for me to answer them." He raised a hand and splayed his fingers. "By my calculations, you have five minutes to escape this castle before the charges detonate, and you all die horrendously."

Rarity rose off of the ground. Her body trembled, shaking Pinkie loose; Pinkie plopped on the ground, twitched, then smacked her lips and resumed her snoring. "You endanger Applejack's sister, you lure us out here to play games with us, just to see how we react – Spike could die because of this situation you've devised, and you – you're proud of yourself for this, aren't you?!" An aura sparked into existence around her horn.

"Rarity," said Twilight. "Later. No time now." She looked away from Spike, for the first time; Rarity turned to look back at her. Their eyes met. "We have to go. Now."

Something in Twilight's expression, or voice, or general demeanor, must have reached her. She didn't look any less angry, but she backed down, silently seething.

"Are you all mobile?" Twilight asked.

Fluttershy, Rarity and Rainbow Dash nodded, that latter with a moment of barely noticeable hesitation. Twilight looked at me.

"I've had worse," I said to her unasked question. "I think Applejack's more or less fit, too."

Twilight nodded at that. She glanced at Spike. "I don't think I can carry him." She spoke with no emotion in her voice.

"I got him." Rainbow Dash stooped forward and gathered Spike in her forelegs with more tenderness than I'd expected from her. Blood dripped from the cut on her cheek onto Spike's forehead. "Sorry, little guy," she said, wiping it off with a hoof. She spread her wings – her left farther than her right – and gently beat them until she hovered in the air, wincing as she did.

"You’re hurt," said Twilight. “I don’t think you should carry him."

"I can do it," said Rainbow Dash, looking back at her. "I’m okay. He isn’t that heavy, anyway. Are you, kid?"

"Darling, please,” said Rarity, reaching toward Spike. “Let me—"

"I got him!" snapped Rainbow Dash, pulling away. Rarity recoiled at her tone; softer, Rainbow Dash said "I got him. Please, let me do this." She looked pleadingly at Twilight. "Please."

Twilight hesitated for a moment, but nodded.

"What about Pinkie?" Fluttershy asked. "I don't think any of us can—"

I stepped forward and nudged Pinkie in the side of the head with the bottom of my foot – not hard enough to hurt her, but enough for her to feel it. "Wake up!" Sure, I could have been more diplomatic about it, but we were on the clock.

And, thankfully, she did wake up. She leaped a foot into the air and vibrated like an alarm clock, making a noise like one too. What fucking acid flashback did they find her in? "What happened?" she asked. "Did I miss a fun thing?" She looked around quickly; her eyes fell on Trenton. "What's Wild Blue Yonder doing here?"

"Shut up!" I snapped. "Castle exploding; no time to talk!"

"Castle? What are you—" Her eyes fell on the unconscious dragon in Rainbow Dash's forelegs. Her ears drooped against her head. "Spike? What happened to—"

"Pinkie," said Twilight. Her voice still lacked emotion, but it had the same firmness with which she'd addressed Rarity. She sounded tough. She sounded like a leader. "We'll talk about it later. We have to go. Now."

We ran. It took us a minute to cross the courtyard, collecting Applejack and her sister as we passed. Apple Bloom sat on Applejack's back; the orange pony galloped like a prize racehorse, despite having taken more abuse than anyone else among us. Knew there was a reason I liked her.

Trenton stood where we left him, never moving, and watched us as we left.

It took us another half of a minute to get up the stairs and into the ruined Great Hall. The room was now even shittier thanks to IRVING being thrown through it. Broken lamps and twisted benches littered the room around us; bits of rubble peppered us from above. Applejack, with Apple Bloom on her back, passed me as we ran down the hall toward the twisting corridor; she disappeared around the bend. The others – Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy – were close behind them. Twilight lagged closer to me, with Rainbow Dash just behind her. Theoretically, she should have outpaced all of us. Then again, that hit to her wing was probably slowing her down; the fact that she was flying at all had to be a small victory for her.

A rolling crashing noise filled the hall. To my horror, what remained of the roof began to cave in on us. "Move!" I shouted. We pushed ourselves into the Great Hall, tapping into whatever bit of stamina we had left in our bodies.

"The bombs!" Rainbow Dash cried over the sound of the hall crumbling behind us. The noise seemed to chase us down the corridor. "They've gone off early!"

"No," said Twilight, shaking her head. "The keep's structural integrity was weakened even before we got here. When I threw IRVING through the window, I must have—"

A piece of ceiling narrowly missed the top of my head. "Hate yourself later!" I snapped.

We emerged from the corridor into the antechamber where we'd ambushed the guards. The lockers where I'd stashed them were shut tight, just the way I'd left them. No use worrying about them now. The doors were still open from when the others had passed through them ahead of us, and we emerged just in time to see the last Chinook rise and take off toward the staging area, leaving the Hind alone. The others were far ahead of us, climbing the stairs on the other side of the garden and moving into the building where we'd found IRVING's crate. As we crossed the threshold, the keep's structural integrity failed completely, and the whole thing came crashing down. "Faster!" Twilight cried.

We passed beneath the arch, chased down the keep's stairs by a tsunami of rolling rubble. A sizable portion of the keep fell forward, smashing into the top of the arch, and the whole thing came down over our heads. Twilight was ahead of me; she emerged unscathed. I leaped forward, just ahead of a rock that could have broken my skull. Behind me, though, came an agonized scream.

I skidded to a halt and whirled around, my heart pounding and heavy within my chest. Amid rubble and dust, Rainbow Dash's hindquarters were pinned. Her upper body squirmed and writhed, vainly trying to free herself. Spike, though, was safe; she'd thrust her forelegs forward to keep the rubble from burying him too.

"Rainbow Dash!" Twilight turned and galloped back to Rainbow Dash's side. I stood my ground; half of me wanted to keep running, the other commanded me to stay with Twilight. She fell in front of Rainbow Dash and dug at the rocks burying her.

"Twilight, no," she pleaded, in a voice strained with pain. "There's no time!"

"We're not losing anyone, Dash," said Twilight from beside me. She pushed her head against a large chunk of rubble, groaning as she struggled to lift it. It didn't budge.

"There's no time," Rainbow Dash repeated. "Leave me behind! Take Spike and run!"

"I can get you out of—"

"I'm as good as dead!" she shouted. Twilight froze, and locked eyes with her. "But Spike isn't! You aren't! You both have a chance. Better I die, and the two of you live, than the three of us all dying together!"

I hated Rainbow Dash. Hated her. Couldn't stand her. Brash, arrogant, headstrong – more Raiden than Jack in manner. Hell, I'd tried to punch her lights out not too long before; hell, I'd drawn my gun on her. I shouldn't have cared that she was pinned beneath a pile of rock, with no hope or rescue. I shouldn't have cared that, for her, death was a certainty.

So I chose not to.

"Twilight," I called. "She's right." Returning the revolver to my right ankle holster, I walked to where Rainbow Dash was pinned, wrapped my good arm around Spike, and cradled him against my chest like a baby.

"Dash, no," Twilight moaned. She was crying. Whatever emotional shock she'd been in when Spike got hurt had worn off. Tears rained down her face as she reached a shaking purple hoof toward Rainbow Dash.

"It has to be this way, Twi," said Rainbow Dash. She reached toward Twilight in turn; their hooves met and hooked tenderly around one another. "Don't look back, egghead. Keep runnin', and don't look back."

Twilight dropped Rainbow Dash's hoof, bowed her head one last time, and ran. I frowned at Rainbow Dash. "You shouldn’t have taken Spike," I said. "With your wing, he slowed you down too much."

Rainbow Dash chuckled. Or hiccuped. Could have gone either way. "Yeah... what can you do? Element of loyalty." Whatever that meant. I turned to leave.

"Promise me something," Rainbow Dash said, and I stopped, looking back down at her. Tears ran down her face; she didn't bother trying to hide them. "Promise me you'll stay with them! Hate 'em all you want, but don't you dare try to run out on 'em again! You promise me, Solid Snake!"

I felt the weight of the injured dragon in my arm, thought about the battered, bruised, and unbeaten group of infuriating dopes still waiting for me. Knowing full well that it was the last I'd ever see Rainbow Dash, I swallowed hard and nodded, once, soberly.

That seemed to bring her some peace. She smiled at me, smiled through the pain. "Take care of 'em," she said. "Take care of Twilight, okay?"

I nodded again. I didn't have time to give her the same lingering look that Twilight had; I'd wasted enough time as it was. Stupid of me. Should have left her behind, left her and Twilight behind. Probably shouldn't even have bothered to grab Spike, either, if I wanted to be a stickler about it. And yet, weighed down by an additional burden that I really did not need, I ran after Twilight, leaving Rainbow Dash pinned in the garden.

Through the gate. Up the stairs. The double door was open, and I staggered inside. Twilight was there, waiting for me – or maybe just for Spike. IRVING's crate was still on the podium; its dented lid rested on the floor. We ran past rows of canvas tents, past the tent where the possibly dying dragon in my arm had shouted at me that he didn't want to be a liability. The way out was right ahead; a few more steps and—

"FAIL-DEADLY SYSTEM ACTIVATED." The voice came from behind me, accompanied by heavy footfalls. "JACK!"

I froze. I turned. I looked through the doorway, at the half-dead machine crouching in the threshold. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" I roared.

"JACK!" IRVING took an uncertain step and tumbled into the room face-first. It struggled to raise itself onto its charbroiled, rickety legs. "YOU'RE A SOLDIER! FINISH YOUR M-MISSION! PROVE YOUR L-L-LOYALTY!"

I couldn't reach the revolver and carry Spike. "Got enough juice to take another shot at it, Twilight?" I asked.

She didn't say anything; she stared at IRVING, gaping, tears and snot flowing freely, and just shook her head.

Then I'd have to chance being able to outrun it. So I turned, and I ran, with Twilight beside me, and I hoped to whatever god watched over Equestria that it wasn't as fast now as it had been before.

The bridge was a straight shot ahead of us. We heard a crash, and the sound of falling timbers, and knew that IRVING had bowled through the guard tower. So much for Private Squat-Thrusts.

Twilight's hooves clanged loudly against the metal bridge as we ran across. I clutched Spike tighter against my chest. The other side, and the other four ponies, were right ahead now. We were going to make it. With one last effort, we were across the chasm, the remnants of the old rope bridge to the side.

We were spent; we didn't have it in us to run any longer, and the pain in my shoulder was now unendurable. I fell forward to my knees, backward onto my butt, and sat gasping, panting, dripping with sweat. It took all of my willpower to resist the urge to drop Spike and clutch my shoulder. Twilight sat beside me, similarly winded, her eyes never leaving Spike. The others gathered around us; Rarity came to me, stared at Spike. Fluttershy and Applejack were with Twilight. Pinkie’s head whipped from side to side, and she frowned. “Where’s Dashie?”

I couldn’t gather the breath to explain. I just looked at her and shook my head. I didn’t see Pinkie’s face, but I could hear the grief, the trembling sorrow, in her voice, as she spoke "D-dashie? She isn’t—"

A bovine stutter from the direction of the castle reminded us that we were still being pursued, and we turned back to the castle. IRVING was on the other side of the chasm, staggering toward the bridge. Though its gait had been slow and unsteady, it was gradually picking up steam. Its legs, damn it all, were knitting themselves back together; the blood was clotting, the muscle tissue somehow regenerating, and IRVING would soon be back to full speed. And when that happened, we wouldn’t be able to outrun it.

I carefully set Spike down beside me and drew the revolver. I tried to level it at IRVING, but my body refused to cooperate. One shot was all I needed; one good shot at the leg Twilight had blasted before, and our trouble would be over for the time being. Except I couldn't steady my hand. The pain in my body, and especially in my shoulder, kept me from focusing. The barrel wavered, drifted everywhere but over IRVING's leg. All the while, the machine crept closer.

Rarity was beside me, then, standing over Spike. The revolver was encased in a light blue aura, and it rose out of my hand and leveled itself at IRVING. I looked at Rarity. Her horn glowed, and her face was set into a scowl.

Applejack snarled and bounded to my other side. “No more runnin’, then. Fluttershy, take the kids and git ‘em back to town. Keep ‘em safe, an’ sound the alarm!”

"I will." Fluttershy’s voice sounded firmer than I’d ever heard it before. She gathered Spike into her forelegs; Twilight’s gaze followed him. "Count on me!"

"Sis, no!" Apple Bloom cried. "I jus’ got you back!"

"Don’t argue, Apple Bloom. Go with Fluttershy, an’ don’t never forget that yer sister loved you."

Apple Bloom cried plaintively, but did as she was told, sprinting down the path back into the forest. Her sobs faded into the distance, along with the rapid beating of Fluttershy’s wings. I selected two grenades from my belt and set them down before me. "Stalling for time," I muttered. "What are the odds we survive?"

"Fie on the odds," Rarity responded, voice low and defiant. "Rainbow Dash didn’t survive this, so neither will that monstrosity."

"Couldn’t’a put it better myself," said Applejack, exchanging a tight, grim smile with Rarity.

"Let’s do it, girls." Pinkie bounced forward, taking up position in front of me, her cotton candy mane and tail slightly less buoyant. She arched her back and raised her hackles like a cat. "For Dashie."

IRVING placed a foot on the bridge and nickered.

"No," Twilight whispered from behind me. "We can’t win this fight."

Applejack dug her hoof into the dirt.

"We’re going to die." Twilight’s voice gained strength, grew in pitch.

Rarity lowered her head and thrust the revolver forward a little. I had no idea if she even know how to fire it.

"And we’ll have lost Rainbow Dash for nothing!" Dour as her words were, Twilight didn’t sound broken in the slightest, not anymore. She sounded angry.

Pinkie growled, a dead ringer for a lion.

"No more." Now Twilight’s voice dropped in pitch. There was some new quality to it, like heavy bass. I felt my teeth tremble in my mouth. "We’re not losing anypony else!"

On the bridge, IRVING raised its beak skyward and howled. "FACE ME!"

Wind kicked up behind me, slight at first, then suddenly heavy, overpowering. I turned, and saw Twilight on her hooves, ripples of violet light dancing around her body, whipping her mane and tail about her crazily.

"Fine." A white glow drifted across the corners of Twilight's eyes.

"Twilight," I snapped, "what the hell are you—"

Tendrils of purple light curled from the tip of her horn. The white in her eyes shone brighter, enveloped them completely, erasing all traces of her purple irises. Where the exhausted mare had gone, I didn't know. This new, resolute Twilight showed no traces of pain, of fear, of sorrow, or of any emotion besides white-hot fury.

IRVING wasn’t afraid. It marched, picked up speed, and though still hobbled by its significant wounds, it somehow managed to run. The grenades in front of me lifted off the ground and glowed the same purple as Twilight's aura. One streaked toward IRVING, a miniature meteor, and exploded against its armor in a brilliant plume of orange that consumed the machine completely. The next grenade followed, exploding into an even larger ball of fire.

Twilight stomped forward, passing between Rarity and I. The energy whipping around her body coalesced in front of her, in a shifting, writhing mass of purple light that creeped toward the bridge and gradually enveloped it, from one end to the other. The fire that surrounded IRVING cleared; it lay on its back, its underside charred and the red muscle beneath the skin on its legs completely exposed and raw. It was still functional, though; its legs writhed as it struggled to right itself. Twilight inhaled deeply at the sight of the thing, and screamed. I crushed my palm against my ear to block out the noise, but it wasn't just auditory. The noise echoed in my head, in my body – hell, it vibrated within every cell in my being, and it wasn’t just me. The others fell, too, clutching their heads tightly.

And then the bridge began to melt. The light shining around it superheated the metal, starting at one end, and gradually crawling to the other. The bridge slumped forward as the molten metal ran like a waterfall into the chasm below. The angle of the thing grew sheerer, and IRVING slid forward, its position no longer secure.

“JACK!” Molten metal came into contact with its legs. “JACK!” The reek of burning flesh filled the air. “JACK!” IRVING slipped off of what little remained of the bridge, and plummeted, chased by a river of lava. "JACK!" Its final cry echoed off the chasm's walls.

Twilight's scream died down. Her light show faded and died, as quickly as it had come. The unicorn's legs gave out; she fell, spread-eagled on the ground, not moving save the rise and fall of her back from her breathing. The rest of us remained where we were; Rarity, gaping at Twilight, Applejack staring at the gorge with grim satisfaction on her face, and Pinkie Pie bowing her head, sniffling softly.

As if to add the final punctuation to the fight, the castle flashed, popped, and crumbled into dust.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/16/16

-Change of title (from "Battle in the Base" to "By A Starving Beast"), partly to avoid obvious spoilers for new readers scanning the chapter list, partly because I figure I'll just go whole hog with the song lyrics for titles shtick that chapter eleven sets.

And who doesn't love Rules of Nature?

Edited as of 7/11/16

-General proofreading/copyediting
-Formatting changes (fixed indentations)
-Minor changes to dialogue and narration
-Added some extra Peace Walker/Mammal Pod quotes to IRVING's dialogue
-Changing spelling of "Applebloom" to "Apple Bloom"

Seriously, why didn't anyone tell me how badly proofread this chapter was before? :raritycry:

Original Author's Note:

Special thanks to DPV111, traveling prereader nonpareil. His feedback and assistance in editing the story and rewriting certain key moments was, and is, invaluable.

8. Honey and Vinegar

"I don't have any more tears to shed."

When you consider just how quickly the situation in the castle deteriorated, the fact that we survived at all was nothing short of a victory in itself. I'd gone into unfamiliar, hostile territory, with limited armament and a squad of ill-trained locals at my back, and not only did we successfully extract a hostage, we neutralized not one, but two potentially game-changing pieces of hardware – the IRVING unit and the Hind-D gunship – at the cost of one fatality and several casualties. Significant casualties, granted, but not life-threatening. Add to it the destruction of a small, but significant, outpost and a supply cache, and, from a military standpoint, we'd made out rather well.

From a morale standpoint, well... things could have been better.

I leaned against the trunk of a dead tree, dangling a cigarette from my lips. I'd popped my shoulder back into place and, with the help of Rarity's telekinesis, jury-rigged a sling for it out of my bandanna. It wouldn't hold forever, but it was better than letting it dangle. The others, what was left of the band that had gone into the woods, rested, nursing their respective wounds. From the intermittent sobs coming from Rarity, I figured they were grieving, too.

The loss of Rainbow Dash had robbed the ponies of whatever momentum they'd had. They held it together long enough to drag Twilight's unconscious body away from the chasm and into the underbrush where we'd hidden on our arrival at the castle, before fatigue and demoralization dragged them down and they all collapsed where they stood. Rarity cried. The rest didn't make any sound at all. Maybe they were too tired and sore to do anything but stew in their grief. If I'd taken a beating like that, I started to think, and then my shoulder throbbed powerfully, and I grimaced. Right. I had taken a beating like that.

Applejack was curled up in the grass, her eyes half open and her tail wrapped around her body, its tip resting on her nose. Her mane was singed where IRVING's flame thrower had burned off her hat, and the skin on her back was red and exposed. It occurred to me that she'd traded the life of her sister for the life of one of her closest friends. I doubted that was lost on her, and maybe that's what she was thinking about as she lay there.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie rested close to Twilight, who slept soundly, looking more content than any of us had any right to be. Every few minutes, Rarity would glance at Twilight, then sigh almost too softly for me to catch before turning away again. Pinkie, on the other hand – or hoof, I guess, if we're being pedantic – looked pensive, not agitated. She sat on her haunches, with her face drawn into a frown, and her forelegs were crossed over her chest. With one hoof, she periodically tapped her chin, emitting "hmm"s and "huh"s, as if she were pondering some great mystery. If she was grieving for Rainbow Dash, she had a funny way of going about it.

We'd malingered for thirty minutes, at least, before I started getting restless. I took a look at the path, wondered if I should say anything about getting back on track, but decided against it. After all, when would I get another opportunity to smoke without being lectured? I took a long, savory drag off of the cigarette dangling from my lips, held the smoke in my lungs for a bit, and released it in a slow breath.

"What do you think we should do next?" Pinkie whispered, breaking the silence at long last. "After we get back to Ponyville, I mean."

I didn't know who she'd been addressing – maybe all of us? We all looked at her, Applejack with one half-lidded eye, and Rarity with an expression of surprise, as if Pinkie had jarred her out of some daydream. She was the one who ultimately answered Pinkie, for which I was grateful. I wouldn't have spoken to her if I could've helped it.

"I suppose we find a way to warn Princess Celestia about what's coming," said Rarity, after that long, awkward silence. "Sending a letter is out of the question, since..." I heard a sniffle and a hiccup in her voice, and she dabbed a hoof against her eye. I wasn't sure what that had to do with anything.

"We could travel to Canterlot," Pinkie suggested. "Take the train, all seven—" Her sentence cut off, and there was a long silence before she timidly amended "all six of us."

"Rainbow Dash." Rarity sighed. "When the Princess raises the sun next morning, it's going to shine a little less brightly."

Pinkie looked at Rarity, perplexed. She tilted her head, one ear flopped to the side like a puppy. She blinked once, twice, and on the third, she kept her eyes shut and giggled. That was damned unsettling. "Silly Rarity," said Pinkie. "Dashie's not dead."

Rarity bowed her head. Tears blackened by mascara ran through the dirt-streaked fur on her face. "Oh, Pinkie," she sobbed, and she buried her face in Pinkie's chest.

"She isn't. She isn't," Pinkie insisted. She placed her hoof on Rarity's back and rubbed gently, soothingly. "I know she's not."

"You seemed pretty certain," I said, "back at the bridge."

Taken aback for only a second, Pinkie replied, "Well, duh, because I didn't have time to think about it. But now that I have, I'm totally one hundred percent sure – Dashie's alive." She looked at Applejack; the mare had stirred from her doze, and was watching her friends with a melancholy look on her face. "Applejack, back me up on this."

Applejack, like Rarity, was hesitant to answer. Doubtless, she wanted to protect her friend's feelings, but enabling Pinkie here would just feed into her delusion, and that wouldn't be good, in the short or the long-term. "Well now," said Applejack at length. "I reckon it depends on what happened back there." She looked at me. "With us bein' so tired an' all, Snake, ya haven't said exactly what went down with you an' Twi an' Dash. Since Twi's out like a rock, I guess that leaves you to tell the tale."

Well, damn. Way to pass the buck. I took another drag off my cigarette before I started. "The keep caved in on itself before we could get clear of it. Rainbow Dash got pinned beneath some debris. There wasn't time enough to dig her out, so she gave Spike to Twilight and I, and told us to get moving." I paused. "IRVING came after us not too long after that. It might have gotten Rainbow Dash before it caught up to us."

Not that it would have made much difference when the castle imploded whether or not IRVING got her. She would have been buried alive when the foundation gave way and the keep and its surrounding area collapsed. Death at IRVING's hands (or claws? feet?) would have been quicker than being crushed or suffocated, granted, but that's the best that anyone could hope for.

My answer made Applejack shoot a worried glance at Pinkie Pie. "But y'all didn't see it get her?"

I frowned, knowing full well where she was taking that line of thought. "No. But it's safe to assume—"

"So it's possible that she's okay," said Pinkie, interjecting quickly. A satisfied smile broke across her face face.

"Not probable, though," I pointed out. "The keep collapsed because of the damage IRVING did when it crashed through the window. The demolition charges we were running from hadn't gone off yet. When they did, everything in the surrounding area would have fallen into the castle's catacombs, and Dash would have been buried under tons of rubble when that happened. And you're still ignoring the possibility that IRVING crushed her flat on its way out the—"

"Heaven's sakes, Snake!" Rarity snapped, tearing her mascara-streaked face away from Pinkie's chest. "You're going through an awful lot of trouble to convince us that somepony we love is gone forever! Do you have even the slightest understanding of the toll this is taking on us?!"

Remarks born from equal parts anger and ignorance. Of course I'd lost friends on the battlefield before. It's never easy to accept, and that makes it all the more important that you do accept it. "You start grasping at straws, and you hold yourself back. Even if there's a chance that Rainbow Dash is still alive, it's infinitesimal – not worth holding out hope over."

"It's always worth holding out hope," said Rarity, climbing to her hooves, "when a friend's life is on the line." She advanced on me. "Something I'm sure you know nothing about. Don't try and convince me you've any tears for Rainbow Dash; you couldn't stand her, and we all know it! You didn't give a damn about her, and you clearly do not give a damn about any of us." She barked a harsh laugh. "I'd be shocked if there were anyone besides yourself that you've ever cared even the meanest amount for!"

Gunshot rings out through the blizzard. Body hangs limply over my shoulders as the New York sunset glimmers over the ocean. Spike lies in a pile of rubble, not moving, barely breathing.

Rainbow Dash smiles at me through her tears.

I clenched my jaw and moved to meet Rarity halfway. "You don't know the first thing about—"

"Stop!" Applejack interposed herself between the two of us, warding off Rarity with one hoof and staring me down with a look in her eye that verged on panic. "The two of you comin' to blows out here? Friends fightin' friends? Rarity, you know that ain't what Dash would've wanted."

"Friends?" Rarity scoffed. "Some friend he is."

Applejack preemptively silenced me with a stern glare, then looked at Rarity. "You got no idea, sugarcube. I was with Snake, y'know, jus' before IRVING went bonkers." She cast a smile my way. "Plan was to slip out quiet-like while we tangled with the bad guys, right?"

I nodded. Simplistically put, but accurate.

"Now, that ain't how it worked out, obviously," Applejack continued. "'Cuz when you saw that feller in the guard tower, drawin' a bead on Rainbow Dash, you took a shot that blew your cover to save her. That pony you didn't even like." Her eyes, silently imploring me to speak up in my own defense, met mine, but I held my tongue, unprepared to say a word in light of this new turn in the conversation. Rarity had nothing to say either, though from her tense, rigid body language, she was still clearly seething.

When she finally understood that I wasn't going to say anything, Applejack looked back to Rarity to pick up where she'd left off. "I tell you what, Rarity. If he didn't take that shot? Maybe he'd be okay, still have two good shoulders instead of one. But I'll bet you an' me, we wouldn't be standin' here right now." She nodded at Pinkie. "Neither would she." At Twilight. "Or her." And then down the path, off into the woods. "An' they wouldn't have gotten away clean at all."

Rarity fumed. She pursed her lips and glared at me, but I could tell that her anger was ebbing. I still didn't say a thing. Honestly, Applejack's little speech had rendered me quite... speechless.

"It hurts to think about. Hurts more to hear out loud." Applejack ran a hoof over her singed mane, cringing a little as it came into contact with burned skin. "An' me, I'm gonna hold out hope that my friend is still alive, an' that we can get 'er back somehow."

I watched Pinkie smile broadly and thump her tail against the ground like a puppy being offered a treat.

"But this feller right here, he ain't selfish." Applejack shook her head. "An' I know that for truth."

Rarity sniffed, but I could tell that Applejack's defense had taken the will to argue out of her. She avoided looking at me for a long couple of seconds. When she finally did, it was with a soft smile on her face. "Well, if the element of honesty says it's the truth, I suppose I have to believe her."

Element of honesty, element of loyalty... The rest probably had their own equivalent titles, too. Give Twilight an eyepatch and megalomania, and she and her friends might've had promising careers in special operations.

"That reminds me," said Pinkie, her face appearing suddenly between my feet. "You've been doing a super-duper bang-up job helping us out of a buncha-bunch of tight spots, so I think it's only fair to make you an honorary pony!"

Flattering.

"The only problem is," said Pinkie, frowning, "I can't think of what your cutie mark would be, because I can't figure out what your special talent is. Shooting bad things? Being a sourpuss? But who'd want a frowny-face on his hiney for the rest of his life?"

Rarity hid a smirk behind a hoof, and Applejack was smiling openly. It's nice that someone was amused. "How about my foot stomping on your face?" I muttered, stepping away from Pinkie.

The obtuse manifestation of a stomach ulcer pulled herself off the dirt. "Being a sourpuss it is! First thing when we get back to Ponyville, I'm getting you inked."

"And I'm going to shoot myself," I said, amid snickering from Rarity and Applejack.

"And I," said a fourth voice, "am going to eat an entire bowl of aspirin."

Pinkie gasped, turned to the purple unicorn, and darted to her side. "Twilight! Oh, you had us all worried there." She flopped across Twilight's back and wrapped her forelegs around her in a hug that no doubt crushed several ribs and collapsed at least one of her feeble pony lungs. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Twilight choked out a few unintelligible syllables. "Uh, Pinkie?" Applejack said with a chuckle. "Twilight's gotta breathe to answer you."

"Well, duh. Why would you even bring up something so ob – oh." Pinkie released Twilight, who immediately gasped for breath. Pinkie blushed. "So, um, are you okay Twilight?"

Twilight smiled weakly. "My headache is the stuff of legends, but other than that, I seem to be just fine." She winced. "Except I think you broke a couple ribs there, Pinkie."

Called it.

Applejack trotted to Twilight's side and knelt beside her. "How long you been awake?"

Twilight started to turn in Applejack's direction, but froze, hesitated for a moment, and quickly directed her gaze at the ground. Huh. "The first thing I heard was Rarity yelling at Snake. It sounded pretty intense." She glanced at me, then Rarity, and frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Rarity and I exchanged a look. For my part, there wasn't any animosity toward her, vexing as her remarks had been. She was emotional, grieving – it's only natural that she would have lashed out. "We're alright," she said. I couldn't tell whether she meant it, despite her gentle expression, but I echoed her sentiment with a curt nod nevertheless.

"Good," said Twilight. "This has been a hard enough day without me having to pull you two off each other." I saw something in her face – the briefest glint of light at the corner of her eye – but she blinked twice, rapidly, and it was gone. I reminded myself that, as difficult as Rainbow Dash's death was on the others, Twilight was a witness to it, at least partially. As admirably as she composed herself, I saw right through her, and if I could, then I doubted that her friends couldn't. I guess, though, that in a crisis, you need to believe that your leaders are holding themselves together, even when they're clearly not. They let Twilight believe that her mask of composure had them convinced, and Twilight, in turn, let herself believe that it was convincing.

Something had to give, sooner or later.

"What's our next move?" I asked.

I saw a dull purple glow at the bottom of my field of vision an instant before my cigarette was yanked from my mouth, crushed into a ball the size of a peanut, and dropped to the dirt. Nice while it lasted. "We need to get back to town," Twilight said. "Mobilize some kind of defense against the humans, and find a way to contact Princess Celestia." She paused. "I'm open to suggestions on how to do that."

"My vote's for the train," said Applejack firmly. "The six of us take the express t'Canterlot an' tell the Princess ourselves. Eyewitness testimony, an' all that."

Pinkie raised her hoof. "That was my idea. I want everypony to know that I had a good idea." All eyes turned to Rarity, who, after a moment, nodded.

I shrugged my left shoulder. "Train it is, I suppose," I said. "As for mustering a defense—"

"We'll worry about that when we get there," said Twilight. "There hasn't been an all-out war in Equestria in a very, very long time, so Ponyville's ability to withstand a siege is..." She scrunched her face up. "Iffy, at best. I want to review all of our assets, everything that could potentially be used to defend Ponyville against attack, before I jump the proverbial gun."

"This assumes they plan to attack Ponyville," I said, tapping a finger impatiently against my bicep. All this standing around and talking was making me antsy. "I doubt it's a high priority target."

"Better t'be prepared, Snake," said Applejack. "I'm with Twilight on this."

As were, I suspected, the others. "Fine," I said. Addressing Twilight, I asked "Are you good to travel?"

Twilight wiggled her forelegs, one after the other, and kicked her hind legs backward tentatively. Climbing to all fours, she stretched out her back, letting out a slight groan as she worked her muscles. "I'm kinda stiff, but I guess I'm mobile. Whatever magic I tapped into when I took out that bridge must've rejuvenated me."

Convenient, but at least it wasn't nanomachines.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to tell you, Twilight," said Pinkie, leaning her elbow against Twilight's shoulder. She looked askance at Pinkie, but didn't brush her off immediately. "That was a super cool trick, with the melty bridge and the great balls of fire." Pinkie whistled appreciatively. "Goodness gracious!"

Now it was Twilight's turn to blush. She looked away from Pinkie, clearly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the direction she turned her eyes in happened to be where Applejack stood, and she trembled, and looked in a third direction. She coughed and gently pulled away from Pinkie; her elbow hovered in the air momentarily, as though she were still leaning on something, before gravity sucked her down. "In any case," said Twilight, ignoring her friend's praise, "I can walk on my own, so." She grinned sheepishly at Rarity. "No need to lug me around like a sack of potatoes anymore."

Rarity chuckled primly. "None of that, now, Twilight; you know I'd carry you a thousand miles if I could." Despite, it seemed, how damaging it was to her primping. Her pristine white coat was matted and smudged with dirt, and her hair, which had been curly and bouncy when we'd met, was in a state of disarray and plastered against her face with sweat. "Hopefully, though, there'd be some sort of shift system, where we all take turns bearing you as a burden."

"I told you I'd be glad to take 'er off your shoulders for a while," said Applejack. "Both o'yours."

"Hey, you're not the only one with rock-hard, toned muscles from a lifetime of farming, y'know," said Pinkie Pie, a touch defensively. "I could probably take her all by my lonesome, if Rarity would let me."

"Oh," said Rarity, "you know I could never subject a friend to that kind of burden alone. Besides, what's life without a little adversity? After all, half the fun of generosity is complaining about the pains you take to be generous."

I snorted. "One hell of an albatross hanging around your neck."

My remark was met with four very perplexed stares from four pairs of pony eyes. Pinkie frowned. "Now, you're just lucky Fluttershy isn't around to hear you say that. She'd give you an earful."

"It's from a poem. A man shoots an albatross, and he's forced to wear it around his neck as a burden."

Rarity gasped. "Surely you're not attributing something so gruesome to moi? Honestly, Snake, that would be just too horrid, even for one so rough as you!"

I gave up and sighed, tossing my left arm in the air with exasperation as the ponies all shared a chuckle. Having fun at my expense – not something I'm used to people doing. I let it slide, though, ignored the bruising it did to my ego to have pastel ponies laugh at me. Just like I saw through Twilight's composure, I saw right through each of their laughing, smiling faces. They were sore, tired, and broken-hearted, but even they needed to laugh.

Twilight made the decision to put me on point for the duration of our journey, reasoning that, dislocated shoulder or no, my guns made me the most potent threat in the group. Curious, because after watching her display at the bridge against IRVING, I figured it'd be her, rather than any of the rest of us. Judging by her reaction when Pinkie brought it up earlier, though, it seemed she wasn't too thrilled with her newfound talent for wanton destruction.

A while into our walk, Applejack sidled up to me. "How's the shoulder?" she asked, keeping her tone low and conversational.

"Not too bad. The sling helps."

I was lying. It hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Glad to hear it. Honestly, Snake," said Applejack with a hollow chuckle, "after all the licks you took back there, it's pretty dang impressive that'cher still on your hoo – uh, feet."

I ignored the faux pas. Applejack had earned enough goodwill for that. "Funny," I said. "I was thinking the same thing about you back there. That was one hell of a beating that IRVING treated you to, not to mention that shot in the back from Trenton."

Applejack shuddered. "You can't imagine jus' how awful that felt."

"I speak from experience." Not first-hand, granted, but Jack's expression when Olga nailed him with the blunt of her katana told me all I needed to know. "I mean this in the best possible way, Applejack, but you really shouldn't be alive right now."

"Earth pony constitution," said Applejack proudly, "an' a lifetime of apple buckin'. Come an' work on the farm with me a li'l while; we'll toughen you right up."

I raised an eyebrow. "Earth pony constitution or not, Applejack, I'm willing to bet there's one or two things that I could teach you."

"Oh yeah?" Applejack grinned at me. "Feel free to step in the ring when yer all healed up. You an' me, we'll go a couple rounds."

I chuckled, and for once, it wasn't out of derision. "Something to look forward to when all this is over." I pulled a cigarette out of my pack, but before I could raise it to my lips, Twilight's aura caught and incinerated it, giving me nothing more than a pungent whiff of tobacco. Son of a bitch; how did she even see me that time? "But I doubt you came up here to compare scars, Applejack. What's on your mind?"

The scorched orange pony glanced nervously over her shoulder, then back to me. "Look, that thing, with Rarity before—"

"Water under the bridge," I said. "I'm over it."

"Good to know," said Applejack, "but that's not what I was gettin' at." She nervously beat a hoof against the dirt. "It's jus', it reminded me that I never got 'round to thankin' you."

That's what this was about? Belated gratitude? "But you did," I said. "Before we split up in the keep."

"No, I mean – I mean for what I was talkin' about before. Savin' Dash the way you did, when you really didn't have to."

A cold feeling spread inside my chest. Why'd she have to bring this up again? As if I didn't feel bad enough living a lie to her, she had she had to go around telling all of her damned friends that I was some kind of self-sacrificing hero.

"I know y'all didn't like her. I know the feelin' was mutual. But, Snake—"

"It was nothing."

"It was everythin'. Snake, you—" She reached a hoof toward me, but thought better of it when I pulled away. "You put'cher self in harm's way to save somepony you couldn't stand. That kinda loyalty... it's the kind of thing Dash would appreciate. If she was here, Snake, she'd be sayin' this herself, but since she ain't..." She smiled warmly, beaming those big, green eyes of hers at me. "Thank you."

Damn it. Applejack was convinced – convinced – I'd taken that shot to save Rainbow Dash's hide. It might have been wrong to keep up that pretense, but I just didn't have it in me to tell her that the sniper had been aiming at me, not Dash. Not with her and her friends' morale dangling from a precipice. I thought frantically, searching for a way to change the subject, something, anything, that would—

"You know what this walk needs? A singalong. Anypony got any suggestions?"

Well, I DID say "anything."

"Don't go jumping to conclusions," I muttered, half-rolling my eyes. "For all we know, Pinkie's not delusional after all."

"Mmhm," Applejack murmured.

Her response wasn't actually much of a response – it was non-committal, delivered with a touch of uncertainty in her voice. "Don't tell me you agree with her," I said.

Applejack shrugged and smiled wanly at me. "More like I wanna believe her. Pinkie's got a sixth sense, y'know. It's somethin' we've all come to depend on. She says that somethin's so, I take it on faith it's so."

And I'd thought that Applejack was the only one with sense. Turns out, she was just as mad as her friends. If I adjusted my grading scale, though, I suppose she was the sanest of the bunch of them. "You'll forgive me if I maintain a healthy skepticism."

"Y'all don't know her, Snake," said Applejack. The words, which would have sounded reproachful coming from anyone else, were nothing of the sort when she said them. "This one time, see, she swore Fluttershy was in some kinda trouble, so me an' Twi an' Spi—" She froze abruptly, and an awkward silence hung between us for a few seconds. "Well, I don't tell it as well as Twilight. Ask her 'bout it later."

Interesting how she could hold out hope for Rainbow Dash, but not for Spike. Maybe because she personally saw him get injured? She was removed from what happened to Dash, after all. What happened to Spike probably felt more real to her, which made it harder for her to spin the way she and the others spun Dash's fate.

With the conversation having stalled, I took the opportunity to glance around my surroundings, noting, with mild relief, that we were coming into familiar territory. This was part of the stretch of road I'd walked with Apple Bloom the day before. The setting jarred a memory for me. I'd kept Apple Bloom's mind off of the situation at hand by carrying on a conversation with her. The same thing might work for her sister. "Twilight keeps research notes on Pinkie Pie, apparently."

"Yeah?" Applejack chuckled dryly. "She would, too."

"Oh Snaaaaake?" Pinkie sang from behind me. "Do you know any good human marching songs?"

"I don't like you," I said, "and will probably hit you in the future if you don't stop talking to me."

"Gosh, that doesn't sound like it'd lend itself to any kind of rhythm at all. But I do appreciate a challenge!" And then she started singing the sentence I'd just said to her, varying her pitch and tone in an effort to turn it into a musical piece.

I started wishing I'd died back in the castle.

"I'll be honest, Applejack," I said, "I know she's your friend, but I really do not see the appeal in—" I felt something dig into the sole of my boot, and stopped in my tracks.

Applejack, who outpaced me for a moment when I'd stopped, came back to me with a look of concern. "Everythin' okay?"

A blur of pink in the corner of my eye made my head throb. "What'cha stoppin' for, slowpoke?"

Ignoring her, I knelt, retrieved what had stuck in my foot, and held it up to my eye for inspection. I recognized it immediately. ".45 ACP," I muttered.

"What was that?" Twilight came to my other side and inspected the shell casing with a frown. "I don't understand."

I held it up so that she could see it better. "Spent cartridge for a pistol bullet." I looked closer at the dirt and saw a tiny tuft of red. A tranquilizer dart. I dropped the cartridge into the dirt and climbed back to my feet. "This is where we met Trenton."

"Which means we're close to town," said Rarity. "We hadn't gotten very far into the woods when we encountered you."

Twilight, still frowning, looked around the clearing. "Are you sure, Snake?" she asked. "I mean, there are bullets in the ground, sure—"

"Not bullets," I interrupted. "Cartridges."

Twilight crushed her lips together tightly and narrowed her eyes at me. "Cartridges," she said tersely. "But there's no sign of any of the soldiers' bodies."

The ones Trenton had killed. I still wanted an explanation for that.

"Well, the answer to THAT is pretty obvious," Pinkie chirped.

Glancing at her, I asked "And that is?"

"We're in the Everfree Forest, right? All kinds of nasty critters make this place their home." Nodding to herself, she added "They must've come along and gobbled their bodies all up."

The others glanced nervously from side-to-side. Rarity bit her lip; Twilight's tail swished. Applejack kept her eye on the wall of trees just off the path. Pinkie just stood there whistling.

"So," said Twilight, smiling nervously. "I think we should probably pick up the pace. All who oppose?"

None of them opposed.

It wasn't long before we emerged from the treeline, the ponies in front, myself taking up the rear. I inhaled, and for once, the air wasn't stale, the atmosphere not oppressive. The Equestrian countryside stretched out before me, its colors vibrant even in the dark. In the distance was the town I'd crept through before, Ponyville.

Ponyville. That was a name I'd never get used to saying. The ponies themselves? I'd acclimated well enough to them in small doses. But a whole city full of them? Insanity had been pretty well redefined for me by that point in my journey, but there was still that requisite skeptical part of me that maintained the impossibility of a metropolitan region packed with talking, sapient ponies. That said, when we were greeted at the exit of the Everfree Forest by a mob of said ponies, the skeptic in me fell quiet.

There were twenty of them, maybe, a full representation of the three races that Twilight and her friends belonged to. There were few unicorns in the crowd, even fewer pegasi – three in the air that I could see, though there may have been more on the ground – with the earth ponies, like Applejack, making up the bulk of the crowd. Many of them had black bags beneath red eyes, as if they'd been roused in the middle of their sleep. Many looked hesitant, frightened; that'd be that taboo surrounding the forest, I'll bet.

One, in particular, looked uncomfortably familiar.

"Applejack!" A muscular red stallion pushed through the crowd to the front. His eyes widened at the sight of the partially cooked and very exhausted orange mare. "Y'dang fool, what's got into you?!"

Applejack sighed tiredly as the stallion approached her, panting with – what, relief? Worry? Possibly anger, judging by his choice of words. "Oh, I'm jus' fine, Big McIntosh, thank you for askin'. An' how are you tonight?"

"Don't sass me," said the stallion. "I wake up to find Apple Bloom missin', then I find out that you an' your friends wandered off into the Everfree, Fluttershy shows up in the dead of night with Spike half-dead an' Apple Bloom scared outta her wits, an' all I can wonder is what in the hay—" He chanced to look past Applejack, caught sight of me. His eyes focused on my own and widened. "You!" He jabbed a hoof accusingly in my direction.

As someone who spends much of his time trying to avoid being seen, having so many pairs of eyes on me is never very comfortable, especially when dealing with someone who you shot in recent memory. The pony posse looked at me, Twilight and her friends looked at me – Applejack with considerably more interest than the others – all of them stared, bewildered.

Not knowing what else to do, I lifted my good hand slightly and offered a small, stiff wave.

Applejack raised her eyebrow at me, then turned to Big McIntosh again. "You two've met?"

Big McIntosh spat out the piece of straw in his mouth and glared at me. "This snake was hidin' in our barn las' night. Shot me up fulla somethin' that knocked me out 'til the afternoon!"

Applejack's posture suddenly went rigid, in a way that was undoubtedly very painful, given the amount of physical abuse she'd sustained. Slowly, almost menacingly, she rotated her head to look at me over her shoulder. "You shot my brother?"

Audible gasps and murmurs sounded throughout the crowd.

Brother? I thought. Then I remembered the events that took place in the barn that night – the barrels full of apples, the green apple mark on Big McIntosh's ass. And Applejack, well, her name was Applejack. Of course they were related. Why didn't I realize it sooner?

"Not lethally," I mumbled lamely, turning my head to avoid her gaze.

"You shot my brother?!" Applejack repeated. I heard her punctuate her question with a slam of her hoof against the ground.

"Duh-raaaamaaaaa," sang Pinkie Pie, a mischievous smile on her face. "So this is what it takes to get more than two words out of Big Mac!"

"It's not like I knew at the time," I said.

"Not helpin', Snake!" Applejack growled.

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. "Fine. I shot your brother. Now, remind me what I spent the better part of the past day doing?"

Applejack recoiled a little. Her posture softened, though a frown still remained on her face.

Her brother, confused, looked between the two of us, giving me the stink-eye when he looked at me. "What's he mean by that?"

Applejack closed her eyes and sighed. She turned back to Big McIntosh. "Y'all said Apple Bloom was alright?"

"Jus' fine, back at the farm with Granny."

"He's the reason why." She jerked her head in my direction. "Or at least a big part'a it."

Big McIntosh started to respond to that, raising his hoof and opening his mouth, his eyes on me. But his brain hiccuped, or something, because he just stood there, stuck in that pose for a few seconds, before he lowered his hoof and shut his mouth. He closed his eyes, silently working his jaw, then called to the assembled ponies behind him "Alright, show's over. Nothin' else to see."

There was some disappointed mumbling from the crowd, but they did as they were told, turning and trotting back down the road to town in a multicolored blob of pony.

"'Splain," said Bic McIntosh quietly.

"Apple Bloom snuck outta her room las' night an' wandered off into the Everfree," said Applejack. "Somethin' took her, somethin' Snake here jus' happened to 'be huntin'. He helped us track it an' snatch Apple Bloom back."

"Mmhm." Big McIntosh nodded, looking almost sagely with his closed eyes and tightly clenched jaw. "An' he was in our barn because...?" He opened his eyes at me, quite obviously leveling his question my way.

Truth be told, I had just as much of an idea as he did. With everything that had happened during the past day, I'd put that question on the back burner. It seemed like I had some time to chew it over, though, before we made our next move.

"I woke up there."

Big McIntosh looked skeptical at that. But rescuing his sister must've won me some points in his book, because he dropped the matter and went back to addressing Applejack. "Fluttershy stirred things up in town, flyin' in with the kids, all panicked 'n breathless. I sussed out from 'er that y'all were out here, 'fore the mayor had 'er hauled off to city hall, an' I got together a posse t'come in after you."

"Well, that explains the crowd," said Rarity, craning her neck to watch said posse leave. "But why would the mayor take Fluttershy to city hall? She isn't in any trouble, is she?"

"Wish I could tell ya," said Big McIntosh. "I was a li'l too busy to follow up on that. I made sure Apple Bloom was safe at home, then got to work roundin' up ponies to chase y'all down."

So Apple Bloom was safe after all. I suppose that was a relief. Though he hadn't said anything about—

"Big Mac?" said Twilight, heretofore silent. She was biting her lip, looking nervous. "You've said a lot about Apple Bloom; not too much about Spike. Is he...?" She swallowed the rest of the sentence.

"In the hospital," said Big McIntosh. "Last I heard, anyhow."

"Do you know how his condition is?" Twilight asked.

Big McIntosh curled his lips into his mouth, biting them gently before answering. He spoke with a careful, deliberate pace, choosing his words carefully, the same way I'd seen Applejack do before. "He weren't conscious, but he was alive. Wish I knew more."

If anything, that just seemed to put Twilight more on edge. She nodded at Big McIntosh and then looked away, off into the distance, at nothing in particular. Applejack looked at her brother, pleadingly, and he hastily continued. "Uh, y'know, since my word prob'ly ain't so good here, you might wanna look in on him yourself."

He was throwing her a life preserver, and a flimsy one at that. Twilight probably knew significantly more about Spike's condition than Big McIntosh, having been there when he'd suffered his injuries. His earlier assessment – "half dead" – was no doubt right, in a best case scenario.

But she accepted his offer of hope with a smile and a nod. She turned to the others. "Does anypony want to come with me? I know we're all tired, so if you'd rather go home and rest..."

Her words weren't sincere. It was all over her face, her stance. The nervous shudders that ran down her spine. The almost imperceptible shaking of her knees. Twilight may have been the most physically unscathed of the group, but despite the front of strength she put on, she'd never looked more fragile than she did at that moment.

"I'm a little far from home, myself," I said. "May as well go with you, seeing as I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Wouldn't mind puttin' you up at the ol' homestead, Snake," said Applejack. Big McIntosh's aghast expression told me that he would, in fact, mind puttin' me up at the ol' homestead. "'Course," she added, "it'll have to be later, since I'll be goin' with Twilight too."

A twinge of a smile played across Twilight's face, though she still avoided looking at Applejack.

"Well, I, for one, am shocked at you, Twilight," said Rarity, with false sternness. "Implying that we'd rather sleep than visit with a poor, stricken friend. I'd never forgive myself!"

"Ditto," said Pinkie brightly. "You're not the only one here who loves Spike, y'know." She grinned, with a hint of lasciviousness, at Rarity, whose luminescent, red blush set a new standard in my mind for peculiar pony pigmentation.

Twilight's tiny smile grew, and for a second, I thought I saw a crack in her facade – a tiny glistening in the corner of her eye, an encore of the tears she'd nearly spilled in the forest. She blinked them away, and they were gone as quickly as they'd appeared. "Thanks, everypony," she said. Then she glanced at me, and flushed. "Or, uh. Every... one."

I sighed, tolerating once again the amused snickering at my expense. "Let's just go."

So we fell into step once again, a little closer to civilization (or what passed for it around here). It wasn't long before the furtive whispering of a hushed conversation chimed in from the back of our little procession. "'Put 'im up in the farmhouse,'" said Big McIntosh. "Sure, I think we got a spare bale of hay that's only sorta covered in lice."

"You hush," hissed Applejack. "Where's that Apple family hospitality, huh?"

Big McIntosh snorted. "Think I left it in the box I got stuffed into after he shot me."

Baby.

Spike's room was in the hospital's trauma ward. The room was decently sized, and divided in two by a teal privacy curtain. The bed behind it was unoccupied, so Spike had the entire place to himself. Pity he wasn't awake to enjoy it.

Twilight was on one side of the cot, with a grey-coated, white-maned unicorn standing over her, rattling off a list of maladies and injuries. She didn't look like she was listening. Her face and posture had reverted to the empty, robotic shell that I'd seen in the castle, when she'd first laid eyes on the broken body of the little dragon. Pinkie, Applejack and I stood a respectful distance away. Rarity was opposite Twilight, on Spike's bedside. Her hooves intermittently ran over his blanket, smoothing out its wrinkles and creating more with every pass.

The doctor finished his long recitation with a sigh. "Overall, it's lucky that your friend got him to us when she did. If he pulls through, you'll have her to thank for it."

"'If?'" Twilight repeated, monotone.

The doctor sighed again. "He's stable for now. But we've done all that we can do for him. Spike needs more advanced treatment than we're prepared to give him." He looked at Spike with an expression of resignation and pity. "We just don't have the facilities to care for a baby dragon. Even if we did, I wouldn't know where to start. My knowledge of dragon physiology is extremely limited."

"There's nothing else you can do for him?" asked Twilight.

"Ms. Sparkle," said the doctor, "I can't even figure out how to penetrate his scales to give him an I.V. I'm sorry, but..."

Someone stifled a sob; I belatedly realized it as Rarity. A transparent blue shimmer wrapped around the top of Spike's blanket and tugged it up to his neck. It folded smoothly around his body before the glow faded away. "He looked cold," said Rarity, her voice a faint, high whisper.

Pinkie Pie moved to Rarity's side, wordlessly placing a hoof around her shoulders. The doctor turned his head away from them and coughed politely into his elbow. "I think it's best that we give these two some privacy," he said, crossing around the cot to Pinkie and Rarity. "If you'd be so kind?"

Pinkie disengaged from Rarity, giving Twilight a little nuzzle as she passed. The others filed past me, out the door and into the corridor. I gave Spike one last look before following.

"The mare who brought in Spike also filled out some paperwork," the doctor said as he magicked the door shut behind us. "She did it in a bit of a rush, as the mayor's goon squad was already trying to drag her off to the town hall, so I'm going to need to get some confirmation from Ms. Sparkle on one or two things." He paused. "It seemed tasteless to ask her just then, so if any of you could tell me who his next of kin is..."

The others looked at one another, and one after another, they shrugged. Rarity spoke up: "I suppose his legal guardian would be Twilight, as he doesn't really have any blood relations that we know of."

"Hmm." The doctor pondered that for a moment. "Ms. Fluttershy listed her as the boy's mother." He coughed into his hoof, which struck me as an inappropriately unsanitary habit for a doctor to have. "No matter. I should add, however, that the rest of you are in need of some medical attention as well. You're a veritable breakfast buffet of wounds."

Applejack fidgeted. "Hope it's nothin' you'll need to keep us overnight for, doc. I, uh, got some unfinished business at home." She rubbed the back of her head nervously.

The doctor chuckled. "Oh, if it were up to me, you wouldn't walk out of here for a month. But I suppose I can't force you to stay for treatment. I will want to see to those burns, however." The doctor looked over the rest of our motley crew. "The rest of your injuries could do with dressing, but in an accident-prone burg like ours, they're not so far out of the ordinary." He paused and glanced my way, raising an eyebrow. "You, on the other hoof..."

I lifted my left hand and made a show of inspecting it. "Don't have one of those, doc. Sorry."

His eyes widened and he chuckled again. "A smart-ass, eh? That, I can work with."

"Is a sense of humor that important to fix a dislocated shoulder?" I asked.

"It doesn't hurt." He began trotting in a circle around me, gently nudging past Applejack as he looked me over, head-to-toe. "Hmm... bipedal, no tail for support. Reliance on pelvic tilt to keep balance? Interesting, very interesting..."

"Having fun, doc?" I asked, annoyed. Being stared at was bad enough. Being examined like a piece of meat was just aggravating.

"Physical anatomy suggests... ape ancestry?" the doctor continued, ignoring me. "Distinct differences, though, in appearance, stature, locomotion..." He stopped in front of me and looked at my abdomen, frowning, then lifted a hoof to poke me in the stomach.

I pulled away, covering my stomach defensively with a hand. "The hell is wrong with you?!" I snapped, flushing. Behind me, I heard snickering.

"Anatomically identical to a minotaur, but only between the neck and waist," said the doctor. "How... curious." He looked back at me. "Luckily for you, I know enough about minotaur anatomy to treat your shoulder. Pending an official examination, I'd estimate a total recovery time of, oh... two to three weeks?"

My heart thudded into my stomach. "Two to three weeks?! I don't have that kind of time!"

"Oh, well. Excuse me," said the doctor, rolling his eyes. "I didn't realize you had a timetable. By all means, let me just fetch my robe and wizard hat, and I'll magic your shoulder back into perfect condition."

I seethed at the doctor's sarcasm – as if ponies hadn't been throwing around their "magic" all day. "You don't need to be a dick about it."

"I also don't need you questioning my medical practices," the doctor fired back. "Look, I can put you in a proper sling. I can prescribe you pain killers. But I can't accelerate the healing process in your shoulder when I know next to nothing about your anatomy!"

Rarity looked askance at the doctor. "I thought you said you knew enough about minotaur anatomy to treat him?"

"Yes, with traditional medicine," said the doctor, patronizingly drawing out his syllables. "Accelerated healing on a pony is one thing – a dislocated shoulder, a fractured horn, a broken wing? No problem, because pony anatomy is an area of expertise for me. But you, my friend, are not a pony!"

And thank God for that.

"The only reason I have the slightest measure of confidence in your treatment is that your upper body, by whatever astounding trick of evolution, is apparently identical to that of a minotaur. That, I can handle. But it'll have to be the old-fashioned, non-magical way, and you are going to have to accept that."

That wasn't an option, unfortunately. Fighting through an injury's possible, depending on the severity. But a dislocated shoulder was too crippling an injury to ignore long-term. Such a thing necessitated treatment, which meant taking me out of the action indefinitely. If I had to fight a war with one arm in a sling... I didn't like my odds.

The door to Spike's room opened a crack, and Twilight poked her head out from it. "Excuse me." Her face still looked blank; no trace of emotion, no sign that she'd been crying. Was she still in shock? "I couldn't help overhearing, what with you being so loud and all."

The doctor blushed and shuffled his hooves a bit. I didn't, because I really didn't care all that much.

Twilight stepped fully out of the room and gently shut the door behind her. "Doctor," she said, taking his gaze and holding it. "Do you trust me?"

"I—" Flustered, the doctor fumbled for an answer, taking several seconds to find one. "Well... your reputation being what it is, I see no reason not to."

"Then you would take my advice very, very seriously, if I were to give it to you."

The doctor's expression turned wary. "Yes," he said, speaking cautiously. "I suppose I would."

"Then if I were to tell you that it was absolutely, utterly essential that this..." Here she gestured at me. "This person be healed as expediently as possible, that the fate of Equestria hinged on that shoulder being repaired... you would take it seriously, and you would get it done, regardless of the risk, regardless of your personal discomfort." She paused. "Hypothetically, of course."

"It's not that—" The doctor had to stop for a breath again, and when he spoke, it was in a much more controlled voice. "I don't have the anatomical knowledge necessary to do it," he said. He did an admirable job containing himself, but his tone was practically bursting at the seams with barely contained irritation. "Performing the procedure without knowing enough about his anatomy runs a risk of—"

"But it could be done."

"Not without—"

"But it could. Be done." Twilight's expression intensified; her eyes narrowed, her head lowered.

The doctor bit his lip hard enough for a trickle of blood to leak down his chin. I took a moment to look around, and saw that the others had backed away considerably. Twilight, the doctor and I were at the center of a semicircle, between a cluster of ponies and the door to Spike's room.

At length, the doctor sighed and slumped, defeated. "I'll need to pull every file and text regarding minotaur anatomy in the hospital just to prepare. If I work through the night, I should be able to perform the procedure on your friend tomorrow morning."

Twilight, satisfied, nodded. "Thank you, doctor."

"Wasn't planning on sleeping, anyway," the doctor muttered. He turned away from her and looked at me. "And you need to understand just how much risk is involved with this procedure. One false move, and I could sever a nerve, paralyze that entire arm of yours for the rest of your life!" He sighed. "If I'm going to do this, I need your consent."

Admittedly, losing all function in my right arm wasn't a prospect that I particularly enjoyed. But this was a desperate situation, and it was a gamble I'd have to make. "I'll do it."

The doctor sagged further. "I was hoping you'd refuse." He turned again to Twilight and pointed rather emphatically at her. "And you, you owe me for this."

"Hypothetically, doctor, all of Equestria might just owe you for this." Another pause. "Hypothetically."

"Uh-huh." The doctor peeked through the thin pane of glass in the door to Spike's room, then headed off down the hall, passing between Pinkie and Rarity. "I'd like the rest of you, excepting Ms. Sparkle and my newest, largest patient, to stay a while. I haven't forgotten that you all require treatment, after all. But for now, if you'll excuse me, I have some files to pull... and six or seven pots of coffee to put on."

We watched him 'til he'd moved out of sight. "You really went to bat for me," I remarked, glancing at Twilight. "I appreciate it."

Twilight tilted her head a bit, a dismissive gesture. "It's what friends do."

"We're friends?"

She smiled joylessly at me.

The others – Pinkie, Rarity, Applejack – were led away by a nurse shortly thereafter. There were hugs, some promises to meet again in the morning, and then we parted. "Guess I'm stuck with this bandanna for a sling, after all," I said, when Twilight and I were alone outside of Spike's room.

Twilight responded with her first show of emotion since she'd first laid eyes on the comatose dragon: exasperation. "I'd say getting your shoulder fixed up, good as new, outweighs that inconvenience."

I conceded the point to her.

She spoke up again a little later, as we made our way back to the hospital's entrance. "Something just occurred to me. You didn't take Applejack up on her offer to stay at the farm."

Well, now. I suppose I hadn't. "I don't think her big brother would appreciate my company."

"Applejack would. I'm sure Apple Bloom would." She gave me an expression of curiosity. "What, exactly, happened between you and Big Mac?"

I thought back to my initial awakening in Equestria. "After I went through the gateway, the one back in my world, I lost consciousness for a while. When I woke up, I was in his barn."

"And he was in there?" She raised an eyebrow. "And you just decided to shoot him?"

"No, I – it's a little more complicated than—"

"Snake. I'm teasing you." Her expression had morphed into a narrow-eyed smile.

Peculiar. Minutes ago, she'd been blank, practically emotionless, yet there she was ribbing me and throwing me shit-eating grins. Maybe proximity to Spike just drained her emotionally. Or maybe she was putting on a front again. "Ha ha," I grumbled, feigning more annoyance than I actually felt.

Twilight aura'd open the door to the waiting room for us, and I followed her past the receptionist's desk, toward the hospital's exit. "The point I'm trying to make," she said, as she pushed the next set of doors open, "is that I'd be happy to let you stay—" She froze suddenly, halfway out the door and holding it open with a hoof. "Oh dear."

"What? What's the—" Then I saw what had frozen her: four ponies, gathered in front of the hospital's steps. One, I recognized as Fluttershy; she looked downcast, glancing bashfully at Twilight, avoiding me altogether. The others, I didn't recognize, though I could guess what the two blue-uniformed ponies with the brass badges on their shirts were supposed to be. They flanked the fourth pony, an older, bespectacled gray mare with a cravat around her neck.

"Ms. Sparkle!" she said cheerfully. "What a surprise, running into you out here. Would you and your..." She looked at me, apparently at a loss. "Would you and your friend care to join us for a walk?"

The mayor's office was spacious, verging on luxurious, by pony standards. But to me, it was just another tiny-ass, cramped pony room, with not enough space for me to stand at my full height. So I knelt beside Twilight, instead, the two of us in front of the mayor's desk.

Twilight was positioned between, and just in front of, Fluttershy and I. The pegasus looked rather dejected, and I caught her sneaking furtive glances at me once or twice. Behind us, the two ponies dressed up as police stood guard at the door.

The mayor leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her desk and pressing her hooves together. "Let me start by saying that you have my utmost and sincerest condolences. Fluttershy told me about what happened to Spike. And to Rainbow Dash. "

Twilight maintained a stony expression, something which impressed me, since Fluttershy most assuredly did not. She sniffled, and her shoulders shook. Twilight just nodded stiffly and mumbled some words of gratitude.

"Indeed," said the mayor, leaning forward against her desk, "Fluttershy told me a great many things. Something about an army from outside of Equestria, holed up in the Everfree Forest, led by a revolutionary who wants to launch a coup against the Princess?"

Again, Twilight nodded. "Something like that, ma'am."

The mayor clicked her tongue and folded her forelegs on her desk. "And how many ponies are aware of this fact?"

"Not many," said Twilight. "Myself, my friends. Applejack's sister. Maybe her brother. And him." She jerked her head in my direction.

"Not a pony, Twilight," I interjected.

Twilight shushed me.

"Well," said the mayor. She pulled away from her desk and trotted around to stand at the front, facing Twilight directly. "Let's just keep it that way, shall we?"

Twilight, looking very much taken aback, said "Ma'am?"

The mayor sighed. She reached a hoof to her face and adjusted the glasses on her nose. "Ms. Sparkle, as you're aware, Ponyville has been subject to a great many disturbances and ordeals in the past two years. Stampedes, dragon rampages, parasprite infestations, even assaults by creatures straight out of mythology. The town's sense of security is severely undermined, hanging by a thread. Frankly..." Another sigh. "Frankly, I'm surprised that anypony still lives here."

Twilight tried to reply, but she was at a complete loss for words.

The mayor took up the slack. "If news got out of another problem on the horizon, how do you think the town would react? With discipline and confidence?" She scoffed. "No. There'd be panic. Chaos. Just like there is every time something like this happens."

"I don't understand," said Twilight. "You won't do anything?"

"Make no mistake, it isn't a matter of whether or not I want to do anything, Twilight," said the mayor. "To do nothing in the face of a crisis would be irresponsible. It's that I can't do anything, save give you and yours my blessing." The mayor looked suddenly uncomfortable, with a long, thin frown across her face and a furrowed brow. "Excepting your friends, what I'm about to say must stay between us." With a sideways glance at me, she added "This means you, too. Are we clear?"

I wasn't sure how to respond to that – did I look like the type to spread around sensitive information? – but Twilight answered for me with a short, jerky nod of the head.

"A number of things happened while you were gone this afternoon," said the mayor, moving back behind her desk. She reached into a drawer with her mouth and pulled out a manilla file folder, setting it on the desk. Twilight's horn flashed, and her aura wrapped around the folder, levitating it back to her face and opening it. Her eyes scanned the folders' contents rapidly.

"First," said the mayor, "we received a telegram from the Fillydelphia transportation hub, advising us that a fire had broken out at the mountain junction connecting the rail between Ponyville and Canterlot, and that all trains passing through that junction were canceled until further notice. We tried sending a response, only to discover that the lines had been cut." She glared at Twilight. "All of them."

Twilight sifted through the folders' contents, her expression growing more and more distressed as she read, and as the mayor kept talking. "So I sent out pegasi to relay messages to the hub in Fillydelphia. Guess what? They were intercepted and sent back." The mayor snorted. "They returned with a mouthwritten message: As of noon today, flight control in Cloudsdale has declared Ponyville a no-fly zone. The communique is in the folder."

"Yeah, I'm reading..." Twilight scanned a page in the folder, mouthing words on the page, then looked back up at the mayor. "It doesn't say why."

"No. It doesn't." The mayor pounded her desk with a hoof. "And the only places that can provide me with the answers are too far to reach by hoof. The only other line we had to the outside world..." She let out a slow, deep breath. "Was your assistant."

Twilight's eyes widened. "Spike..."

I looked between the two of them, puzzled. "How is Spike significant to all of this?"

"Spike can send messages to the Princess," said the mayor tersely. "Something involving burning them with his breath. I don't know how it works, just that it does. It's the fastest, most reliable means to get a message to Princess Celestia, one that we can always rely on in an emergency." She narrowed her eyes at Twilight. "Except for now, because he's in a coma."

Twilight closed the folder and dropped it back onto the mayor's desk. Her eyes were wild, unfocused, shifting her gaze from one part of the office to another. "This is too much," she said. "How can all of this happen at the same time? With Pegasus Wings on our doorstep no less!" She groaned. "This can't be a coincidence."

The mayor nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I've had an inkling of a conspiracy. The news that Fluttershy brought me has confirmed it. Someone is trying to isolate Ponyville, and they're doing a damned good job of it. But why, though – that's the question."

I pressed my hand to my chin and ran my finger over my lips, parting them slightly to bite down on my knuckle. Why, indeed. What possible reason could they have to isolate Ponyville from the rest of the world? "In your opinion," I said to Twilight, my words garbled from speaking around the knuckle between my teeth. "What, if anything, is there in Ponyville with any tactical significance?"

Twilight frowned. "Honestly? You were right back in the forest," she said. "We're not an industrial center, a transportation hub, or a government seat, and our chief export is apples." She snorted. "Unless they're planning on killing the country with malnutrition, there's no reason to strangle Ponyville."

"No reason? I can think of six," said the mayor in a calm, cool voice. "Two of which are in this room right now."

And there it was. Ponyville was, by my observations, a backwater burg, hardly noteworthy or unique – except as the residence of the six most dangerous threats to Macbeth's plans. Twilight had lectured me during our stroll home about the Elements of who-gives-a-damn, and their significance to Equestrian lore. If I hadn't seen the six of them in action first-hand, I'd have dismissed it as pointless grand-standing, or exaggeration. My mind still reeled at Twilight's display of power outside of the castle. If there was anything to Twilight's story about the Elements, removing them from play would be vital to the enemy's plans.

But then I recalled Trenton's behavior in the courtyard, and his late-game rescue of myself and the others from being gunned down by Cain. "Hold on," I said. "Something doesn't add up here." The mayor's curious expression bade me to go on. "They had us dead to rights back in the castle, but Trenton let us escape – helped us escape, in fact. Why go through all the effort of isolating the town to keep you out of the game, when he could have just killed us in the castle and been done with it?"

"Maybe killing us was never part of the plan," said Twilight. "Trenton said that he had to improvise when he ran into us in the forest. Up until that point, they were probably planning on cutting off Ponyville and leaving us in the dark about the whole invasion, right up until the moment it actually happened." She frowned. "But then, what would be the point of that...?"

"Macbeth." The timid, breathy voice of Fluttershy startled me, timidity and breathiness notwithstanding. She'd been silent and nondescript, practically a ghost, all during the discussion. She looked at Twilight, her eyes red and beady beneath her curtain of pink hair. Here's someone who needed as much sleep as any of us. "Remember what he said in the castle? He wanted to convince us that he was right, to get us on his side."

"He said that?" I huffed a sarcastic laugh. "Well, if there were any doubts that he was delusional..."

"The point stands," said Twilight. "They wanted us out of the picture, not dead. And when presented with the opportunity to kill us, they let us get away."

"Trenton let us get away," I corrected. "He could have been acting on his own. Don't forget that he had to intervene just to keep Cain from gunning us down. Question is—"

"Further speculation is pointless at this juncture," said the mayor. "The why of it matters less than the fact that it's happening." She rapped her hooves together sharply. "There's an army sitting on our doorstep, ready to invade us at a moment's notice. I'd like to avoid that, if possible, and I'd like for you, your friends, and your..." She waved a hoof at me. "Whatever that is to spearhead the that-avoidance initiative." She paused for breath. "I want this done with subtlety, Ms. Sparkle – off the books, and off the record. If word of this gets out—"

"If it does," I interrupted, "your constituents might stand a chance of survival." Twilight elbowed me sharply in the thigh. I decided to ignore her. "Conditions aren't favorable, but even so, you're sitting on intel that most in your position would kill to have. Do something with it."

The mayor flushed, indignant. "I was going to say that it would do little more than create a panic. If there's no other way, then of course I'll make this public. But if there's a chance to beat this threat without the town ever knowing about it, I'll gladly take that route."

Twilight elbowed me again – much harder this time – and shouldered her way past me. "Mayor Mare," she said pleadingly, drawing the mayor's gaze, "Snake might not be putting it in the most..." She glared at me. "Tactful of manners, but he does have a point. There must be something you can do to help secure the town."

Leaning back into her chair, the mayor blew out a long, thoughtful sigh. "I could order a series of disaster drills. Expand our stockpile of emergency supplies." Her eyes lit up. "The town's treasury is actually experiencing a surplus, at the moment. It wouldn't be much against a full-scale invasion, but—"

"Better to have it and not need it. Thank you, Ms. Mayor." Twilight smiled. "We'll do our part to keep this from escalating past a drill."

The mayor nodded. "To that end, I'm authorizing you to use whatever resources you need. If it's owned by the city, it's at your disposal. Dip into the treasury if you have to." The spark in her eyes dimmed a bit, and she chewed her lip. "Just don't dip very deeply. Surplus or no, we're not exactly made of money."

Twilight bowed her head, grateful. "We'll be as frugal as possible, under these circumstances." Peeking up, she added "If there's nothing else, may we be on our way?"

"By all means. You must be exhausted." She shot a glare my way. "A warning though, Mr. Snake. You might not agree with my approach in this matter, but you will abide by the rules I've set forth. If you cause any trouble, you and I will have to have words. Am I clear?"

I wanted to reply with something suitably dismissive, but Twilight decided to rescue me from myself again. Thoughtful of her, really, speaking for me when I hadn't even asked her to. "I'll vouch for Snake personally, Ms. Mayor," she said. "You won't have any problems from him, on my honor."

The mayor maintained a skeptical disposition, but Twilight's word must've counted for something, because she let it go with a wave of the hoof. Without another word, the three of us slinked out, Twilight maintaining a bright facade until we'd exited the town hall, at which point she turned on me with a frown and a glare. "Do they have that saying about honey and vinegar and flies where you come from? Because it's advice you might consider taking."

I snorted. "Where I come from, we don't bother with either. We just swat the damn things."

Fluttershy squeaked.

Over and over again, I swore to myself that I would stop being surprised by Equestria, and over and over again, I had to break my vow. When Twilight Sparkle told me that I could crash at her place – "the library," she said, "which so happens to be a treehouse" – I was dismayed at the prospect of living in a tiny, above-ground cabin crammed in an oak tree somewhere (and confused at how a library of any import could fit in such a place). But, no, she meant a literal tree house, that is to say, a tree hollowed out to serve as a house. Come to think of it, Zecora lived in one of those too, didn't she? Equestria has a funny notion of real estate.

Still, it beat Applejack's barn by a mile and change.

Fluttershy accompanied us back to the place, babbling an explanation for our audience with the mayor all the while. In a nutshell, she emerged from the forest with Spike and Apple Bloom in hand – so to speak – just as a search party was on its way in there, not unlike we did, actually. This caused a stir, Ponyville not being the kind of town where that sort of thing happens... or at least, where that sort of thing happens often enough for the townspeople to be too jaded to react to it. After dropping Spike off at the hospital and seeing Apple Bloom home, the mayor brought her in. "She had so many questions," the yellow pegasus babbled, "and I just, I couldn't tell a lie to my own mother, much less the mayor of Ponyville, so I had no choice, I just—"

"You've done nothing wrong, Fluttershy," said Twilight tiredly. I suspected she had to deal with this sort of thing on a regular basis. "And nothing worth apologizing for in the least. Telling Mayor Mare about the situation was half the reason you went on ahead, remember?"

Fluttershy mumbled for a bit before managing a coherent sentence. "She didn't have to be so rude with you..."

I grunted. "She didn't use an electrical current. And I got to keep my shirt on. By my standards, this interrogation was pretty tame."

"Do you practice being this jaded?" Twilight asked.

"In front of the mirror. Every morning."

Then I saw the treehouse. You're all caught up now.

Twilight put a hoof on Fluttershy's shoulder and patted her. "Please don't think you have anything worth apologizing for. You got Spike to the hospital; you probably saved his life. That's twice in one day you've come through for him." She smiled gently. "Not that anypony's keeping score, but I'd say that more than makes up for whatever you might've done wrong."

Fluttershy didn't look convinced, but she nodded. Twilight patted her again. "Get some rest. We'll talk again tomorrow, alright? The hospital, in the morning?" Fluttershy nodded again. Twilight squeezed her in a half-hug, and sent her on her way. The look on her face as she passed me, though... what the hell, I figured, she could use some cheering up.

"Fluttershy." She looked at me over her shoulder. "Don't you have some questions for me? We should probably make some time to get that out of the way."

Her eyes widened, her cheeks blushed, and her face lit up with the closest thing to a smile she could probably have mustered under the circumstances. "M-maybe tomorrow," she blurted, sounding nervous. The hell was that about? It's not like I asked her on a date...

...unless I did. Ugh. I made a note to ask Twilight about that later. I waved her away, and she skedaddled. Twilight opened the door with a quick flash of her horn, and stepped inside, beckoning me after her. "That was sweet of you," she said. "See? Honey, instead of vinegar? There's something to that, I think."

"Only if we're classifying Fluttershy as a fly," I said. "Doubt she'd appreciate that. Girl like her needs every ounce of self-confidence she can get." I ducked under the threshold (practically had to crawl inside) and followed my host into her home.

With a flourish of purple light, Twilight magicked light into the room, from a number of lamps placed here and there upon the walls. The library was decently sized by pony standards, but wasn't much bigger than a modest apartment by mine. Shelves were carved into the interior, with books arranged neatly upon each of them – arranged by color, I should add, and, I noted, alphabetically as well. Someone sure had a complex...

"Hmm. That's odd." Twilight stopped in the middle of the room, where a smallish cardboard box the size of a baguette sat. "I was expecting a package, but there wasn't anypony here to sign for..." There was a note attached to the box; she tugged it off, scanned it quickly, and sighed. "Derpy signed for it."

"Who's Derpy?"

"The mailmare." She dropped the note and clicked her tongue.

"The mail..." I frowned, trying to process this. "She delivered a package, which she also signed for, and left it inside of the..."

"Derpy's unconventional," said Twilight. She levitated the box and sent it off to a table next to the stairs. "She marches to the beat of her own drum. The only reason I knew I had a package coming was because she sent me a letter saying that I had a package coming."

"She sent you a letter to tell you—"

"Derpy's unconventional." Twilight's tone brokered no response, so I let go of this new, perplexing Ponyville mystery.

"You'll have to sleep in the stacks," she went on, nodding in the direction of a door across the room from where I stood. "Sorry, but I don't have a guest bed anymore. There was a storm, and a tree fell – it's a long story. I never got around to replacing it."

Must not get a lot of house guests.

"The floor's fine. A pillow would be nice though." I cracked my neck to the right, and winced as a fresh jolt of pain shot through it. That was a mistake. Must've winced louder than I'd intended, though, because when next I looked at Twilight, she had an expression of concern on her face.

"It isn't too late to go back to the hospital, you know," she said. "Get that dressed properly."

"Thanks, but no. Hospitals make me edgy. I try to avoid them."

Naomi with a needle, smiling sweetly, hatred masked by flawless bedside manner...

"You know, I'm not too sanguine about this procedure you wheedled out of that doctor. 'Accelerated healing', wasn't it? What's that all about?"

"Accelerated healing?" Twilight sounded surprised at my skepticism. "You don't have – oh, but of course you don't; no magic." She cleared her throat unnecessarily. "Well, the name's a bit of a misnomer, for one. Rather than accelerate the natural healing process, the doctor repairs the damage done on a molecular level. If you'd severed a ligament, for instance, the doctor would reconnect the torn parts and fuse them back together, reattaching nerves, even growing new tissue, if necessary. That's just one example." She paused to catch her breath. "The science behind it is pretty complex. I don't even fully understand it. But basically, it's surgery without the mess. Nifty, but it takes a heck of a lot of focus and training to pull off correctly. Not many doctors in Equestria can do it."

"But this one can?"

"He's an expert," she assured me. After a lengthy pause, she added, quietly, "He fixed up Rainbow Dash, once, when she broke her wing."

I thought about the conversation I'd had with the others in the forest. Dwelling on the possibility that Dash might've survived the castle wasn't healthy, and Twilight was a bit more grounded than her friends, and therefore less likely to take stock in Pinkie Pie's superstitions. Still... even I was starting to feel a bit of what the others had going on. I didn't like it. And Twilight needed some cheering up, anyhow.

"Pinkie Pie thinks Rainbow Dash is still alive," I said.

She didn't seem fazed. "Is that right?" she asked, in the same quiet, even voice.

I frowned. "No, not thinks. Knows."

Twilight was still and silent for another long moment. "Pinkie Pie has a big heart," she said at last, and started up the stairs leading to the library's upper level. I heard the windchimey noise of her aura starting up, and a pillow and blanket launched themselves toward me from the loft; I caught them in the crook of my good arm. The pillow was nice – plush, comfy – but I wasn't sold on the blanket. "Let's be out the door by nine, okay?" said Twilight. "Think you can manage that?"

"No problem. I'm an early riser," I said. Her voice sounded a little off – warbly and unsteady. She was either too tired to hold a conversation anymore, or she was just eager to drop the subject of Rainbow Dash. Hell, lady, you brought her up. Probably both, though.

I headed for the door that led to the stacks, silently wondering to myself how a tree of this size could hold so many adjacent rooms in its trunk. "See you in the morning."

As I pulled the door shut behind me, I heard what sounded like sniffling coming from the floor above me.

The eldest Apple family siblings sat on opposite ends of the dining room table, a mug in front of both of them and a half-empty bottle of cider between. Big McIntosh had yet to say a word in response to Applejack's long recitation of the day's events, and the only sound in the room was the steady ticking of a novelty clock that Granny Smith had won in a bingo game.

Big Mac watched his sister take the bottle in her mouth and pour herself another cupful. "You oughta be back at the hospital."

Applejack set the bottle down and hooked her hoof around the mug. "I don't like—"

"I know you don't," her brother interrupted. "But you oughta be."

Applejack took a long drink, downing her cup entirely, and set it back down. "You remember the night Ma an' Pa died?"

Big McIntosh said nothing.

"I don' like hospitals." She slid the bottle across the table for him to catch, and nodded in the direction of the stairs. "How was she, when Fluttershy brought her in?"

"Out cold. I carried her back. She didn't wake 'til I had 'er tucked in."

Applejack smiled faintly.

Big Mac didn't bother pouring a cup, and took a swig directly from the bottle, setting it down when he was done and smacking his lips. "She asked about you, firs' thing, y'know. Didn't know what to tell 'er."

"Yeah, well..." Applejack pushed away from the table and gingerly stepped onto her hooves. "S'pose I oughta go up there."

Big Mac said nothing as she limped toward the stairs, nor did he look at her. Seeing somepony so strong and vital being reduced to a shambling, limping, bandage-covered mess twisted him up inside. His flesh and blood went off and almost died, and where was he? Unconscious in a barn all damn day.

"You want I should carry you up there?" he asked.

"You want I should tell Cheerilee who's been leavin' her all them sappy love letters?"

Big Mac flushed a brighter shade of red and reached for the bottle again, but an orange foreleg intercepted the bottle and set it back down on the table. He felt Applejack's lips peck him on the cheek and her face nuzzle against his. "I love ya, big brother."

A lump formed in Big Mac's throat, preventing him from replying, so he settled for nuzzling his sister back. She disengaged a moment later; he heard her hoofbeats grow fainter as she ascended the stairs, and the creaking of a bedroom door opening and shutting. He reached for the bottle again, hesitated, then snorted and pushed it away.

Apple Bloom lay on her side with her back facing the bedroom door, wrapped snugly up to her neck in her covers. She stiffened a bit when she heard the door opening. Either she woke the girl, Applejack thought, or she'd been awake the whole time.

"How much didja hear?" Applejack asked.

Apple Bloom shifted slightly under the covers. "Mos' all of it."

"From all the way up here?" Applejack was genuinely impressed. Her sister's hearing was amazingly acute. The elder Apple trotted in an uneven, unsteady gait to the younger's bedside, leaning against it for support. The bed looked awfully inviting, she had to admit; it took all her willpower not to flop down on that comfy mattress and fall asleep then and there.

Apple Bloom clutched the covers closer to her body. "Fluttershy told me about Zecora. You didn't see her, didja?"

Applejack reached slowly for her sister and stroked the ribbon tied in her mane. "No."

"You know where she went? You think she's alright?"

"I don't." She paused. "I mean, I don't know where she went. But wherever it is, she's probably alright." She doubted Apple Bloom believed her – she didn't even believe herself, really – but the zebra had given her sister safe harbor, and for that, she wished her well. "Zecora can take care of herself. Don't you worry 'bout her."

"But I gotta." Apple Bloom buried her face in her blanket, muffling her words. "It's all my fault."

Applejack, surprised, asked "What is?"

"Everythin'. You, Spike, Rainbow Dash. Snake's shoulder. Zecora, if somethin' happens to her." Her body shook. "I ran away, an' y'all came after me, an' everythin' that's happened since then, it's all my—"

"Sweetiebutter, no. Hey, c'mere." She put a hoof on Apple Bloom's head and turned her over. The filly's eyes were red and her face was wet and crusted with snot. Apple Bloom rolled into Applejack's embrace and buried her face in her shoulder. It hurt, but Applejack tried not to let that show. "Darlin', if anypony should apologize, it's me. Flyin' off the handle like I did, at you, at Fluttershy..."

"I told you I wished you was dead. An' you..." Sobs wracked Apple Bloom, and fresh tears flowed onto Applejack's coat. "An' you went off an' almost died, an' I thought..." She lost what composure she had at that, and bawled, cradled like a baby in her big sister's embrace.

"You thought your wish came true?" Applejack stroked her sister's mane, kissed the top of her head. "I ain't dead, though. I'm right here, with you. See?" She chuckled. "Pinch me if ya don' believe it."

"But you almost did..." She sniffed and pulled away from Applejack's shoulder, daintily brushing the spot on her coat she'd stained with snot and tears. "When I was watchin' you, back in the forest, fightin' that blue guy, when I saw you take that hit for Fluttershy... I thought it killed you, an' then I thought 'it's 'cuz of me, it's 'cuz I wished for this to happen.'"

"Honey, that... that ain't how it works."

"I know that. I mean it, I really do. But that's how it felt, AJ." When she pulled her hoof away from Applejack's shoulder, she took with it a long, drooping strand of mucous that connected her hoof with the spot she'd been crying on, and despite everything, she giggled wetly at it. "Gross."

"Ain't nothin', sweetheart; don't think twice." She gently pushed Apple Bloom back into the mattress, who watched with childish amusement as the strand broke in two and dangled from her hoof. "Heck, I... I should apologize too, y'know. Last night, when I got mad at you an' Fluttershy for that thing with the cockatrice—"

"I'm sorry for that too," Applebloom blurted.

"Not where I was takin' that, but – dangit, now I'm all shook up. Can't really find the words to..." Applejack sighed. "Li'l sister, we got us the biggest, bestest family anypony could ever dream of havin'. Apples on ev'ry branch in Equestria, an' even one or two elsewheres. But ever since Ma an' Pa, I..."

Apple Bloom scooted out of the covers and sat up, resting her back against the headboard.

"...I feel alone sometimes. Not... not 'all by myself' alone, but like... like you an' Mac, Granny an' me, we're all we got in the world. I know that ain't so; I got the best friends a gal could want, an' I know you feel the same way about Scoots an' Sweetie. But y'all are my kin, an' when Ma an' Pa passed, I learned jus' how quick somepony you love can be there one minute, an' gone the next.

"Y'all are the most precious thing in th'whole dang world t'me, little sister. Losin' you, or Mac, or Granny, would be worse than if they lopped a leg offa me. I coulda lost you that night, an' never even known about it, couldn'ta done anythin' t'save you. Just like I couldn't do nothin' to save Ma an' Pa. Thinkin' like that, it kinda set me off. Fluttershy got the worst of it, but I still—"

"AJ. Sis, yer cryin'."

"What? I am not—" Applejack's sentence ended in a hiccup. Something dripped down her cheek and splattered against the bedspread. "Well, dang. I s'pose I am."

Apple Bloom grinned. "Crybaby."

"Ne'erdowell."

They laughed together, through the tears and the pain of loss. In that moment, whatever wall existed between them had vanished, whatever feud they'd had was forgotten. After a long day of struggle, of fearing for their lives, this moment of peace between the two sisters was well deserved.

"You wanna know the truth?" Apple Bloom asked, once their laughter had died down.

"What's that?"

"I don' even remember Ma an' Pa that well." Apple Bloom leaned against the headboard, turning her gaze to the ceiling. "I was so li'l when they died."

"Ain't surprisin'." Applejack stroked her sister's mane. "What DO you remember?"

"Hmm..." Apple Bloom frowned. "Smells. I remember Pa smelled like... sweat. An' apples."

"Sweaty apples?"

"Not even." Another giggle. "Ma, though, she smelled diff'rent. Kinda like flowers."

"Lilac," said Applejack softly.

Apple Bloom looked quizzically at her.

"Ma had some hoity-toity perfume. Baby shower gift, y'know, when she was pregnant with you – designer perfume from some label in Manehattan. Ma loved wearin' it, an' it clung to her wherever she went. Clung t'you to, y'know."

"I smelled like lilacs?" Apple Bloom stuck her tongue out. "I'd prefer smellin' like apples."

Applejack grinned. "Funny you should mention that, li'l sister. One time, Pa was holdin' you, an' he said 'Buttercup, we got us an Apple baby that smells like flowers.' An' I said – I weren't much older than you – I said 'that's 'cuz she's a li'l baby Apple, Pa. Apples are flowers 'fore they're apples, an' this li'l Apple's just startin' to bloom.'"

I dreamed something unsettling that I couldn't quite recall – a phantasmal black shape with a Cheshire cat grin – and awoke in a state of panic. And even though that subsided, I found that I couldn't get back to sleep – and, moreover, that I didn't want to go back to sleep. So I got up. I stretched, I paced, I stepped outside my tiny room into a slightly less tiny room. The library was too small, too cramped, too stuffy. I needed air.

No, dammit, what I needed was a smoke.

There was a balcony in the loft, where Twilight slept. I climbed the steps and passed her empty bed; she was sleeping on the floor, curled around a basket stuffed with bedding, which I realized with a sinking feeling belonged to Spike. I stepped over her, gingerly opened the balcony doors, and ducked under the threshold into the cool night air. That sky, that violet night sky with the unfamiliar stars and the unnaturally large and bright moon... it was all perfectly alien, and yet, I took a strange sort of comfort from it. When I looked up, I didn't see the dark, harrowing canopy of the Everfree Forest. I saw a great expanse of sky, and alien as it was, I didn't feel stifled and tense when I saw it.

What's the opposite of agoraphobia? Agoraphilia, let's say.

I lit a cigarette and took in the smoke slowly, savoring it, letting the tension in my body ease. Questions, unasked and unanswered, ran rampant in my mind – questions about Trenton, about Cain and Macbeth, about the whole damn situation. I tried to make sense of what had happened in the castle. Cain had wanted us – or me, at least – dead. Trenton, apparently, didn't, and not only did he openly defy Cain to protect us, he put himself in harm's way to do so.

Trenton. He was a wild card, one with an agenda which, I suspected, ran differently from his superiors'. He'd brought Case into the forest intent on killing him, n doubt about it. The one competent member of the PW army we'd encountered, and Trenton wanted him dead. Between that, the poorly-trained replacements for Cain's departed veterans, and the shoddy, second-hand weaponry, it seemed that Trenton had a stake in reducing his army's operational effectiveness. And, it seemed, in keeping myself and the others alive.

"Our meeting in the forest was a further complication. I needed to play for time, to factor this new data into my simulation, so I lured you out here to keep you occupied while I devised a means to contain this development."

I was a wrench in whatever plan he was devising. He should have killed me when he had me dead to rights, but he didn't. Passed up opportunity after opportunity, in fact. No, he wanted to keep me alive; he was curious what I'd do. And at the same time, he wanted my presence kept secret, right up until the moment Cain and I met face-to-face. But why? He killed his own men to keep them from talking, lied to his commander to keep my presence a secret, all for what?

The answer seemed plain. Trenton was playing us against each other – myself and the others against Cain and Pegasus Wings. Macbeth's insistence on keeping Twilight and her friends alive gave him one set of weapons to work with; I had to assume that he – or they – had arranged to isolate Ponyville from the rest of the country before he knew about my presence in Equestria, so he probably had a plan to use them in his scheme already. But when we met in the forest, when he recognized me...

"I needed to play for time, to factor this new data into my simulation"

He saw another weapon he could use in his game. And he kept my presence a secret so that I'd have the element of surprise. All to level the playing field. The PW army was outnumbered, but they were facing a society that was at least a century behind them, technologically – and hell, I wasn't even sure that Equestria had an army to fight back against them. That alone gave them the upper hand, but with Metal Gear in Cain's back pocket, the odds were drastically against the ponies. So who better to even the odds than a laboratory freak with experience in precisely these kinds of situations?

That left the question of why – why the elaborate deceptions, the game of spy-vs.-spy; what the hell were we all even doing here in the first place?

"I needed to play for time, to factor this new data into my simulation"

Data and simulations. Trenton wasn't some independent contractor in Cain's employ. And he wasn't acting on his own; of that much, I was certain. All this plotting and scheming behind everybody's back, I couldn't figure what he stood to gain from it. Unless, of course, he was working for a third party, one that did stand to gain from all of this.

Who did I know of that habitually played people against one another, trying to fit them into paradigms derived from behavioral data? Who could have put Trenton – a technological wonder, and the successor to the project which perverted Gray Fox – together? Who would have the resources, the tech, the manpower, the know-how, to build yet another cyborg exoskeleton, and who would be amoral enough to force it on yet another poor conscript?

The answer was in his name. Trenton. As in Trenton, New Jersey, as in the battle of. As in Washington crossing the Delaware on Christmas Eve to surprise and defeat the Hessians.

Washington. The father of America. The quintessential patriot.

I flicked my cigarette to the floor and stamped it out with the heel of my boot. My plan had backfired; I was now tenser than I'd been when I first lit the thing. I was about to head inside and try my luck tossing and turning on the floor again, when I saw a shape silhouetted against the moon – round at the top, tapering off at the bottom, like a lightbulb in the night sky. That made no sense, of course, so I stared at it a little harder.

It was a balloon – a weather balloon, to be precise. And it was drifting toward the library. And, a few moments later, it was just in arm's reach. Watching it pass, I noted something attached to it – a shoebox, maybe – and, out of curiosity, I nabbed it out of the air to inspect.

Turned out to be a shoebox – or at least, a box the size of a shoebox. Open me, it said on the lid. I frowned. It felt empty – whatever was in there, I doubted it was a threat. Someone's idea of a practical joke, maybe. So I opened it.

It wasn't empty. There was a note, written in red. The moonlight was bright enough for me to discern what it said. Dodge Junction, by train. Nothing else; not even a signature. Of course, I didn't need one to know who'd sent it.

Beneath the note was a single blue feather, its tip stained the same shade of red as the writing on the paper.

A blue-clothed human lay amidst the rubble of the castle courtyard, his body a tangle of broken limbs. Over him stood an equine form: blue and stately, with a flowing, star-studded mane.

Luna studied the body, worry creeping up her spine. "Impossible," she muttered. "Impossible, impossible, impossible." Behind her, the fortress that had once stood watch over the capital of Equestria was no more than a pit of shattered stone, down to its most ancient foundations and catacombs.

And yet, across what little ground remained of the old courtyard, a featureless circle of black stood unscathed.

Fear seized Luna, and she swept toward it, galloping down the ancient slope that led to the great arch which now filled her heart with so much terror. She stopped in front of it, panting, and stretched out with her senses.

Something had come through. "Impossible."

She hadn't sensed it; her sister hadn't sensed it. "Impossible."

And yet, there the evidence was, plain as night. Something which didn't belong had come to Equestria. No... thought Luna, no, many somethings. Humans, yes, but something else, too. Something malevolent. Something inhuman.

Something, Luna realized, which wasn't even alive.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/13/16

-General copyediting and proofreaing
-Slight modifications to dialogue and narration, mostly for clarity and flow
-Changed the spelling of Apple Bloom's name

Special thanks to my imaginary one-eyed cat, Miffy, for pre-reading this chapter.

Interlude - Better Days

"How about this one – the pegasus?"

Wind, scented with sea salt, tousled the blonde curls of a young girl. Her legs dangled over the edge of a tall, metal platform, hovering over the gently churning seawater below. Beside her sat a boy, a handful of years younger, who excitedly read to her from a book opened on his lap.

Paz giggled, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, yes. But I think everybody has heard of that one."

Chico adjusted his cap, which had been nudged off-kilter by the Caribbean breeze. "The stories go as far back as ancient Greece. It's said that the pegasus was sired by the god, Poseidon, and—"

"Poseidon?" Paz interrupted. She stuck her tongue out, squeezed her eyes shut, and shuddered, as though she'd bitten into a lemon. "I have a hard time believing that."

"It's a big world!" said Chico, a touch defensively. "Who knows what's out there? I already have to deal with Snake doubting me; don't tell me you do too!"

"Sorry," said Paz. "I didn't mean to imply anything. I really do find this stuff interesting." She gestured at the book. "Keep going, please!"

Mollified, and finding himself quite unable to be mad at Paz, Chico continued. "Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, people saw the pegasus as a symbol of wisdom. Poets, especially, took inspiration from it. It says here..." He pointed at a particular passage in the book, and Paz leaned closer, her cheek nearly touching his shoulder. "That wherever the pegasus struck its hoof against the earth, a spring would bubble out, containing the music of the Muses." He snapped his fingers, as though he'd come to a sudden realization. "That must be why so many people used it as a source of inspiration – it was the music of the Muses the whole time!" He shut the book, sighing contentedly.

"You're really into this UMA business," Paz remarked.

"Can you blame me?" said Chico. "With all the mysteries still out in the world, who wouldn't find this stuff fascinating?"

"But you get so excited, so passionate, about it. It's fun to see!" Paz dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper "And I think some of it's starting to rub off on me!"

"Yeah?" Chico looked up, into Paz's baby blue eyes. It seemed to register to him, for the first time, how close their faces were. He felt his heart pulse rapidly, and his face grow hot. "You, uh... you're getting into this stuff too?"

"Mm-hm!" The wind tousled Paz's hair again; a springy, blonde curl brushed across Chico's forehead. "You know," she said, glancing away from him coyly. "After your revolution, when Nicaragua's at peace again, maybe you and I could take a trip together."

"Uh..." Chico's tongue suddenly felt thick and cumbersome.

"You know, around the world?" She playfully nudged his shoulder. "We could do some investigating, just you and me. Go to Loch Ness, and take a boat across the lake. Dive to the bottom looking for Nessie. I mean, just for example."

Chico swallowed – a purely reflexive action, as he had no moisture in his mouth to swallow – and managed a shaky nod.

Paz pecked him on the cheek. "It's a promise, then."

A filthy rag suddenly struck Chico in the back of the head, and fell to drape around his shoulders like a scarf. "Chico!" The voice was rough, raspy, and heavy with an English accent. "Time to pull your weight for once! I got a LAV-G with your name on it, caked in all kinds of shit!"

Chico pulled the rag off of his shoulder. His face burned red with shame. "Clean your own damn mess," he muttered under his breath.

"'Oy, you say somethin'?" Chico looked over his shoulder, at a strapping, muscular man in soiled tiger-stripe fatigues, toting an M-16 in his arms. His shaven head reflected light from the afternoon sun, and his face was sooty and streaked with blood – someone else's blood, seeing as he looked quite unscathed.

Through clenched teeth, Chico replied "I said 'sure thing, Swordfish.'" Under his breath, he added "tea-sipping gringo asshole."

"That's what I thought." He shouldered his rifle and backed away, smirking. "Make sure you get nice an' deep into the wheel-well; she's fresh from Honduras, and I think there's still half a torso stuck up in there."

Chico, still grumbling, climbed to his feet. "Yeah, why don't I get it nice and deep into your putana of a mother, you—"

"Chico?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Paz, still seated at the edge of the platform, smiling after him.

"Remember. It's a promise."

And for just a moment – for reasons he didn't quite understand – that promise was Chico's entire world.

Rainbow Dash lies pinned beneath a mass of rubble, helpless, as IRVING totters after her friends. She buries her face in the dirt and shuts her eyes tightly, waiting for whatever form her end would take.

She hears a thud, then footfalls, then something grabs her by the mane and painfully yanks her head up. She opens her eyes. A single point of light, bright blue and burning, meets her gaze.

Rainbow Dash curls her lip in disgust and spits a wad of bloody saliva into Trenton's face.

His grip on her mane tightens.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/19/16

-Punctuation fixes
-Minor alterations to dialogue
-Added Paz wanting to visit the bottom of a body of water, because I love irony
-Removed Rainbow Dash's profanity. The scene works better silent, I think.

Original Author's Note

I had this in mind for a while; it was originally a part of the chapter after the next, but I broke it into its own thing. I was going to wait until it was slightly more relevant to post it, but then I spoiled Ground Zeroes for myself, and decided that publishing this around its release date would be deeply sadistic, and therefore fun.

You'll get why after you play the game. Or spoil it for yourself, like me. Just prepare to be deeply, deeply depressed afterward.

Rainbow Dash is there because it would be wrong to publish a chapter without pony. Also, ambiguity.

Also, the wait for the new chapter has been criminally long, and I want to give myself some sense of momentum going forward. Consider this an apology and a promise that, baby, I can change.

-Posh

9. Impasse

"You don’t know the truth yet. But sooner or later you’ll have to choose."

Carrying herself with poise and confidence, Princess Celestia strode out of her bedchamber. Typically, she was greeted by a chambermaid or servant filly, not by her very sleepy and nervous-looking sister. Not that she would mind the change in routine.

"Luna," she greeted warmly. "This is a pleasant surprise. Care to join me for breakfast?"

Luna's stomach chose that moment to rumble. "'Tis business I come to discuss with you, not pleasure," she said, ignoring Celestia's sly smile.

"Luna, Luna," Celestia chided playfully, shutting the doors behind her with a quick flash of her horn. "A good ruler knows how to mix the two. The drear of politics is very much alleviated when performed over a hot cup of tea and a plate of fresh scones. It's scientifically proven." She winked.

"I imagine that's so, but – Tia!" Celestia had begun to walk away, humming to herself, and Luna had to gallop around and in front of her to cut her off. "This is serious, sister. We need to talk. Something..." She glanced around nervously and lowered her voice, leaning closer to Celestia to be heard. "Something happened last night, during my watch. The castle – our castle, in what has become the Everfree – collapsed."

A sympathetic look – though, to Luna's dismay, an unconcerned one – crossed Celestia's face. "The loss of our old home is tragic, but hardly surprising. It was old when we were in diapers, Luna. Entropy happens." She chuckled lightly. "What's surprising is how well it's weathered the years."

"It did not collapse on its own, I think." Celestia continued her slow trot forward, and Luna fell into step beside her. "Late last night, some hours after raising the moon, I left the castle to stretch my wings, and I saw smoke rising from the Everfree. From where I knew our castle to be," she added pointedly.

"A forest fire?" asked Celestia.

"I thought so. But when I drew closer, I noted some irregularities. The keep had crumbled into its lowest levels, as if demolished from the inside, but other parts of the complex looked as though they had been smashed. Rubble from the gatehouse was strewn outward, away from the rest of the castle. And in what little remained of the courtyard, the one overlooked by the throne room, were recent signs of battle. More rubble, scorched spots here and there – not the kind of destruction one expects from a forest fire. This wasn't entropy. Something happened to collapse that castle." She hesitated. "There was a corpse."

The pair exited the royal apartments. The world outside was still cast in shadow, yet untouched by the warmth of the newly-risen sun. Luna put a hoof on Celestia's shoulder and pulled her to a stop, looking her squarely in the eye; Celestia, listening intently, bade her to continue with a nod.

"Sister, it was a human. There are humans in Equestria."

Celestia's reaction was immediate and alarming – alarming, precisely because she so seldom looked alarmed. "Humans," she breathed. Her eyes left Luna's and found the floor, as if the answer to her questions lay somewhere on the impeccably polished tiling of the Canterlot palace. "Impossible. To open the Threshold of the Moon would require magical power of terrible proportions. We would have sensed it!"

"That we sensed nothing makes this no less possible," said Luna. "Long have I pondered this. However improbable it may seem, whatever they used to wrench open the path between worlds, it is beyond our ability to detect. They're here, Tia. And what's more..." A cold gust whispered through the garden and crept across Luna's coat, chilling her. She shuddered. "Something else came with it. Something malevolent. A spirit, a demon, something. I cannot say what. 'Tis unfamiliar. Alien. And fueled by hatred so powerful that its sour taste still lingers on my tongue."

At this, Celestia shot a narrow-eyed glance at Luna – a look of skepticism. "The human world doesn't have spirits the same way that we do, Luna. What you're saying is impossible."

Luna felt a tingle of suspicion. Her sister had answered too quickly, too dismissively. "Impossible? Like a well of power that we cannot detect, tearing a hole in the fabric of reality?"

"That is different," Celestia insisted, suddenly impatient. "Luna, I'm asking kindly – whatever you've felt, forget about it. It's an impossibility. Leave it at that."

"Why should I? What are you afraid of?" Luna took a step forward and squinted at Celestia, as if only now taking the time to look closely at her. "A fine job you did, with that glamour. At a glance, nopony would ever notice the redness in your eyes, the crow's feet, the bags beneath your lids. How much sleep have you missed, sister? How many nights have you lost, ruminating on this 'impossibility'?"

Celestia could only look away, face flushed and frowning. To Luna, it was tantamount to an admission of guilt. "Were you ever planning on telling me?" Her words were angry, but fueled by hurt. I thought us beyond this. "Did you know about the humans as well; did you hide that from me too?! We are supposed to be partners, Celestia!"

"I didn't—" Celestia gestured for Luna to lower her voice, warily glancing at a passing chambermaid. She smiled radiantly at the mare until she was out of earshot, then leaned in close to Luna to whisper. "I didn't know about the humans. The rest I've been aware of for some time."

Luna watched the servant pass out of sight, and bit back further reproach for the sake of subtlety. "Strange that you knew about it," she said through clenched teeth, "and that I did not."

"I have no explanation for that," Celestia said, looking for once abashed. "I noticed it some months ago. It was faint, at first – a whisper of what it is now – but it's only grown louder, stronger, with time. When I felt it, I thought that you surely did as well, but you showed no sign. So I never approached you about it."

"Why?"

"To protect you," Celestia said quietly.

Luna reacted with a snort of exasperation. Celestia's patronizing was as ill-deserved as it was ill-advised. It was, however, touching enough for Luna to let go of her initial anger. "My thanks," she said sarcastically. "But we must needs act together, immediately, for the sake of the realm." She inhaled, held her breath, exhaled the last traces of negativity in her. "Going by history, we must assume hostility on the part of the humans. We should take the initiative, seek them out and strike first. I propose we recall the guard from the frontier and mobilize. Enact war protocols, if necessary. And as for this dark spirit—"

"No," said Celestia, curtly and with finality in her voice. "There will be no mobilization. No war protocols. No war, period. As for the spirit, that is being taken care of."

"Taken care of? Who have you – " The obvious answer to her own question came to Luna, and her eyes widened. "You cannot be serious."

"Luna—" said Celestia, placating.

Luna, having none of it, stomped. "You sent it. You sent that, that..." Luna sputtered, unable to articulate her shock, and finally groaned with frustration. "I thought when I returned from my banishment, and saw neither head nor hide of it, that you'd disposed of that... thing, as you ought to have generations ago!"

"Luna, I will not have this conversation with you," Celestia said sternly, steel creeping back into her voice. "Heaven knows we've had it enough times over the years."

Luna pointed her hoof into the distance – in truth, she had no idea where the target of her ire was; it just felt good to point. "Dark forces marshal their strength against us. We should respond in kind. Not with craven subterfuge, but directly, with the full strength of Equestria behind us!"

"Craven?" Celestia's alabaster features twisted into a scowl. "What you consider cowardice has kept this realm safe for one thousand years, Luna. We limit ourselves out of necessity, not fear. We are not gods." She spat the final word as an epithet. "Nor are we of a kind with humanity. Equestria will not answer war with war, for as long as I rule."

"The humans – and this spirit – may mean to destroy our nation, sister." Luna crushed her lips together tightly, and turned her head so as not to look her sister in the eye. "Your rule already survived one coup this year. Do you think it can survive another?"

She didn't see Celestia's reaction. She didn't need to. "That was low," said Celestia, now deathly quiet.

Luna sucked her teeth and glanced sidelong at Celestia; she couldn't look her in the eye and expect to maintain her own composure. Celestia had drawn herself up, unfurled her wings, and seemed to shine with the very light of the sun. Big-Sister-Celestia had left the conversation.

"We know nothing about the humans or their purpose here," continued Celestia, in the same chilling voice. "We have no way of knowing what, if any, connection exists between them and this... this spirit. The Changelings are still our primary concern. The guard will remain in pursuit of them. This other matter will be taken care of, quietly, without anypony ever needing to know of it. End of discussion."

"This is not—"

"Matters of national security fall within my purview, Luna," Celestia interrupted. "I value your counsel, at all times, but this is my decision to make, not yours."

Luna shook her head, bitterly chuckling. There was nothing more she could do. Before Celestia the Autocrat, she lost what gall she had mustered. But just as she couldn't maintain her own courage, neither could Celestia maintain her anger. She sighed, and released everything with it; her posture fell, her wings dropped to her sides, and even her voice turned conciliatory. "Luna, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, and I'm sorry for speaking to you the way that I have. But this matter – it's better for everypony, for the realm, if it gets solved quietly." Her voice took on a pleading tone. "Events are coming to a head, Luna. Should this spiral out of control..."

Luna cocked her head inquisitively. "You fear for Twilight Sparkle's ascension?"

"Among other things. Many other things, which have been in motion for a long, long time. Luna..." Celestia trotted closer to her younger sister, and extended a wing to shield them from prying eyes – pointless, Luna knew, as they were alone, but even a pointless gesture can hold meaning. "I don't mean to seem apathetic. But this is a delicate stage. This spirit, these humans – these things should not be. Publicly, they must be treated as though they don't exist. To do otherwise could undo centuries of planning."

Luna smiled unhappily. "You do not fear that a horde of humans storming Ponyville could undo Twilight Sparkle?" Her heart felt heavy with worry for her friend.

Celestia thought silently before answering. "I will instruct our... agent... to investigate the human presence, and establish a connection between them and this phantasm. I'm not convinced one exists, but it's worth exploring nevertheless. Should it become necessary, we will recall the expeditionary force sent after the Changelings and mobilize the guard." She added, after a moment's quiet, "Wartime protocols are a last resort – the last resort."

Luna leaned closer. "Why not warn Twilight directly?" she whispered. "Task her and the others with solving this riddle?"

"Too many unknowns. I'm confident that he can handle the situation." At Luna's scoff of disgust, Celestia added "I know you don't like him. To be frank, I don't either. But, the situation being what it is, we must be discreet. And he is nothing, if not discreet."

Luna made a sour face. "On that, we can agree. But Twilight—"

"Has enough of a challenge ahead of her without adding this one to her burden," said Celestia.

Luna begrudgingly agreed. In truth, she was loathe to place Twilight in danger. Celestia's insistence on following ancient signs and prophecy to prepare Twilight Sparkle for what was still to come frustrated and unnerved Luna. But at least the prophecies and signs provided guidance, and offered the remote possibility that all would go according to plan. No, thought Luna, best to keep Twilight Sparkle far away from this.

What to do, then? With Celestia unwilling to act, and Twilight Sparkle removed as a possibility... who did that leave to stand for Equestria? Luna imagined a yoke fastened around her neck. She suppressed a grim smile at the image. "Very well," she said. "I do not approve. But for Equestria's sake, I will follow your lead."

Celestia bowed her head. "Thank you, Luna." Gathering herself up as best as she could, Celestia resumed her stroll toward the throne room. The problem still plagued her; it was evident in the way that she carried herself. At the same time, though, her conversation with Luna seemed to have eased her burden somewhat. My consent means something to her. No, she corrected herself, it means everything to her. She felt a sense of warmth at the thought. But the warmth was tempered by knowing that her consent was a lie.

"Tia!" she called. Celestia stopped, turned her head around to regard her sister curiously. "You are no craven," said Luna, fidgeting. "'Twas wrong of me to say so."

A tremor ran through Celestia. She turned her gaze to the floor. "Craven? No," she said, her voice now feathery soft. "Arrogant, though. One doesn't rule alone for a thousand years without growing complacent. I was so secure in the infallibility of the prophecies that I never saw the Changelings coming. My overconfidence nearly cost us the realm." She glanced toward Luna again, her expression hard. "That will never happen again." And with those parting words, she left Luna alone.

Luna shook her head, sighed. "It was not just you, you know. We were all fooled. I wish..." She stared at the spot where her sister had stood. "I wish you would talk to me about it."

A voice inside her reminded Luna that she had more pressing concerns. Her heart ached with concern for Celestia, but that matter would have to wait. When the realm was safe again, perhaps they could revisit the matter, but for now... Forgive me, Tia, she thought, but my defiance may yet save us all.

If only she knew where to start. Equestria's contact with humanity had been limited – once, in antiquity, and never again. She knew only that they were warlike, and had to be frighteningly powerful. Celestia knew more, but she was off limits, lest Luna tip her cards prematurely by inquiring.

There was, however, one other being in existence who might yet recall humanity...

Ghostly, mocking, droll laughter echoed in Luna's mind, and her stomach knotted with anxiety. That was not a conversation she looked forward to. It could be done without releasing him, she knew... but the simple thought of coming face-to-face with a monster of his caliber shook even her nerves. And how did she expect to stand up to Discord when she had difficulty facing down her own sister?

An unbidden yawn passed through her lips; simply thinking about him reminded Luna how tired she was. "Tartarus take me," she groaned. "If I'm to do this, I'll need a nap." She slouched, and trudged toward her own bedchamber, trying vainly to dispel thoughts of the confrontation to come.

"You say you came here through some giant arch?"

I looked up from the book in my hands – a treatise on something called "The Crystal Empire" – to see Twilight neck-deep in a stack of books, levitating a tome the size of my chest in front of her face. "Yeah, with a bust of a smiling white unicorn at the top."

"And there was one back at the castle, right? Can you describe it?"

"Same unicorn bust at the top, except this one was black. And frowning. At the bottom of a pit, surrounded by what looked like a viewing gallery. The whole thing was enclosed by a ring-wall that looked like it was carved from solid obsidian." My interest piqued, I set my book down on a precarious stack of more books, and afforded her my undivided attention. "Don't tell me you found something."

"You tell me." Twilight cleared a path through her book fort and trotted toward me, thrusting her tome in my face. The page she showed me was tattered and yellow, and would probably crumble if anyone laid hands on it, but the illustration, though faded, was recognizable. It was a view of the castle's arch, as seen from the gallery which surrounded it – without, I noted, the wall of obsidian. The throng of ponies, their colors dull and washed-out from the age of the picture, were cheering for something happening just beneath the arch, though the picture was too decayed to discern what. A stylized emblem of a sun, faded-red with fiery rays lashing out on all sides, decorated the top of the illustration. There was an inscription beneath the sun, in some rune language that I didn't recognize.

"That's it," I said. "Back in its heyday, if I'm not mistaken. Just how old is that book?"

Twilight pulled it away from me and held it in front of her face again as she walked back to corner of the room. "Search me, but it's the oldest in the library by far. I can tell you that it's pre-Discord, though, which makes it pretty remarkable."

I picked up another book ("Diamond in the Rough: A Love Story") and leafed through it, not really paying attention to what was on the pages. "Why is that?"

"Discord was – or is, I suppose – a demon who ruled Equestria for a time, eons ago. His reign ended when the Princesses cast him down with the Elements of Harmony." She rotated the book in mid-air, peering closely at it. "Most records of what Equestria was like between the time of its founding and the fall of Discord have been lost, so as far as scholars are concerned, recorded history begins there."

Convenient that it happened to show up in a backwater town library. "And you just happened to have it lying around in the stacks?"

"Not quite," said Twilight. "It came as part of a bulk shipment of ancient texts from the Equestrian National Archives in Marelington last month. It's on loan." She opened the book again and buried her face in it. "As far as I can tell, it covers Equestria's history from the time before its founding, when the three races lived separately, all the way to something called 'The Great Sunset'." She frowned and levitated another book to eye level, flipping through the pages backward a few pages. "It's difficult to say exactly what's in here, though. The book is written in a dead, archaic dialect, and the prose is highly idiomatic. And I've been cross-referencing with other histories to find any corroboration for what little I do clearly understand. But so far..." She stopped flipping through the second book and peered closely at one page. "Huh."

"What?" I craned my neck to get a look at the page.

"Says here that Commander Hurricane and Clover the Clever became lovers after founding Equestria. That's..." She noticed me watching, blushed, and shut the book, turning back to the ancient tome "Probably not relevant."

"Probably not." I set my book down, beside two others I'd flipped through ("A Scientific Analysis of the Cutie Mark" and some asinine creation story involving space-ponies and zebras). "So what does the book say about the arch?"

"Not much," said Twilight. "In fact, the book ends abruptly right after that picture." She flipped forward, showing me page after page of emptiness.

"So it's an incomplete history, then. Did the author die?"

"Maybe. Or maybe the author was interrupted when Discord rose, and she never got the opportunity to finish what she started." Her eyes seemed to shimmer with delight. "This is a true historical treasure. Something this old and valuable belongs in a museum."

I stepped toward her, and nudged her to get her attention; she shook her head, and her eyes cleared. "So what does it say about the arch?" I repeated.

Twilight tilted the book for me to read comfortably. "Like I said, there isn't much. I can read those runes, but the idiom doesn't translate very well. All I can give you is the literal reading. The meaning behind the words might be lost to time."

Find the meaning behind the words. My advice to Jack, biting me in the ass. Whatever god ruled Equestria must have been a sucker for irony. "Do what you can, then."

"Alright." Twilight coughed to clear her throat. "'Here endeth the Vigil of the Eternal Sun, on earth consecrated by the fruit of His most proud and holy loins. May His divine light shineth upon the dissolute, who live detached from His splendor in lands apart. May we live to see Him illuminate our heavens again."

Skeptical, I raised an eyebrow. "'His most proud and holy loins,' huh?"

"I swear, that's what it says."

"I'll have to take your word for it." I stepped away from Twilight, back to my own little stack of books. "So what does that tell us?"

"Not a great deal. Except..." Twilight paused, frowning pensively. "Whoever that arch was dedicated to, the book refers to him in religious terms. A lot of the book is too worn and faded to be legible, and much of the writing is too archaic to be accurately translated anyway, but..."

"But?" I asked, prodding.

"Something Macbeth said in the castle," said Twilight. "Something about Discord defeating the 'god-emperor.' I wonder... could this book be a record of his reign?" She flipped through the book rapidly, pausing on different pages occasionally. "I see the same sort of language used to refer to the sun – or a sun – multiple times throughout. The tone of those passages is worshipful, verging on zealous."

"Sun-worship?" I ventured. "That's not so strange. Where I'm from, the sun was part of a bunch of ancient religions."

"I doubt it's literal sun-worship," said Twilight. "Probably a metaphor for something, or somepony, strongly associated with the sun. Sort of like Princess Celestia, I suppose." She sat on her haunches and tapped her hoof against her chin. "'Wrested Equestria from the rule of the god-emperor...'"

"Is there a mention of a god-emperor in any of your other histories?"

"None whatsoever. But as I said before, most pre-Discord histories are lost. If there was a god-emperor, the records of his existence would have vanished as well. No wonder there's no mention of this anywhere else." She tenderly ran her hoof over its spine. "My gosh. I think we've just discovered a lost era in pony history."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," I said. "Macbeth knew about this 'god-emperor'. Maybe he read this book, too, back when it was in the archives. Hell, if he was a government official, like he claims, he would have had easy access to them, right?" He may have learned about the portal in the Everfree Forest's castle from that history, too. Was he the one, then, that made contact with Trenton? Did he draw the Patriots' attention by crossing the threshold that separated our worlds?

But all that equipment on the island... no, the Patriots had the means to cross into Equestria already; they knew about the portal, they knew how to turn it on. Did they know about its origin too? What did they know that we didn't?

"I guess," said Twilight, shrugging. "I mean, I'd never have gotten my hooves on it without my association with Princess Celestia, and even then, there was a lot of red tape. A high-ranking government official would have had a far easier time of it than I did." Twilight squinted at the book, scanning the passage she'd read to me slowly, more intently. "You know, this religious fervor, coupled with the tone of the passage..." She shut the book. "Hypothesis. Whoever the god-emperor was, he was using the portal to launch some kind of cross-dimensional holy war."

"Holy war?" I mulled the thought for a moment. 'May His divine light shineth upon the dissolute, who live detached from His splendor in lands apart." "You might be on to something. It sounds like they were trying to spread their faith – missionary work, so to speak. Doesn't sound like they were throwing any church picnic, though." Forced conversion, religious persecution – some things really were universal. "There's a portal on my world, too, connected to the one here. He must've been trying to invade us."

Twilight scrunched up her nose. "The book references that arch being constructed as part of the Great Sunset. It didn't predate the god-emperor's reign, which means it must've been built specifically for the purpose of launching that war. And if it's pony-made, then somepony must've built the one on your end, too." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But then, they couldn't very well build two portals on two different worlds at the same time. The one in Equestria had to have come first. Maybe that one was a one-way trip, and this god-emperor built the one in your world after the fact as a way home." She shrugged. "Do you have any historical record of war with ponykind?"

"I'm positive that we don't." I thought for a moment. "Myths, though. Not about a war with your kind, but we have old stories about unicorns and pegasi. Might be your god-emperor was the source of some of those myths?"

"Might be." Twilight set her book down, stretched her back, cracked her neck, and groaned. "Six hours of studying, and that's all we could dredge up."

"Hey, a second ago, you were all excited about discovering some lost epoch," I said. "Don't tell me you're changing your mind."

A tiny smile crossed her face. "You're right. Who needs sleep, anyway?"

I huffed a laugh. "Maybe you don't. I could use a nap, though." My night's rest was something on the order of two, two and a half hours, as it turned out. And after waking Twilight with that package, neither of us had been able to sleep at all. She decided to take advantage of that time to catch up on some studying, and managed to drag me into it. Not like I had anything better to do, of course, but if this was her idea of a cure for insomnia, it sure as hell didn't work for her. If anything, the more she read, the more energized she became.

The feather-package reminded me of the other package she'd gotten the night before, the one which I was pretty sure did not come from a cyborg ninja. "You know," I said, glancing at the box with the note from Derpy attached, "you never did open that box."

"Box? Oh." She waved her hoof dismissively. "I must've forgotten about it. Go ahead and open it, if you're curious."

I admit to being curious, so I did open it. What was inside was the last thing I could have expected. "Twilight," I said, pulling the object from the box, "at what point did you decide that you absolutely needed a gilded unicorn horn?"

"What in Equestria are you talking – oh." Twilight's eyes widened at the sight of the thing. "Oh. Oh my."

The horn was the length of my forearm, golden, and polished to a mirror sheen. Light, too, far lighter than a solid gold object could realistically be (gilded it was, then). I turned it over in my hands, examining it. "It's nice, I'll give you that," I said, "but I don't see any practical purpose for owning something like this." I held it out to her. "Kind of morbid, too, if you ask me. Like owning a pencil holder carved out of someone's skull."

Twilight trotted toward me, levitating the horn from my hands and looking over it closely. "I can guarantee you that I never thought of owning anything like this." Confusion crossed her face. "Where did this even come from? I doubt it came from Derpy; it's not like her to pull pranks on anypony. And I don't see the joke in this, anyway."

"Well," I said, "consider why someone would want to gild a horn in the first place." I took it from where it hung in midair and examined it again. Damn, but it was shiny.

Twilight stroked her chin with her hoof, an out-of-place gesture that I found comical. "It's not unheard of. A unicorn's horn is a symbol of pride, after all, so dolling it up somehow – not my cup of tea, but definitely not out of the ordinary. For males, especially, the horn is a symbol of virility and sexual prowess."

I dropped it abruptly.

"Really?" said Twilight, her tone as flat as the expression she gave me.

"You're all a bunch of deviants," I muttered, backing away it.

Twilight sighed. "Boys. I guess insecurity's a constant in the multiverse." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, yeah; middle-aged stallions, especially, tend to mess with their horn as part of some mid-life thing. I knew a unicorn in Canterlot who stuck two extra horns on his head and gilded all three of 'em. A real cornucopia of neuroses, that pony."

The image made me laugh a little. Twilight picked the horn off the ground with her mouth, and set it back on the corner table. "The mystery of the gilded sex object will have to wait for another day." A more serious expression came over her. "This isn't even the most unusual package I received last night, after all."

This again. I was hoping she'd dropped that subject for good. She'd practically worn a hole in the floor from pacing in a circle when I showed the feather and note to her. "You can't let yourself get hung up on that," I said. "It's Trenton, trying to manipulate you – or me, or all of us. I've seen it before." The recorded audio from Jack's Codec was among the information Otacon and I recovered from Arsenal Gear's A.I. The thing which had masqueraded as Colonel Campbell had told him that Rosemary was being held captive, giving him incentive to carry out the mission he'd been assigned. If Trenton was in the Patriots' employ – and nothing made sense if he wasn't – he could easily have been using the same tactic.

"Maybe," said Twilight. She glanced out the window. The town was just beginning to come to life in the early morning sunlight. Outside, ponies passed by; occasionally, one would glance at the library, at the "CLOSED" sign hanging in the window, and trot right along, disappointed.

Her uncertainty dismayed me. "It's working on you, isn't it?"

She sighed, looked at me. "Snake, when you live around Pinkie Pie for as long as I have, you come to realize that she has—"

"A sixth sense. Right. Applejack tried to sell me on that back in the forest." I folded my good arm across my chest, underneath the one in the sling. "I didn't believe it then. I don't believe it now, coming from you."

Twilight frowned. "You don't know her, so I won't hold your skepticism against you. And if it helps, I didn't believe it either when you told me about it last night. But that note, the feather – all I'm saying is that there might be something to it. We should check it out, at least. What if Rainbow Dash is alive after all? What if it's some kind of prisoner exchange, or a call for help?"

"One," I said, counting off my points on my fingers. "You have no way of knowing who sent that letter, whether Rainbow Dash did it herself, or whether someone else did it for her. Trenton, most likely. Two, you don't know that the feather in the box came from her. Three, she doesn't need to be alive for Trenton to send parts of her body under the pretense that it's her. Four, why would Rainbow Dash use a feather from her body to write us a letter, attach it to a weather balloon that she somehow managed to acquire, then send on a course that would, somehow, manage to intersect with the library? Using her own blood as ink, no less?" That Trenton could do it on his own was unlikely, too, but far more unlikely was that Rainbow Dash did it. "Dammit, Twilight, if you think about this for ten seconds, it won't add up. Trenton's playing you like a damn fiddle."

"I have thought about it, you know," said Twilight, keeping her voice level and patient. "And everything you're saying, I've already considered myself. Even if you're right, I've concluded that it's something worth investigating. We're going to Dodge Junction. " She glared at me. "You don't have to like it. But I need for you to follow my lead on this."

"Why?"

She didn't answer me right away, and when she did, it was with her back to me and her face buried in another book. "Because if I am wrong, Snake, I want you there to rub it in my face so that I don't make that mistake again."

A knock at the door prevented me from asking her what she meant. Without looking up from her book, Twilight magicked the door open, and into the library stepped Applejack and Apple Bloom. The little yellow filly held a thermos in her mouth, while her sister carried a hefty-looking saddlebag, under whose weight her body sagged. That was disconcerting. Applejack's strength and fortitude was impressive, but the events of the night before had nearly broken her – clearly, not a fact that she wanted the world to know. She hid her winces of pain behind a grin that strained at the corners of her mouth, tried to keep as much weight off of her left hind leg as she could without being obvious. Fresh bandages criss-crossed her back, concealing the burns from IRVING's flame thrower, but no doubt the straps of her saddlebag rubbing against them chafed. With the extent of her injuries, she belonged in the hospital. This was a sure road to self-destruction.

Also, she didn't have her hat anymore, and just looked wrong without it.

"Mornin' Twi, Snake," said Applejack. She eyed the mountain of books surrounding the unicorn, and chuckled. "Pullin' an all-nighter?"

Twilight didn't respond. Applejack rubbed the back of her neck, looking abashed by Twilight's cold shoulder, and came toward me instead. "Y'know, I got this feelin' like I oughta pay you back somehow for everythin' you did back in the forest. So..." She took the saddlebag in her mouth and dropped it on the floor, looking instantly relieved once it was off her back, and beckoned me toward it. "Thought I might try feedin' you. Hope ya like apples."

I do like apples, in fact, and the sack was loaded with them. I reached inside the apple sack, grateful for the charity, and pulled one out at random – a golden delicious, I noted, with some appreciation for the congruity. "Thanks," I said.

"Shucks," said Applejack, blushing, "I'm the one thankin' you, remember?" She nodded at Apple Bloom, who very shyly stepped toward me, deposited the thermos on the floor beside the saddlebag of apples, and quickly backed away. I picked up the thermos, unscrewed the lid, and inhaled the earthy aroma of fresh ground coffee, mixed with another scent, pungent and spicy.

"There's cinnamon in this?" I asked.

"Mighty sharp sniffer you got there," said Applejack, impressed. The smile I drew from her looked genuine, not like the grin she'd plastered over her face. It was a nice contrast. "Old Apple family recipe, that coffee. Drink it in good health." She turned her attention back toward Twilight. "Anyway, I didn't jus' come down here to feed y'all. I swung by the hospital a li'l while ago to look in on Spike."

Twilight's tail swished fretfully at the mention of Spike's name.

"He ain't changed. The doc tells me that's a good sign, but then, I ain't a learn'd pony, so I don't know for sure. Doc sneaked some kinda tube down his throat to his stomach, to make sure he's fed, at least. So." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, Fluttershy's there with him. I haven't seen Rarity or Pinkie. An' the doctor said to tell you that you can bring Snake on over any time."

Great, I thought. Time for my invasive magical surgery. I wondered, not for the first time that morning, just how big of a gamble this procedure was. Despite Twilight's assurances, I still had reservations.

Twilight set her book down. "Thank you," she said quietly. "We'll head over right away." She looked at me and jerked her head at the door, heading toward it herself. I sighed, and reluctantly followed.

"Twilight!" Apple Bloom blurted suddenly. My host stopped mid-step and looked at the filly, who nervously kicked at the floor with the tip of her hoof. "I... I jus' wanted to apologize for runnin' away like I did. What happened to Spike, and Rainbow Dash, it never woulda if I'd just..."

Applejack nervously glanced at Twilight. And Twilight, for all her carefully constructed composure, looked like she was about to start crying, and I couldn't handle a magical unicorn crying right then. So I decided to intervene. "We all knew the risks going in, them included," I said, drawing Apple Bloom's shy gaze. "And they were both willing to lay down their lives, if that was what it took to save you."

Apple Bloom was startled for a moment, clearly not expecting me to speak up. "They wouldn'ta had to if—"

"You're right. They wouldn't have. But dwelling on your mistake means that you'll never truly learn from it." I lowered my voice and spoke more gently. "Growing up means choosing how you're gonna live your life. If you want to honor them, then don't live in the past. Live for the future. Remember them, and live a life worth saving."

I think I failed in keeping Twilight from crying, because she turned her face away and sniffled. Apple Bloom did too, but she nodded at me through her tears. "Th-thanks. I will." She turned to walk out the door, stopped, and looked over her shoulder at me with a strange expression that I couldn't quite place. Then she lunged at me from across the room and wrapped her forelegs tightly around my shin before I could say or do a thing about it. "Snake," she said, in a voice full of warmth and admiration. "You're a real hero. Thank you."

I felt my face go hot and my tongue go numb. Apple Bloom squeezed my leg one last time before detaching herself, smiling at me, and heading out the door, with a very amused Applejack following close behind. "I'm not," I mumbled. "I'm... I'm really not..." My eyes met Twilight's. She smiled knowingly at me, the tears not yet dried upon her cheeks.

Sometimes, I am good with kids.

Ponyville. Nice place, from what I'd seen of it. Residents had a proclivity for being looky-loos, though. Annoying, but being the town freak was an adjustment I'd have to make, as long as I was staying there. Still, with the parents averting their eyes, shielding their children's, fearfully hurrying along past me, as if I'd gobble them whole if they lingered by me for too long... a more sensitive man might have his feelings hurt. Might've been something to that fear, though. I was still hungry, and basashi sounded tempting.

I finished off my apple and tossed the core in a street-side garbage can.

Fluttershy was in the hospital's waiting room when we arrived – the first one there, going by what Applejack said. After we checked in with reception, she hugged Twilight and smiled shyly at me, a faint trace of pink on her cheeks. Oh no. "It's wonderful to see you both," she said. "I know Angel's been dying to meet you, Snake, ever since I told him about you."

The snowy head of a white rabbit poked through Fluttershy's mane and fixed me with a death glare. Creepy.

Twilight stroked one of Angel's ears, by way of a greeting. "Thank you for coming," she said. "It means a lot to me, you being here for Spike."

"Oh, of course," said Fluttershy. "Little Spike means so much to all of us. And when Angel heard about what happened, he wanted so badly to come along and pay his respects. He was so worried about Spike, weren't you Angel?"

Angel's expression of loathing intensified.

"Weren't you?!" Fluttershy snapped, in a voice so uncharacteristically loud and angry that it even startled me.

Angel's ears fell, and his expression wilted. He withdrew into Fluttershy's mane and nodded shakily.

"Desperately worried," she said, turning back to us and smiling gently.

I glanced at Twilight from the corner of my eye; she looked similarly shocked. "Applejack mentioned that you were here," I said to Fluttershy. "Have you seen any of the others?"

"I chatted with Pinkie Pie a little earlier, but when I took my eye off of her, she vanished. You know, the way she does. And I stopped by the boutique on my way here to talk to Rarity. It looked like she hadn't opened the shop, so I knocked on the door, and she called back that she was closed for the day. So I left, and came here."

"Did you say anything back to her?" I asked. "Your name, for instance?"

Fluttershy dipped her head, letting her bangs conceal her face. "I didn't think to until after I knocked, and, well... I didn't want to be a bother."

Oh, heaven save me.

"I'll have to talk to her later, to bring her up to speed. There's been a... development." said Twilight. "We need to be on the same page, here." She drew Fluttershy closer with a hoof and lowered her voice. "Last night, a few hours after we got home..."

She filled in Fluttershy on what happened with the balloon, and gave her the gist of our research regarding the portals connecting my world with theirs. By the end, Fluttershy's eyes were wide and her ears stood on end. "Oh dear, oh dear," she murmured. "Do you think it's true? That there's a chance Rainbow Dash might have survived?"

Twilight answered before I could. "It's possible. We won't know unless we go to Dodge and investigate. If she is alive, she might be in danger, and I don't want to prolong that danger by sitting on this." She glared at me. "Despite what some might suggest."

Spare me. I rubbed my aching shoulder. Maybe I should have taken up the doc's offer for pain killers. Then again, swallowing a handful of horse tranquilizers might have some negative repercussions.

The door connecting reception from the exam rooms opened, and a unicorn nurse levitating a clipboard emerged. Glancing at the board, and then at me, she said "Mr. Snake? Right this way, please."

Twilight exchanged goodbyes with Fluttershy and Angel. "I'll look in on Rarity personally," she said to Fluttershy. "Would you mind getting Applejack? Pinkie, too, if you can find her. Meet us at the train station in three hours"

Fluttershy agreed. On their way out the door, Angel poked his head out at me. He bared his teeth and slashed his paw across his throat.

Psychopathic bunny rabbits. Equestria really did have it all.

"Train station, huh?" I asked Twilight as we followed the nurse down the hospital corridor. "So we're actually doing this."

"I'm proceeding under the assumption that we are, yes," said Twilight testily.

I scoffed, but swallowed whatever criticism I had. I didn't want to get sucked into another argument; time enough for that later. Instead, I changed the subject. "What's up with Rarity? Fluttershy suggested that there was something going on with her."

"She's probably upset over what happened to Spike. The two of them..." Twilight seemed to choose her words with care. "They have a somewhat complicated relationship."

I might've done a double-take. "What, don't tell me the two of them—"

"No!" said Twilight quickly. "Not like that. But she – that is to say, he – look, the thing is, with Spike and Rarity—" She fumbled a few more times, before sighing in frustration. "Spike's in love with her," she said at last, exasperated.

What was so hard about saying that? "You mean he has a crush on her."

"I know what I said." She sounded defensive, as if expecting me to contradict her a second time. When I didn't, her voice turned quiet and contemplative. "I doubt Rarity feels the same way, but even so, she's probably closer to him than anypony besides myself. She must be taking it especially hard. Not to mention..." She rolled her eyes. "Rarity's always been rather melodramatic." We came to a stop in front of a door, with the nurse pushing it open for me to duck inside. "I'll talk to her, don't worry."

"Didn't say I was." I was. A little.

"Procedures like this don't take long – a few hours, at the most," said Twilight. "I'll be back around noon to check in on you, okay?" I nodded, and she left.

My room had the usual hospital set-up - cabinet, sink, insipid posters with inspirational phrases on them. Yet another constant between worlds. Somewhat unusual was a fern to the left of the bed, a vain attempt to liven up the place. The nurse directed me to an exam table that looked jury-rigged from two much smaller exam table and masses of pillows and cushions hastily stuck together. "Please forgive the accommodations," said the nurse. "We weren't prepared to meet the needs of someone of your..." She eyed me from toe-to-head. "Proportions."

"Don't stick me with any strange needles, and we'll call it even." The table was surprisingly comfortable when I sat on it, though the way it creaked told me that I wouldn't want to stay there longer than necessary.

"The doctor is with another patient at the moment," said the nurse. "He'll see you momentarily." With that, she left the room, shutting me in. I laid back on my exam table, wincing as a pillow pressed awkwardly against my dislocated shoulder. They didn't put as much thought into this set-up as they wanted me to believe.

I sighed. "I hate hospitals."

"You and me both, brother!" Something exploded out of the potted plant beside me, sending bits of dirt and fern flying all across the room. "Which is why Patch Pinkie is here to—"

I reflexively lashed out at the source of the noise with a left hook. The thing in the plant flew across the room, smashing against the wall beside the door and falling to the linoleum floor. It was Pinkie Pie.

In a dirt-stained doctor's coat.

With a stethoscope around her neck, and wearing a red clown nose.

She was unconscious.

Whoops.

Twilight frowned at the homemade "CLOSED" sign hanging on the door to Carousel Boutique. "You're not fooling anypony, Rarity," she yelled. "I know you're in there."

The hum of the motor on the other side of the door remained constant. "Taking a personal day, dear!" called Rarity from inside. "Come again tomorrow!"

Worry crept up Twilight's spine. That Rarity would be upset after the previous night's events was a given, that she'd retreat into solitude, understandable. Now, though, Twilight found herself wondering just how far gone she was. Did she even recognize my voice? "It's Twilight Sparkle, Rarity. Can I come in?"

The motor trailed off. Twilight lingered, in silence, for a long, tense moment. Her sense of worry grew. Things were grim enough without losing Rarity to despair.

Her answer only deepened Twilight's concerns. "I don't think you should come in. The shop, it's a mess. A disaster zone." The motor whined to life again.

Twilight's concern found itself sharing brain space with frustration. "Rarity, you know I don't care about that. I really..." The motor whirred louder, and Twilight had the distinct, stinging feeling that Rarity was trying to drown her voice with the noise. "We didn't see you at the hospital. Everypony—" She paused, considered Snake, and adjusted her tack. "Everyone is worried."

The motor fell silent again. Rather than wait for Rarity to dismiss her again, Twilight pressed her position. "I just want to talk, Rarity. Can you open the door so that we can talk?"

Another long silence followed, during which whatever cautious optimism Twilight had felt started to ebb. But presently, she heard hoofbeats from within the shop, drawing closer and growing louder, then the click of a deadbolt unfastening. The door opened a crack, and the top of Rarity's head peeked out at her. "Are you alone?" she asked in a ragged whisper.

Twilight stepped aside, and Rarity's eyes darted here and there, searching for any unannounced escorts. Satisfied, albeit with a seeming reluctance, she slowly opened the door wide enough for Twilight to enter.

There was no trace of Carousel Boutique's normally buoyant and sophisticated atmosphere. None of the lamps were lit, and the curtains were drawn shut and pinned together. Yet even in the dark, Twilight could see that the boutique looked no less well-kept than usual. The only thing about it that looked out of order was Rarity herself. She'd bathed, washed away the grime of the night before, but she looked even more out of sorts than Applejack, with baggy eyes and lids which drooped, and a lank and unstyled mane. When she moved, it was in a slow, listless trot, her hooves dragging along the carpet. All in all, she looked more broken than Applejack.

"I hope you don't mind if I work while we talk." Rarity's tone was atypically lifeless, as dull and dreary as she way she carried herself. "Terribly rude of me, I know, but the world stops turning for nopony."

Rarity had an electric sewing machine on a table that was set up across the boutique's showroom. The table was flanked by ponyquins, one on either side. Over the back of one, a dress was draped, neatly folded into a symmetrical square. The dress lacked the style and flair that characterized Rarity's designs – no intricate embroidery that Twilight could see, nor any gemstones or decorations. It was simple, and of a single, solid color – black or brown. Twilight couldn't tell which, owing to the poor lighting.

As Rarity returned to her sewing machine, the motor whining in protest when she switched it on, Twilight inspected the dress more closely. "Did you just make this?" she asked. She thought about pulling it from the ponyquin and unfolding it, but Rarity's relative instability quashed that idea quickly.

Rarity glanced at the dress from the corner of her eye for an instant before returning to her work. "Hmm, whipped it up overnight. A little something for Snake, as an apology for how I spoke to him before."

"For Snake?" Twilight's face crinkled as she suppressed a laugh at the thought of Snake done up in an elegant designer gown. "I don't think dresses are Snake's style, Rarity."

Rarity stopped the machine and glared askance at Twilight. "It's a coat," she said flatly. Her magic shimmered around the clothing in question, and pulled it off the ponyquin, unfurling it to its full length. Despite lacking the obvious signs of a Rarity original, the coat looked well-made and comfortable – functional, if not stylish. Snake'd like it.

Twilight smiled sheepishly at her mistake. "You made it all in one night?" she asked. "And without even taking his measurements?"

"Mm, well." Rarity turned back to her sewing, draping the coat back over the ponyquin. "All guesswork. But it should fit him. Mostly."

Twilight stepped around the ponyquin and peeked over Rarity's shoulder, at the outfit she was currently sewing. "And what are you working on now?"

Rarity quickly moved to block Twilight's view. "It's nothing special," she said hastily. "Just an order for a client."

"C'mon, it must be—" Twilight moved to look over Rarity's other shoulder, but she was quickly blocked on that side too. "It must be pretty special to—" She faked going over Rarity's head, and ducked underneath her foreleg, squeezing between Rarity and the machine "To spend all night working on it."

"But it's not finished," Rarity protested, her tone high and trembling with anxiety. It was the most emotional she'd sounded since Twilight arrived. "It's nowhere near – darling, please let me get back to— "

"Rarity..." Twilight's voice was lowered to an awed whisper. "This is..."

It was a tiny jacket, foal-sized, though not meant for a pony to wear. In shape, it more closely resembled Snake's coat. Unlike the coat, though, this jacket looked distinctly like a Rarity product, lined with gold piping sewn into intricate patterns. The whole thing looked distinctly naval; even the fabric looked to be navy blue. Either the color's a pun on the design, or the design's a pun on the color, Twilight thought, laughing appreciatively.

"Is this for who I think it is?" she asked, turning back to Rarity with a small smile.

Rarity looked flustered, embarrassed. She dug at the carpet with a hoof, nervous. "It is a get-well-soon gift for a dear, dear friend," she said stiffly. "Nothing more. I don't know what you're insinuating; I'd do the same for anypony I knew who was in a persistent vegetative state. " She glared at Twilight. "And I do not appreciate you nosing your way into my creative process, or my business."

Her sudden scorn took Twilight aback. A sense of guilt came over her, and she lay the jacket over the ponyquin on the other side of the table. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just – we were just concerned for you. You've shut yourself up in the boutique; you won't answer the door; you've worked through the night... Rarity, have you rested at all since we got back?"

"So what if I haven't?" Rarity replied, growing defensive. "Work happens to be very relaxing for many ponies, myself included. It keeps body and mind occupied, and holds troublesome thoughts and feelings at bay!"

"Thoughts? Feelings?" Twilight moved closer to Rarity. "About what?"

"Oh, what aren't they about?" Rarity cried, throwing her hooves into the air. "Spike! Rainbow Dash! Snake, the humans, this impending invasion, and all of us, and our hideously low chances of survival – oh, look what you've done; now I can't stop thinking again!" She rushed back to her sewing, revving up the motor again. "I have to work; I need to concentrate, because otherwise—"

With a quick flash of violet light, the groan of the motor tapered off, and the motion of the needle slowed to a gradual halt. For a few seconds, Rarity continued to paw ineffectually at the outfit, until she realized what had happened.

She whirled on Twilight, murder alight in her eyes. "Why would you do that?!"

"You need to work," said Twilight gently, "because otherwise, you can't stop thinking about everything that's happening. Am I right?" She took a step toward Rarity, who bristled and fell into a defensive posture. "But, Rarity... look at the toll it's taking on you. You're destroying yourself." Another step forward; Rarity flared her nostrils and snorted like a feral beast. "You need sleep, Rarity."

"Don't you think I tried?!" Rarity snapped. "I don't have a switch that I can throw to make all these thoughts go away!" She frantically shuffled her hooves, almost dancing in place. "I thought getting clean would help. I spent so long in the tub, scrubbing it all away – the castle, and Trenton, the timberwolves, that dead soldier in the Everfree Forest, Zecora and Apple Bloom and watching Trenton drop us all and make off with that poor little filly. All of it! Down the drain!" She swung her hoof dramatically, simulating a tidal wave, but brought it too close to the sewing machine and accidentally whacked the metal casing hard enough to dent it. The sudden clanging noise made Twilight jump.

Rarity didn't react, either to the noise or the impact. She planted her front hooves upon the table, facing away from Twilight again. "But no matter how clean I made myself," she continued breathlessly, "the memories and feelings lingered. I couldn't wash them away! I crawled into bed and shut my eyes, and all I could see was..." Her lips trembled. She slumped forward against the table. Her ferocious expression started to fall apart. "All I could see was..."

Twilight closed the remaining distance between the two of them, and placed her hooves on Rarity's shoulders. The other unicorn turned her head around, took one look at her friend, and collapsed against her chest. The whole night's worth of helplessness, frustration and fear poured from Rarity, down her face and into Twilight's fur. Twilight smiled gently and rubbed Rarity's back. "It's alright," she said. "Let it out, Rarity."

"S-spike," Rarity blubbered, clinging tightly to Twilight. "L-lying in that pile of rubble, looking so b-b-broken... And Rainbow Dash..." Another fit of sobs shuddered through Rarity. "Who will be next? Who's the next f-friend we're going to lose?!" She buried her face into Twilight's chest and screamed.

"Nopony," said Twilight, willing herself to believe her words, even as she spoke them. "We haven't lost anypony. We're not going to."

"H-h-how can you s-s-say that?!" Rarity wailed. "With Spike on his deathbed and Rainbow Dash just... just gone?! "

"Because Spike isn't going to die," said Twilight, maintaining an even, soothing tone. "And Rainbow Dash—"

"Don't s-start," snapped Rarity, sniffing. "You can't possibly be in the s-s-same denial as Pinkie."

"I'm not," said Twilight. "I was skeptical too, but..." She hugged Rarity a little closer. "There's a chance she might really have survived."

Rarity's breathing hitched. Sniffling, she wiped her nose and pulled away to look Twilight in the eye. "What do you mean?"

Twilight glanced away. "Something came to the library last night – a package. A feather, the same color as one of Rainbow's. Along with a... ransom note, I guess."

Confusion played over Rarity's messy, tear-streaked features. "Ransom note?" she asked. Her breathing was still unsteady, causing her to stammer out some of her words. But the news had calmed her somewhat; if nothing else, she'd stopped crying.

"Maybe more like a summons," Twilight corrected. "'Dodge Junction, by train.'"

"Dodge Junction..." Rarity pressed her lips together, glancing downward. She hiccuped. "It sounds like a trap."

Twilight was quiet, reluctant to answer. "Snake thinks so, too," she said at last. "I'd be a fool not to consider the probability."

Rarity sighed. She separated herself from Twilight's embrace and looked over her shoulder at the empty table, at the outfits on the ponyquins, on the dented sewing machine. For a moment, Twilight feared that Rarity would lapse back into the state she'd found her in. But Rarity instead slid to the floor and curled her legs underneath her body, and rested her head on the soft boutique carpet. "Fool's hope," she mumbled. "The best we can do." She sniffed. "A mess. This whole situation is one big mess."

"Yeah." Twilight sat beside Rarity, staring across the darkened, empty boutique. "But at a time like this, what else can we do but hope? I mean..." She wrapped her magic around the coat Rarity had made, and dragged it in front of them, unfurling it again. "Besides indulge in sartorial spontaneity."

Rarity looked up at the coat and cracked a smile. "Oh, that." She levitated a handkerchief from the table and dabbed her nose with it, blowing softly. "Well, I felt awful about exploding at Snake the way I did, back in the forest. He was only being realistic. I was the one who...."

Twilight looked searchingly at Rarity. "Who what?"

Rarity folded the hanky and set it in front of her. "I'm a hypocrite, Twilight. I didn't believe Pinkie any more than he did."

The coat was considerably larger than the both of them. Twilight lay it lengthwise over their bodies. The interior was soft, silky, and surprisingly warm. "So you made the coat to apologize," said Twilight. "And also... as penance?"

"Penance," mused Rarity. "That's not a bad word for it. Penance for my hypocrisy."

"What about the one for Spike?" She tugged her side of the coat a little tighter over her body. "This is really comfortable, by the way."

"Thank you for that." Rarity folded her forelegs in front of her and rested her chin on them. "I finished the coat in six hours – no breaks, you know; six hours of uninterrupted work – and I started... thinking again." She shuddered. "Spike looked so cold in his bed." She looked at Twilight, puzzled. "Are dragons cold-blooded?"

Twilight blinked. "Well, I think they count as reptiles, but... I don't know; dragons may be different." She shrugged.

Rarity waved her hoof. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. Anyway, to occupy myself I started working on something for Spike. Something stylish, and warm, the perfect blend of form and functionality. The more time I put into it, the more of... myself... I put into it." She bit her lip; her eyes started to water again.

"You just wanted to do something nice for him," Twilight surmised.

"Maybe. But the longer I worked, the more it became about exorcising my own demons," said Rarity. "You see, as I worked, there was this little voice in the back of my head saying 'he won't ever wake up, he won't ever see it, he won't ever wear it.' And it got louder and louder, the longer I worked, until it was practically screaming."

"Is that why you worked the machine so hard?" asked Twilight. "I could hear the motor from outside, you know."

"A vain attempt at drowning out the cacophony in my mind, yes." She screwed her face up into a sour frown. "Although, I think the only thing I succeeded in doing is ruining my motor." She laughed emptily, followed it with a sigh. "Oh, Spike. My brave little dragon. Why did he insist on coming with us? So bloody chivalrous." She pressed her hooves together. "And I let that monster Trenton lay hands on him..."

An icy dagger of guilt stabbed into Twilight's heart. After all, Rarity's blame was misplaced. "I was the one who let him come with us, Rarity. Against my better judgment, even." She stroked her back. "If anypony should feel guilty, it's me. But you? He'd never want you to abuse yourself on on his account. Because..." Twilight hesitated, recalling something about being sworn to secrecy under penalty of cupcake to the eye, and thus being unsure of whether or not she should finish.

"Because he's in love with me."

The words, spoken so matter-of-factly, as if the fact were common knowledge, surprised Twilight. She'd always figured Rarity as oblivious. Rarity saw Twilight's expression of shock, and smiled sadly. "He's not exactly subtle about it, darling."

The phantom sensation of cake frosting in her eye faded, and Twilight smiled with relief.

"You know..." Rarity gathered herself up, sat on her haunches, stretched her legs with a slight groan. She shrugged out of the coat, and let her end of it drop around Twilight. "I always knew I'd have to talk to him about that, one day. But I kept putting it off. Truth is, I always hoped that he'd just... get over it on his own, so that I wouldn't have to break his heart. The thought of hurting him..." She chuckled darkly. "You think you have all the time in the world for things like this. Then the world kicks sand in your eyes, just to remind you who's boss."

"You still do have time." A little reluctantly – it was just so warm in there! – Twilight slid the coat off of herself and folded it with her magic. "He'll make it. You'll give him the gift that you made for him, and you'll... you'll have that talk."

"Hmm." Rarity's response was pensive and non-committal.

"Just... make sure you let him down gently, okay?" Rarity wasn't the only one who'd considered that inevitable, difficult conversation with Spike. Heartbreak wasn't something Twilight had ever needed to deal with, either for herself, or for her friends. She'd be there for her little dragon; how could she not be? But she'd always wondered what it would mean for their friendship, if Spike and Rarity would be forever alienated, the former too hurt to associate with her. And the strain that would put on her friendship, with both of them, in turn, and the strain that would put on their collective friendship...

Tug one thread, and the whole thing unravels, Twilight thought gloomily.

"Hmm." The same response. Twilight was deathly curious as to what Rarity was thinking about, and was about to ask, when Rarity shook her head, blinked sleepily, and yawned. "Oh, how I ramble. Forgive me, dear; I haven't slept, you know."

"Maybe you should get on that?" Twilight said lightly, nudging Rarity.

Rarity giggled, and the sound actually lifted Twilight's dour spirits. "Who am I to argue?" Rarity lifted her hindquarters off the carpet, turned to the stairs, stopped, looked Twilight in the eye. She smiled. "I actually do feel a little better, you know. Maybe I can..." She yawned again. "Get at least a Zs in before the next crisis rolls along."

"Get yourself more than a few," Twilight teased.

Rarity lingered on the stairs a moment longer; the pensive look came over her face again. "Listen, Twilight, about Spike..."

Twilight perked an ear, waited expectantly... but Rarity shook her head, cleared the look from her face. "Never mind," she said, yawning. "Sleep now. Angst later." Rarity nodded at Twilight one last time, and trotted up the stairs, with a sleepy sort of sprightliness in her step. When she heard the bedroom door close, Twilight let herself out of the boutique.

The mid-morning sun was refreshing, after so much time spent in the dark. Twilight shut the door to the boutique, ensured that it was still locked, and mentally crossed visiting Rarity off of her to-do list. She had mixed feelings on the visit – relieved in some ways, more concerned in others. Rarity seemed stable now; the talk with Twilight had been fairly therapeutic for her. Even if it did leave me with some unanswered questions, thought Twilight. She found some new worry to attribute to Rarity – surely, her friend would have more tact than to break Spike's heart the moment he woke up. Unless... her heart skipped a beat.

Unless she doesn't plan to let him down at all.

She shook her head, trying to drive the thoughts away, mimicking Rarity. That was a silly thought that she didn't want to waste neurons upon. Besides which, she had more pressing concerns. Rarity's condition may have improved, but she was still out of play for the time being. And if they were to take this trip to Dodge after all, Twilight needed all of them at peak performance.

Twilight ran through the list in her head. Pinkie Pie seemed fine the night before. She'd taken the fewest hits out of any of them, save the unscathed Fluttershy, who had seemed emotionally stable. She must've talked to Pinkie about Dash and believed her. Otherwise, I don't think she'd be able to hold herself together.

That left Applejack. The farmer was the strongest and hardiest among them, and certainly the best pure martial fighter after Rainbow Dash. But Applejack was a shell, whatever face she put on for the world to see. It took more than a good night's rest to undo the damage she'd absorbed, and she had no business in a combat situation until she recovered.

Applejack's out. The conclusion offered her a measure of relief. That leaves myself, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and... Her heart fell like an anvil at the realization that the one among them most suited for dealing with something like this was the one least likely to cooperate. What to do? Fluttershy and Pinkie would follow her, if she asked. Hay, they would insist upon going. Suppose, though, that a platoon of PW soldiers were waiting for them – or worse, another IRVING? She loved Fluttershy, but combat was never her strong suit, and Pinkie, for all her talent with the bizarre, wasn't much more of a fighter than Fluttershy. Dragging them, alone, into a combat situation would be tantamount to murder, as far as Twilight was concerned.

The only one I can count on is Snake, thought Twilight. And I don't know if I can count on him at all. Sure, he'd blown his cover to help them in the castle, but Twilight had no reason to believe that his reasons were purely altruistic. He had even less reason to help now. They worked together out of mutual need, and once his shoulder was healed, Snake wouldn't need them anymore. If he didn't care for the plan, there was nothing stopping him from simply walking away and finishing his mission on his own. Twilight couldn't have that. Even if he didn't need them anymore, they still needed him.

Of course, it was unlikely that he'd follow her willingly. He wouldn't budge from the idea that going to Dodge Junction was a trap. Probably because he's right, Twilight thought bleakly. What, then? Do I just let it go? Focus our efforts here, in Ponyville? It was a viable course of action... but it would mean giving up on Rainbow Dash altogether. And that...

"Don't look back, egghead. Keep runnin', and don't look back."

...was not something she was willing to do.

But going alone wasn't an option. Bringing her friends wasn't a good option. That left her one choice. And he wasn't going to like it.

He doesn't have to like it, she thought. He just needs to do it. The idea was so unlike anything she'd learned that simply thinking of it made her queasy. She could compromise, though. If it meant saving Rainbow Dash, she could live with being a hypocrite.

Ignoring the weight in the pit of her stomach, Twilight set off toward the Ponyville town hall.

Pinkie came to before much time had passed. I had mixed feelings on that. I was relieved that she was alright, on the one hand; I didn't care for her, but that doesn't translate necessarily into wishing permanent brain damage on her.

On the other, I was dismayed that now I'd have to listen to her.

"Whoooooaaaaa," she moaned, rubbing her head where I'd hit her. "What the expletive deleted just happened?"

"You popped out of a plant to surprise me," I said. "And I punched you across the room out of reflex."

Pinkie stopped rubbing. She tilted her head at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled sheepishly.

Pinkie dismissed my apology with a wave of her hoof. "Oh, pshaw. I was trying to startle you, after all. I give me an A for effort!" She reached into one of her pockets, produced a giant felt "A", and stuck it on her lapel.

"Cute." Who carries something like that in their pocket?

She beamed. "You think so?"

"No. What, exactly, are you doing here?"

"I figured I'd keep you company!" Pinkie bounced on the tips of her hooves to my bedside, reared up on her hind legs, and leaned her elbow on the side of the exam table. "I don't know what hospitals are like where you come from, but the ones around here – hoo! It takes more than a fern or two to lift a down-and-out pony's spirits, you know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying."

"Somehow," I said, "I don't think entertainment is the hospital's priority." I had to give this one credit, though – instead of sterility and tile polish, Ponyville General smelled strongly of cinnamon buns.

"And that's the problem with the system, consarnit!" Pinkie tried to thump her hoof on the bed, but struck my thigh by mistake. She noticed and blushed. "Sorry."

"Not the worst I've had," I muttered, rubbing the spot where she'd struck me. That'd leave a bruise... 'til the nanos got it, anyway.

"Glad to hear it! So, anyway." Pinkie cleared her throat. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'laughter is the best medicine'? I don't know about you, but when I'm feeling sick, nothing puts a bounce back in my step quite like a good belly laugh."

"Where I come from, medicine is the best medicine."

Pinkie snorted and burst into loud guffaws. "Ah, I knew you had a little comedian in you. Everypony does!"

"I'm not a pony."

"Are you suuuure?" sang Pinkie, pushing her face uncomfortably close to mine. "'Cuz I'm sensin' you've got a little pony in you! Maybe I oughta poke around and find out!" She poked me in the chest with her hoof. "Huh? Feel up to a little exploratory surgery?" Poke. "Gotta make sure you didn't fracture your funny bone!" Poke. Poke. "'Funny bone', geddit?"

"Knock it off." I shoved her off of me. Her head jutted right back up to my height, her neck stretching like rubber to make it happen.

"Not a punny guy, huh?" Pinkie reached into her pocket again, produced a long, red balloon, blew into it, and tied its end to keep the air in. "That's okay; I got lots to work with. How do you feel about balloon animals?" She turned her back to me; her forelegs became a whirling, pink blur; I heard the squeak of rubber against rubber, and when she turned back around, the balloon had been twisted into the shape of a pair of hexagons, linked together end-on-end.

Far from being funny, that was just deeply confusing. "How in the..."

Pinkie frowned at her creation. "'How in the' indeed. I was trying to make a puppy. Hmm." She turned back around and twisted the shape again; when she faced me next, the balloon was in the shape of a praying mantis. "That time, I was trying to make a double hexagon!" She tossed the balloon mantis into the air and bounced it over her shoulder with one hoof. "Well, whatever. It didn't seem to work on you, anyway."

"That's because I'm not an infant."

I thought I saw Pinkie's smile waver the tiniest bit before she launched back into her routine. "You don't have to be a baby to enjoy a good laugh. Anyone can – pony or no!" She beamed hopefully at me. "C'mon, Snake, what's your pleasure? Knock-knock jokes? Physical comedy? Stand-up? You name it, baby, and I'll make it happen! Like this!" She somehow made a snapping sound with her hoof.

Similarly, I heard a snapping sound in my head as the last thread of my patience broke. "Pinkie Pie."

"That's muh name!" Pinkie stared expectantly at me.

"We seem to have had a communication problem. Frankly, I blame myself; apparently, I haven't been direct enough. Let me clarify, once and for all, how I feel about your attempts at humor." I leaned forward, watching her recoil and her expression wilt with every word I spoke. "You're not funny. You will never be funny. I will never laugh at a joke that you make, because none of your jokes are at all funny. All you are is annoying." I lay back on my bed and turned onto my side. "So just cut your losses, walk out that door, and leave me alone."

I heard a tiny popping noise, and my temper flared again. I rose and turned to face her. "And, dammit, would you cut it out with the balloon— " What I saw killed the rest of that thought before I could give voice to it. Pinkie Pie's neck hung low, her ears drooping against her head. Her mane, which had resembled cotton candy inflated with helium moments before, now sagged inward, looking like it was about to implode. She wasn't crying, or anything – thank heavens for small miracles; I'd had about as much crying from ponies as I could take – but from the expression on her face, she looked like she could start at any second.

I felt remorse, and instantly grew annoyed with myself. How was it that Pinkie could barge in on me and push me to the limits of my patience with her clowning, and then make me feel like the bad guy for telling her off? "Look, I didn't mean—"

"Yeah, you did," she said quietly.

I blinked. "Alright, yeah, I did. But that's... that's no reason to... uh..." I struggled to think of something uplifting to say. "I really like your, uh..." What, mane? Coat? Ass tattoo? "Well, sneaking into the hospital and hiding in the plant; that had to take some skill. Pretty impressive."

She stared at me morosely. "But you don't think I'm funny."

No-win scenario. "No. But I was harsh; I'm sorry for that."

"It's okay. Really." She looked at me, and I didn't see any trace of deception in her expression. Just this sad sort of resignation. It was a disturbing face for her to wear. Anything that wasn't gushing effusiveness looked alien on Pinkie. "It isn't your fault. It's mine. I thought I could make you smile, the way I'd make anypony else smile, but all this time, I've been ignoring that you're just not a pony. Or anything like a pony. And for all I know, they don't even have smiles where you come from." She sniffed, and wiped her face with her foreleg. "I've been trying too hard, and I haven't been a good friend to you at all."

Not the first time a pony had called me that. "We're friends?"

"Well, yeah," she said. "Or, I thought that we were. But I can't make you smile. And I make all my friends smile. So if I can't do that with you... She stuck her face in one of the exam bed's cushions, speaking into it. "Maybe you and me just aren't supposed to be friends."

I had no idea what I could say or do to make this situation better, so I stuck with a neutral tone and hoped that things would resolve themselves. "I didn't realize it was so important to you."

Pinkie lifted her head and sighed. "Maybe things work different where you come from. But everypony in Equestria has a special talent that they're destined to spend their lives doing. You find that, and you get your cutie mark. Me?" She lifted her rump in the air, drawing my attention to the image of balloons stamped on her flank.

"My talent is making ponies laugh and smile." Pinkie lowered her haunches and folded her forelegs on the exam bed; I moved to the side to give her room. "Rarity's a wizard when it comes to dressmaking. Applejack's a wizard with apples. And Twilight, she's an actual wizard." That made her giggle; her hair poofed up a bit. "I'm not any kind of wizard. I throw a party like it's nopony's business, and I bake a mean cake. Besides that, there's not much more I can do." She looked at me again. "So, yeah. It's pretty important to me."

So Pinkie Pie acted the way she did because she had nothing else to offer the world. Underneath the laughter, the gags, the lame puns, lay a foundation of inadequacy. It was annoying as all get out, but knowing that, it was hard not to look at her with some measure of sympathy.

Which, apparently, I was doing, because she rolled her eyes at me. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm not throwing myself a pity-party because I can't put a mustache on Spike with a wave of my horn." She shook her head. "I love laughter. I love making ponies laugh. I got no regrets on that score. It's my destiny, after all."

Oh. Okay. "So, in not laughing at your jokes, am I keeping you from fulfilling your destiny?" It sounded asinine, but the concept would have fit with a place like Equestria.

Pinkie turned that over for a moment. "Eh. Maybe. But then again, maybe not so much." She shrugged. "I know what my destiny is. I'm mostly sure I know how to fulfill it. But in this tipsy-topsy-turvy world, there's not much you can be certain of, is there?"

"There's a lot you seem pretty certain of," I said. "Insistent upon, even."

Pinkie's ears perked. She raised her forelegs so that her elbows rested on the bed, and propped her face up between her hooves. "You're talking about my Pinkie Sense?"

"Pinkie Sense?" I arched an eyebrow, confused.

"Y'know. That thing you don't think I really have." She shrugged. "I know you don't believe me about Rainbow Dash."

She has a name for that? Of course she has a name for that. I watched her carefully, not wanting her to deflate again. That was a disturbing manifestation of a bad mood that I didn't care to see again. "You want her to be alive. I get that. But I saw her get buried in that rubble. Between that, the bombs going off, and IRVING, I don't see how she could have escaped alive."

"Oh, I don't either," said Pinkie, completely nonchalant.

I stared blankly at her.

"Pinkie sense! Like I said!" She grinned. "Weird stuff happens to my body sometimes – shudders, or shivers, or twitches, stuff like that. Specific signs for when something specific is about to happen." She wagged her tail. "Twitchy tail means that something's gonna fall, for instance. Or achy shoulder; that means there's an alligator in the bathtub."

"Alligator in the...?"

"It's more common than you think."

I wasn't sure that I believed her. Still, it wouldn't be the strangest thing I'd seen in Equestria. "Uh-huh. So what would your body do to tell you that Rainbow Dash was dead?"

She rubbed her chest with the back of her hoof. "Achey-breaky heart." Pinkie thumped herself twice. "When somepony I love is about to die, I get the worst pains in my chest. Like when I lost Granny Pie. I got this feeling, like my heart was ripping in two, right down the middle. That's when I knew that something bad happened. I ran home right away, hoping I was wrong, but..." She looked away for a moment and wiped her eye with a hoof before facing me again. "Pinkie Sense is never wrong."

So it was a particularly useless and impractical form of precognition. "You don't feel that now?"

She clucked her tongue. "I haven't felt it at all. That's why I was so confused when you said that she was dead. I thought 'either my Pinkie Sense is on the fritz, or Dashie's still alive.' And my Pinkie Sense never goes on the fritz. So Dashie must be alive!" She smiled brightly. "It's only logical."

We defined logic in two different ways, she and I. "That doesn't exactly convince me, Pinkie."

"I didn't think it would," said Pinkie. "But Applejack, and Fluttershy, and everypony else – they believe me. They believe in me. And I believe in me too. It's what keeps me going, Snake. Especially right now. With everything that's happened, and still happening..." She blinked rapidly. "I know in my heart that Rainbow Dash is alive. And so I'm going to keep smiling. 'Cuz if I stop believing, for even a minute, maybe they'll stop believing too. And then, Dashie's as good as dead."

Superstitious idiocy. Pinkie's "Pinkie Sense" was still nothing more to me than blind faith and optimism; nothing she'd said could convince me otherwise.

And yet... I couldn't look at it with the same kind of scorn I'd mustered before. Not because I thought there was anything to it, but because, for Pinkie, it represented something significant. Her destiny was to smile, to make others smile. It was something small, something many would dismiss offhand, but to her, it was everything. Something worth believing in, even passing on to others. This insistence, this stubborn belief that Rainbow Dash had somehow survived, it was just the medium for passing that smile on to others. And who am I to condemn such a thing?

"I think I understand where you're coming from," I said, after a long, thoughtful silence.

Pinkie's ears lifted. "You mean that?"

I silently nodded, once, slowly.

For a moment, Pinkie looked gobsmacked, like the idea that we'd reach common ground shocked her into silence. It was all too fleeting, though. The grin returned. "Hey, you know what? I think we just bonded."

"What?" I turned my head away. "No. No we didn't."

"Ah-ah-ah! No take-backsies!" She bounced toward my bed, the springing sound back in her hooves, and pressed her cheek against mine, nuzzling my stubbly face. "I knew that we'd find something to bond over; I just knew it. Oh, Snake, we really are the best of bestest friends now!"

"Hooray."

Royal privilege meant that Luna could, at will and with no explanation, close parts of the palace which were normally accessible to the public. It could be done on a whim, though she preferred to have a good reason for doing it. As she watched a guard usher out the last of the garden's visitors – a young couple that she'd found tangled together in a hedge they'd thought was secluded – she wondered (and not for the first time) if she had a good reason now.

Shining Armor watched the guard hustle the couple out of the garden, then turned and saluted Luna. "All accounted for," he said. "Will you be needing anything else, Princess?"

"Thank you, no, Captain," said Luna. "You are dismissed."

Shining Armor replied with a crisp nod, and turned to exit the garden himself. Luna watched him leave with a knot in her stomach. She liked the stallion, liked him well enough to entertain fantasies of what might have been, had he not married Celestia's niece, and that made it all the harder to conceal her sister's secret from him. Not to mention her own intentions.

She decided to alleviate her guilt some. "Captain!"

Twilight's elder sibling turned swiftly and stood at attention once more. "Yes, your majesty?"

"You have performed your duties admirably of late, Captain."

"Her majesty is kind to say so."

"'Her majesty' means it." She smiled. "Take the rest of the day off, Captain. I believe you have earned some respite."

He looked confused. "But Princess, I have a lot of work to do before the day is over. I still have to finalize the duty rosters for the next three months, make the final approval on the latest academy graduates, meet with the mages at Princess Celestia's school to discuss joint defense measures..."

He droned on, while Luna inwardly sighed. Count on Twilight Sparkle's brother to argue against taking an early day. "Are you disobeying an order from your Princess, Captain?"

The look of panic that crossed Shining Armor's face turned her inward sigh into a giggle. Adorability must have been a genetic trait in the Sparkle line. "N-no, your majesty! Not at all; I would never think to question—"

"Then pass your assignments on to Sentry, and go home." A lascivious smile crossed her lips. "Spend some time with your lovely young bride. I do believe she misses you."

The way his coat went from pure white to beet red – head to hoof, not an inch spared – turned that giggle into riotous laughter. "Yes, majesty! And th-thank you!"

Luna replied with a squinty smile. "Off you go, then!"

He bounded away with the fervor of a young stallion whose honeymoon ended far too soon for his liking. She couldn't help a pang of sadness – empathy for Cadance, her sister's niece. Young love, thought Luna wistfully. A mistake for any immortal to make.

Memories danced at the edge of her recollection. Tender smiles, caresses, the warmth of another's body against hers...

Luna pushed them back, refused to reopen so old a wound. She will learn, she thought of Cadance. She will curse and hate herself for it, but she will learn.

She didn't allow Shining Armor, or his bride, to remain in her thoughts any longer. Her mind had to be clear, focused on the task at hoof entirely. This was a calculated risk. It was one she'd gladly take, but one that bid her to proceed with caution.

In the middle of the garden courtyard stood the statue of a draconequus, recoiling in fear, expression twisted into a final cry of disbelief. Luna's heart thudded, and her knees shook, threatening to give way. Little traitors, she thought. To the gallows with you, when this is over.

She shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and focused her magic upon the statue. Her aura – her most powerful and prized of senses – stretched out, groping for the life that she knew resided within the statue... and felt it almost at once. This was too powerful a thing to seal away completely. He remained trapped within that statue, aware, yearning for freedom. She knew how that felt all too well.

"It isn't too late to back out, Luna," she thought out loud.

The image of the human corpse in the old castle flashed in her mind.

It is, actually. Entirely too late. Time to take the plunge.

With one last breath of fresh, free air, she let her mind slip free, into the prison the Elements created for the gravest threat the land had ever known.

The doctor's horn quit shimmering, and he lifted his head away from my shoulder. "There we are," he said, blinking sleepily and suppressing a yawn. "That ought to do it. Go ahead and give her a whirl."

I shrugged my right shoulder tentatively, bracing myself for a jolt of pain which never came. Encouraged, I stretched my arm out to its full length, raised it high, windmilled it. "Doesn't hurt a bit," I said. "Not bad, Doc."

"Oh, not bad, he says," the doctor muttered. "Twelve hours of preparation, three hours of meticulous surgery, and all he has to say is 'good work'. Sterling praise."

I blinked. "Actually, what I said was 'not bad'. You had it right the first time." Must've been the sleep deprivation. It's a damn miracle he was able to fix up my shoulder so well in that state. "And I only meant—"

"Oh no, it's fine; it's just fine. I understand. After all, it's not as though I'm the only doctor for miles around who's qualified to perform this very delicate procedure which just repaired your shoulder to perfect working condition, despite having limited preparation time and even less anatomical knowledge of your species." He scowled at me. "Oh, wait."

I wasn't sure what to say. Hesitantly, I tried a few words of praise. "You're... pretty good?"

"Damned good," he said, drawing himself up. "I am damned good at what I do. And don't you forget it."

"Uh, I won't. Doctor." I pushed off of the exam table and headed for the door.

"Now, mind you," the doctor continued. "That shoulder isn't one hundred percent as good as new. Much like your average Canterlot snob, it'll work just fine and without complaint, so long as you don't tax it too heavily. But, ideally, you'd still be in a sling for at least another twenty-four hours."

"Well, unfortunately, I don't have another day to burn in here." The sooner I was out of the hospital, and away from him, the better. "If you don't mind, I have to be somewhere right now."

"Oh, probably off to ignore my advice and injure your damn shoulder again," the doctor drawled. "Not a worry, Mr. Snake; I'll be here, ready to do one of my adequate repair jobs, should you need it. Be careful out there, boss!"

I decided that I didn't like that doctor.

Twilight was in the waiting room, leafing through some magazine. She smiled – a little too quickly, a little nervously – when she saw me, and set her magazine down, neatly stacking it on top of a pile of identical magazines. Did she organize all of them by type while I was under? "You're looking well," she said. "How's the shoulder?"

"It's not bad!" the doctor called from down the hall. Twilight, surprised, blinked at me and peered past me, into the corridor.

"Don't ask." I lifted my bandana, freed from sling-duty, to my brow, and looped the ends of it around my head. "The shoulder's—"

"Hey, BFF!" Pinkie Pie suddenly appeared at my side, sans coat and props, and began squeezing my leg and nuzzling against my shin. "Welcome back to the land of the living! Don't worry; I'm not upset that the doctor kicked me out of the room for the procedure, so there's no need to buy my forgiveness with cupcakes, or anything." She beamed up at me. "Not that I'd complain if you tried, that is."

"Please get off of my leg," I said.

Pinkie relinquished her grip and giggled. She patted me on the hip. "He totally loves me." Humming, she bounced toward the door, tail wagging from side to side every time she made contact with the floor.

"I take it you two bonded?" asked Twilight, as we followed Pinkie Pie out of the hospital.

"We sure did!" sang Pinkie.

"We didn't," I assured Twilight.

"Sure diddily-did!"

"We really didn't."

Twilight glanced between Pinkie and I, then smiled at me, a touch mischievously. "I don't know; I think I'm with Pinkie on this. You definitely bonded in there."

I grumbled a string of mostly inarticulate syllables that included the words "Pinkie" and "migraine". It seemed to amuse Twilight to no end. Schadenfreude – alive and well in Equestria. So much for the magic of friendship. "So where are we heading, exactly? Please tell me we aren't just following Pinkie."

"We're not," said Twilight. "While you were getting your shoulder done, I secured us an express train to Dodge Junction. It's waiting for us down at the station. The others are meeting us there."

"That so?" I allowed annoyance to creep into my voice. "You make that decision all on your own?"

"Well, yes," said Twilight. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to." I pulled her to a stop, and lowered my voice to keep Pinkie from hearing. "Freezing me out of the decision, I can understand. I hate it, but I get it. Freezing out your friends, though – that's low."

Ahead, Pinkie stopped bouncing and looked behind herself at us, her legs coiled for another leap. Twilight smiled nervously at her. "Go on ahead," she said. "Let the others know we're coming. Snake and I need to talk privately."

"Okie-dokie!" Pinkie resumed her bouncing, humming a melody I couldn't recognize.

Twilight's face fell the moment Pinkie was out of sight. When she wasn't putting on a brave show for her friends, the girl looked dog-tired. Who could blame her; world on her shoulders, and all that. I looked on her a little more sympathetically, with that in mind. Only a little, though. Not by much.

"Snake." She kept her voice neutral, but I could hear the thinly-disguised fatigue in it. "You're right to worry – you'd be crazy not to. And what you're saying, it makes sense. But I need you on my side for this. If she's out there..." She looked pleadingly at me. "If it was someone you cared for, like I – like we care for Rainbow Dash, what would you do? Even if it were a trap, wouldn't you risk your life to save her?"

"I would. And I have." A sudden, surprisingly icy wind made me shudder. Twilight didn't seem to notice. "But I always had something more reliable to work with than a hunch and a red herring in a box." I leaned away from her and folded my arms across my chest. "I can't follow you on this. Sorry. This fight's too important to risk our lives on some damn fool errand."

Twilight bit her lip, hesitated, as if considering whether or not she ought to say what she was about to say. "I'm not bringing the others. I go with you, or I go alone."

I, quite involuntarily, laughed in her face.

She waited for me to stop before continuing, unfazed by my reaction. "What choice do I have, Snake? Applejack's a walking disaster, and whatever brave faces the others put on, they aren't faring much better. I mean, you don't even want to know how I found Rarity. They're all tired, exhausted, demoralized—"

"And they'll follow you, regardless," I interrupted.

"Of course they would!" snapped Twilight. "It's not a question of whether or not they'd go with me. They just can't! Not..." She breathed slowly, deeply, caging the anger she'd accidentally released. "I already led them into one trap, and it nearly got all of us killed."

"Is that what this is about?" I asked. "Redemption, for what happened in the castle? You think getting yourself killed will balance the scales?"

"I didn't—"

"Because that's what's going to happen," I said, stepping closer to her. "If you walk into whatever trap they've laid, alone, you're going to die. Bad time to develop a death wish."

Twilight fixed me with a resolute expression. "Believe me, I don't have a death wish. And I have no intention of going alone."

I replied with another disdainful laugh. "Because I'm going with you?"

"Exactly."

"And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because otherwise," she said coolly, "I will have to go alone, and if it is a trap, I'll probably get myself killed."

I scoffed and turned away from her, shaking my head. "I gave you credit for having more sense than this, Twilight. Figured you were above manipulative bullshit, too. If you want to run off and get yourself killed, then be my guest. My conscience is clear."

"You're lying."

I glared at her over my shoulder. She cloaked herself in a quiet, tired sort of confidence – as if she knew this discussion would end in her favor, regardless of my protestations. "Applejack was right, back in the forest. You've had several opportunities to ditch us and leave us to our fate. Something always held you back, though. Why? What obligation do you have to me and mine?" She shook her head. "You partnered with us out of convenience; you don't need us anymore. But you fought to save us, all the same. And here we are now."

Sniper in the turret draws a bead on me. Our eyes meet through our scopes. My finger's on the trigger. Applejack begs for the lives of her friends. "Snake, please...!"

"You said so yourself. You have a conscience, Snake. It's kept you around this long, and it's why you won't run out on me now."

I would have left you in that courtyard to die. Conscience or no, I could have lived with her blood on my hands. But that sniper spotted me. I had no choice.

"I can't fend off an ambush alone. And, besides myself, you're the only one of us left who's still in fighting condition."

I'd have let them die in the castle. Would I now?

Rainbow Dash, trapped, crying. "You promise me, Solid Snake!"

After waiting for an answer that never came, Twilight gave up, and turned toward the path leading to the train station. "You have time to think it over."

I hesitated in following her. I nearly didn't. But – with great reluctance, and deep reservations – I fell into step behind her.

We didn't exchange words again until we came to the train platform, where the others awaited us. Behind them, on the track, was an ostentatiously decorated purple engine, trimmed with gold and hitched to a single car whose windows were styled to look like hearts. Rarity was conspicuous in her absence. Whatever state Twilight had found her in, it evidently ruled her out for this little suicide mission.

Twilight joined her friends on the platform, smiling at each of them in turn, though she passed over Applejack quicker than the others. "Thanks, everypony, for coming down here," said Twilight. "I know that the past day has been a rough one, and I'm sorry, because things aren't going to get any easier from here on out. For any of us."

"This mess ain't your fault, sugarcube," said Applejack. "Shoot, we'll gladly take our lumps to fix it, jus' like we always have."

"I know that," said Twilight. "I've always counted on that fact. We've all accepted the responsibility that comes with bearing the Elements of Harmony, and we've all put our lives on the line to defend Equestria before." She paused, biting her lip nervously. "But this time... things are different this time.

"Late last night, Snake and I received a letter, calling us to Dodge Junction. Enclosed with the letter was a blue feather." Pinkie and Applejack hadn't heard the news yet, I realized belatedly. The look of surprise on Applejack's face was palpable – as palpable as the hopeful smile on Pinkie's.

"I don't know for sure who sent the letter, or even why." She nodded in my direction. "Snake has his theories. But between that, and Pinkie's uncanny predilection for..." She coughed. "Sensing things... I have reason to believe that Rainbow Dash might still be alive. Even if she didn't send that letter, going to Dodge Junction may be the key to finding her, maybe saving her.

"However, I'd be remiss if I didn't consider all the possibilities. I want to believe that Rainbow Dash is alive. I do; I truly do." She placed her hoof on Pinkie's shoulder. "But I can't let that blind me to the facts. We're up against an enemy who knows us, who deals in deception and subterfuge. Traveling to Dodge might well be a trap, probably meant to lure us away from Ponyville while Pegasus Wings launches their offensive. It could be dangerous. It most likely is."

"Danger's nothin' new," chirped Pinkie Pie. "What're we waiting for?"

Twilight inhaled slowly, deeply. "'We' aren't waiting for anything. I'm going to Dodge Junction." She hesitated. "You're not coming with me."

Shock rippled through her friends. A sense of anticipation gnawed at me. "Twilight, that ain't funny," said Applejack. "How can you talk like that, goin' after Rainbow Dash all by your lonesome?"

"I'm quite serious." Twilight's face betrayed no hint of uncertainty. "This could easily be a trap, one that could kill us all, and I'm not losing anypony else to another stupid mistake." Twilight looked expectantly at me. "But neither do I intend to go alone and risk dying alone."

The others followed suit, staring at me, waiting for me to confirm the thought that Twilight had planted in their minds. The corners of Twilight's mouth twitched, and a slight sheen of sweat glinted on her forehead. What if I did say no? What if I called her bluff, refused to validate her suicidal hunch?

What if she went anyway?

"I'm going with her."

Twilight's sense of relief was immediate. Her expression didn't change, but I could tell she was glad I'd agreed. At least one of us was.

"What about us?" asked Pinkie, bounding forward and pressing her face against Twilight's. "When did we all turn into chopped liver, huh?"

"Gotta say, Twi," said Applejack. "It's mighty low, puttin' us out to pasture, even if you are takin' Snake along."

"I'm not," she insisted. "I'm not putting anypony out to pasture." She nudged Pinkie Pie gently, pushing her away, giving herself some breathing room. "I know it sounds bad; I'd feel hurt too, if it were me. But if this goes the same way that the castle went, and something bad happens to me – to us," she corrected, with an acknowledging glance my way, "somepony still needs to stay behind and coordinate the defense of Ponyville. The mayor won't do anything publicly; she made that quite clear to me. And from what she told me last night..." Twilight looked at Fluttershy, who nodded at her.

"Macbeth apparently has agents in places of strategic importance," said Twilight. "It's why we're not taking the train to Canterlot. It's why we can't get a flier off the ground to get word out to the Princess. There could be agents here, in Ponyville, waiting for an opportunity to strike." She sighed. "The only ponies in town I trust with all my heart are standing right here, on this platform." She paused. "And Rarity, but that goes without saying.

"I know it isn't ideal, but it's the best option I can think of. This way, we can find Rainbow Dash, provided she's still alive, without leaving Ponyville completely vulnerable." She locked eyes with each of her friends, looking searchingly at them. "Girls, please. I need you to support me on this. I can't..." Her resolve faltered for an instant. "I can't do this without you."

Applejack was the first, signaling her agreement with a nod. "I still ain't sure this is the best way to do things, but I understand your reasons, Twi, an' I respect 'em." She forced a smile at me. "An' if Snake's goin' with you, I don't see no reason to worry."

Fluttershy dipped her head. Her bangs fell in front of her face, obscuring her gaze. "You'll bring her back, won't you? If she's alive?"

Twilight nodded firmly.

Pinkie Pie, still the closest one to Twilight, wrapped the unicorn in a tight embrace, looking more subdued than I'd seen her since our talk in the hospital. "Come home safe," she said. Twilight squeezed her back, shutting her eyes and looking like she'd prefer if that hug didn't end.

And then Pinkie Pie turned to me. "Make sure she comes home safe. Dashie too. Pinkie promise me." She pantomimed a series of gestures, ending with sticking her hoof in her eye. She stayed like that, staring expectantly at me.

"He promises," said Twilight. Why not, as long as she was making decisions for me. She magicked open the train car, and beckoned me inside. I looked at the others one last time before... reluctantly... ducking inside the car.

"Somepony tell the engineer that we're ready to get underway," said Twilight. She stepped inside and began to push the door shut, but something seemed to occur to her, and she stopped. "Applejack?"

"Mm?" Applejack poked her head inside the car; Twilight turned her face away.

"Look in on Rarity while we're gone? Please?" Twilight fidgeted nervously, but whether from her proximity to Applejack, or from the thought of Rarity, I couldn't say.

"Sure, Twilight. You be safe now."

Twilight nodded in acknowledgement, and shut the door without another word.

The sides of the train car's aisle were lined with benches, covered in plush cushions that looked much, much more comfortable than the thinly-carpeted floor I rested upon. Unfortunately, they didn't look like they could seat me, and I doubted the car's roof would be more comfortable, so sitting on the floor it was.

The train had been churning forward for at least an hour by then. During that time, Twilight and I neither looked at nor spoke to one another. I sat wedged between two benches, with just enough room to stretch my legs across the aisle, so long as I kept my back straight. Twilight sat on a bench toward the front of the train car. She'd been staring out the window ever since we pulled away from the Ponyville station.

I'd drawn a cigarette from the pack on my belt, and had been idly toying with it between my fingers, when Twilight spoke up for the first time since we boarded. "You must be angry."

My fingers twitched reflexively, crushing the cigarette between them.

"Applejack thinks you've stayed with us for as long as you have because you're some kind of philanthropist." From the corner of my eye, I saw her head turn to face me. "You and I, though... We know better, don't we?"

I met her gaze, brow furrowed behind my bandana. She didn't speak accusingly; she didn't sound angry at all. Very matter-of-fact, very plain. Nonetheless, I took some offense. "I don't see where you get off preaching to me." Maybe I hadn't given Twilight reason enough to trust me but she had no business taking the moral high ground. I wasn't there of my own volition; I was there because she threatened to kill herself. Reason enough to be mad. "You could have asked."

She looked at me impassively. "And if you'd said no?"

She assumed I'd refuse from the get-go. She had reason enough to. I nearly ditched them in the castle; I nearly left them to die against IRVING; I stayed in their company longer than I should have, because I didn't have any other choice, not because I felt a sense of attachment toward them. And I had chosen to play along with her charade, so it wasn't as if I had license to complain. Sure, I could have called her bluff. Maybe she would have gone anyway, but why should I have cared? It wasn't my problem whether she lived or died.

Problem is... I start thinking that way, and I'm one step closer to becoming the man Liquid thought I was. The conscience Twilight spoke of – he didn't have that. And I do. And I'd put myself in harm's way if it meant keeping Twilight alive, because to not would be to prove that he, and not Twilight, was right about me.

Of course, her being right didn't stop me from being angry. "And if I'd said yes?"

Twilight considered that, and shrugged. "It doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" She flopped onto her side, her back to me. "I'm going to get some sleep. You might want to do the same. This train's non-stop to Dodge, but even so, it's going to take a while."

She called me her friend the night before. Now I saw just how much that was good for. I didn't mind a partnership based upon mutual need, but somehow, I'd thought Twilight above that sort of thing – like we could have actually trusted each other, without resorting to manipulation. Maybe it was just the situation she was in. Maybe, in better times, under better circumstances, she'd have called me her friend and meant it. For now, though, we were nothing more to each other than a means to an end.

Still, when I lit the cigarette that dangled from my fingers, for once, she didn't put it out.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/13/16

-General copyediting/proofreading
-Minor alterations to narration/dialogue
-Edited Luna's and Celestia's conversation for clarity
-Slight changes to Snake's and Twilight's conversation about the book (totally not a retcon)
-Plugged a minor plothole about Fluttershy's characterization (she wasn't present for the conversation in the forest about Rainbow Dash surviving, so she'd naturally assume Dash was dead, and would probably be a good deal more broken up about it unless she talked to Pinkie and got the story from her at some point)

Original Author's Note

Special thanks to DPV "Miffy the Imaginary One-Eyed Pre-Reading Cat" 111, who, in addition to his usual feedback, edited the final scene of this chapter to improve it exponentially. If you riked it, direct your thanks his way.

Also, I didn't submit the previous chapter, "Interlude – Better Days" to EqD, so if you're coming from there, please check that one out.

10. A Ghost in the Machine

"It's clearly not thinking rationally... It's not using its head. It's using its heart."

Fluttershy dropped another pair of flowers into her basket, and ran her tongue along her lips to savor the lingering taste of their stems. "How many more do you think we should pick, Angel?" she asked.

When she heard no reply, she frowned. "Angel?" She glanced about, but Angel had vanished within the carpet of white petals. "Angel, sweetheart?"

She heard a cough, and felt a thump on the back of her head. Craning her neck around, she saw Angel perched on her back – where, she now recalled, she'd left him. He frowned, and raised an eyebrow at her.

Fluttershy smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, sweetie. I guess I'm just a little anxious right now. Who knows when we'll hear from Twilight and Snake again?" She cast a wary glance toward the treeline, and shuddered. "Being this close to the Everfree Forest isn't helping. But this is a wonderful place to pick bouquets."

The meadow was a vast expanse of white flowers, dotted with a pair of trees, located outside of Ponyville and bordering the Everfree Forest from the southwest. It was well off the beaten path, and nopony else seemed to know about it, which suited Fluttershy fine. The meadow was a sanctuary for her, a retreat from the stressful possibility of having to meet and interact with ponies she hardly knew. Her friendship with Twilight had opened her up to the world considerably, and she found herself visiting the meadow less and less as time went on, but there was still the rare occasion when she truly needed to get away.

This is one of those days.

Rainbow Dash missing, Spike in a coma, Snake and Twilight off on an adventure, leaving the rest of them behind, charging them with the defense of Ponyville – it was too much to deal with all at once. Hours of going door-to-door, collecting donations of medical supplies and non-perishable food; hours of working with the Apples to clear out their cellar for use as an emergency shelter; hours of helping to prepare wagons and find ponies to pull them in the event of a mass evacuation, and all while gnawed at by the same anxieties that plagued her daily, only magnified a hundredfold by the accumulated stress of the last two days...

Her body and mind both needed a rest. She needed a moment to herself, to catch her breath, to regroup.

Well, myself and Angel. The meadow, isolated and quiet, made for a perfect spot to center herself. And, while she was at it, it wouldn't hurt to put together a token of affection for little Spike. That way, she could at least pretend that she was still being useful and productive.

Fluttershy looked into the basket, and counted the flowers she'd picked. "One, two... seven... fourteen... how large a bouquet do you think we should make for Spike?"

Angel rolled his eyes.

Fluttershy sighed. "I know that he'd appreciate gemstones more, Angel, but I don't have any. And Spike's a good little dragon; he knows that it's the thought that counts."

Angel shrugged in response to her question. He shrugged in response to most things she asked of him, come to think of it. She enjoyed his company, but his apathy exasperated her. Fluttershy chose not to let it show. "Seven. Seven's a good number; you are absolutely right." She kissed Angel on the top of the head.

A noise from the treeline caught Fluttershy's attention, freezing her just as her teeth closed around another stem. The noise was heavy, thudding, like the footsteps of a great beast. Fear bade her to run; curiosity kept her rooted to the spot she was in. The Everfree was intimidating, but there was no better place to encounter some new, strange form of life.

A new animal friend might be just what I need. The thought cheered her a bit.

It didn't last.

"JACK...!"

The voice crackled and fizzled like soda. A shape emerged from the Everfree's curtain of shadow – alien, towering high upon slender, inequine legs. To anypony else, its appearance and sickly voice together might have been disarming. Fluttershy knew better.

Forgetting the bouquet, Fluttershy caught Angel in her jaws by the scruff of his neck, and bolted as fast as her wings would carry her to the bough of a nearby tree. She burrowed into the leaves, hoping they would obscure her from sight, not terribly optimistic about her chances. She ought to continue flying back to town, she knew, but she doubted she could outrun the monster, especially if it was able to match Rainbow Dash for agility. All she could do was tuck Angel away in her mane and pray that the beast which had nearly killed her friends hadn't seen her.

XMG IRVING-00 looked battered and unsteady on its feet. Gashes, which had failed to close and heal properly, covered its long, shapely black legs. It kept its weight off of its right leg, which was a bloody ruin beneath the thigh. Spike had hobbled the machine by tearing the flesh from its calf, and Snake and Twilight had finished the job, blowing it apart with high-powered bullets. All that remained of its calf were shredded rags of black skin hanging loosely over a knot of muscle and blood vessels and bone. Its left leg was intact, but covered in cuts, and its ankle seemed set awkwardly, as if it had been dislocated at some point during its trek through the woods. Its head was scratched and dented; its sensor dome still glowed bright red, but parts of its metal casing had cracked, or been blown away. Arcs of lightning danced across exposed wiring, ringed by carbon scores on the armor.

It was not so fearsome as before, as it staggered into the meadow, but Fluttershy was frightened nevertheless.

"JACK... JACK... YOU'RE A S-S-S-SOLDIER..." Its legs buckled beneath it, and it toppled into the flowers, tossing a flurry of white petals into the air. "GO HOME... I'M NOT..." IRVING struggled to raise itself upon its legs, but the effort failed when it put too much weight on its shredded mess of a right leg. It yelped, lost its footing, and it fell back into the flowers.

"WARNING. DAMAGE CRITICAL. PERFORMING SELF-DIAGNOSTIC." Its voice became monotone and robotic, losing the desperate emotion of before. "LACTIC ACID BUILD-UP AT CRITICAL LEVELS. VENTING SYSTEM OFFLINE. MOTOR FUNCTIONS IMPAIRED. DEFENSE SYSTEMS OFFLINE. FLAME THROWER FUEL TANKS #1 AND #2 EJECTED. CLOSE-QUARTERS COMBAT IMPOSSIBLE DUE TO LOSS OF MOBILITY. FINAL ASSESSMENT: DAMAGE CATASTROPHIC. UNIT BEYOND SALVAGE. JACK..."

The emotion returned when it said that name – Jack. It sounded plaintive, pained, despairing. As though it felt those emotions. As though it were something besides a walking engine of death.

"WHY'D YOU COME BACK? KILL ME. KILL ME NOW. JACK..."

The cold terror gripping Fluttershy's heart thawed at the sound of IRVING's begging. She still remembered the fire that burned through the castle courtyard, the way it so quickly brought her friends to ruin. A human facsimile of a dragon... but a wounded dragon. Maybe even a dying dragon.

Fluttershy – cautiously, and with Angel expressing his disapproval via repeated stomps to the back of her head – edged her way out of the tree, and glided into the meadow, setting down some feet away from the wounded machine. The remnant of its calf looked worse up close. It was surely infected, oozing some filthy mixture of yellow and red and white fluid from between cracks in an enormous scab that had formed inside the wound.

"You poor dear," she murmured softly to herself, though she – element of kindness notwithstanding – was hard-pressed to believe the sentiment.

IRVING's reaction was immediate. "THREAT DETECTED. RE-ENGAGING W-W-WATCHDOG MODE." Fluttershy braced herself as it struggled to raise itself to its feet, but the attempt was half-hearted, and it sagged back into the flowers. "MOBILITY IMPAIRED. BEYOND SALVAGE. KILL ME NOW."

The way it repeated that phrase – it was different from the way it spoke before. Before, it had wailed the plea to itself, almost like a prayer for deliverance. But now, it spoke directly to Fluttershy, begging her to put it out of its misery.

"I-I'd never!" Fluttershy stammered.

"WHY?"

The question knocked Fluttershy even further off kilter. "Because what could that possibly solve?" she blurted.

It was the best answer she could muster, and it sounded lame, even to her, but IRVING deemed it worthy of response. "DAMAGE TO MOBILE PLATFORM IRREPARABLE. PERMANENT SHUT-DOWN INEVITABLE." It paused. "NOT FAST ENOUGH. KILL ME."

A timberwolf lays in the grass, mortally wounded and whimpering. Snake presses a gun to its head. He whispers a farewell and pulls the trigger. The timberwolf dies, and something inside Fluttershy dies with it.

There was nothing to gain in putting down a wounded creature. The mere fact that IRVING had suggested it made her a little indignant. "Well," she said primly, "Even if I wanted to, I can't do anything to hurt you. So I can't kill you. So I won't kill you."

IRVING nickered and turned its head away from Fluttershy. "ANALYSIS COMPLETE. THREAT LEVEL: NONEXISTENT."

"And proud of it." She edged closer, to examine IRVING in greater detail. The claws on its toes were worn and blunted, ground almost completely flat. IRVING had fallen into a sheer ravine. How else would it get back out than by climbing? And it must have been agony to make that ascent with its legs as torn up as they were; she couldn't even begin to imagine. This thing, this IRVING, was single-minded and tenacious; its threshold for pain was apparently almost limitless, and it had the strength and fortitude of a beast. It was a thinking, autonomous, killing machine.

And it was begging Fluttershy – helpless little Fluttershy, who'd stared catatonic at it while it tossed Applejack effortlessly and beat Twilight into submission – to kill it.

The urge to help, to comfort, stirred deep inside her. "You want to die," she said to IRVING. "I can't give you that; I'm sorry. But maybe I can do something else for you. Something to take the pain away." She turned to Angel. "Sweetheart, Mommy needs to run home and pick up some things. As long as I'm going back, why don't I drop you off?"

Angel eyed Fluttershy skeptically, glanced at IRVING, and chattered something frantic.

Fluttershy smiled gently. "You're so sweet to worry. But it's alright, really." She looked over her shoulder at IRVING. "I can take care of myself. And besides, it wouldn't hurt me. Would you?"

"MOBILITY IMPAIRED. DEFENSE MEASURES OFFLINE. PLATFORM BEYOND REPAIR."

"You see?" said Fluttershy. "It couldn't hurt a fly."

But as she set Angel in the basket and took to the air – promising IRVING one last time that she would return – Fluttershy couldn't help wondering whether, if it could hurt her, it wouldn't.

Luna's first sight was the black blanket of space, studded with twinkling diamonds set in patterns she knew intimately. Some she'd sewn into the night sky herself. Most, though, predated her – the work of some cosmic ancient, far older than her. Older, maybe than the one she'd come to see. She wasn't sure whether the backdrop was something Discord had created for his own pleasure, whether her mind was projecting a familiar sight onto the void, or whether all creatures who existed in this state faced the night sky by default. Funny that she didn't remember it from her own imprisonment.

She felt his presence – eyes boring into the back of her head. It made her anxious. And queasy. Oddly, inexplicably queasy.

"Discord!" she called into the black. "Present yourself! We must have words."

"Oh, do we indeed?" The voice reverberated around her. Space had decent acoustics. "Somepony's awfully presumptuous. Maybe you need to talk. I know that I don't. Still..."

Something slithered across her shoulders, draped itself over her back. She shuddered at the touch of scale and fur, at the feel of his lion's claw daintily stroking her wing.

"It isn't as if I'm in the habit of rejecting house-guests." Discord slid off of Luna's back, and appeared in front of her, arms linked behind his back. "Hello, my dear Princess Luna. It's so thoughtful of you to join me. What brings you to my neck of oblivion, hmm? Come to compare notes on being trapped in a rock by your big sis?"

Luna bristled. Discord's voice was poison that she refused to drink down. "I did not come here to banter, Discord. I would speak with you of matters of grave—"

"Business, not pleasure, then," Discord sighed. "It's not a plea bargain, is it?" He snorted. "I like you, Luna, always have. But I'd just as soon swallow some sanctimonious friendship sermon from that Sparkle girl as I would treat with you." He waved his hand at her, shooing her away. "Tell Celly to speak to me herself when she decides she wants to get serious."

"Don't think to insult me; I'm no errand foal," Luna retorted. "And make no mistake, even if it were in my power to do so, I've no intention of lifting what the Elements have foisted upon you. "

"So what, then, are you doing here?" Discord lolled in the air, leaning backward as though he were resting in a hammock. He snapped his fingers, and a glass, thick with something brown and viscous and smelling faintly of chocolate, appeared in his hands. He sipped thoughtfully from it.

Luna clenched her jaw. "Tell me what you know of humanity."

"Humanity?" Discord sat up in his imaginary hammock and blinked. "But why would you ever need to—" His eyes widened, and he smiled, tossing his glass into the ether behind him. "Well, kiss my grits. It actually happened. Were I a praying beast, I'd have prayed my widdle heart out to see the day when jack-booted human thugs touched down in this saccharine den of banality." He laughed. "Oh, to be out there..."

"Discord!" snapped Luna. Her horn flashed.

Discord's laughter trailed off. He wiped a tear from his eye, flinging it in Luna's direction. "Of course, you wouldn't find this as funny as I do." He smirked. "But what, exactly, could you stand to gain from talking to me? What do I know that you don't? I may be cunning and rakishly handsome, but I'm not a walking encyclopedia of esoterica, you know."

"I know that you are old – older than my sister and I, by far. With such age comes knowledge." She scowled, and added "If not always wisdom."

Discord chuckled. "I do look good for my age, though, don't I?"

"And neither my sister, nor I, are old enough to recall the last encounter between humans and ponies." Luna narrowed her eyes at Discord. "You, on the other hoof..."

"Hmm." Discord smiled slyly. "Fair assumption to make." He snapped his fingers, vanished, reappeared beside Luna, his arm around her shoulders. "You're correct. I did spend some time around humans, way back in the day. Sometime before that high-horsed dullard of an 'emperor' decided to manifest his destiny all over their world."

Luna shuddered with disgust at Discord's contact with her; she could feel his breath against her coat as he spoke. In a non-corporeal state, outside the bounds of physical space, that should not have been possible. Perhaps Discord had more control over the environment than she'd assumed.

"Chaos is your imperative," she said. "Yet you sound as though you judge another for sewing it. An uncharacteristic act of hypocrisy, no?"

"You wound me, mon capitan," said Discord, pressing his lion's paw to his chest in mock distress. "I'm not a fan of war – just the afterglow. The fright, the confusion, the chaos that conflict leaves in its wake. It's like fine wine." He smirked. "Warmongering is in your blood, not mine."

A chill ran through Luna's body. "The one you speak of constructed the Threshold of the Moon for his own use. Yet you claim to have traveled to the human world before he built it."

"I'm insulted – do you think so little of me?" He clicked his tongue. "Luckily, I'm the forgiving sort – no imprisonment in a rock for you." Discord uncoiled himself from Luna's body and reclined again. From his relaxed pose and serene expression, he could have been floating in a pond on a warm summer's day.

"You wouldn't know it, looking at me now, but there was a time when I wouldn't have needed to build some magical contraption to traverse the waters between realities. Not so much, nowadays, for obvious reasons. But even if I were out there, I doubt I'd be able to swim the cosmic ocean as I once did." Discord stuck his tongue out and shuddered. "Corporeality is such a constraining thing."

"A luminous being such as yourself should not be bound by corporeality," said Luna. "If you speak the truth, that is."

Discord's lips twitched into an ever-so-slight frown. "It's not as though I didn't try to leave, you know. But the last time I broke free from my imprisonment, I found that the pool was closed to me." He cupped his chin in his talon. "Best I can figure, my first round against the Elements resulted in my permanent binding to this world. Think of it as a sort of cosmic spanking – my punishment for throwing the natural order of things too far out of whack."

He doesn't like being insulted. Having been twice emasculated by beings he considered inferior to himself, Discord might overreach – say too much in an attempt to assert his superiority. A wounded sense of pride was one hell of a raw nerve. "Odd that you are still so smug," she said. "Being twice bested by the Elements of Harmony ought to remind you that your place in the cosmos isn't quite so high as you think."

Discord's frown grew more pronounced. "You're awfully self-assured for somepony who was in the same boat as me. Wielding the Elements one time doesn't give you bragging rights, Lulu. You couldn't take me on without using them; your sister couldn't take me on." He jabbed a finger at her, as though it were a blade he meant to thrust through her heart. "Maybe you ought to remember your place."

Luna bristled from Discord's riposte. "My sister and I—"

"Are unto your subjects as I am unto you," Discord snapped. "The Elements of Harmony are manifestations of the very forces which shaped our cosmic order. Loyalty, kindness, honesty and magic – even laughter and generosity – life had no name for these concepts in the beginning, yet even then, they shaped the way life would evolve upon this world." He bolted from his invisible hammock, linked his arms behind his back, and towered at full height over Luna.

"For every action, there must be an equal, or opposite, reaction. If the cosmic forces which govern Equestria must manifest themselves corporeally, then their opposite must manifest as well." His tone was tense, his words clipped. "Six Elements, six bearers. Bring them together, and miraculous things happen. But there's just one of me, Luna. And to me, the miraculous is passe." He smirked, but behind the expression was nothing but loathing. "So, yes, I'm capable of much, much more than you and Celestia. I'll thank you to keep that in mind while you gloat."

His story certainly fit with the model of physics Equestria's best and brightest had been developing for centuries. Discord was arrogant and egotistical, but she had to admit (begrudgingly) that his power far exceeded hers, and his precise nature had long eluded her sister and herself. If it was a lie, then it was a well-constructed lie, at least.

"Not capable of subjugating the humans, it seems," she said slyly. "You claim to have interacted with them. Did you try, and fail, to grind them beneath your heel, as you tried and failed with Equestria?"

Discord's jaw worked silently. There was a slight widening of his eyes, and his smirk morphed into a broad, ugly smile. He leaned backward, easing himself into a comfortable, sitting position. "Methinks you're enjoying this – a position of dominance must be a rare thing for you. I think it's making you overconfident. You're not in a position of strength right now; your display of smugness is transparent. If you had the faintest idea of how to fend off a human invasion, you and I wouldn't be speaking. Stop me if I'm wrong"

Luna felt her surge of confidence wane. She flushed, and broke eye contact with Discord.

"Hmm," he said in a tone of mild delight. "That's what I thought. You're desperate. You're desperate because you're terrified. And you're right to be."

Luna swallowed hard and fought to steady herself. Discord had exposed a vulnerable spot. She refused to let him prod it. "Will you, or will you not, tell me what you know?"

"I certainly will," said Discord. "But only because I find your terror delectable."

Before she could offer a rejoinder, Discord snapped his fingers again. Luna suddenly felt grass, cool and dewy, beneath her hooves. Around her, a carpet of green stretched infinitely in all directions. In front of her, Discord stood, looking pleased with himself. He snapped his fingers again, and between he and her, two shapes materialized – creatures, alien and familiar all at once. From the waist up, they might have been minotaurs, but for their heads – round, with unkempt black hair hanging in thick curls past their necks. They were tall – rivaling her sister in height – with rippling muscles bulging beneath roughspun, scratchy-looking clothing, covering skin sun-baked to a rich shade of brown.

These were humans. Living humans, their features untwisted and unmutilated, not like the corpse she found in the castle courtyard, nor the others she found while exploring the rest of the rubble. Luna's sensibilities recoiled; she found them strange and grotesque. Yet there was some inexplicable allure to them that compelled her to keep looking...

"The first thing you should know is that human beings are special. And I don't toss that word around lightly." Discord stepped around the two humans to stand beside Luna, watching them with interest all the while. "To see a people so brilliant, so capable, so driven to plumb the mysteries of the universe – if they ever put their heads together, they could do wonders, Luna. Miracles to rival the Elements, even creation itself!"

A tree sprouted in front of Luna; she, startled, scampered backward quickly. Discord smirked at the sight; she blushed and recovered her poise. The humans watched as the tree rose, until it towered over both of them. On a low-hanging branch, a plump apple grew, and one human, smiling, reached for it.

The other, scowling, caught him by the wrist. In his other hand, a knife that hadn't been there before gleamed. The human with the knife swung it across the other's throat, and a gout of blood sprayed onto the bark of the tree.

Luna hissed reflexively, her heart seizing.

"But – and here's the funny part," Discord continued. "They squander their gifts on petty little turf wars and philosophical pissing contests. Wars over this god or that, over who has the right to some virgin bride's maidenhood, over whether they'll have ham or mutton for dinner. No matter is too trivial, no prize too small."

The human with the severed throat slumped over, dead. His murderer reached for the low-hanging apple, pulled it from the tree, and sank his teeth into it.

"And all their drive to understand and create has ever gotten them are new and exciting ways to destroy one another. Even in my experience, that's not something you see every day." With a snap of his fingers, the grisly scene vanished and the field receded. The field of stars rematerialized around them. Luna belatedly realized she was sweating.

"Then again," said Discord with a shrug, "it's been a while since I popped in on them. Maybe things have gotten better since I left. There was this one fellow, Hammurabi..." He mulled the thought for a moment, before waving his paw with a dismissive laugh. "Bah. I doubt it. That's just their nature."

"What more can you tell me?" Luna asked, no trace of emotion in her voice. She almost hoped he had nothing more to say.

"About humans? There's not much else to tell." With a snap of his fingers, Discord vanished, and reappeared in front of Luna with his arms crossed. "Humans reap chaos just fine without me. The truth is, I got bored, and a little homesick. So I came on home, and made pals with a bright young alicorn with a big future ahead of him. The rest, I'm sure you know."

Discord leaned forward, until he was at eye level with Luna. "But the hows and whys of humanity are far less pertinent than the fact that they are here, even as we speak. And in that regard, Lulu, you're pretty late on the uptake – by about a year."

Luna recoiled. "What are you saying?"

"That they've been here for some time, right under your adorable little nose." He flicked her on the end of her muzzle, flashed again, appeared in front of her, upside down. "That vacation Celestia sent you on really dulled your wits, you know that? But then, what's her excuse?"

Luna swatted at Discord, but he vanished in a puff of smoke again, and this time, didn't reappear. "Explain yourself!" she shouted into the emptiness, a bit of iron creeping back into her voice. "How did you know that humanity was already here?"

"Because I met one of them," his taunting voice echoed.

"When?!"

"Last year. When those dishy fillies of yours were running about, trying to put right what I'd set so beautifully wrong." The stars of the void rearranged themselves, forming a new pattern in the sky – the shape of a draconequus's head. Its mouth grinned, smarmy, as it spoke with Discord's voice. "A lost little tadpole, all alone, in a big, unfamiliar pond. Didn't seem to bother it, though. In fact, we had a nice talk, as I recall."

The stars in the constellation that was Discord burst all at once, their dying lights forcing Luna to shield her eyes. When she found that she could open them again, her first sight was a pair of yellow eyes. Nose-to-nose with her archenemy, Luna skittered backward; Discord watched, and chuckled "Speak plainly, demon," she said, trying to sound firm in order to save face. "Tell me everything that you know!"

He flashed away, reappeared standing beside her, at his full height. "I couldn't tell you what its business was – not specifically, anyway. Even if I did know, I'm not exactly inclined to share it with you. I did ask it, though. It said he was there to 'observe' – learn what it could about Equestria before it went home. It didn't say what it was going to do with that knowledge." Discord shrugged. "In any event, I decided to leave it to its devices."

"You did nothing to harm... 'it'?" Why "it"? Why not "him" or "her"?

"I had no reason to stop it." Discord was smiling again. "It had piqued my curiosity. I wanted to see what it would do. A rogue element is like candy to a connoisseur of chaos like myself. And I had a hunch. Maybe it wasn't the only human to cross over. Maybe, if I was very lucky, it'd invite friends. And after eons of separation from humankind, I wanted to see what they could do. And, well..." He laughed. "I was right, wasn't I? You thought the nightmare was over when the Elements of Harmony chained me up again. But it turns out I knew something that you didn't." His smile twisted into a frown. "Still feeling smug, Princess?"

Starry blue light burst from Luna's horn and barreled into Discord's chest. The blast sent him flying into the distance; there was a flash, and he reappeared in front of Luna, no worse for wear.

"Tut tut. That was impolite. And I've been such a good host to you so far." Discord wagged his finger at her. "Naughty."

Luna's chest heaved with her every inhalation; she could no longer disguise her fear. "I have no reason to believe that what you say is truth." She didn't believe her own words, and didn't expect him to either. "You are a liar by nature. A twisted mockery of creation who knows nothing but deceit."

"Guilty, guilty, and guilty," laughed Discord. "And yet, if you're so sure I'm lying, why do you look like you're about to faint?" He vanished and reappeared at her side, leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "Is this why big sis sent you, instead of plucking up her courage and facing me herself? Didn't want me to see her shaking in those little gold booties?"

Luna curled her lips into her mouth and looked away. "Oh..." purred Discord. "She doesn't know that you're here, does she? Isn't that interesting. Look at you, Luna, facing down big bad Discord all by your lonesome. Looks like somepony finally got on her big girl panties." He tilted his head toward her rear and frowned. "Figuratively speaking, anyway."

Luna blushed and snapped her tail flat against her body. "I'll take my leave now," she said, indignant. "We shall not speak again."

"Don't get my hopes up," said Discord flatly. "Let me toss you one last freebee, though." His body faded out of sight, but his voice remained. "Humans may be primitive, paranoid, and petty, but they still sent Grandpappy Alicorn home with his tail between his legs." His voice became silky, almost seductive. "That was millenia ago, Luna. I shudder to think of what they can do now. Let me know how it goes."

Luna felt a mighty shove against her flank, and suddenly, she was tumbling. The stars around her whirled, blurred together, coalesced, turning the empty void of space into a vision of light that burned her eyes and forced her to squeeze them shut. And then something yanked her by the neck, pulled her away. She opened her eyes to see the wall of light in front of her grow distant, and become a pinprick against the sea of black.

And then that single point of light shifted color, from white to red. It burst rapidly outward, like a star going nova, until it filled Luna's sight. She turned away, shielded her eyes, and saw behind her the detritus of a world long dead – the shattered earth, cracked and broken, the bleached bones of ponies whose flesh had rotted away with the ages The air was rank with the stench of sulfur and putrid meat. A hot wind blew; gusts lashed against her body and carved jagged lines into an expanse of sand. Amid the sand were broken, crumbling buildings, the remnants of a deserted village. Luna's eyes were drawn to a dead, withered tree, in the center of a mass of rusted war machines and bleached bones.

Ponyville. This is Ponyville.

Luna raised her head, and glimpsed a distant mountain, where crumbling spires jutted toward the yellow-tinted sky. Perched upon the mountaintop, like a tarnished crown on the skull of a dead monarch, was the wreck of a city which had once been Canterlot.

The ruined husk of Equestria spread out before Luna. Behind her, the red sun burned over what had once been paradise.

And even that faded to black, and the vision of Equestria's picked-over carcass was no more.

Luna awoke to the scent of lavender and mint, to the harmonious symphony of birdsong and the distant laughter of children at play. She opened her eyes, and saw Discord, frozen in horror, atop his place of dubious honor. The sky above was a mural of pink and blue; the garden was draped in shadow as Celestia's sun descended beneath the horizon.

That took longer than I thought it would.

The moon needed raising. Appearances needed keeping. If Celestia was so insistent upon keeping matters on the down-low, Luna couldn't chance somepony nosing around after her, asking questions.

Best clear my schedule after that.

Discord's oily voice still purred in her ear. "Just imagine what they're capable of now." The scene of horror replayed in her mind's eye – Discord's doing, no doubt, a last-ditch attempt to bring her to despair. But where he meant to cow her, he'd only strengthened her resolve.

Swaths of orange had just begun to creep across the afternoon sky, visible through the open window of Spike's hospital room. Applejack, her hide still raw beneath her bandages, was at his bedside when Fluttershy crept inside. Applejack forced a smile of greeting, and held a hoof to her mouth, shushing softly. Fluttershy didn't know why she bothered. He wasn't napping; he was in a coma.

Her rudeness surprised even her, and she felt a private sense of shame at the unvoiced thought.

Fluttershy's eyes widened when she saw the tube snaking into Spike's mouth. She knew it was there, of course, had seen it during her previous visit, but the shock of it never wore off.

Seeing her discomfort, Applejack tried to reassure her. "I know it ain't pretty to look at, but it's for the best. You know how ornery Spike gets with an empty belly." On cue, a slurry of dull yellow gunk shlorped through the tube and down his throat. Fluttershy fought back the urge to retch.

Applejack laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "Mus' be suppertime."

Swallowing the traces of lunch that had risen from her throat, Fluttershy said "You should get looked at again, as long as you're here."

"Nah. Don't much care for hospitals." Applejack shifted more of her weight onto her unhurt leg, which Fluttershy noted was trembling from the strain. "What brings y'all back here?"

What was she doing there? She had somewhere else to be, she recalled – an animal friend who needed her help – but somehow, it seemed a low priority. She felt the instinct to help, heard the call to action, but the sound was dull, like a foghorn on a distant shore.

She'd left the meadow with every intention of returning. But the farther she flew, the less she understood what she was doing. By the time she arrived at her home, she could think of no reason to go back to the meadow.

Well, since when do you need a reason to help somepony? she asked herself. She never needed one before. Kindness was a moral imperative, after all. And yet, that didn't seem justification enough. A friend in need was one thing, but the suffering of the beast that nearly killed Spike meant nothing to her.

Oh, Spike.

The thing that had put him in that state was waiting for her to return, to slap bandages on its torn flesh and ease its passing to... to wherever machine monsters went when they passed. With no warmth, no trace of compassion, it took an order to kill her friends and very nearly carried it out. And now it was dying, and she was going out of her way to give it aid and comfort. What was the point?

There was a time she might have said that nopony needed a reason to show kindness to another. Had Discord himself walked through her door with a hangnail, she'd have given him a pillow and a hard candy while she clipped it. But when she thought of IRVING, laying in the meadow in agony, she felt nothing. No pity for a wounded creature, not even anger for the thing which had nearly killed Spike – no room even for the fear which had paralyzed her. She thought about Snake, and wondered what he felt when he looked at an enemy, if it was hate that drove him to kill... or if it was that selfsame sense of detachment.

It frightened her. She saw that as a good sign; if she could be scared by her emotional numbness, it meant she wasn't too far gone.

"He's the enemy," Snake had said of the soldier in the forest, the one mobbed by hungry timberwolves. "On the battlefield, one doesn't typically go out of his way to save his enemy." She hadn't agreed, and she stood by her decision to intervene... but that was before the castle, before the fight in the courtyard. This wasn't an adventure to talk down a snoring dragon, or a filly slumber party gone wrong. This was war.

There's no room for kindness in war, she reflected. Maybe, just maybe, the pragmatism of a career soldier was what she needed.

The timberwolf dies, and something inside Fluttershy dies with it.

Or maybe that just made her compassion all the more valuable.

Fluttershy liked Snake. He was strong, and brave, and strangely alluring. But she didn't want to become him. If surviving the battles to come meant sacrificing who she was, then she'd rather die. She still felt nothing when she thought of IRVING, but the thought of doing nothing to help its passing... that felt wrong.

Is that why? she thought. Not because I want to, but because I'm expected to? Because I expect it of myself. What did that say about her? What kind of justification was that?

"Fluttershy?" Applejack waggled a hoof in front of her face. She blinked, shook her head, and looked over to see her friend's expression of confusion and concern. "You hear me?"

"Sorry." She forced a smile. "Yes, of course I heard."

The kind that's better than none at all. And that would have to do for now.

"I just needed to see him again." She quickly crossed to Spike's bedside, leaned toward his face, and pecked him on the cheek with a whisper of thanks. Turning back to Applejack, she said "I have somewhere I need to be."

Applejack wore a quizzical expression, but didn't question her further. With a dip of her head and a nervous smile, she bid farewell to Fluttershy.

Fluttershy still felt hollow, even as she took wing and banked toward her home once again. But she took comfort in the conviction that, whatever her feelings on the matter, she was doing the right thing.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/23/16

-General copyediting/proofreading
-Minor alterations to narration and dialogue
-Some lines specifying the kinds of preparations Fluttershy and the others made, in keeping with Twilight's directions (I didn't like how the chapter seemed to imply that Fluttershy fucked off to the meadow immediately after Twilight and Snake left)

Special thanks to the pre-reader formerly known as DPV111, who has since changed his user name to something which removes him even further from "Miffy the One-Eyed Pre-Reading Cat."

11. When All Hope Bleeds Out

"Don't touch that dial now, we're just getting started."

Twilight never got back to sleep.

She took to counting cacti as the verdant hills melted into the rugged red terrain of the frontier. Cacti were like sheep – prickly green sheep full of hallucinogenic water – so she reasoned that counting them might help her doze off again. It didn't. So she settled for just pressing her face against the glass of the window and staring at the blurry scenery zipping by.

The train made impeccable time. A scant few hours had passed since Twilight and Snake boarded, and they were almost at their destination. No stops, no taking on additional passengers, and traffic on the rail itself was nonexistent. The engineer had the entire line to herself, and availed herself of the opportunity to push the train's speed to its limits, which made for a swift trip. And yet, as Twilight thought back to the grisly package that Snake had brought before her early that morning – the bloody cyan feather, the cryptic note summoning them to the frontier – she couldn't help wondering if the train could maybe go just a teensy bit faster.

Snake didn't seem to be feeling the same sense of anxiety. He drifted off not long after Twilight woke from her own nap, and had been out for the last two hours of the trip. Unable to fit on one of the undersized benches, he lay lengthwise down the middle of the train car with his hands folded behind his head for a pillow. That meant he took up quite a bit of space, too, but Twilight thought it courteous not to make a fuss. It was the least she could do for someone who wasn't coming on this trip willingly.

The inherent contradiction in Snake's manner bemused Twilight. Here was a person whose line of work had him constantly on edge by necessity, someone who hadn't been able to catch a full night's sleep when given a roof over his head and what few creature comforts she could provide. Yet, somehow, he was able to catch not a mere wink, but two whole hours' worth of winks, on a turbulent train ride that hurtled them toward what he felt was certain doom.

"Wish I were that relaxed," she muttered to herself.

She knew she didn't mean it, though. She was as worked up as she was out of worry for Rainbow Dash, somepony whom Snake refused to accept may have been alive, and somepony with whom he had never gotten along. Being relaxed would have meant accepting that Dash was dead – or worse, not caring about her in the first place.

That isn't fair. I can't assume apathy on his part. He's here, after all. Under protest, and only because I twisted his elbow into it, but he is here.

Manipulating Snake made her feel dirty – like she was betraying every lesson she'd learned about friendship since moving to Ponyville. It made her feel like a bad student. Worse, it made her feel like a bad friend. Cynicism and necessity helped her rationalize it, though. Snake was a decent person, but a self-serving one; she needed him more than he needed her, and if keeping him around meant tugging on his heartstrings and threatening to walk into a meat grinder, then damn it all, she'd do it. For Rainbow Dash. For her friends.

Noble ends don't justify ignoble means, a voice in her head whispered.

Some days, Twilight wished that she was much more cynical than she was.

A sudden series of whistles from the front of the train – one, two, three short bursts, followed by a very long, protracted screech of steam – sent her own train of thought flying off the rails. Twilight felt the car losing momentum, lurching to a halt. "That can't be right," she said to herself as she glanced out the window. The station wasn't yet in sight. The whistle shrieked again. Something was wrong.

Minutes passed without the whistle sounding again, so she trotted to her human companion and poked his head with her hoof. "Snake, wake up."

He batted her hoof away, sound asleep, and smacked his lips. Twilight poked him harder. "Snake, wake up."

That got him. He stretched arms to his sides, growling as his muscles grew taut, and rose, cracking his neck from side to side and rotating his shoulders to shake loose the kinks. He rubbed his fingers along the length of his spine, wincing slightly with discomfort, and looked over his shoulder at Twilight. "We've stopped moving?"

Twilight nodded. "Certainly seems that way."

Snake pursed his lips tightly. Unable to stand at full height, he settled for kneeling, and crawled toward one of the window. His eyes took in the surrounding scenery, the hills and red mountains of southern Equestria, and the barren earth stretching to the horizon. "This is Dodge Junction? I don't see any station."

Twilight placed her hooves on the window she'd sat beside during the ride and rose onto her hind legs to peek outside. "We're in the right place, but... yeah, no station. What could be the hold-up?"

Snake grunted. Twilight had gotten used to grunts from him, but she hadn't been able to assign any consistent meaning to them as yet. They seemed to vary situationally. He could have been grunting in acknowledgement to her, or in thought to himself, or perhaps he just did it compulsively because of some weird trick of human psychology. She might have asked, but the door at the front of the car slid open abruptly, and the engineer stepped through it, looking sweaty, disheveled, and cross. She wore a set of blue coveralls, frayed and faded from years of wear, over her rosy pink coat, and tied her yellow mane behind her head beneath a matching denim hat. "Ms. Twilight," she said. There was a hint of Applejack's country twang in her voice. "Sorry for the delay, but we got us a conundrum."

Twilight pushed away from the window. "What's wrong?" She abruptly realized that she didn't know the engineer's name. "And, I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your—"

"Stovetop," said the engineer, curtly. "Pleasure's mine, I'm sure." She pointed behind herself, toward the engine at the far end of the train. "I've got a fully loaded passenger train sitting in front of us on the track, pulled right up to the station. Ain't movin', ain't doin' nothing. I blow the whistle; it doesn't do nothin'. I get out to yell at whoever's drivin' the thing, and there ain't nopony in the engine! Doors are open; bags are strewn about all which-ways; I holler up at the cars, but nopony's home – in there, or in the station."

Snake disengaged himself from the window and crawled, constrained as he was by the low height of the car's roof, closer to Twilight and Stovetop. "Bags strewn about? What do you mean?"

Stovetop's eyes met Snake's; she looked him up and down before answering. "Uh... I mean what I said, Mr. Tight Pants. 'Bags strewn about' is self-explanatory. That suit cut off circulation to yer brain, or somethin'?"

Snake turned away and muttered something to himself about country bumpkins.

"So," said Twilight, drawing Stovetop's attention back to herself, "there's nopony in the train, nopony in the station, and there's luggage lying around as if it's been abandoned?"

Stovetop nodded. "That's the long and short of it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it were a damn sloppy train robbery." She clicked her tongue. "Don't think there's anypony home in town, neither, come t'think of it. Figure with all my whistlin', somepony woulda come lookin' t'see what the fuss was about. Pardon the fancy talk, but it's rather conspicuous in its absence." As if to counterbalance the "fancy talk" with something earthy and crass, she spat a chunk of tobacco into the corner and grinned. "Always wanted t'do that."

Twilight looked back at Snake. "You may have been right after all," she said quietly.

If Snake derived any satisfaction from the admission, he hid it well. "Might have been. Except..." He frowned and rested his chin on his knuckles.

"What's on your mind?" asked Twilight.

"Assume for the moment that I was right, and that this was a trap." His eyes met hers for a second, narrowed slightly, before he looked back down at the carpet. "They would have known which direction we were coming from, would have known that we couldn't have deviated from it even if we wanted to. They wouldn't even need us to stop at the station to spring the trap; they could have picked any spot along the line and waited until we crossed them. Shot the train up, stopped it, pulled us out and executed us..."

"Uh, what's all this now? Who's executin' who?" asked Stovetop, her voice rising. "I sure as heck weren't warned about—"

"Shut up," Snake snapped. To Twilight, he said, "You see where I'm going with this? But despite all that, we arrived here without incident."

Another inconsistency occurred to Twilight. "Not to mention the train in front of us. We'd be stopping at the station anyway, right? Using another train to block our path and force us to stop is just redundant."

Snake grunted to himself again. Twilight deemed it a thoughtful grunt. "This doesn't add up." He stared out the window, his thoughts a mystery, before meeting Twilight's gaze again. "I want a look at the station."

Twilight nodded in agreement and made her way to the train car's door. She swept it open with a flash of her horn and immediately was hit in the face with a blast of hot afternoon air. Maybe I should have brought sunscreen, she quipped to herself before hopping out of the train.

Snake followed behind her and stretched to his full height with a satisfied groan. Stovetop lingered in the doorway, glaring at them. "An' what am I supposed to do? This train' ain't gonna turn itself around, y'know. Certainly not with no passenger train blockin' the way all inconsiderate-like."

In response, Snake walked back to the car and hooked his fingers around the door's handle. "You're an engineer," he said. "Engineer something." Before Stovetop could say anything in response, he slammed the door shut. Twilight swore she saw a momentary smirk of satisfaction cross his face.

The door to the station was left ajar, and a layer of sand had blown into the building – several days' worth, at least. Twilight was braced against the wall on one side of the door; Snake was opposite her, with his tranquilizer gun in his hands. From her vantage point, she could see through the crack in the door, just inside the building, facing toward the counter behind the station's service window. Snake's eyes met Twilight's; she cast a quick glance into the building, then back to Snake, and gave a little shake of her head – no, she didn't see anything.

Snake nodded, took his left hand away from his gun, and raised three fingers. He silently counted them off. Three... two... Twilight spared the train and the trail of abandoned luggage behind her an anxious glance, before swallowing her worries and returning to the task at hoof.

At one, Snake shoved the door the rest of the way open, and Twilight leaped into the room, her horn alight. Snake followed after, pivoting to train his gun on the end of the room Twilight had her back to. The room was bathed in the glow of her aura, and by its light she saw more of the same scene that had greeted her and Snake when they disembarked from the train.

The station was a modest structure. Two parallel benches, covered in scattered personal belongings and luggage, ran the along the center of the room. At one end of the room – the end she was facing – were timetables, arrivals and departures for the trains in and out of Dodge, as well as two ticket windows facing the outside. Opposite that was a little office that may have started life as a closet, with rusty chicken-wire meshes for windows. Somepony had been painting the office door, but left the job unfinished. The bottom was baby blue, while the top remained a sallow shade of yellow. It must have been a pretty recent job, too – Twilight noted a roller and tray of blue paint sitting on the floor.

It's like the painter quit halfway through.

"Clear," Snake said from behind her. A red dot danced across the wall as he swept his gun from one end of the room to the other. "Empty, full of abandoned luggage. Consistent with what we found outside."

Twilight nodded her agreement. "And you see that door?" she said, gesturing toward the office. "The blue paint looks pretty fresh, but the job is unfinished. As if whoever was in charge of doing it—"

"Stopped halfway through?"

"Exactly," Twilight said in a testy tone. She didn't enjoy being interrupted.

Snake chewed his bottom lip, an unhealthy habit that Twilight noticed slipping out whenever he went a while without a smoke. "How's it look on the inside?"

"Haven't checked. But if you want to have a look—"

Snake advanced toward the office before she could finish her sentence. Be my guest, she thought sourly. She watched him peer through the office's wire mesh. "Nothing back here," said Snake, casting a glance her way. "Alive or dead. And yet..."

"What is it?" asked Twilight.

"A hunch." Snake stepped in front of the half-painted door. With one hand he held his pistol, while in his other he gripped the knob, turning. "Locked. Doesn't feel very solid, though." He drew back a step.

"Hang on," said Twilight, trotting to stand beside him. "I happen to be a pretty good horn at lock-picking. We'll have that open—"

Snake planted his back foot on the ground, spun in place, and lashed out with a kick that knocked the door off its top hinge and splintered the frame where it met the lock. He leaned his weight against the bottom half of the door and shoved, and the door toppled backward into the office.

"...In a jiffy." Twilight heaved an exasperated sigh. "I'd very much appreciate it if you'd let me finish a sentence from time to time."

"Noted." Snake lifted the door and tossed it back into the waiting room, then made an 'after you' gesture with his arms. Shooting him a look of irritation, Twilight stepped inside, her horn illuminating the dark, confined space. The room looked not at all out of the ordinary – a half-melted wicker candle on a tiny writing desk, a stamp and an ink pad beside it, stacks of unsold tickets underneath. There was a safe braced against the near wall, its door carelessly left half-open. The light from her aura glinted off the pile of gold bits in the safe.

"You said you had a hunch?" Maybe he just wanted to vent – he did seem to enjoy kicking that door down.

A calendar was pinned against the wall of the office. Snake ripped it free, inspected it for a moment, then tossed it to Twilight. She caught it mid-air with her magic. "I'm not too sure that my calendar and yours align perfectly," he said. "What day is it today? "

"The 30th," Twilight answered automatically. "Wednesday."

"And what's the last day marked on that calendar?"

Twilight read it – most of the days on the calendar were marked off with thick red crosses, but they stopped with three days left in the month. "Sunday. This past Sunday, three days ago." She placed the calendar down on the desk as she considered the implications.

Snake holstered his gun and leaned his weight against the wall. "The balloon came in early this morning," he said. "I didn't show up in Equestria until two days ago. Whatever happened here happened before we encountered Pegasus Wings for the first time. Before I even arrived here." He stared at the vacant waiting room through the wire mesh. "It occurred to me that Trenton might have gotten here overnight somehow – set all this up as a trap for us. But now, that doesn't even seem possible."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that Pegasus Wings was never here," Twilight pointed out. "Or that they weren't responsible for the state of the town. It just means that they didn't do it to lay a trap for us."

But even as she said the words, she found herself unable to answer the all-important question of why. She saw no strategic significance to Dodge; it was a backwater frontier town. The only things that made it worth putting on the map were the junction and the ranch. From what the mayor had told them about what happened in the mountain junction, it sounded like they already had a handle on the rails, and she doubted that cherries were vital to Macbeth's endgame. It's not unlike Ponyville, come to think of it, she realized. But Ponyville has greater strategic value, assuming Macbeth really does have an interest in keeping myself and the girls under hoof. And it's much closer to their area of operations. Trekking out to Dodge and taking over the town would be a strategic blunder.

"What's here that would be worth anything to a revolutionary army?" Snake asked. "The rail, maybe, but if they were after that, Ponyville would have made a more opportune target. More convenient, too, since it's right on their castle's doorstep. And burning the mountain junction only closed the rails running north from Ponyville. That indicates an interest in regulating the flow of traffic running in that direction. But southbound trains? Off their radar. Besides..." He opened his arms for emphasis. "If they were going to take over the town – for whatever reason – this isn't how they'd go about it."

He wasn't wrong at all. They'd seen the same strategic flaws in that hypothetical scenario, a fact which annoyed Twilight on an irrational level. But a part of her – a very stubborn part – wasn't ready to accept that their time had indeed been wasted. "The letter named Dodge specifically. There had to be a reason why we were told to come here – here, out of all the places we could possibly have been lured to."

"Maybe not," said Snake. "It's far enough away from Ponyville that a round trip would keep us occupied for a while. That's time we could be investing in something more productive. Something that could check their next move. Could be this was all a wild goose chase. Could be that was the plan all along – nothing more to it than keeping us out of the picture for an extended period of time."

"I don't accept that," said Twilight, as the cynic in her accepted Snake's idea as a very real possibility. "Look, we're here now; we're not likely to be going anywhere for the time being. And something is very wrong here that merits investigation. Let's make the most of the situation. We'll just do a sweep of the town, alright? And if we don't like what we see, then I'll..."

Admit that my friend is probably dead?

"...Concede the point."

Snake's frown deepened. She could sense his frustration at his arguments being dismissed out of hoof like that, and felt a stab of guilt. She'd find a way to make it up to him later, she promised herself.

"Where do we start?" Snake's voice was a cold monotone.

"There's a door on the other side of the room – opposite from the one we came in. That leads out into the town square," said Twilight. "A plaza, some buildings. There's a general store, the town sheriff, the post office, a clinic, what passes for a town hall, and an Appleloosa Apple Pies franchise."

Snake's eye twitched – perhaps a sign that his patience was finally hitting its limit. "Lots of ground to cover. We're burning daylight as it is."

Twilight looked past him, out toward the derelict train. "What else are we gonna do to pass the time? Pull on each other's ears?"

Snake emitted a barely audible huff of breath that might have been a laugh. His jaw worked for a long moment before he nodded his acquiescence. Without another word, he left the claustrophobic office and crossed the room toward the exit into town. He nudged the door open, braced his back against the wall beside it, and peered out into the street. "It's pretty exposed," he muttered. "Wide open, no cover." He knelt and glanced at Twilight. "You first. I'll hang back and cover you, move up when it's clear." He tapped his index finger against the grip of his tranquilizer gun.

"Sounds good." She tried to project a calm, collected demeanor, but the situation ratcheted her sense of anxiety upward, and her hope at finding Rainbow Dash alive was starting to diminish. Having something to focus on helped, but only so much. She felt like a wreck that lurched forward on pure inertia, and worse, she was pretty sure that Snake could tell. Either she was transparent, or he'd become an expert at reading pony body language during his short stay in Equestria.

Perhaps both.

"That's a sport where I come from, by the way."

Twilight, jarred out of her self-reflection, shook her head. "Come again?"

"Competitive ear-pulling. It's a sport where I'm from."

Twilight searched Snake's face for any hint that he was pulling something of hers, but it remained set in that stony, all-business scowl. I guess that's just what a species with fully articulated digits does for fun. "Your home sounds weird."

Snake snorted, raised his pistol to eye level, and waved it insistently. "Get going."

They closed the apple pie shop. I guess it's cherries or nothing out here.

The green building that stood in front of her had once borne a swinging sign with a shiny red apple, advertising the Appleloosa-style apple treats sold therein – fritters, pies, brown betties, and a plethora of others that Applejack would no doubt have enjoyed expounding upon were she present. In place of that sign was one displaying a frothing tankard of... something. A pair of swinging doors marked the entrance.

Correction: cherries or booze or nothing.

Dodge proper looked and felt more desolate than the station. There were no scattered belongings or personal possessions left abandoned in the plaza the way there had been at the station. Food carts stood unattended and forgotten, and the air was thick with the gag-inducing reek of rotten fruit. Twilight saw a wheelbarrow of cherries leaning against the general store, bearing a sign that advertised them at twelve bits a pound. The juicy-looking cherry on the placard contrasted with the brown, green-furred mass in the barrow.

What's more, there wasn't any sign that anything violent had taken place, no traces of activity from Pegasus Wings. Sunday the 27th was more likely than not just another day of business as usual, it seemed.

Until it wasn't.

The saloon in front of her looked homey and inviting, with its broad windows, bright green paint job, and swinging doors painted with colorful images of hearts, cherries, and cherries in the shape of hearts. But the room behind the doors was dark – the windows were shuttered, and though she could discern the shapes of furniture beyond the doors, she couldn't see anything in greater detail.

Twilight circled around to the saloon's side entrance, a small door with a dirt-smudged square window. She tried peering through the window, but a blind was pulled down from the inside. She turned the knob and tried pushing the door open, but it was bolted shut. Twilight scowled. The town seemed intent on stymieing her at every turn.

Something caught her eye on the wall beside the door. Twilight leaned closer, squinting, to examine it. There were markings, holes poked into the wooden paneling, two sets of four that ran parallel to one another, ascending up the wall toward the open second storey window above the door. They looked like claw marks, like a cat had climbed up the side of the wall to get inside the saloon from the upstairs.

A very big cat, by the look of it. The marks were spread far apart; whatever made them had to have paws the size of frying pans. That rules Opalescence out, at least.

It wasn't just claw marks, though. Interspaced with them were thin lines with a gentle upward curve, shallow grooves cut into the wall. Twilight ran a hoof over one of the lines, frowning. Now, what could have made this, I wonder? Some kind of climbing tool? A pickaxe, maybe, but the shape was all wrong for that. Could be from something else re-purposed as a climbing tool. Like a spade, or something. Twilight edged the tip of her hoof against one of them, surprised at how well it fit into the groove.

Or maybe they're from... hooves?

She stepped away from the wall, staring at it incredulously. Something with claws and hooves? Her face scrunched up with concentration. A draconequus's anatomy might fit the bill. Discord couldn't have broken free again, but maybe there were more of his kind in the world. Including here, in Dodge? That seems unlikely. And yet... something had to have made those marks. Something went to the trouble of climbing in through the upstairs window, bypassing the front entrance altogether. Something mysterious and potentially anatomically unfamiliar.

Something about it niggled at Twilight, something queerly familiar, like a half-remembered fragment of a fever dream. Not a draconequus, no, but something else... something...

Twilight let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her forehead. Deja vu. Nothing more.

Whatever climbed in through that window might still be in the saloon. The idea of coming face-to-face with such a creature set her nerves on edge, but a lead was a lead. Twilight circled around the rest of the saloon in search of another entrance. There was none – no back door, no door at the opposite wall leading in from the alley. Front door or nothing, I suppose.

Twilight returned to the front of the saloon and warily eyed the cheerful, inviting swinging doors. She breathed deeply to maintain her composure and glanced back at the train station for reassurance. It wasn't so far away that she couldn't see Snake kneeling in the doorway, his tranquilizer gun held at the ready. Confident as she was in her ability to defend herself, it still put her a little more at ease to know that someone was watching her back. Even if that someone had a grudge.

Twilight inhaled and exhaled deeply, and planted a hoof on the saloon's front step, her hoof making a hollow clopping sound as it came into contact with the wood.

As if in response, she heard something move inside the saloon.

Twilight froze.

Hooves and legs came into sight, visible beneath the swinging doors. The doors creaked open. Somepony staggered onto the porch, pushing the doors open with his face. The sight of him made Twilight draw in a sharp, hissing breath through her clenched teeth in shock. It was an earth pony, a stallion, his coat as faded white as his mane, yet tinted with a hint of blue. He was panting, his pale tongue hanging limply from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes – pinprick pupils stark black against colorless irises and sclera – rolled left and right, unfocused.

"Sweet Celestia," Twilight swore, her urge to help overriding her fear of the unknown. She stepped higher onto the saloon's stairs to come closer to him. "What happened to you?"

The stallion's ears twitched and turned toward Twilight at the sound of her voice. His eyes swiveled together to focus on her, and his mouth opened, emitting a choked rattle.

Twilight drew closer to the stallion, taking another step onto the stairs. "It's okay; I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I'm here to help."

The stallion's lips pulled back into a snarl, and he staggered forward, inelegantly but swiftly. Twilight, caught off guard, scrambled hurriedly away from the porch, avoiding the stallion but tripping on the stairs and falling onto her back. The stallion's teeth snapped as another rattle clawed its way from his throat, and he shambled with growing strength down the stairs.

A tuft of red feather suddenly appeared in the stallion's neck. He jerked from the impact of the tranquilizer dart, but didn't slow his gait. He lumbered toward Twilight, jaws open, but when he was finally upon her, she raised her hind legs and used his momentum to buck him up and over her head. He sailed through the air and struck the ground behind Twilight, a tangled pile of limbs and hooves. Twilight clambered back to all fours and turned to face him, bracing herself for another attack.

He rose, but didn't lunge at her with the shocking swiftness of his initial lunge. If anything, his movements were slower, clumsier. He swayed from side-to-side as he walked, his legs wobbly, his eyes drooping. A low growl gurgled in his throat as he came closer to Twilight, but each step was less certain than the last, and he was losing speed besides. Then his jaw went slack, his eyes shut and did not reopen, and he collapsed forward with his rump stuck in the air.

Twilight held her ground, waiting to see if he'd rise again. He didn't. She edged closer to him and lowered her head to his, tilting her ear toward his nose.

A gust of breath, hot and dry, shot into her ear. Twilight scampered backward, half from surprise and half in disgust, rubbing her ear as if to scrape the germs off of it. The stallion stayed where he was, in his disarming, butt-up pose. A faint trickle of blood ran from the spot where the tranquilizer dart had pricked him, and its red feathers ruffled gently in the afternoon breeze.

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. He's alive. He's alive, he's unconscious but alive, everything's fine, and... and eww, he breathed into my ear!

Gravel crunched beneath rubber soles as Snake sidled up to her, his tranquilizer gun still trained on the stallion. "You hurt?" he asked.

Twilight rubbed her ear one more time and shook her head. "Thanks."

"I doubt Stovetop would have left me back on the train without you," Snake grunted. He holstered his tranquilizer gun and squatted beside the fallen stallion, looking it over from nose to tail. "Tranquilizers took their time kicking in. It should have dropped right away." He cupped his chin. "You ever see anything like this before?"

"This, specifically? No." Twilight knelt next to Snake. "But the color thing is familiar, if nothing else." She thought back to her encounter with Discord, to the way her friends' coats and manes had drained of color, desaturated until they all but turned slate-grey.

"How so?" Snake asked.

"His coat should be much brighter than it is. I've seen something that could have that effect on a pony before. A certain kind of magic. But the only one who could use it is... safely under lock and key, let's say." The draconequus connection again. It couldn't be, could it?

Twilight examined the stallion more closely. "I think I recognize him. Blue coat, white mane... yeah, he was here the last time I came to Dodge. I saw him here in the square, pulling a hay cart. Never got his name." Do they have the same cutie mark? Twilight glanced at his flank; it was blank, nothing but more bare, blue-tinted fur.

Oh. "He doesn't have a cutie mark."

"A... cutie mark?" Snake repeated. The phrase sounded awkward and unnatural in his voice. "Pinkie was saying something about that this morning. Some kind of tattoo you get when you find your life's calling?"

"That's an awfully mundane and reductive way of putting it," said Twilight. "See, everypony has a certain talent, something they're destined to spend their life doing. Something they love. They spend foalhood searching for that talent, and when it finally comes to them, their cutie mark appears on their flank – a symbolic representation of that talent."

"So it's... biological? Like a pony puberty thing? What, this pony was a slacker?"

"Not necessarily... it's not unheard of for a pony to reach adulthood without getting their cutie mark, but it is exceedingly rare. He might have had it removed, but I don't understand why anypony would do such a thing." Macbeth's flank had been red and raw where his cutie mark had been, she recalled, but he was hardly a typical case.

Snake hummed thoughtfully in response to that. "Not the only thing that was off about him, though. Or even the most unusual thing." His brow crinkled, and his bandanna with it. "He came at you like he was gonna take a bite out of you."

"Or several," said Twilight. "He was acting feral. Mindless, just attacking without thinking. I don't know what to make of that." Another memory drifted into her mind – Spike, perched on her back, nervously postulating the possibility of zombies in an empty Ponyville.

Impossible. Equestria may have been full of fantastic fauna, but zombies were strictly relegated to the realm of urban legend and fantasy. "What about you?" Twilight asked. "Have you ever see anything like it before?"

Snake shook his head. "But then again, I fell asleep during Night of the Living Dead."

That sounds like a difficult night to sleep through.

"I'll tell you what, though; it'd be stupid of us to assume that there weren't more of them out there. Hell, for all we know, this is what happened to the whole town. Something happened to turn them all into... that." Snake rose to his feet, giving a last, pensive look at the stallion. He hesitated for only a moment before he continued speaking. "We shouldn't stay here any longer. I say we go back to the train, grab that engineer, and book it out of here. If taking the train is out of the question, then we'll find some other way back to town. There's gotta be something – a handcar somewhere on the rails, even."

He was right. He made sense. Whatever was going on in Dodge, it wasn't their problem just now. They'd resolve the crisis on their plates and come back to this one when there was time for it. Move from one emergency to the next, maybe even get used to it after a fashion.

"And Dash?" Forcing the question out felt like sticking a knife in her belly. She knew what Snake's answer would be; she didn't want to hear it. All the same, she asked.

To her surprise, Snake said nothing. So she supplied the answer for him, and the knife twisted hard. "She's not out here, is she?"

This time, Snake did reply. "I'm sorry." The words were spoken not unkindly.

A gentle wind rustled Twilight's mane. Her bangs caught in the breeze and waved at the top of her vision. She should have been crying – that's what good friends did in situations like this – but she didn't even have the urge to. She felt hollow. She felt like she had no more tears to shed. "You didn't even like her."

"No," Snake admitted. "But I know you did."

Twilight shut her eyes. The wind washed over her, warm and comforting.

The shrill shriek of a steam whistle pierced the silence of the town, and Twilight's eyes snapped open. She instinctively whirled about in the direction of the noise and flared her legs, her aura shimmering to life around her horn. Snake, likewise, fell into a fighting posture and swiveled to aim his gun in the direction of the station. The whistle cut off for a long, tense moment before blaring again in quick bursts. "Stovetop," she said, steel creeping into her voice. We left her alone. But there hadn't been any sign of life out there, no feral ponies in the station, or out by the track. The only places they could possibly have come from were the town itself and—

Twilight cursed her short-sightedness. Stovetop checked the engine, but only hollered at the passenger cars. She must have taken it at face value when nopony hollered back. We didn't check them ourselves – we should have checked them ourselves!

The whistle cut off abruptly, and Twilight felt a sickening sensation of worry for the brassy old engineer. Dodge was still as a graveyard, and the only sounds Twilight could hear were the steady breathing of her companion and her pulse thudding in her ears.

Then something struck her from the left side, bowling her over. The glow around her horn vanished from the shock of the sudden attack. She heard snarls, frantic and vicious, and teeth snapping for purchase against her neck, her face, her ear. Twilight warded the attack off with an outstretched hoof, batting at the feral stallion's face as she refocused her magic to counterattack.

With a flash of pink and a sound like a thunderclap, the stallion flew backward, skidding through the sand. Twilight's horn flashed again and a beam struck him in the chest, blasting him back across the plaza and throwing him against the wheelbarrow. It smashed to pieces when his body impacted it, and a pile of rotted cherries rained down upon him.

Twilight, panting, kept her horn trained on the pile. Stay down, she pleaded.

Please be okay, another part of her whispered. Please, please be okay.

The cherries that hadn't been pulverized into mush by the impact shifted and rolled down the stallion's body as he rose again, covered in pulpy fruit mold. Slivers of wood and bent nails stuck from his coat, and a gash running from shoulder to elbow split the skin on his left side. But, untroubled by any of his injuries, he shook off the cherry gunk and fixed his feral, furious gaze on Twilight again, and took a wide, ponderous step toward her

Twilight's heart sank. Motes of light danced around her horn.

From beside her came a sound so loud and sudden that it made her jump, and a hot piece of metal bounced against her flank. A hole appeared in the middle of the stallion's forehead, and his neck jerked back as though he'd been struck. The stallion crumpled, and did not move again.

Twilight's hind legs gave out, and she fell to her haunches. Memories, sensations, drifted back to her: the sulfury smell of cordite, the stinging chill of the dungeon, and the gun... The gun had been so light – taking it from its owner, holding it against him, so simple. The trigger, so slender and delicate.

"Sugarcube, are you alright?" Applejack's voice rang clear as day in her mind

He was laughing when he died.

"Twilight." She felt a sudden shove, and the tight grip of a human hand on her shoulder. "Twilight!"

The sensations passed back into memory as her mind centered on the present. The frigid dungeon was a million miles away, the human now entombed in a cairn of ancient stone. In front of her lay the stallion, unmoving, amidst a reeking mass of rotten fruit. "You didn't have to kill him," Twilight whispered hoarsely.

"'He' shrugged off a tranquilizer. 'He' was covered in wounds, and didn't even seem to notice." Snake's lethal pistol, the one he picked up in the castle, was trained on the stallion, as though he expected it to get up and attack them again. "That thing is completely brain-dead; you said so yourself."

I wasn't talking to you.

Silence reigned again for a few precious seconds before a muffled cacophony broke it – a chorus of guttural moans and wooden thudding, growing in volume and intensity. Fear lanced through Twilight as she realized that the sounds were coming from all around them, from inside the other buildings.

Snake swept his pistol from one building to the next. "We need to make a break for it. Take our chances in the desert and follow the rails. Maybe we get lucky."

"And Stovetop?" asked Twilight.

Snake only shook his head.

We shouldn't have left her alone. We should have checked the other train. I should have... She cut the thought off. Time enough for that later.

"They're quick, but I think we can outrun them," said Snake. "We move fast enough, and we should be able to—"

The door to the general store burst open, aborting Snake's sentence, and a tidal wave of blank-flanked ponies swept forth, their manes and coats likewise drained of color. Then the post office's door likewise broke, and the windows at the front of the town hall shattered; more and more of the feral ponies stormed from the buildings, forming a stampede that barreled toward them from all sides. They came in twos, in tens, in dozens, maybe hundreds, in a line of ravenous grey death that encircled the saloon and closed upon them rapidly.

Snake and Twilight looked at one another; an unspoken thought passed between them, and together, they ran inside the only redoubt they had.

They pushed through the saloon doors together and were immediately met with a pair of snarling mares. Snake shot one down and trained his gun on the other, but the second closed the gap too quickly; his next shot went wild as the mare's teeth clamped down hard on his left forearm, clenching tightly enough to break his suit and the skin beneath. Snake growled, a mixture of pain and anger in his voice.

Without thinking, Twilight leaped, caught the pony by the neck with her forelegs, shoved her hooves into its mouth, and pried its jaws open. The two tumbled to the ground, and before the mare could lunge at her, Snake dispatched it with a point-blank shot to the back of its head that left Twilight's ears ringing.

Snake, his forearm bloody where he was bitten, immediately turned to the doorway as the first ponies in the stampede, three in all, started pushing through the doors. One shot to each left them sprawling in the doorway.

The door was a natural chokepoint; no doubt Snake intended to fend them off until he expended his ammunition. But Twilight had a different idea, and she stretched out with her senses. The furniture filling the room was of varying ages and quality; some pieces were more solid than others, but they didn't all need to be perfect for her plan to work . She wrapped her magic aura around every single one that she could find – stools and tables and benches alike – and flung them all toward the door. Snake fired another shot through the door and turned his head in time to duck before he could be struck in the head by a piano bench.

Twilight piled everything against the doorway in a disheveled heap, blocking the saloon's entrance completely. She focused hard; a white light built at the tip of her horn, and the aura around the furniture grew brighter and more intense. The light winked out, but the aura remained, and Twilight fell to the floor, gasping from the exertion, but smiled weakly.

Snake took her by the knee and helped her back to her hooves. "What did you do?" he asked.

Twilight smiled wider, showing teeth. "Adhesive spell," she said between pants. She heard the muffled sound of hooves beating vainly against wood. "They can pound that thing 'til Winter Wrap-Up and it won't give way."

"No kidding?" Snake held still, listening to the groans and rattles and beating hooves, then shrugged. "Good thinking. So how do we get back out?"

"Well..." She breathed deeply to steady herself as reality started to set in. All she did was ensure the ponies couldn't get in. It didn't solve the problem of how they were going to get back out.

"You have no idea, do you?" said Snake, frowning.

Twilight returned the look. "Excuse me; I was a little preoccupied with the immediate concern of not getting eaten alive. You're welcome, by the way."

Snake's scowled. He opened his mouth, prepared to retort, but stopped and turned back to the front of the saloon instead.

And here she'd been bracing for another exchange of fire with him. She was almost disappointed. "Sorry for snapping. Just... give me a minute to think."

Her breathing had more or less returned to normal, and her heart no longer pounded in her chest the way it had when the horde first appeared. Now calmer, she looked around the room, stopping to note how spacious the saloon looked with the furniture piled away. There was a bar, naturally, fully stocked with a generous variety of spirituous beverages. A staircase at the back led up to the saloon's second floor; beside those stairs, against the far wall, was a small stage with a dusty old piano propped up in one corner. She'd noticed the piano when stretching out with her senses, but chose to leave it where it sat – there was a music teacher or two from her schoolfilly days that would never forgive her if she defiled such an instrument.

She tried to think of an alternate exit. The only other way out was the side door she'd inspected from the outside. Twilight considered whether or not she and Snake could use it to slip past the crowd, but decided against trying. It was too close to the crowd – all it took was one noticing them, and that was it. She was sure Snake had come to the same conclusion.

Snake unlatched one the shutters at the nearby front window and peered out at the town, and the steadily growing crowd pounding against Twilight's barricade. "Dozens of them out there. Maybe as many as a hundred, maybe more. How did so many of them fit in those buildings?"

There was a sudden crack as a pony smashed its head against the now partially unshuttered window. A fracture spiderwebbed across the glass from the point of impact, but the window held. The pony's skull split from the force of his swing, and a glob of dark red matter remained stuck to the glass like an unfortunate bug. Snake slammed the shutter and threw the latch back into place, then backpedaled with his gun raised.

Despite herself, Twilight couldn't help a little chuckle at Snake's reaction. "Yeah... maybe let's keep those shut for now."

Snake glowered at her, lowering his gun. "Thought you were thinking of a way out. Got anything yet?"

"Not unless you count liquor and dust bunnies." Twilight gestured around the vacant saloon. "No feasible way to escape that I can see. We could try waiting them out – maybe they'll lose interest after a while."

Snake folded his arms. "That's not plan A, is it?"

"It's not my preference," Twilight admitted, "but I'm not seeing any other alternatives. Unless you want to try fighting your way out." They seem to die when you shoot them. She would prefer not to fight their way out.

Snake shook his head. "Speaking conservatively, there's probably at least a hundred of them out there. I don't have enough ammo for all of them. We try shooting our way out, it won't end well for us. We try sneaking our way out—"

"And we'll probably get mobbed, left with the same problem as if we tried fighting our way out." Twilight nodded in the direction of the side door. "Yeah, I thought of that too."

Snake canted his head to one side.

"For the time being, we're stuck here." Twilight waved a hoof in the air. "May as well get comfy. I'd tell you to pull up a chair, but that would just be ironic."

A wry smile played across Snake's mouth. He sighed, and eyed the bar. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey and a shot glass sitting on its polished surface, its label facing away from her, next to a dishrag stained cruddy brown from years of use.

What, is he thirsty? She wondered if humans could even get drunk off of pony spirits.

"Tell me something," said Snake. He walked over to the bar as he spoke and picked up the bottle of whiskey, turning it to examine more closely. "You've got manticores and timberwolves and God only knows what else here in Equestria. Are bloodthirsty zombie ponies outside the realm of possibility?"

"One hundred percent," said Twilight. "I mean, there are stories, sure. Campfire fodder, or schlocky thrillers sold in pulp magazines, but no credible accounts of the dead reanimating anywhere. None that I'm aware of, anyway. And these don't really fit the kind of descriptions you'd find in those, either." Apart from their mindlessness and their apparent appetite for pony flesh, little about them resembled the shambling, rotted corpses from zombie lore. The graying, the loss of their cutie marks, their speed, were all completely unfamiliar to her.

"Pretty much the same where I'm from. Then again, it's hard to argue against the evidence." He ran his right hand over the wound on his forearm and squeezed it gently. "You got your hooves in one of their mouths. Were you bitten at all?"

"Bitten? Uh..." Twilight glanced down at her hooves and inspected them from front to back. "Not that I can see. Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" Snake asked, shooting her a look. He lifted his bloody forearm. "You see this, right? I doubt I'll turn from it, different physiology and all that, but you're at risk if you get bitten."

"At risk of...?"

"Of... turning? Into a zombie?" He spoke slowly, as though to a child. "Because you contracted the zombie virus from the bite?"

Twilight stared at him in bemusement. "That's absolutely ridiculous. Everypony knows that zombies are created by voodoo witch doctors channeling fell spirits into the corpses of the recently deceased via mystic song and dance." She scoffed. "'Zombie virus.' Who in the hay cooked that up?"

"Don't give me shit for it; I didn't make the rules," Snake muttered.

"Point is, I'm in no danger of turning into a zombie from being bitten. And even if I was?" Twilight held her hooves up, one after the other, for Snake's inspection. "Look. No bites."

"Right. Okay." Snake turned back to the bar, picked up the dishrag in one hand, sniffed it, and made a disgusted noise. "So does that mean Zecora has a horde of zombies stashed away somewhere? Because she had 'voodoo witch doctor' written all over—"

"Zecora. Is not. A voodoo witch doctor!" Twilight snapped. "And zombies aren't real! These are not zombies! Try to wrap your brain around it!"

"Fine." Snake leaned his back against the bar. "You're the expert. If they're not zombies, then what are they?"

Twilight fumbled for an answer, came up with nothing, and sighed with annoyance.

The answer came from a deep voice that thundered down the stairs behind them. "Neither truly alive, nor truly dead. Yet more familiar than perhaps you're comfortable with."

Twilight and Snake whirled to face the intruder, braced for combat.

A thing descended the stairs – no pony, no human, but a hodgepodge of distinct animal parts. It was quadrupedal, its thick coat of fur midnight blue, its body and hind legs pony-shaped, but its forelegs more feline than equine – stocky, muscular, and ending in paws – and its head and face more canine than anything else, with pointed ears standing on end and a long, tapering muzzle tipped by a round black nose. Its eyes were slate-grey, its pupils black pinpricks against them, and a pair of canine teeth – one of them chipped – poked from its top lip. A gray mane ran down its neck, with tufts of hair poking up behind and around its ears. A cat's tail snaked from its hind end where the wispy tail of a pony ought to have been.

Paws and hooves. So that's what climbed the wall.

It was so familiar, yet so unlike anything Twilight had ever seen. Deja vu tugged again at the edges of her mind – that same feeling of recollection.

"Anypony that walks on this good earth carries that which which gives us thought and motion and a sense of self and purpose," said the blue hodgepodge on the stairs. "The soul, if you will. But what is a pony without that soul? When its very essence is cut to the quick and all that makes a pony bled away, what remains is but a golem – a husk, with no sense of self or reason. A soulless shell driven by pure instinct. It walks, it breathes. But it's capable of no more than that. And there, but for the grace of all that is good and holy in this world, go you."

The thing raised a paw at them and waved amicably. "Hello. You must be the ones who stirred the hornet's nest outside. I wish you hadn't, but what's done is done."

"Stay where you are," Snake said, cautiously advancing a step with his gun aimed at the thing on the stairs. "Are you responsible for what happened here?"

The thing's mouth curled into a rancid grin.

Twilight stepped in front of Snake, placing a hoof on his stomach as if holding him back. "Snake, wait." She looked at the grotesque thing on the stairs. "You. You work for the Princess." She sensed the truth in her words as she spoke them, even as she wondered how she could possibly know that.

Snake's gaze darted to Twilight, then back at his target. "You know this thing?"

She ignored him, and took another step toward the stairs. "You work for the Princess," she repeated. "Don't you?"

The thing on the stairs gazed down at her for a long time before responding. "I haven't met with her majesty face-to-face in years." He padded softly down the rest of the stairs, his steps almost completely silent – even the hooves on his hind legs were muffled. "For some reason, she doesn't like having me around. We have other lines of communication these days." He arrived at the bottom of the stairs, eyes fixed on Twilight's.

"But you still work for the Princess?" asked Twilight.

"In a manner of speaking. I serve the realm. Princess Celestia happens to speak for the realm, so I serve at her pleasure. As do you." He bowed his head slightly. "The Element of Magic herself, as I live and breathe. It's an honor." He eyed Snake. "You, on the other hoof, I'm having trouble placing."

"Don't strain yourself thinking about it," said Snake. His grip on his pistol was still tight, his finger laid across the trigger guard, but he lowered it away from the newcomer. "What, exactly, are you? And what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," it purred. "On both counts." It turned away from Twilight and hopped lightly onto the stage in a catlike bound. It made a grand show of examining the piano in the corner.

"I suppose I could tell you what brings me out here... but I didn't get this far in life by divulging state secrets." One paw pad danced gently along a yellowed, faux-ivory piano key. "But I can tell you that I'm not your enemy. Like I said, I serve the realm, as does your pony friend there. As long as your actions benefit the realm, we'll be on the same side."

He pressed down on the key, and its tuneless song echoed in the empty saloon. "To put it in simple terms, I solve problems for the Princess. Messy, untidy, oft embarrassing problems. When something comes up that she either cannot, or will not, face through official channels, she sends for me. She gives me a mission, and the latitude to work, and I solve the problem. Cleanly, elegantly... and, above all, discreetly."

"Cute euphemism for wetwork." Snake's gravelly voice was thick with contempt. "You're a spy. An operator."

The thing's eyes widened. "An... 'operator?' Hmm." His brows knit together as he repeated the word, turning it over in his mouth, tasting its sound on his lips. "Operator... operator... yes, I quite like that. In times long past, my office was known as the Penumbra, but Princess Celestia doesn't particularly care for that title, and so it's fallen into disuse. 'Operator,' though... so much more modern and enigmatic... and lacking in the pompous pretension characteristic of antiquity." He smiled. "Operator, then. It will serve as a title. And as a name, if you wish."

"Glad I could give you something to pad the old ego," said Snake.

"The old ego doesn't need much padding." The Operator's mood seemed to improve with each remark Snake made against him.

Once, Twilight may have been naive enough to believe that a pacifistic, disarmed Equestria could remain prosperous without some sort of intelligence network intercepting and dealing with potential threats. With age came a certain measured cynicism, though – needless to say, she hadn't believed that for a very long time. Indeed, it was a topic she learned years ago not to broach to the Princess. But the Operator's slick, oily disposition and apparent pride in his work made it seem so much more unsavory than she would have imagined. Her mind went back to the castle dungeon, and the instruments of torture she and Applejack had found, to the ancient tome sitting in her library with its worshipful praise for a conquering deity. Equestria's veneer of friendship and harmony seemed a little less convincing.

"As discourteous as it is to demand an explanation of you without providing one of my own, I'm curious," said the Operator. "What brings the Element of Magic all the way out to the fringes of Equestrian territory? And without the other Elements, even. I thought you were all joined at the hip, but you seemed to have replaced them with..." He cocked his head at Snake. "I'm sorry, but who are you, exactly?"

"Her plus one," Snake replied dryly.

Twilight felt the knife dig back into her gut. "We're looking for a friend of ours – somepony who we believe was kidnapped and brought here." A thought struck her. "Maybe you've seen her – a pegasus pony, with a cyan coat and a rainbow mane?"

The Operator scoffed. "Oh, it's hard to say. There are so many rainbow-maned pegasi in Equestria that I just can't tell them apart. Who knows if we'd even be thinking of the same one? Maybe it would help if you gave me a name."

"Just answer the question, please," she said, testily.

The Operator chuckled at his own wit. "I haven't seen that particular pony around town, no. In fact, I haven't seen many ponies around town that weren't gray blank-flanks"

She hadn't been expecting an affirmative answer anyway, but the extra stab hurt all the same.

"You have my sympathy. That and two bits will buy you a cherry at market, but it's all I can give you just now, I'm afraid." The Operator hopped from the stage and stalked past Twilight, to one of the golems that Snake had shot earlier. He reached out with a paw and turned its head over slowly, examining the entry and exit wounds and murmuring thoughtfully. "Though, if it's any consolation, I'd say this mare's having a worse time of it than you are." He smirked at Twilight. "Having your soul cut out tends to ruin your day."

His motions stirred the blood pooling beneath the golem's head. Twilight averted her eyes and suppressed a shudder. "What could have created something like this?" she asked. "I've been studying magic for what feels like my whole life. I know the principles and intricacies of spell-casting inside and out, but what you're talking about – this stuff about bleeding souls and creating golems – is a whole different league from everything I've ever learned about magic."

"Just so," said the Operator. "It's an old art – a dark art – and one that requires reservoirs of magical energy far beyond what any normal unicorn could ever hope to project. There aren't many ponies alive who could hope to tap into that kind of power."

"It's a short list," Twilight agreed. "Princess Celestia could, I'm sure. Princess Luna." I could, maybe. The thought chilled her; she pushed it out of her mind.

"Luna could, perhaps. Certain mages who sit on the Academy's board might have the potential. Celestia? Beyond a doubt, if she cared to." He stood and backed away from the golem, brushing off his paw on his chest. Streaks of red clung to him, barely visible against his dark blue coat. "But having the power to do so means little without the knowledge. And said knowledge has been lost for eons."

Snake voiced the thought before she could. "Then how do you know about it?"

The Operator's grin was ghastly.

Twilight dared to look back at the golem, keeping her gaze below its neck. "Is there anything that can be done to put them back together?" she asked. "The soul and the body, I mean. Could they... could they somehow be cured of this?"

"Reunite a soul bled from the body with the body from whence it bled?" The Operator tapped his paw against his chin as he considered that, then shrugged. "The kind of wound needed to do such a thing to a pony runs deep. You could stuff something back into the sack that's left over from the bleeding – maybe its old soul, maybe something else entirely – but in all likelihood, it'd just slide right back out the way it came. No, they're beyond your help. Your friend is holding the best medicine for them. I'd worry more about where its soul went, were I you."

Twilight thought about an iron maiden and a drafty dungeon and the broken leg of a— Stop it. Stop it now. Focus. "Why would anypony want to do such a thing in the first place?" she whispered. "Stealing somepony's soul, leaving them like this..." The grotesqueness of it, the idea that anypony could be reduced to such a state, sickened her. This truly is a fate worse than death.

"Consider what one would stand to gain." The Operator slinked to her side and cleared his throat. "Nowadays, nopony besides the Princess herself would remember this, but what we call the soul is – in the most basic sense – nothing more than energy. Powerful energy, but subject to the same laws and restrictions that govern the rest of reality. It can be drawn, transferred, stored and unleashed – never destroyed. But it can also be shaped, molded – forged and synthesized into something new. Even transmuted into flesh, and imbued with a soul of its own."

Magic is something transcendental, her mentor whispered in her mind.

Magic was never meant to be used for horrors like this, she whispered back. But there was no conviction behind the thought.

"In ages past," the Operator continued, "the black arts were used to do just that: to create new life beyond the banality of the equine form. The golem itself is incidental, the leftovers from that process, a shell driven by instinct and a half-remembered shadow of self. They might drift back to their homes, or their old haunts, or to anything remotely familiar, or they might just wander aimlessly, but eventually, they'll drop where they stand and lie dormant unless something catches their attention."

Something seemed to jolt Snake; his expression suddenly lit up. "'Catches their attention'? What do you mean by that?"

"Well," said the Operator, "they might be mindless parodies of life, but they still have senses. Sight, smell, sound, taste. It takes them a while to gather enough steam to so much as stand, much less stagger about, and they don't all do so at the same rate, but if you make enough of a racket – say, from a train's whistle, or a gunshot..." He looked pointedly at Snake. "Eventually, even the heaviest sleeper among them will rise to investigate."

Those golems that Snake had shot came to only after the rest of the ones in town burst out to swarm them. The first one to attack her had been in the saloon with the other two, but he'd gotten up before any of the others. Could that have been why? Could it just have taken notice of her before the others?

Maybe. But there's something else that's off about this.

The gears in Snake's head creaked almost audibly as he processed the Operator's words. His gaze returned to the bar, to the shelves of liquor stored behind it.

"Snake?" asked Twilight with a tentative waver in her voice. "What are you thinking?"

"Give me a second." Snake vaulted over the bar, and began raiding the shelves, gathering bottles of liquor in his arms.

Twilight blinked. All the metaphysical conversation of the past several minutes, and none of it confused her quite as much as her companion just then.

"Well," said the Operator with a sigh, "we can only hope he'll get the help he needs one day."

Something the Operator said stood out to her, too, come to think of it – something that sounded especially out of place. "'Driven by instinct,'" she murmured. Inwardly, she cringed. Shoot, he's got me repeating things now. "One of those things tried to kill me."

"I as well," said the Operator, inclining his head toward the stairs. "There were two up there. They won't trouble anypony anymore."

"Why, though? Try to kill, I mean. Ponies aren't natural predators; we have no killer instinct."

"Who knows? There's quite a bit about these golems that's off. Golems have never been so fleet of hoof as these. They're stronger, too, and hardier, maybe even a bit smarter." He glanced down at the dead golem again. "Someone has tinkered with the recipe. Waste of time and effort. So why...?"

Twilight cocked her head quizzically, waiting for him to finish the thought, but the Operator just looked back up at her with his oily grin. "As for why they're so combative, I believe it has to do with whoever created them in the first place. Perhaps the bleeding of the soul is a two-way process. Perhaps, just as the spellcaster pulls something out of the pony, something of them finds its way into the rudimentary minds of the golems. In this case, a lust for violence that parasitizes their natural instincts." He smiled knowingly at Twilight. "Or perhaps ponies aren't as innocent at heart as you'd like to believe."

He was laughing when he died.

Twilight scowled at the Operator. "Probably the first one."

His grin was rancid, ghastly, and unabating. "Probably."

I may as well have killed him myself.

Twilight heard someone spitting something out of his mouth. A cork with toothy indentations landed at her hooves, accompanied by a tiny splatter of saliva. "What in the..." She looked up, to the bar, and saw an array of bottles set up on the bar. Behind the bar was Snake, walking backward and pouring a bottle of liquor onto the floor.

That answered the question of what he was doing back there. Why remained a complete mystery.

"Alright, I'm just gonna ask," she said after staring failed to tell her anything. "Snake, what are you doing?"

Snake shook the last few drops from the bottle, set it down, grabbed another, and uncorked it, spitting the cork out the corner of his mouth where it, yet again, managed to land at Twilight's hooves. He's got some distance, she thought. It'd be impressive if it weren't so gross.

"Improvising," said Snake. He resumed pouring and walking backward. This bottle lasted until he got to the end of the bar; he quickly pulled another from his cache and went right back at it. "I think I know how we're gonna solve our little siege dilemma."

"How?" Twilight asked in a flat, skeptical tone. "By sterilizing the floor?"

"In a manner of speaking." By now, he'd emerged from behind the bar and was circling toward the center of the room. When he finished dumping out that bottle, he set it aside and turned to Twilight. "We're going to burn this place down."

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of hoofbeats on wood and glass outside.

The Operator was the one to break it. "Setting ourselves on fire. A novel solution, though it hardly seems elegant."

Snake glared at him. "We're not going to be in the building when it happens," he said, speaking to the Operator as though to a child. He pointed out the window. "But they will be."

That brought his actions into focus for her. "We're going to lure them in?"

Snake nodded. "Lure them in, as many as we can, then block the exits and light the fire. They get trapped inside and burn. Any left outside get distracted by the fire, giving us the chance to slip away."

The Operator coughed. "And how, dare I ask, do you plan to make your cunning escape? The saloon is a deathtrap. They'll be pouring en masse from the front door, and the side exit—"

"Is too close to the front door to be an effective means of escape. Yeah, thanks."

Twilight hid a smirk behind a hoof at the flicker of annoyance that played across the Operator's face. High time somepony else got interrupted.

"Additionally," the Operator continued, his voice straining with annoyance, "how do you plan to set this fire of yours without being in the building to set it? One of us would have to stay behind in order to make this work."

"On the contrary," Snake said. "I intend to be out of the building before starting the fire. As for how to set it off..." Snake reached into a pouch on his harness and drew out a tiny cylindrical object. Twilight edged closer to him to get a better look – there was a cap on one side of it, like a pen, attached to the rest of the cylinder by a hinge. Snake thumbed the cap off to reveal a small, shiny red button. Twilight felt an irrational urge to press it.

"This," said Snake, "will allow me to remotely detonate a small explosive placed behind the bar once we're safely outside, which will ignite the alcohol. Once we're out, Twilight can barricade the front door again, leaving them trapped with no way out. We make our getaway."

Twilight's mind quickly rifled through the potential complications. "Is there really enough alcohol in here to ensure that the whole building burns? Because what you're talking about would require copious amounts."

"This is a bar," said Snake.

"Enough combustible alcohol?" Twilight prodded. "I'm not trying to discourage you, Snake, but think about it. You wouldn't just need alcohol; you'd need liquor with a high enough percentage of alcohol by volume to burn. At least a hundred proof."

"This is a country bar." Snake jerked his thumb at the shelves of unopened liquor, at the cache he'd amassed. "Do you have any idea how much rye whiskey is back there? Grain vodka? A hundred proof isn't even close to the average alcohol-by-volume content of the liquor stored in this place. We could burn a dozen bars with it."

Waste of good whiskey. A shame – Twilight really could have used that drink, although schnapps were really more her thing. "That still doesn't explain what you plan on using for our escape route."

"Easy," said Snake. "The second story isn't all that high up. We'll throw open the barricade, block off the stairs with that piano over there, move upstairs when the place fills to capacity, and jump out the window. With them packed in here like sardines, the ground outside should be relatively clear." A genuine smile spread across Snake's face.

Twilight hadn't seen Snake smile like that since meeting him. It suited him, which made Twilight feel guilty about having to burst his bubble. "Uh, maybe that's a safe jump by your standards, but I'm not sure a fall from that height would be quite as good for my health."

"I could do it," said the Operator, casually.

Twilight flushed with consternation. "Nopony likes a contrarian."

The Operator shrugged, sauntered behind the bar, and disappeared below to inspect the beverages that Snake hadn't gathered for his plan.

Just as she'd anticipated, the smile on Snake's face melted back into his familiar scowl. "Well, our options for an escape strategy are limited. If you've got a better idea, I'm open to it."

Twilight's gaze settled on the glowing mass of wooden furniture blocking the main entrance to the saloon. A smile of her own spread across her face.

"Y'know, I think that I just might..."

Snake and Twilight spent the next half hour splashing and dumping bottles of liquor all over the saloon's interior, saturating the floor, the walls, and every other splashable surface, excluding the stairs, where the Operator had decided to perch. He watched them work while draped over the banister, lazily dangling his tail over the rail and sipping from a bottle of Nägermeister he'd found under the bar. When prompted to help, he shrugged, took a pull from the bottle, and belched loudly.

Twilight was tempted to coat him in eighty year old scotch whiskey too, but didn't on the grounds that the Princess might be cross with her for immolating her spy.

As they worked, Twilight explained her modifications to Snake's exit strategy. "So, the plan calls for me to pull down the barricade, letting them in, obviously," she said as Snake poured out a bottle of Stalliongrad vodka on the drapery. "But instead of camping on the stairs and hiding behind that piano, we'll stand up on the stage at the back, out of their reach, and I'll use my magic to create a wall between us and them, a barrier spanning one end of the room to the other."

"You gonna be able to manage one of that scale?" Snake asked, tossing the empty vodka bottle aside. "I've seen you use smaller shields and barriers before. They don't always seem to work."

"When casting a magical barrier, its strength should be directly proportional to the amount of force you expect to be exerted upon it," she said, her voice briefly taking on the cadence and tone of a certain Professor Inkwell. "It's true that, in the past, I've underestimated the amount of force my shields would need to withstand. That won't be a problem this time." These golems were weaker than either of the behemoths who had bested her in the Everfree the day before, and she didn't expect them to overpower her shield the same way the timberwolf alpha or IRVING had.

Still, so many striking against it at once, so rapidly, would present a different set of complications.

"That said, I'm gonna need your help," Twilight continued. "Individually, these golems are nothing, but there's gonna be a lot of them hitting the shield simultaneously. I'll need to constantly reinforce the shield in order to keep it from collapsing from sheer attrition. That'll put a serious strain on my stamina, so I'll need you to hold them off with your gun to keep the strain from becoming overwhelming. Alright?"

"I'll need a higher vantage if I'm gonna lay down cover fire." Snake nodded at the stairs. "That'll do. Although..." He pointed at the Operator. "You are going to have to move."

The Operator sipped from his bottle and swished his tail contentedly. "You will have to move me."

"Just give me an excuse," Snake muttered. He grabbed another bottle and resumed soaking the drapes. "What's your exit strategy, Twilight?"

Twilight levitated another six bottles from the bar and poured them out in the center of the room in a deluge of clear, yellow, and amber liquids. "We let the place fill to capacity, or as near to capacity as we can. Once that's done, I'll rotate the wall counterclockwise to create a lane for us – a clear path to that side door. The more there are in here, the fewer there are out there. So that way out should be safer than it is now."

In theory.

"It'll be a tight squeeze for them," said Snake. "I doubt you'll be able to give us much room if you're pushing against so many."

"All we need is an opening," Twilight assured him. "It doesn't have to be very wide – just enough for the three of us to pass through single file."

Snake grunted and examined the stage's proximity to the staircase. "You realize," he said, "that turning that wall will create an opening for them to rush the stage and flank you on the left. Not to mention the stairs. You know, where I'll be."

"I've thought of that," said Twilight. "So, look – the right side of the wall will need to lengthen as I turn it if it's going to reach the door from all the way back here. Conversely, the left side's going to have to shrink to accommodate the stage. That will, as you say, compromise me on the left. So, first off, I'll do what you suggested and block off the landing with that piano. Second, when I shorten the left side of the barrier, I'll cast another one on stage, aligned with the one down on the floor, and move them both together in time. Now, that also means I'll be losing ground up here to the motion of the wall, meaning I'll have to keep moving right to stay ahead of it." She paused. "You'll also have to hop down from there and join me on the stage. Otherwise, you'll be stuck on the wrong side of the wall after I turn it."

"Short enough drop. No problem, but you'll be losing the benefit of my cover fire," said Snake. He looked up at the Operator, who was still enjoying his beer, and said "You want to get in on this? One way or another, you'll have to move eventually."

"No need," said the Operator. "I doubt they'll be interested in me. Besides which, I'll be safe behind that piano. Provided I sit here quietly and behave myself, I should be fine." The Operator took a long pull from the bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his paw, and smirked. "Once they've sufficiently filled the room, I'll make my escape from the upstairs window. You'll be alright without me, I'm sure."

"Uh-huh." Snake, unperturbed, picked up a bottle of absinthe and returned to his work. "You think you'll be able to handle it?" he asked Twilight.

"Not easily," said Twilight. "But it's doable. Just exhausting, that's all."

"Good to know, but not what I meant." Snake was quiet for a moment. "I saw how you reacted when I shot that one outside. You gonna be okay with killing dozens of them at once?"

Twilight wasn't sure what to say. Watching the stallion drop dead outside was hard enough. Not her finest moment of emotional fortitude. But that was before she knew that he wasn't even alive by any traditional definition, that there was no way to bring him back.

"I'm not thrilled with the prospect," she said softly. "But it's like you said... you can't kill something that isn't alive in the first place."

They didn't exchange another word until they were finished. By then, the floor was one gigantic cocktail, an amalgam of liquor whose scent was sharp and overpowering, and made Twilight's nose wrinkle. Snake fared better. Perhaps he was tall enough that the worst of the fumes had dissipated by the time they reached his nose. That, or he was far more tolerant of the smell of alcohol than she was.

Snake climbed onto the stairs, gun in hand, ascending to the spot where the Operator rested. He cleared his throat, rested his elbows on the bannister, and angled his pistol down toward the saloon floor. He looked sidelong at the Operator and motioned to the left with the barrel of his gun.

The Operator twitched one of his ears. With a sigh, he hopped off the banister, down to the step below Snake's sniper perch, and stretched out, yawning. He poked his nose between two of the staircase's uprights and looked down curiously at Twilight as she mounted the stage.

"You ready for this?" Snake called down.

"'Ready' is a relative term," Twilight said with a humorless laugh. The amount of variables she had to contend with staggered her. She was confident in her abilities, and in the plan, but being set upon by a crowd of feral, soulless ponies...

That's not the sort of thing one is ever really "ready" for. She took hold of the piano in the corner with her magic, hefted it into the air, and levitated it over to the staircase, setting it down in front of the first landing.

"Relax," said Snake. "It'll work. And if it doesn't, it's not like we'll be able to complain about it for long." He drew in a breath, exhaled slowly, and gazed down the sights of his gun. "Alright, you're up."

Twilight mirrored his breathing, shut her eyes, and focused, letting the outside world fall away. She stretched out with her senses until she found it – the swirling, shimmering pink vortex, a point of light brighter than any star. The piece of herself with which she'd infused the pile of saloon furniture. It burned hot, tendrils of light lashing out to lap at the darkness of the ether.

Twilight pictured the vortex of light vanishing, her canvas returning to zero. But instead of voiding the spell altogether, she channeled its energy back into herself, welcoming the sudden surge of warmth and strength it brought. When she opened her eyes, and felt her senses return, the barricade had fallen away. She swept the furniture aside, and watched as the golems shoved and jostled their way into the saloon.

Just as quickly as she drew it back inside of herself, she channeled that energy outward. A wall of pink light appeared at the front of the stage and expanded rapidly until it spanned the width of the saloon, sealing the stage and the staircase behind it. There was a tiny buffer of clear space between the stage and the wall. Beyond that, the vast emptiness of the saloon floor waited to be filled by the ravenous horde of golems outside.

They poured inside, in a column that formed a wedge at its head. The tip of the spear struck the center of the barrier like a ram and mushroomed out to the sides. The shield glowed at the site of impact, a bruise that spread outward radially. Snake fired into the crowd from above, methodically picking off golems at the front of the pile, the greatest threats to its stability. Twilight shot a narrow beam into the wall, against the spot the wedge had struck, and the bruise dissipated; the wall shone brighter where the beam made contact.

Then the attack stopped. The column withdrew several steps, long enough to reform the wedge at its head. A tendril of golems uncoiled from the column and swung toward Twilight's left, slamming against it at the same time that the center column thrust against the barrier again. Two bruises formed at the sites of impact; Twilight fired into both of them to repair the structural damage before a third column slammed the barrier at the right side. Twilight refocused some of her energy into shoring up that spot, but the strain of maintaining the wall in three separate places was beginning to make her sweat. The column had collapsed into three distinct waves concentrating their attacks at different points – the left, the right, the center. No doubt they were hoping that three separate pushes would wear her down faster than a single, concentrated effort.

Celestia save us, she thought as her heart thudded in her chest. The wedge formation, the coordinated thrusts... they're thinking strategically!

A hail of bullets from the stairs cut down the attackers at the right column's head in seconds. It retreated back into the center, alleviating the strain somewhat, until the left and center wedges slammed against the barrier again. The flow of magic into the barrier slackened briefly before Twilight redoubled her efforts, feeling as though a knife was stabbing through her skull at the base of her horn.

Snake's gunshots cut off suddenly. Twilight heard a distant click and the sound of metal scraping on metal before the steady cadence of death resumed, and the left wedge withered under fire. Then the column collapsed altogether, unfolding into a tide that smashed against the whole length of the wall. Golems rushed into the room from the outside, filling every inch, every niche, until they pressed tightly against one another in a manner not dissimilar to sardines in a can, all pushing their combined strength, their combined weight, against the shining wall between them and the stage.

Twilight locked her knees, dug a hoof into floorboards, and pushed right back. The narrow beams of light became a fan of shimmering pink that pressed against the wall from one side to the other, and the wall yet withstood the tide.

"I think that's as many as we're gonna get," Snake called over the sounds of the ravening horde. The flow from the door was gone; golems at the door still pushed and shoved trying to get inside, but the saloon was packed with as many as it could take. Snake was right; there was simply no room for more.

Twilight shrunk the barrier at its left end, and the protection afforded to the stairs vanished. She collapsed the fan of energy into a thick column that she pressed against the barrier's right side, a ram of pure energy. She shoved against the mass of golems there, and the wall turned sluggishly. Twilight grunted with each push, sweated with each shove, fighting desperately for every inch of ground she gained, helped somewhat by the fact that more and more room was opening up to the left for the golems to fill.

But she found herself facing the same problem as she had when fighting IRVING: The barrier was strong, but there were too many of them throwing too much weight and muscle against it. She gained ground, in fits and starts, but not enough, not quickly enough.

Just as Snake had predicted, the counterclockwise motion of the wall's left end created a gap for the golems to plunge into. They rushed for the stage, dead hooves scrambling for purchase on the worn floorboards. Another wall materialized on the stage, accompanied by a flash from Twilight's horn, and the golems slammed and pounded and beat vainly against it. There simply weren't enough of them to seriously threaten the smaller barrier.

At least, for now. Attrition's gonna wear that thing down eventually if I don't hurry this along.

Twilight shoved harder against the wall on the floor, and gained a few more feet, helped by the group of golems that detached from the throng and moved onto the stage. The golems on the saloon floor were packed tighter, crushed closer together, against the bar, against the wall, against one another...

And still the path that Twilight envisioned had not materialized.

She heard a thud as Snake jumped from the stairs and landed behind her. "You wanna move that thing a little faster?" he said. He faced the barrier guarding their flank, moving backward slowly to keep ahead of it.

"Do you want to take over?" Twilight growled through tightly clenched teeth.

"Do you think I could do a better job?!"

Twilight filled her lungs filled with air and bellowed to the ceiling. She was at her limit, and she forced herself to strain harder, poured every ounce of herself into the effort as she could. Her horn glowed brighter and her aura gathered around her body, whipping and tossing her mane and tail wildly in the air. The beam from her horn expanded, glowed brighter, arcs of lightning and tongues of white and amethyst flame running its length. Golems were pressed harder against one another until their bodies started to buckle and red blood sprayed from tears in their skin. The room was filled with the sickening crunch of bones cracking and breaking.

The wall turned, and kept turning steadily, lengthening as needed, stretching wider, in order to reach door at the opposite side of the room.

Twilight moved to the right behind Snake, paying no mind to the golems that continued throwing themselves against her barrier. And when she looked up, she saw a narrow corridor of space running diagonally from the edge of the stage to the side door.

She cut off the flow of magic and her legs buckled with relief for just a second before she regained her balance and looked at Snake with an expression she couldn't begin to picture. "Go. Hurry." Her voice sounded ragged; her throat felt worse.

Snake wasted no time. He hopped off the stage and swiftly moved toward the door, gun thrust ahead of him. Twilight was close behind, dropping the barrier on the stage and recasting it behind her to cover their retreat. The muscles in her legs ached and burned, and putting one hoof in front of the other was in its own way as difficult as maintaining the barrier. But she moved forward nevertheless. The golems continued to come, and Twilight continued to ignore them, as well as the worryingly large bruises forming along the wall.

They reached the door. A small smile crossed Snake's worn features as he unbolted the door, turned the knob, and pulled.

And immediately, a golem shoved its way inside. Its muzzle was bright red, stained with fresh blood, and hanks of blonde hair were caught between its teeth.

Stupid, careless, irresponsible. We should have checked the other train. We should never have left her alone.

Snake's smile vanished. He whipped his pistol over the golem's head and split its skull open, kicked its body back out the door, and tried to slam the door shut, but another pushed its muzzle into the frame. Snake dispatched it with a point-blank shot through the eye, shoved it back to clear the door, and finally managed to close it securely.

Twilight forced her self-reproach from her mind and turned to face the saloon again, retreating until she and Snake were back-to-back. She collapsed the barrier to form a small pocket of a safe zone, sealing herself and Snake off from the horde in the saloon. It would hold for a little while, but drained as she was from her earlier efforts, she doubted she could reinforce it effectively.

Swapped out a bad situation for an impossible one, she thought bitterly. Good on you, Twilight.

She turned back to the saloon. The stage was clear now; the golems that had charged up to flank her had rejoined the throng. Above it was the Operator, still draped over the safety rail, quite ignored by the besieging golems. He dangled his empty beer bottle between two paw pads and eyed the deteriorating situation below with detached, almost bored, curiosity.

His inaction, his apathy, infuriated Twilight.

"If we die here, what are the odds that you'll make it out alive?!" Twilight's voice sounded weak, threatening to break. She had no idea if he could even hear her. "Help us, and help yourself!"

The Operator's gaze met hers, and he gave her a long, thoughtful look. She saw him sigh and roll his eyes before hopping onto the stage. He raised his head, nose pointing straight up at the ceiling, and howled.

Twilight crushed her ears against her skull, covering them with her hooves, but the Operator's shrill keening still pierced her eardrums like white-hot needles. It was several seconds before the howl cut off, leaving Twilight's ears ringing. But the weight pressing against the barrier was lighter than it had been, and when she opened her eyes, she saw why.

A sizable portion of the crowd was trying to swarm onto the stage. Two quickly managed to hook their hooves over its edge and drag themselves up. The Operator whirled and dispatched one with a kick to the nose that flattened its face and dropped it back into the roiling tide below; the other got half its body up before canine jaws closed around its neck and its head was ripped free from its body, blood fountaining from its neck and spraying him across the face.

Twilight retched at the sight.

More were coming from all sides, closing off his avenues of escape. The Operator turned around, coiled his legs, and leaped straight up, catching the safety rail in his paws and quickly scrambling up. He looked at Twilight over his shoulder and winked before hopping onto the stairs and bounding up, out of sight.

He'd succeeded in drawing their attention. There were still golems pressing and pounding against her barricade, but compared to before, their efforts of those meager few amounted to little. The majority of them were trying to follow the Operator up the stairs. Any semblance of order and coordination was gone; they jostled and pushed and shoved at one another to get after him. They crowded against the piano obstructing the landing, eventually forming a ramp of bodies that allowed the golems at the back to scamper up and over the piano, and onto the stairs.

Twilight allowed herself to drop to her haunches, grateful for the tiny respite, and turned to look at Snake. "You doing okay?" She kept her voice low to avoid drawing undue attention back to herself.

Snake sat with his back braced against the door, and his body shook with every blow the golems outside landed against it. His left hand was pressed against his ear, and his right still clutched his pistol. "That guy's a dick," he growled.

"No argument there, but he helped. A little." Twilight upgraded the situation from "impossible" to "darn near impossible." A minor upgrade, but a welcome one. "Where do we stand now?"

"In point of fact, neither of us is standing."

"Har har."

Snake smiled wryly, but another sharp blow to the door wiped the look off his face. The door thudded again, and he took his left hand from his ear and braced it against the wall. "I think we'll have to fight our way out after all."

Twilight tried to think of other options and came up short. Given enough time, she might have been able to put together a new plan, but time wasn't a luxury they could afford. Fighting their was the only recourse.

"How many are out there?" Twilight asked. "If you had to guess?"

"At a glance, I'd say a couple dozen. Take that with a grain of salt, though; I didn't exactly have time to count."

She was hoping for fewer, but given the way things had gone so far, Twilight counted herself as lucky that there were only a couple dozen.

Why not round it up to an even googleplex? We don't want it to be TOO easy, after all.

Still, not as bad as it could have been, though it would still be problematic. Twilight guessed that she could at least clear enough space for them to get outside, but there'd still be too many of them to fight through easily. And if their behavior is consistent with what we've seen so far, they'll work quickly to close any potential avenues of escape.

"Alright," she said with a nod. "First rule though: no guns."

Snake looked at her like she was mad, stupid, or both.

"Guns attract their attention. Remember?" She indicated the barrier with her head. "I'm gonna have to drop this when we start moving, and I don't want them remembering that we're here and chasing after us en masse while we're trying to get out. No guns, at least until we're clear of the building." She rose and trotted to stand in front of the door.

"I can probably give us a little bit of breathing room to start with," Twilight said, looking down at Snake. "A quick shockwave to push back the ones right up against the door should do." But after that, it'd be a melee, one she wouldn't immediately be able to participate in if she was going to cover their backs. "Once we're out, I'll gonna cast the adhesive spell on this door to keep the ones in here from following us out. I'll be vulnerable during the casting, so I'll need you to keep them off of me for a few seconds."

Snake rose to his feet, pressing his shoulder against the door again to keep it secure. He glanced at his gun, and reluctantly holstered it with a sigh. "Havin' deja-vu here, Twilight."

"I know. But trust me."

Not that Twilight was entirely sure she trusted herself. Pulling it off meant dropping the barrier and refocusing the energy from it into an explosive shockwave within the same second; her timing would need to be precise. The adhesive spell would just be the cherry on the exhaustion sundae. That wasn't even factoring in the possibility that the sound from the shockwave would draw the attention of the golem horde in the saloon, which would mean that forfeiting the advantages provided by Snake's gun would ultimately be pointless. It may not be quite as loud as a gunshot, but it's not exactly gonna be silent either.

There were a lot of ifs. There was a lot that could go wrong. And there weren't any other options that she could see.

"Open on three," she said. "One... two..."

Snake gripped the doorknob in his left hand. His right balled tightly into a fist.

"Three."

The door swung inward. Twilight dropped the barrier and refocused its energy into a singularity at the tip of her horn. She released it in a conical wave, blasting back the golems closest to the door

In all, it took slightly longer than anticipated: 1.3 seconds.

Twilight rushed into the newly cleared space, horn ablaze. The fallen golems were already rising again, while the ones who hadn't been hit by the shockwave charged. A gleaming shield of pink light materialized in front of her and pummeled the golems aside as they came. Snake was out by then; she heard him slam the door shut, and she turned, dropping the shield and refocusing its energy on the door. Snake was at her side in the same instant, picking up the slack with a flurry of kicks and punches and knees and elbows that killed or crippled any golem that got too close. He spun in place and delivered a kick to a charging golem that shattered its jaw and snapped its neck; another leaped toward him, but he caught it in midair and swung it bodily into the saloon's wall before dropping it and driving his elbow backward into the face of a third.

Armed or no, Snake was a wind of destruction. Twilight felt grateful that they were on the same side.

The golems on the other side of the door pounded to break it down. Twilight hurriedly focused on casting the adhesive spell. It was harder this time, drained as she was by her earlier efforts, but she dug deep into her reserves and once more found that shining point of light in the ether. She cried out as her horn sparked, and opened her eyes to see the door, shining pink and holding in place.

Snake's growls and curses reminded her that there was no time to admire her work. Wind of destruction or no, they were surrounded, and the ground they'd gained was quickly fading. She lashed out blindly with her hind legs, landing a kick that shattered the ribs of a golem, and backed against Snake until they were almost touching. Her horn shimmered; a thin beam of light lanced from its tip and expanded into a dome that descended over what few inches of clear space the two had left. Drained as she was, the shield was weaker than it should have been, and it was already flickering and weakening as golems outside battered against it. She maintained the beam of energy, reinforcing it continually instead of letting it hold on its own

"Alright," Snake panted. "So where do we go from here?"

Detonate the barrier; let the shockwave push them back; make a break for the town square before they can regroup. But she wasn't sure she had the strength left to do that with sufficient force to give them any kind of advantage. Think quick. Got a half a minute of juice left, tops.

"Draw your gun," she said. "Focus on clearing a path toward the town square."

She heard the sound of Snake reloading again. "I think you should know that I'm down to my last full magazine. Thirty rounds left in all."

"Make 'em count. Ready?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Once more, on three. One—"

A blurry blue shape sailed overhead and landed behind the golems; Twilight heard jaws snapping, flesh ripping and bones crunching and vicious, angry baying, and suddenly the assault was gone. The golems wheeled away from Twilight's shield, chasing the Operator back into the town square.

"Or, you know, that works too."

Twilight dropped the magic barrier and allowed herself a few gulps of breath before scrambling back into the town square, where the Operator had led his pursuers. Theirs was a chaotic, disorderly mob, no wedge or tactical formation to speak of.

So unlike how they were before.

The Operator skidded to a halt, turned, and sprinted headlong into their charge. At the last second before they met, he leaped and streaked through the air, landing on a lone golem the rear of the mob. His claws sank into the desiccated pony's skin and his teeth found its jugular, and with a jerk of his head, the golem's throat ripped free. It flopped and writhed on the ground like a dying fish as it slowly bled out.

Twilight retched again.

Immediately, the Operator lashed out with a hind leg and pummeled the closest attacker behind him before pivoting and leaping into another to his right. His teeth sought its jugular, wound up tangled in its mane instead, and ripped most of its scalp free.

Twilight heard gunshots as Snake fired to keep the golems at the Operator's rear from overwhelming him. That drew their attention, and they lumbered toward him, trampling the golem with the torn throat as they went. A careless stomp from one of his passing brethren or sistren crushed his head to pulp.

Snake braced to meet them. Twilight chanced to look at the saloon, and her ears sank against her head with despair two golems filed out, with more no doubt behind them.

For Celestia's sake! We're right back where we started!

Twilight gathered what energy she hadn't yet spent and focused it at the tip of her horn. The crowd that the Operator had led away was almost upon them, and she blasted back the ones closest to them.

Snake pivoted toward the saloon and moved his left hand away from his gun. "That adhesive thing – you got enough juice left for it?"

The broken wheelbarrow and its cherries still lay in a heap by the general store. They'd do as materials for such a spell in a pinch, but casting the last one had been an effort after the day she'd been having. She truly wasn't sure if she could do it a third time.

Snake took her silence as a negative, muttered a curse and raised his gun. Twilight saw the little cylinder in his left hand, the shiny red button glinting in the sunlight.

"Can't seal 'em in then. Hope for the best."

Snake fired twice, and the golems emerging from the saloon fell dead. Twilight continued firing at the ones who had broken off from the Operator, but each blast was weaker than the next. It wouldn't be long before she was down to fighting with her bare hooves.

Then she heard a muffled pop and saw a flash of orange in her peripheral vision.

A bonfire burned where the saloon had been. Tongues of flame lashed out from the doorway, lapping at and swallowing the bodies of the golems Snake shot. Their bodies caught fire, and shriveled and blackened in moments. The Operator leaped from the back of a golem whose neck was missing a chunk and landed lightly a safe distance away. The golems he'd been distracting were transfixed by the fire; Twilight could see its glow reflected in their dead eyes.

Slowly, with their mouths slack and their dead tongues lolling out, they shuffled into the bonfire of the dead and vanished in the conflagration. Not one made a sound, even as the fire took them. Twilight shut her eyes and turned her head away, but there was no escaping the acrid stench of scorched, dead flesh; it filled her nose, made her cough and gag and her eyes tear up. She staggered backward, and stuck her back hoof in something squishy. It took a moment for her to register what it was.

Of course. We're in front of the general store. Right back where we started.

Her hind hoof was sunk to the pastern in rotten cherry goop. If she chanced to open her eyes, to look behind herself, she'd see the body of the first golem. Instead, Twilight stepped forward to distance herself from the carcass, eyes shut all the while. She scraped the gunk off her hoof with her magic, and gently settled on her hindquarters.

Then she leaned forward and vomited.

When her stomach stopped heaving, Twilight swept the flecks of vomit and saliva from her mouth with a shimmer of magic. She kept her eyes shut. The Operator settled beside Twilight; she heard the gentle swish of his catlike tail moving back and forth upon the sand. "They don't feel pain, you know," he remarked. "In fact, they feel nothing. Nopony home upstairs to feel it, and no nervous system to speak of besides."

Twilight opened her eyes, and she looked at the Operator as his own bored into her. "There's nothing left inside them, see," he said quietly. "Their names, their identities. Past, present, future. Their very destinies, all irrevocably stripped from them. To a creature like that..."

The Operator turned his face back to the saloon. The glow of the flames washed over his face.

"What is death but a kindness?"

They were dead, worse than dead; they were beings who were neither alive nor dead, bereft of thought, of reason, of soul.

Twilight felt sick anyway.

She heard the click of Snake's lighter. "Aren't you just a big old ray of sunshine?" he mumbled around a cigarette.

Twilight lifted her head to stare at him, her face blank. The cigarette wasn't yet lit. Inches away from its tip, the tiny orange flame from the lighter flickered.

Snake met her gaze, held it for a second, before he sighed, clicked off the lighter, and tucked the cigarette behind his ear.

Twilight turned to the Operator. "Thank you for your help." Her throat scratched and burned, and her words came out in a sandpapery rasp. "I don't think we would have gotten out of there without you."

"It was like you said: helping you helped me. Besides, I think Equestria's better off with you in it." He winked at her again, then rose, stretching out like a cat waking from a nap. "Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you both, but I must be on my way now. Plenty to do yet." He nodded to Snake, bowed a little more respectfully to Twilight. "My gratitude to you as well. Granted, you were responsible for causing the problem in the first place, but..."

"Your gratitude sounds an awful lot like bitching and moaning," said Snake.

"Well," said the Operator with a smirk. "Aren't you just a big old ray of sunshine?"

Twilight rose before Snake could retort. "Wait. Before you go." It struck her that Ponyville had no means of contacting Canterlot and warning the Princess about the human presence and invasion. But this Operator... "You said you had lines of communication to the Princess. If you had to, could you get a message to her?"

The Operator shrugged. "Perhaps."

Not very reassuring. "An army from another world with a weapon of unfathomable destruction is planning an invasion of Equestria. They're working for some wanna-be revolutionary named Macbeth, who tried to launch a coup against the crown years ago. We haven't been able to get a message to Canterlot, but if you have any way of contacting Princess Celestia, then please – she needs to be warned about this."

The Operator smiled in response to that – an ugly, sour smile that looked more smug than amused. "Is that so?" His gaze flickered to Snake for a fraction of a second.

His response perplexed her. He looked and sounded not in the least concerned. An existential threat to Equestria probably called for a more interested reaction from the Princess's personal "problem solver" than that.

"It's true," said the Operator. "I could contact the Princess. But I'd have to go out of my way to do so, far enough to compromise my own mission. In short, I don't have the time. Or, frankly, the inclination."

Snake stepped up beside Twilight. "You don't understand. There's an army on your doorstep with a weapon that can level a city in the blink of an eye. We're trying to stop it, and you're in a position to help us. So cut the bullshit."

Across the street, the saloon's second floor, weakened by the flames, began to collapse. Embers from the burning wreckage geysered into the air.

The Operator regarded Snake with a cool, steely stare. "You're not from around here," he said in a calm, deathly quiet voice. "And you have no business dictating to me what is and is not worthy of my attention. Let Macbeth have his fun; let him play with his toys. Stop him, if it pleases you. But don't assume that your messes are my responsibility, human." He turned his head to the side and spat.

Snake's face betrayed not a hint of surprise. Twilight couldn't say the same for her own.

He turned back to Twilight. "You helped me today, and I won't forget it. But that doesn't mean that I owe you any more than what I've already given you. I serve the realm, and the Princess speaks for the realm, and you, my dear, are no princess. You have your priorities, and I have mine. Leave it at that, and leave me to my work." He started to leave, froze suddenly, and turned back to Twilight.

"I'll tell you what, though," he said, his voice congenial again. "You did me a good turn, so, as a gesture of goodwill, why don't I give you a bit of advice?" The Operator raised a paw and pointed down the main road. "Down that way, on the outskirts of town, is a cherry orchard. A ranch, nestled in a fertile little valley. You're familiar with it?"

"Cherry Hill Ranch," said Twilight in a faint, airy voice. It occurred to her that she hadn't noticed Cherry Jubilee among the golems in the saloon. Although that doesn't mean she wasn't there, per se...

"I passed through the orchard on my way into town. Didn't linger; no reason to. The ranch itself is deserted – the farmhouse empty, not even golems inside. The barn is... closed." He drew the word out longer than he should have, in a way that unsettled Twilight. "What's especially curious, though, is what's behind the barn." His gaze turned to Snake. "A vehicle of some sort. Not owned by the farm, I don't think – not a carriage or a tractor. A metal wagon encased in a metal shell. Looked to me like an automobile."

Snake and Twilight exchanged a look of uncertainty. She wasn't sure to what extent she trusted the Operator; she was reasonably sure that Snake didn't trust him at all. "Did you see any distinctive markings?" Snake asked.

"There was something painted on one of the doors," he said. "An alicorn, and a rather somber one, at that. Bore a striking resemblance to the younger princess."

The Pegasus Wings sigil. Twilight's heart skipped.

"Maybe it has something to do with your lost friend. Maybe it doesn't. You might want to look into it all the same." The Operator inclined his head to Snake, then to Twilight. "This is farewell. I doubt we'll meet again." He turned and bounded away, rounding the corner of the general store and passing out of sight.

"Might have mentioned this before," Snake grumbled. "But I really don't like that guy."

"He knew what you were." Twilight looked up at Snake. "He called you 'human'."

"Caught that, did you? And the way he talked made it sound like he knew Macbeth, too." He snorted. "Spies. Doesn't matter what world; they always get off on their own enigma."

The fragile blossom of hope that the Operator's news had given Twilight now had to contend with a cold dread gnawing at her insides. The Princess gave him a mission, and that mission led him here – to a ghost town filled with bloodthirsty monsters created by black magic. Something is terribly wrong in Equestria. Something besides the human invasion.

"We shouldn't stay here any longer," said Snake. "I don't know how long the fire's gonna stay confined to that one building." He looked at Twilight. "This ranch he mentioned. Do you know the way?"

Twilight nodded.

"Can you make it?" Snake asked.

"Yeah." Twilight licked her lips. "Not a problem."

Drained and exhausted as they were, the two made decent time into the cherry orchard. When they passed beneath the cool shade of the leaves overhead, Snake came to a halt and braced one arm against a thick, gnarly tree trunk. "Nothing following us?"

Twilight glanced behind herself and saw no sign of pursuit. She said as much to Snake, who nodded. "Alright. Take five." He pressed his back against the tree and slid to his bottom, sighing. Twilight trotted to his side and fell to her haunches with an equally weighty sigh.

Snake rubbed the bite on his forearm. It had partially closed already, but blood still trickled from it. "That bite was pretty nasty," Twilight remarked.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah." He glanced at his wound, then back at Twilight. "Not the worst I've ever had. Nanomachines should have patched it up by now though."

Twilight blinked. "Whose machines?"

"Never mind." Snake sighed. "Minor injuries like that typically heal pretty quick on me. Cuts, scrapes, bruises."

"But not bites."

Snake muttered a curse and a word she didn't recognize, and shook his head. "Probably ought to clean and dress this." He reached into a pouch on his belt and produced the half-empty whiskey bottle and the old dishrag he'd found on the bar. "FLIM-FLAM BROTHERS' FINE PREMIUM SPIRITS," read the label on the bottle, accompanied by two smiling unicorns posing back-to-back.

Twilight raised an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that look," said Snake. "I was going to make an incendiary device with these. Left my grenades at the library this morning before we went to the hospital."

"But you remembered to bring that bomb with you?"

"Forgot to take it out of my pocket," Snake muttered. He sounded almost bashful. "Hey, you really gonna complain?"

"No, no. Just funny, that's all." Really, she was more upset at the injustice of something with the Flim-Flam brothers' names on it surviving a fire that eliminated an entire saloon full of far better liquor.

Snake pulled the cork free, set it aside, and raised the bottle over his left arm. He hesitated long enough to clench his jaw, and poured a generous amount of whiskey over his bite, letting out a muted groan as the liquor ran into and over his wound. His grip around the bottle tightened. When he'd emptied the bottle down to a quarter, he set it down, sighing heavily, and reached for the rag again.

Twilight caught it with her magic and held it up before he could take it. She gently pressed the rag against the bite on his arm and wound it tightly, tying its ends together into a perfectly cinched knot.

Snake seemed taken by surprise, but he muttered his gratitude all the same. Twilight smiled back at him joylessly and lay on her belly, curling her legs beneath her body.

The grass, kept out of the heat by the shade, felt cool and comforting against her coat. Sunlight peeked through the leaves and branches overhead, dappling the orchard in yellow light. It was still the afternoon – the sun hadn't even started to descend yet. The pink cherry blossoms overhead drifted in the air, caught by the breeze, and the sweet smell of fruit tickled her nose. It struck her – and not for the first time – how beautiful Cherry Jubilee's land was, how peaceful and picturesque. The only thing marring the beauty of her surroundings was the thick column of black smoke on the hill in the distance. Were it not for that, and for the stress of the situation, she might have nodded off then and there.

All that beauty meant nothing to her, though. Half the day was gone, and it felt like she hadn't made any headway toward solving any of the myriad problems that had come up. But the news about the vehicle – the first sign of any human presence – had given her some cause to hope. She didn't see it as particularly likely that the Operator would mislead them; he may have been a callous jerk, but they were all on the same side, and he didn't stand to gain from sending them on another wild goose chase. Even if he were the type, his description of the vehicle was too specific, too close to Pegasus Wings' heraldry and aesthetic. The odds of it being coincidental were nil. Maybe Trenton had brought Rainbow Dash to Dodge. Maybe she was alive. Maybe the trip hadn't been a colossal waste of her time.

Or maybe she was setting herself up for yet another disappointment – another trap, and another tragedy. Maybe she was a great big fool after all.

"Fool's hope," Rarity's voice whispered. "The best that we can do."

You deserved better, Rarity. You all did.

The bottle of liquor was suddenly thrust in front of her face. She blinked, startled, refocused her vision on it and the leering faces of Flim and Flam on its label, and looked up at Snake. The corner of one of his lips was turned upward, so slightly as to be almost imperceptible.

A smile gradually spread across Twilight's face. A chuckle built in her chest, and exploded into peals of laughter. She placed a hoof on the bottle, over his hand, and pushed it gently away. Not the time, and not the place. But damned if it wasn't tempting.

Even Flim and Flam's bathtub moonshine sounds appealing after a day like this.

And that thought just made her laugh even harder.

Yesterday had ground her to a nub; today had worn that nub down to a quark. The town was a graveyard, the train a mausoleum, the saloon a crematorium, and they'd barely escaped from Dodge proper with their lives.

Yet faced with impossible odds and and an ever-rising pile of failures, Twilight Sparkle found that all she could do was laugh.

Author's Note

待たせたな?

Pre-reading duties for this chapter were handled by DannyJ, author of many fine pamphlets on the subject of seducing farm animals (as well as a bunch of stories, one of which is about Dark Souls), and self-proclaimed mayor of Bluffington. His input on this chapter is extensive, so if it sucks, blame him for it.

Special shout-out to UseFistNotMouth, who had to bow out for this chapter due to losing his thumbs to roving thumb bandits.

Hey guys, by the way, if you're reading the story, do me a favor and drop a comment to let me know what you thought. I took a while to turn this chapter out, and I know it's probably not what people would have expected to see. It's a little bit of a risk, and I want to know how well it played out, so please – I would really love some feedback and criticism.

12. In the Mud and Sinking Deeper

"So don't let me become the one you love
'Cause I'll just take your blood and use you up"

Fruit farmers were meticulous in their theming, in Twilight's experience. Just as apples, or depictions of apples, could be found everywhere and on everything at Sweet Apple Acres, so too were cherries emblazoned on Cherry Hill Ranch's signage and structures. A sign in front of the barn greeted visitors with a pair of ripe, plump, ruby-red cherries. An enlarged, horizontally flipped version of the same image was stamped halfway up a silo behind the barn, all to loudly announce "HERE BE CHERRIES" to customers and workers alike.

And who wouldn't need to be bombarded with cherry imagery to figure out what's grown here? Not like there's a cherry orchard literally within walking distance.

No wonder Cherry Jubilee and Applejack had bonded at that rodeo.

Also behind the barn was an automobile, painted pale blue and emblazoned with Pegasus Wings's baleful alicorn on its driver's-side and passenger's doors. It was big, even by human proportions, with thick tires, a cabin tapering down from a protruding rear section, and bits of armor plating stuck to its front and sides. On its roof was a hole big enough to fit a human torso through, and an empty notch where something was clearly meant to be mounted. Snake identified the car as a "Humvee". The name was silly, and merited a laugh, but Twilight had gotten all her giggles out in the cherry orchard, and had none left to spare.

Hitched to the back of the car, above the rear bumper, was a motorcycle, all polished black and chrome, with the word Triumph emblazoned in flowing script. "And a damn nice one, at that," Snake remarked. "Vintage 1960s." He leaned over to examine it, running his hands over the glossy finish. "The car, I can understand, but this... What the hell is this doing out here with it?"

"Back-up vehicle, maybe?" said Twilight. "Just in case something goes wrong with the, er... 'Humvee?'"

Snake shrugged. He patted the leather seat, let his hand linger there, then pushed away and looked at Twilight. "Let's open up the car, see what we find. Front doors. You take the left." He drew his pistol and rounded the right side of the Humvee

Twilight went left, to the frontmost door on her side. The handle was too far above her head to reach with her hooves – she would have to use her magic to trick it open. She paused look at the logo first, her head tilted and her eyes squinting.

Huh. It does look like Princess Luna.

Twilight wrapped her aura around the handle, counted down from three, and flung the door open; on the other side of the car, Snake did the same, and they saw each other through the open cabin. Snake scanned the interior, his pistol gripped in his right hand and his finger away from the trigger. When he was satisfied that the car was empty, he nodded to Twilight, holstered his gun, and climbed inside.

Twilight did the same, although it took a little more doing for her than for Snake. She managed to place her forehooves on the driver's seat, and she pulled herself up and into the car with a grunt of effort. The interior was spacious and roomy, with comfortable seats and luxurious upholstery that seemed a misfit for a troop transport. Between the two seats was a black column – a rifle, propped vertically on its stock in a rack – and in front of the driver's seat was a wheel. Twilight immediately recognized it as a steering mechanism.

And those pedals down on the floor are for acceleration and deceleration. The little stick thingies between the seats must be the hand brake and the gear shift, and these gauges and buttons on the console...

Some of them she could intuit; the fuel gauge was easy enough to find. Others she couldn't understand at a glance. The student in Twilight wanted to fiddle with the buttons until she understood their precise function.

Then again, that could cause more harm than good.

"Hello," Snake murmured to her right. "What have we here?"

Twilight glanced in his direction to see him reach for the rifle and remove it from the rack. Visually, the gun reminded her of the rifles she'd seen humans carrying, but its configuration and aesthetic were quite different. Where the other rifles of that type had brown, wooden furniture, this one was sleek black plastic and metal, with a skeletal stock attached to the rest of the gun by a hinge. The barrel was shorter, and tipped with a fat cylinder that didn't look like an integral part of the gun. Twilight took it for a suppressor, like the one Snake's tranquilizer pistol had.

"What'cha got there?" she asked.

"MRS-4. Haven't seen one of these since my mercenary days." He chuckled. "Arms Material. Discount guns for the less-fortunate soldier of fortune."

"What does that mean?"

Snake ejected the gun's magazine and pulled back the bolt, sending an unspent round spinning through the air, then rested the gun underneath his armpit, holding the barrel in his hand. "Arms Material was a gun manufacturer a few decades ago. They made their living selling unlicensed derivatives, mostly to mercenary forces that couldn't afford better. Got sued into oblivion by FN Herstal over their MRS series." He waved the gun's barrel for emphasis. "Figures that Pegasus Wings would get their hands on 'em, given what we've seen of their resources so far."

"Hm." Twilight tapped the fuel gauge with the tip of her hoof. The needle remained stuck on Empty. "So what's it doing sitting in a car in the middle of nowhere like this?"

"On-site procurement means you never question why a gun is wherever it is. I'm not gonna look this gifthorse in the mouth." Snake eyed the weapon's barrel suspiciously. "Be a hell of a thing if it's I.D. locked, though."

Twilight was about to ask what "I.D. locked" meant before she caught herself. Get Snake talking about guns, and for all you know, he'll never shut up about them.

"I'm not seeing anything significant on my end," said Twilight. "What about yourself? Besides your new toy, I mean."

The remark prompted Snake to set the rifle down on the passenger's seat and start rummaging around his side of the car. There was a compartment on the dashboard; he popped it open, stuck his hand inside, and retrieved two spare magazines that looked like they'd fit his rifle.

"Besides your new toy and ammo for it," Twilight clarified.

Snake ignored her, pocketed the magazines, and stuck his head into the car's hoofwell.

Or "footwell," I suppose.

"I'll be damned," he muttered.

"What is it?" asked Twilight. "There a whole pile of discount guns down there?"

Snake rose from the footwell and looked at Twilight, his face showing no sign that the joke so much as registered. Silently, he lifted something from beneath the car's seat and held it out for inspection.

Twilight's breath hitched at the sight of the cyan feather.

"She was here." Snake's voice carried a note of surprise. "Good thing I didn't have money on it."

A pink aura shimmered around the feather and gently pulled it out of Snake's hand. Twilight held it up to eye level and spun it slowly in the air. She tried to think of something analytical to say, some insight that would give them a clue as to what had happened, something that would magically lead them to find Rainbow Dash alive and well

But the only thing that ran through her mind was an infinite loop of you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here.

She set the feather in her hoof and held it tightly against her chest, shutting her eyes.

I'm so, so sorry for thinking that you weren't.

"Hey. Are you still with me?"

Twilight blinked back nascent tears and set the feather down on the driver's seat. "Just needed a moment." She backed out of the car and shut the door with her magic, then circled around to the rear bumper.

Snake joined her presently, leaning against the right side of the bumper, the motorcycle's length between him and Twilight. He reloaded the rifle he found, raised it to shoulder level, and aimed at a spot off in the distance. With a squeeze of the trigger, it emitted a muffled pop, and an empty casing flew from the side of the gun. Snake lowered it and gave the receiver a cursory glance before nodding with satisfaction.

"Having fun?" asked Twilight. Her voice was a little higher, a little thicker, than normal. She cleared her throat.

"Just giving it a spin. Should work fine." Snake flicked on the rifle's safety and leaned against the back of the Humvee, resting his butt on its bumper. "Guns like this always make me nostalgic." He leveled the gun at the ground and aimed down the sights, and for half a heartbeat, he looked ten years younger to Twilight.

"Yeah." Snake smiled faintly. "Just like old times."

Twilight allowed a hint of a mischief to ply the corner of her lip. "I'm so happy you managed to make a friend on this trip, Snake."

Snake returned the smirk before resuming his typical expression of stoicism. "Alright, enough of that now. So we've got an answer to the question of whether or not Rainbow Dash was ever here. That's all well and good, but it also raises further questions." He gazed across the farm, to the nearby cherry orchard.

Questions like "where did she go?" and "why isn't there any trace of whoever brought her here?" The car was sitting abandoned behind the barn of a deserted cherry farm, part of a town beset by soulless monstrosities who used to be the town's residents. That wasn't lost on Twilight at all.

"I suppose you'll want to search the ranch," said Snake.

"You disagree?"

"Now that we have a shred of evidence, and we're not hoping we get lucky?" Snake tucked the rifle's stock beneath his left armpit and scratched his bandage idly. "Someone came out here, someone brought Rainbow Dash out here, and someone specifically challenged us to meet them out here. We get here, we find the town populated by zombies—"

"Golems."

"And besides their mode of transportation and a single blue feather, we don't find any sign of the person who wanted us out here in the first place." Snake didn't break his stride on account of Twilight's interruption. "No, the situation's changed. We should stick around a while."

She gave him a grateful look and nodded. "Glad we're on the same page."

For once.

"Let's be sure about that." Snake's hardened gaze fell on her. "Because even with that evidence, there are still more unknowns here than I'd like there to be. Signs indicate that she was here, and that, if nothing else, someone from Pegasus Wings was too."

"Trenton?"

"Safe bet. But not a certainty." His gaze flitted down to the rifle briefly. "Trenton had to have something in mind when he sent that balloon, some idea of how things were going to go down. Let's assume that, whatever his original plan was, he scuttled it when he got here and saw Dodge in its current state. If I were him, I'd do what I could to scout the place out, get the lay of the land. So let's say he drives out here, parks the car behind the barn, and reconnoiters the area."

"And if he was smart," said Twilight, "he would have brought Rainbow with him, to keep an eye on her. Whatever her injuries, there's no way she'd let them stop her from making some kind of escape attempt. Trenton wouldn't give her the opportunity to do that."

Snake chewed his lip. "Alright. So now it's a matter of retracing their footsteps and picking up a trail." He cursed. "Tracking. Not my strong suit."

"If it helps," said Twilight, "there are a couple of obvious places we can eliminate. The house, the barn..."

"Uh-huh. The house is empty; the barn is closed." Snake scowled. "Or so we were told."

"You don't believe that... uh, the 'Operator...' was telling the truth?"

"I'm not taking a word from him at face value. He's an intelligence operative, and I distrust those on general principal." He turned his head and spat. "Spies. Never come right out and say what you mean when you can settle for dropping a vague hint and watching people chase their own asses trying to solve it."

"Starting to sense some hostility here, Snake."

Snake glowered at her. "Don't get cute."

Why the hay not, Mr. In-Point-Of-Fact-Neither-Of-Us-Is-Standing?

While she saw his point – there was a lot about the Operator that made her skin crawl, not the least of which was that niggling familiarity – the fact remained that he worked for the Princess; he was in Dodge on her business. That alone meant that they were on the same side, that they could trust one another... right?

The burden of being a smart pony – you never know if your paranoia is justified, or if it's just your healthily active imagination running rampant.

"He knew a lot more than he was telling us." Snake pointed with the barrel of his rifle, first at the barn, then at the not-so-distant knoll where Cherry's white farmhouse stood. "There's got to be something in one of those that's worth seeing."

"Fair enough," said Twilight. "And even if we don't find any sign of Rainbow, we might stumble upon some survivors of whatever happened in town. Cherry Jubilee, maybe."

Snake looked perplexed. "That a name, or a dessert?"

"The owner of the ranch. I didn't see her out in Dodge during the fight. Maybe she survived out here."

Snake sighed in disapproval. "Twilight..."

"I know, I know." Twilight raised one hoof placatingly. "But Cherry's a friend. I'm not saying that we throw everything else away, but I can't go looking for Rainbow Dash on her land and not keep an eye out for her too."

For a moment, Twilight thought that Snake would press the issue, but instead of the counterargument she was expecting, he let out another sigh. "Fine. But make no mistake, we've got enough problems to manage without adding a second goddamn search-and-rescue mission on top of everything else. If we find Rainbow Dash without ever finding this other friend of yours, then we're calling it a day."

Twilight let herself relax. She truly wasn't sure what they'd do if they were once again at odds. "Alright."

Snake was silent for a moment before continuing. "One more thing we need to be clear on." He pushed off from the bumper and stood at his full height, looming over Twilight, and thumped the car's rear with his fist.

"I'm pretty sure I can hotwire this into running. Provided there's enough fuel for the trip, we could probably ride it all the way back to Ponyville." He glanced up at the sun and squinted. "I'll give it 'til sunset. If we don't find anything by then..."

The unspoken suggestion raised her ire again – apparently, Snake was going to insist on staying at loggerheads over this. "I thought you said that things have changed now."

"They have," said Snake. "But not so much that I'm willing to compromise the mission on account of a damn feather. We have a clue and a sense of direction, but if it looks like it's going nowhere, then I'm pulling the plug and we're going back."

"You can," Twilight said, pivoting toward him. "But I'm not going anywhere until I find my friend."

Dead or alive, she might have added.

"And is that what she would want from you?" Snake's voice remained level and cool. "In the castle, when she was pinned under that rubble, she told you to forget about her, to take Spike and run. You know her better than I do, so correct me if I'm wrong, but that doesn't sound like someone who'd want you to endanger your town and your other friends on her account."

Twilight opened her mouth to retort, and found she had nothing to say. The answer, of course, was no. Rainbow Dash could be pig-headed and self-centered, but her ironclad loyalty meant she displayed a startling sense of selflessness where her friends were concerned. Would she expect Twilight to try everything in her power to find and rescue her? No doubt. Would she want Twilight to do that if it meant compromising their friends, their home, their very country?

Not for her sake. She's too noble for that.

Snake turned away, toward the barn, and lifted the rifle. "Think it over. For now, let's eliminate the obvious."

The big, double-doored front entrance to the barn was closed tight, but to the right was another door, smaller and pony-sized. Gripping his new rifle in his right hand, Snake knelt, reached out with his left hand, and gave the door a tentative push. It shook, but didn't open.

"Feels like it's barred from the inside. Ugh, my kingdom for a P.A.N. card." He pressed his hand against the door again and leaned against it.

"You know, if it's bolted from the inside..." Twilight lowered her voice. "Wouldn't that suggest that there's somepony inside to bar it?"

"Pretty hard to lock a door from the inside when you're on the other side of it. At least, in my experience." Snake returned his left hand to the support the gun's barrel and glanced at her. "Couldn't a unicorn do that though?"

"Theoretically? Sure. But using levitation to manipulate an object without a clear line of sight is tricky business, especially if you're physically separated from it by some great distance, or even something as simple as a door. Bolting a door shut from the other side of it would require clear recollection of all the objects involved in the action, from the door, to the bolt itself, even the—"

"I get it, thanks," said Snake, ignoring Twilight's frown at being interrupted. "Either way, this door's pretty solid. I don't see myself kicking it down." One of his hands drifted to a pouch on his belt. "Still got some C4, though. I could always blast it open."

"Or," said Twilight, indelicately shouldering past Snake. "You could save it for something more important." Her horn shimmered. As arduous as the day had been, as taxing on her energy reserves as the fight in Dodge was, she could still manage a shockwave spell with sufficient force to break down a barn door.

"Hang on." Behind her, Snake knelt, and braced his rifle against his shoulder. Twilight could just barely make out the end of his suppressor in her peripheral vision. He was covering her, of course, which was smart, and she was used to him carrying and pointing guns all over the place, beside or behind or in front of her – not that she especially liked having guns around, but she'd acclimated.

Still, having the end of the gun that the bullets came out of so close to her head made her skin feel all prickly.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Go for it."

The ball of light appeared, collapsed, and burst outward again with a sound like thunder; the door shattered into a conical burst of splinters that shotgunned into the barn. Her aura sparked around her horn again, and another light shone from the tip – a simple lighting spell this time. Immediately, she could tell that something was wrong with the barn, something dreadfully wrong that puzzled and unnerved her. A familiar combination of anxiety and adrenaline flushed through her system.

Behind her, Snake grunted. "Don't barns usually have floors?"

It was an impertinent question, but a correct observation. By the pink light of her aura, Twilight could see that the floor of the barn was now an ovular pit, its sides slick and black, yet tinged a sickly green. It didn't fill the whole floor; the barn's interior was rectangular, and its corners – including the corner in front of her – still had islands of earth jutting over the pit, their edges curved inward. At the bottom of the pit was a multicolored mist that swirled with different hues, red and yellow, blue and orange, green and white and purple and pink.

The sight of it made Twilight's burgeoning anxiety burgeon even more – there was something disturbing about it, perverted, unnatural. Sweat beaded on her brow, and tickled her skin as it slid down her face. Snake didn't look like he was feeling it; he was stolid as ever as he took in the barn's interior.

There was just enough room for the two of them to stand inside the barn together, though rather closer than she would have preferred. Twilight tried to ignore her companion's uncomfortable proximity and craned her head down, narrowing the light from her aura into a thin beam of white, and casting its glow into the pit in front of her. The fog was dense, impenetrable by her light, but as she swept her light from one side of the pit to the other, she came to an unsettling realization.

"This pit is perfectly symmetrical," she announced to Snake. "The walls, the curve of the ellipse, the slope of the pit's sides... its geometric dimensions are exact."

"I don't know what's funnier, that someone went to all the trouble of digging a perfectly symmetrical hole, or that you can figure that out at a glance. " Snake sounded amused.

Twilight wasn't. She swallowed. "I don't think this was 'dug out.' Not with shovels, anyway. This was done with magic."

"By a unicorn? Someone like you?" Snake asked. He knelt at the very edge of the pit and gazed inside, his eyes tracking the movement of Twilight's spotlight, and his rifle's barrel resting against his shoulder.

"Yeah. A very gifted and disciplined unicorn, with extraordinary focus. Powerful, too, to make that much mass just poof away."

To anypony who could have created that mess in Dodge, something like this would probably be a cakewalk.

"Hey, Twilight." Snake pointed at a spot below the barn's main door, several feet to their left. "Shine your light over there. Looks like some kind of a—"

His sentence became a cry of surprise as the ground beneath his front foot gave suddenly, and he fell forward. Twilight shouted his name and leaped toward him, hoof extended for him to catch, before realizing that she hadn't secured herself to anything. Gravity pulled them down together; they rolled in a tangled ball of hooves and hands and feet and firearms down the side of the pit.

Snake struck the bottom with a thud and a grunt and a squish, releasing his grip on Twilight's hoof on impact. Twilight landed on top of him, sprawling across his chest and shoulders. His body, partially obscured beneath the layer of fog, cushioned her, but she ached in a dozen places from the trip to the bottom of the pit.

Still, judging by the way Snake was groaning, he got the worse end of it.

"You okay?" Twilight smacked her lips, tasting blood – she must have bitten herself.

That'll canker up nicely.

She placed her forehooves on either side of him; the ground felt light and spongy. The fog shifted around her legs, swallowing them up to the fetlock. Twilight lifted her top half off of Snake's body, concerned about pressing down on him with too much of her weight.

"Back hurts," groaned Snake, bracing his elbows on the ground and lifting his torso slightly. "And I landed in something wet. Not mud – texture's all wrong." He rose until his head was of a height with Twilight's, their faces awkwardly close together.

Snake narrowed his eyes. "Wanna move?"

"Ah, heh... sorry." Twilight scurried backward off of him, her hooves throwing up wisps and puffs of fog.

Snake rose ponderously to his feet, cracking his neck. His sides and shoulders and front and... heck, his whole body... was covered in translucent green gunk that sloughed off in thick, snotty ropes. Snake looked himself over and stretched his arms to his sides, and that formed a thin membrane of gunk connecting his elbows with his ribs, making him faintly resemble a flying squirrel.

Snake looked at either arm and made a disgusted sound. "Yeah. Definitely landed in something wet." He glanced at the rifle, which was similarly caked in goo, and grunted. "I really hope this thing doesn't jam after this. Cheap-ass Arms Material garbage..."

Twilight raised one of her hooves to her mouth to hide a smirk, only for it to die when she saw a strand of the same mucousy substance connecting her hoof with the ground.

"Guh!" She flailed her hoof to shake the mucous off, and the strand whipped back and forth in the air with every movement. "Gross gross gross gross ew ew ew ew ew ew!"

Snake watched, chuckling.

Twilight glared at him; her horn flashed, and her magic scraped the substance off her hoof, flinging it back to the ground. "What is this stuff, anyway?" she muttered.

Her horn shimmered and a gust of air blew a hole in the layer of fog beneath her. She aimed her light through the hole. There was more green gunk coating the ground, but it was covering something something else, the spongy carpet that Twilight was starting to realize was not just more earth. Twilight's horn flashed again, and a gust of wind blew through the barn, displacing the fog and tossing Snake's bandanna around his head. Ignoring his annoyed cry of surprise, Twilight peered closer at the surface she was standing on.

Beneath her hoof was a triangular flap of jet-black something that was coated in green gunk. Other flaps lay draped across the pit, all radiating out from a central point in the middle. Twilight lifted one of the flaps with her magic; it was surprisingly light, considering its size. The bottom half was smudged with dirt, but she could see the same jet-black coloration, tinted slightly green by a film of mucous that had seeped beneath it. Twilight probed it with her hoof, and it gave beneath her, squishing inward. It had a different texture to it than what she was standing on, though. The surface beneath her hooves was spongy; this was firmer, more rubbery, still soft, but with less give. It felt like a hard-boiled—

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

"This was an egg."

"An egg? What do you..." Snake trailed off as his eyes caught sight of something behind Twilight. He shifted his body and raised the rifle to his shoulder again. "So, about what I was saying before we fell..."

Twilight looked at what had captured his attention. Her ears folded with dismay.

Behind her, running directly underneath the barn's big double-doors, was the yawning mouth of a cave, its highest point maybe inches taller than Snake. And, unlike the smooth walls of the pit, this one had scratches and furrows running along its sides and roof. The pit had been dug out using magic. This tunnel had just plain been dug out.

"You think whatever hatched from this egg did that?" Snake asked, his voice dropping to something a few decibels above a whisper.

"I don't know. I don't want to know." Twilight backed away slowly. "I'd really just like to leave now please."

"No argument here. Walls are slick, but not too steep. With enough of a running start, I think we can climb 'em."

"Right. Right. Okay." Twilight swallowed. "On the count of three?"

"Every time we do that, something bad happens," growled Snake. "Let's skip that step this time."

She almost laughed – Snake's superstition was cute. She dug her hooves into the ground, coiled her legs—

And a low, droning buzz from the tunnel entrance made her freeze. There was an indistinct shape just past the mouth of the cave, where nothing had been just moments before. Twilight swept her light at the source of the noise, and saw something hanging in the air: a familiar creature, insectoid and equine at the same time. Black chitin covered its body instead of a furry coat, and its eyes were blue and spherical. Gossamer wings buzzed blurrily, suspending it in the air, and its limbs dangled limply beneath the rest of its body.

She heard the click of Snake flicking off the rifle's safety. "The hell is that?"

"A changeling," whispered Twilight. "Why...?"

Snake grunted softly. "Don't suppose it's friendly?"

"Let's find out." Twilight raised her voice to address the changeling. "We didn't come here looking for a fight. We're just trying to find our friend, okay? Do you understand me?"

The changeling's glassy eyes rolled toward Twilight, seeing her, yet looking through her. Its mouth drooped open, and green, foamy saliva dripped from wickedly pointed fangs. A familiar gurgling sound escaped its throat. Twilight met its gaze and sucked in a shocked breath.

Those eyes.

The changelings she remembered from Canterlot had beady, blue-green eyes. They had no pupils or irises, yet they were vivid in color, and expressive. There was shrewdness behind them, intelligence, maybe even emotion. But these eyes were dull, lifeless, and pale. They were sallow orbs of faint blue, bulging wide against an expressionless face, showing no intelligence or feeling.

And Twilight couldn't help noting how similar the color was to the desaturated coat of the mindless stallion who had staggered down the saloon steps after her.

"Snake." Twilight backed away a step, her heart hammering. "I think that changeling's been bled!"

The changeling let loose a feral snarl and flew toward Twilight, jaws wide. Snake fired twice, catching it its middle with both rounds. Green fluid sprayed in the air, and chips of its carapace flew from the point of impact. Its body jackknifed and dropped to the ground, where it lay invisible beneath the fog cover.

The brief silence that followed was broken almost immediately by dozens of pairs of gossamer wings beating at once, and a column of airborne changeling golems shot toward them from the mouth of the cave.

"Run," Snake snapped. "I'll cover you!"

Twilight ran – no, she galloped. The pops and hisses of Snake's suppressed gunfire were lost beneath the drone of the swarm's wings, but she could still hear the sounds of bullets shredding through them, and their bodies dropping to the ground. Snake's fire kept the changelings' attention squarely on him as Twilight reached the edge of the pit. Her hooves scraped against the walls, and momentum carried her up, tossing clumps and bunches of dirt with every flailing step.

She was halfway up, her exit almost in reach, before her hindhoof slipped and she skidded down the slope, her hooves scrabbling vainly. The exit receded, farther and farther, and Twilight cursed herself, wishing she had something, anything, to bring herself closer to it. A rope, a ladder, some tool, some way to go from one spot to anoth—

She felt like hitting herself. Twilight Sparkle, you utter one hundred percent FOOL.

Pink-white light filled Twilight's vision, and she felt the familiar sensation of weightlessness as her mass passed through the ether. An instant later, she materialized back on the on the spot of land beside the barn entrance, looking down into the pit. She whirled, her aura alive, and saw Snake backpedaling rapidly, emptying his magazine into the oncoming swarm of changelings.

Many fell. Not enough.

The bullets keeping the golems at bay cut off when the magazine ran dry. Snake roared as they came within striking distance, catching the nearest changeling with an elbow. Then he was backpedaling again, his left hand fumbling at his holster for his pistol.

With a silent apology for her stupidity, Twilight focused her aura on Snake, and he vanished and reappeared beside her, his pistol halfway drawn. The column of changelings kept on traveling forward, and slammed into the back wall of the pit.

Snake blinked, looked himself over, looked at Twilight, and looked at her horn. He slid his pistol back into his holster. "Huh. Forgot you could do that."

"Yeah, join the club!" she snapped.

They quickly made their exit from the barn, back into the heat of the frontier summer. With no door left to close, and nothing to cast an adhesive spell upon, Twilight settled for tossing up a magic barrier in the door frame, sealing off the barn in time for the column to regroup and throw itself against the transparent pink shield.

A bruise formed at the changelings' point of contact. Snake swapped out his magazines, loaded a new round, and leveled the rifle at the door in anticipation of the barrier falling. Then the main door exploded outward, and a second column of changelings sallied forth, sweeping toward Snake and Twilight.

Twilight dropped the pointless shield at the barn and recast it as a sphere around herself and Snake. Both columns of golems came to a halt inches away from striking it, and shot into the air, coalescing into a swollen, buzzing ball directly above the barrier.

"Well," said Twilight. "This is eerily familiar."

Snake sat; he curled his legs so that his knees pointed upward, reclined as far back as he could inside the barrier, and aimed his rifle toward the sky. "I still have some C4 left. I'll plant it here; you teleport us away the instant they hit the barrier, then you drop it before they have a chance to regroup. I set off the bomb, and we take out a bunch of them at once."

"And then?"

"We find out if I have enough bullets for the rest of them."

Gallows humor. She could practically feel the hemp around her neck. "Do we count to three?"

Snake looked sidelong at her.

"Fair enough," she said.

The center of the ball began protruding downward, forming a stalactite poised directly above the middle of Twilight's shield. The changeling at the very tip met Twilight's gaze with its own; its eyes flashed, and for a split second, Twilight saw a sneer of contempt on its muzzle. It opened its mouth and screeched, green spittle spraying onto her barrier.

Twilight tensed. Beside her, she heard rustling as Snake reached into his pocket for another bomb. She held the gaze of the changeling above her, defiant.

Her eye contact was broken suddenly when a shiny blur slammed into the changeling at the tip of the spike from behind. It sailed over the barrier, arced downward, and slammed the changeling into the dirt, skidding with it and coming to a halt.

"That's a—" Snake rose to a kneel, gawking at the new arrival. "A pegasus?!"

Rainbow Dash!

But that hope died as soon as Twilight glimpsed the sun glinting off the burnished gold armor encasing the pegasus's body, the matching greathelm covering her head, the crest of red feather crowning it, the butt of the spear curled under her right foreleg, and the brown saddlebags marked with a blazing sun and a waxing moon.

A smile broke across Twilight's face – it wasn't Rainbow Dash, but it was a welcome sight regardless. "She's with the Royal Guard! The others must have gotten a message to the Princess!"

The first pegasus was quickly followed by a massive wedge of shining gold that thrust into the center of the changelings' stalactite, severing their formation in two. The wedge broke and engaged both groups of changelings, encircling them and cutting them off from one another. The air was filled with battle cries and sprays of green as they thrust and jabbed and stabbed with their lances. The golems fought ferociously, but they were on the defensive, caught off guard by the impetus of the pegasi's charge. The guardsponies fought relentlessly, showing no signs of breaking. They were tough, well-trained, and well-drilled.

And, most importantly, they outnumbered the changelings.

"Hey! Sister!" The pegasus who had led the charge hovered above Twilight's barrier, her lance smeared green from the head halfway down the haft. Her words were muffled by her greathelm. "Why don'tcha put that horn to use?" Then she spread her wings and soared into the melee.

Why not?

The barrier collapsed into a flickering light at the tip of Twilight's horn. Firing wildly into the thickest fighting seemed a poor idea, so she picked her targets more carefully, aiming bolts at stragglers, at golems who became separated from the melee, who tried to withdraw and regroup. Her attacks weren't charged enough to kill, but they stunned and staggered the golems long enough for Snake to finish them off. He fired in bursts of one, two, three rounds that blew Twilight's targets out of the sky without missing once.

Golems dropped like hailstones, splattering against the ground, some twitching, some not. Twilight avoided looking at them whenever she could, keeping her mind as focused as possible on picking her targets and firing. Fire. Stun. Fire again. They're not alive. They don't feel pain. They're mindless. You're doing them a favor. What is death but a kindness?

She fired, stunned a golem, and rifle rounds shredded its head and body until it dropped from the sky, struck the ground, and spasmed in its death throes.

If this is kindness, then I have no stomach for it.

A mass of changelings separated from the melee, a ragged stream of ten or twelve. Most were wounded, some perhaps fatally, but they clung together all the same. They formed a tight wedge and shot toward the nearby orchard, vanishing past the treeline in seconds. Above, the Royal Guard finished off the last of their brethren, their green-smeared spearheads glinting in the sun with each thrust.

A tactical retreat. They're providing a diversion while a small number of them withdraw into the orchard. The Operator was wrong; these golems were nowhere near mindless.

This realization did nothing to ease Twilight's sense of guilt.

It was over in seconds, and the pegasus with the red crest on her helm dropped lower to the ground, beating her off-white wings to keep herself hovering a few inches in the air. She held her lance in front of her, placed one hoof against its butt, and collapsed the haft into a far more manageable length. She slid it into a notch beneath her saddlebag, where it hung securely against her side.

A telescopic spear? That's... kind of ingenious, actually.

The mare's forehooves, now free, hooked underneath her helm, and she wrenched it off. Her mane was vermilion, striped with goldenrod on its left side, and plastered to her head and her neck with sweat.

Twilight took a step toward her, hooves clinking against the spent cartridges that littered the ground. "You are a sight for sore eyes. Thank you so much for—"

Without looking, the mare held up a gunk-covered golden hoof, silencing Twilight.

Twilight snorted. She was very tired of being interrupted today.

"Alright, fillies and gentlecolts, let's see some ranks in that sky!" the mare barked. The pegasi did as instructed, falling into straight, even columns in the air, ten ponies high and twenty ponies long.

"So!" Her back was turned, so she couldn't see the mare's face, but Twilight could hear the grin in her voice. "How was that for a little break in routine, huh? Finally tracked those bugs down, got a chance to get our widdle hoofsies wet. Who's feelin' good about themselves now, huh? Sing it out!"

"KILLJOY COMPANY, MA'AM!" their voices boomed in unison.

With far less enthusiasm, a single voice droned "Killjoy Company," tacking on a "ma'am" as an afterthought.

"That's what I like to hear!" Red Crest kicked off the ground, hovering with powerful strokes of her wings. "And after a long day spent gettin' sand in our feathers and a good fifteen-minute ass-kicking sesh, I'll bet you want nothing more than to tuck in to those delectable G-rations and snuggle up in your bedrolls. Am I right or am I wrong?"

"WRONG AS HELL, MA'AM!"

"I could go either way, ma'am," called the same dissenter.

"That's what I really like to hear," crowed the mare in charge. "So here's what we're gonna do: we're gonna stick eyes and ears in every direction, hunker down, and scour this frickin' ranch like steel wool on a bathtub. Speakin' of, Steel Wool!"

"Ma'am?"

"Stop whining. It's unsexy. Prince-Blueblood-on-a-bender unsexy."

"Yes, ma'am," Steel Wool said, with just a hint of insolence.

"So here's today's special!" The mare pointed commandingly at the company. "Teams A and B, spread out along that treeline and keep a close watch. Do not go in. That's C-Team's job. C, scout the orchard. Nice and easy, nice and slow. If you encounter the enemy in force, then fall back and regroup with A and B. Clem, keep your ponies from sampling the crops; I frickin' mean it.

"D, E, give me a flyover; watch the orchard from the air. Same rule as A and B applies: you do not go in, or I will find the nasty-assiest griffon with the nasty-assiest claws in Griffonstone and personally ensure that she fingerbangs each and every one of your mothers.

"The rest of you, you're a-scourin' and a-hunkerin'. F, the town; get a look at those trains. G, the farmhouse. Both of you are responsible for search-and-rescue. You find civvies; you bring 'em back here; if they're injured, stabilize them however you can before regrouping here, and Jingles can give 'em more thorough treatment. You find buggies, you fall the hell back, get reinforcements, and go kick their asses in force. I-team, thanks to your wingmate's bitching, you get the fun duty of poking around inside that barn. That's where this bunch came from, so there's probably an entrance to their hive down there. Find it, watch it, report back to me. Don't go in. Ask D and E what happens if you break that little rule.

"And J? Perimeter duty. Get up high, keep your eyes open. You see anything suspicious, sing out." She finally paused. "Questions?"

Not a word of reply.

"And that is what I really frickin' LOVE to hear: zero backtalk!" Her hooves ping-ping-pinged as she clapped. "Good talk; now do as you're told."

"MA'AM!"

The pegasi broke into squadrons, flying off to their assigned duties. A thick mob flew toward the orchard in a V-formation, disintegrating into smaller groups and veering apart from one another. Two more groups of twenty each soared toward the barn and the farmhouse; another flew toward Dodge, and the last simply flew straight up, forming a wide ring that rotated slowly in the sky.

That left Snake, Twilight, and the mare alone, on a spot of earth littered with changeling corpses and spent cartridges. The mare kept her back to them, though, even as a trembling wing unfurled from her body, tucked into a gap in her armor, pulled something free, and raised it to her lips. She tossed her head back quickly, sighed, and tucked the object away again.

Snake and Twilight exchanged a look. He made a gesture with one of his hands, curling his middle three fingers but splaying his thumb and little finger, tilted his head back slightly, and jerked his hand toward his mouth.

Twilight raised an eyebrow.

Snake held the gesture for several seconds, but eventually dropped his hand to his side with a rumbly sigh.

The mare finally turned around, and to Twilight's surprise, was smiling a wide, easy smile that didn't quite reach her amber eyes. "So hey, small world, huh? Who'da thunk I'd run into Shining Armor's kid sis all the way out in the frontier?"

So they weren't expecting to find us.

Twilight sagged in response to the mare's words. Her hope for rescue or reinforcement diminished, and she exchanged another look with Snake.

"Shining Armor?" he mouthed. "Seriously?"

She shot him a withering stare before addressing the guardsmare again. "Uh, yes, that's me." She waved. "Hiya."

The mare chuckled. "You were best mare at his wedding, right? What was your name? Starlight... Shimmer?"

"Twilight Sparkle," she said, in a tone that matched her flat, bemused expression.

She did her best to ignore Snake's snicker.

The mare laughed. "Close enough? Heh." She kicked off the ground and flapped her way up to Twilight, shifting her greathelm from her right foreleg to her left. "Hell of a night, that wedding. Lot more punching and 'pcheew-pcheew'-ing than I was expecting. Reception wasn't quite as much fun, but the DJ was pretty great." She tilted her head at Twilight curiously. "Come to think of it, didn't you and me make out for, like, fifteen minutes at that thing?"

Twilight stiffened, and blushed brightly enough to be seen from orbit. "Excuse me? No! We did not – I did not—"

"You sure?" The mare stroked her chin, unintentionally smearing goop across her face. "Because I coulda sworn I made out with some unicorn at that thing, and if it wasn't you, then—"

"I. Did not. Make out. With anypony. At my brother's wedding." Twilight said through gritted teeth.

"Maybe you should have," Snake muttered. He had his rifle's magazine in his hand and was fiddling idly with the gun's receiver. "A little action might've done wonders for your mood."

"Nopony asked for your input!" Twilight yelled, her face burning brighter.

Snake didn't so much as look up from his fiddling.

"Alright, alright, no harm in checking," said the mare. "Now that I think on it, I'm pretty sure that unicorn was, like… white. Or maybe teal? I was pretty drunk anyway, so my memory is not to be relied on. But just so you know, if you, uh, wanna make up for lost time later—"

"Who are you?" Twilight snapped, making the mare recoil in surprise. "Look, I'm grateful and all for the rescue, but despite you knowing me by sight and reputation, I have no idea who you are! So maybe some introductions are in order before you start propositioning me!"

"Ah... right," the mare stammered. She fluttered back down to the ground and refolded her wings. "Well, uh..." She coughed, cleared her throat, and grinned again. "You have the honor of addressing the one and only—"

"Captain Killjoy!"

"Damn it all, Steel Wool!" The one and only Captain Killjoy fumed at a steel-gray pegasus with a shiny silver tail and a pair of lilac-colored eyes. "This better be good."

Steel Wool saluted halfheartedly. "The inside of that barn's been dug out completely into this weird, foggy pit. And you were right about there being an entrance to their hive, or whatever. We found a big tunnel." He shrugged.

"You didn't notice the egg?" Twilight interjected.

Killjoy looked at Twilight over her shoulder. Steel Wool stared blankly at her. "Egg?" they asked at the same time.

Twilight looked between their confused faces. "Beneath the fog. You know how the ground's all spongy and rubbery? That's the remains of some kind of egg. Whatever hatched from it dug out that tunnel, most likely."

Killjoy whistled, giving Twilight a sly, flirtatious look. "Smart, cute, and she makes my guardsponies look bad. You're just the complete package, aren't you, Sparkle-Sparkle?"

Ugh. Twilight cringed.

"Egg," Steel Wool scoffed, kicking the dirt and frowning. "Like I'm supposed to know—"

"Yes! You are supposed to know what's in the barn! That was literally the job that I gave you and the rest of your screwball team!" Killjoy facehoofed, groaning. "You get half a gold star for finding that hole in the ground, private. Now go stare at it some more before I reinstate corporal punishment all over your ass." She peeked up at him from behind her hoof. "And remember your orders. Or else."

"Right. Fingerbanging. Perish the thought." Steel Wool took off back toward the barn.

"He's really not a bad kid," Killjoy muttered. "Just needs a personality transplant. In the worst way." She shook her head as she turned back to face Twilight. Her sweaty mane stubbornly refused to uncling from her skin.

Twilight rifled through her mental dictionary to find a definition for "fingerbang," but found nothing. Is that, like, when a species with fingers makes a gun shape with its hand and goes "bang"? What kind of punishment is that?

"So as I was saying." She tried for another grin. "You're addressing Killjoy of the Canterlot Royal Guard, Aerial Division. Captain Killjoy, if you please."

Steel Wool, still in earshot, coughed into his hoof. "Brevet."

"I seem to recall dismissing you, private!" Killjoy snapped without turning to look at the other pegasus.

Steel Wool fluttered away with a sardonic smirk.

Killjoy sighed. "Technically I'm properly addressed as 'Brevet Captain Killjoy'." She added air quotes over 'brevet' with her hooves. "Normally, I'd just be Sergeant Killjoy of the Royal Guard, but Captain Your-Big-Brother booted me up to a temporary officer's commish before he sent us out here. I wanted to be Colonel Killjoy, but apparently our ranking system only goes up to captain. Stupid rule."

"How difficult that must be for you," said Twilight.

"Ah, it ain't so bad," said Killjoy, missing or ignoring Twilight's sarcasm. "I get a fancier helmet, authority to appoint officers as needed. And you'd be surprised how much tail even a brevet captain can get out here."

"None whatsoever?" said Snake.

Killjoy's face fell, and she mumbled a string of inarticulate syllables. Twilight felt the urge to hoofbump Snake, alongside the urge to throw poor Killjoy a bone. "Well, whatever your rank, it's a relief to see some friendly faces out here."

Even if they're led by a horny drunk.

"I gotta ask, though, what's a company of Royal Guardsponies doing out in the middle of the frontier?"

Killjoy looked back up with a glint in her eye, and she grinned. "We're huntin' changelings."

Snake glanced at the small pile of broken bodies that accumulated beneath the melee. "And how," he muttered. "Any reason why? Or is this some kind of xenophobia thing?"

Killjoy twitched an ear. "Hey, they invaded us. They attacked Canterlot a few months ago and almost won, even against the Princess. We're here to stop them from trying that again."

"Their queen impersonated my brother's fiancee, Cadance, put him under some kind of mind control, and tried to marry him and take over Equestria," Twilight explained in a quiet voice. "She left Cadance and I for dead in the tunnels beneath Canterlot Castle, and would have gotten away with it if we hadn't escaped and unmasked her."

She recalled Cadance's state when they met below the castle, the Queen's callous gloating, and the vacuous stare of her brother on the dais. The thoughts made her simmer with anger. She never wanted that to happen again... yet she couldn't find it in her to want the changelings dead for what they did.

A glob of green gunk dripped from the tip of Killjoy's spear and splashed at her hooves.

Clearly, Princess, you disagree.

Snake looked at Twilight from the corner of his eye, then at Killjoy. "Fair enough. You won't get any judgment from me."

"I take that as an apology?" Killjoy's devilish smile returned. "No harm done. Glad you understand."

Snake shrugged.

The guardsmare cleared her throat and again addressed Twilight. "Rumors floated up to Canterlot about changeling sightings out in the frontier, ever since a few weeks after the wedding. Isolated reports at first, easy to dismiss as jittery settler ponies jumping at their own shadows. Then they started getting more frequent, more specific. Suddenly, they weren't so easy to dismiss, so we were dispatched. Of course, until today, we haven't been able to track down and engage them, but we've seen plenty of their handiwork. Everything between here and Haysweed Swamps is deserted. Homesteads, trading posts... I figured the changelings were making their move out here, pushing west, just a matter of time before they took on Dodge or Appleloosa. Looks to me like I was right, a day late and a bit short." She hung her head.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. You did kinda save us just now," said Twilight.

Killjoy perked up and winked. "Aw, that was no sweat. The life of a guardspony is one of constant sacrifice and casual heroism. When we're not pacing, of course." She eyed the makeshift bandage around Snake's arm. "Besides, if you don't mind my saying so, you look like you were overdue for a good turn. You both look like crap. Especially you, big guy, no offense." Killjoy beat her wings and fluttered toward Snake. "You got a name?"

"Call me Snake."

"Solid Snake," Twilight added.

"Solid..." A smirk ticked up the corner of Killjoy's lips, and she snickered. "Heh. That means 'penis'."

Snake muttered angrily and glared at Twilight, who turned away to hide a small, yet triumphant, grin.

Guess "Shining Armor" isn't so silly after all, is it?

"So, Solid Dick, tell me – how'd you get this?" Killjoy lifted Snake's forearm in her hooves and pressed her face close to the bandage, drawing in a noisy breath through her nose.

Is she... sniffing him?

"It's a bite," said Snake, yanking his arm away. "It needed attention. Made do with what I had on hand."

"Using a gross rag and..." She breathed deeply, wafting the vapors from the bandage toward her nose with her hooves. "What appears to be corn whiskey. Hardcore, but I think I can do you one better." Killjoy craned her head up to the sky, stuck a hoof into her mouth, and whistled sharply. "Hey! Jinglebell! Got something that needs stitching!"

One of the pegasi circling overhead dropped to ground level. Jinglebell was a stocky stallion, with a purple coat several shades darker than Twilight's, and a bright yellow tail poking out the back of his armor. His gear was the same as his comrades, but his saddlebags were emblazoned with red crosses, with a matching one cresting his halfhelm.

"What can I do for—" His eyes found Snake, settled on the bandage around his arm, and widened, pupils shrinking to pinpricks. "Sweet merciful Maiden of the Stars, what is this?!"

"A bite! Treated with some gnarly field med." Killjoy smirked. "Your absolute fave."

Snake opened his mouth, but Jinglebell shoved his hoof in it to cut him off. "Silence, you," he snapped. "You have forfeited your right to speak."

Murderous intent spilled from Snake's eyes toward the pegasus.

Jinglebell shoved his muzzle right up against the wound, millimeters away from the cruddy bandage. "By Celestia's sun-kissed flanks, you must really want an infection," he muttered. He withdrew his saliva-covered hoof from Snake's mouth and dropped to the ground, clicking his tongue. "Your wound cries out for sterile bandages and sutures and what do you give it? A dish-rag that looks like it was soaked in dish-water."

"I didn't have sterile bandages and sutures," growled Snake.

"Excuses, excuses. And what did I say about your right to speak?" Jinglebell reached into the cross-marked saddlebag on his back and tugged out supplies: the bandages he mentioned, thread, a needle, and a bottle of clear fluid that Twilight took as antiseptic. "Well, never fear. Your hero has arrived."

Killjoy slapped Jinglebell on the back with a snicker. "Your confidence inspires, my good little pony." She smirked at Twilight and jerked her head to the side. "C'mon, I gotta make some rounds – let's you and me chit-chat while these two have their fun." She stepped away, beckoning for Twilight to follow.

"Uh, well..." Twilight glanced at Snake. "Are you... gonna be okay here, Snake?"

"Oh, he'll be better than okay after I'm done stitching him up," muttered Jinglebell. He looped a length of thread through a needle held between two feathers and grinned at Snake.

Snake's glare promised bloody retribution upon Twilight.

"He'll be fine," said Killjoy. "Jinglebell's needlework is second to none. His bedside manner, on the other hoof..." She shrugged and smiled helplessly. "Hey, nopony's perfect. Now, c'mon. Girl talk time."

Killjoy sidled against Twilight. Her armor, heated by the desert sun, was hot against Twilight's coat, and the oily smell of pony sweat was overpowering, making Twilight pull away. Oblivious or apathetic to her discomfort, Killjoy looped one of her forelegs around Twilight's and guided her away.

Killjoy's first stop was the farmhouse. The walk wasn't especially long, just long enough for Killjoy to kill time by probing Twilight about her presence in Dodge. After eventually managing to wriggle her leg free of the pegasus's grip, Twilight recounted the events of the last two days, condensing where she could, omitting what was irrelevant. She started with finding Snake in the woods, and hurriedly explained the existence of Metal Gear and the presence of the Pegasus Wings army.

Her description of the human mercenaries got a knowing chuckle out of Killjoy. "So there's a whole universe full of homos out there, huh?"

Twilight, not sure what in the hay a "homo" was in this context, but annoyed at being yet again interrupted, channeled her chagrin into a glare.

"Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," said Killjoy when she glimpsed the look Twilight was giving her. "It's just nice to be right. I always knew there was some truth to Slaymare, not like that Daring Do crap the foals love."

Twilight rushed through a retelling of the fight in the castle. Predictably, Killjoy pressed Twilight for details on the IRVING battle, intrigued by the prospect of the Elements of Harmony fighting a fire-breathing robot, but Twilight breezed through it, not seeing the relevance. More relevant were the injuries sustained by Spike and Rainbow Dash, and something about the way she spoke of them – or perhaps something on her face – prompted Killjoy to offer her tiny silver flask to Twilight.

"Thanks," Twilight said in a thick, choked voice. Her eyes were misty. When had they gotten misty? She furiously rubbed them and sniffed. "But no thanks. I'll take water if you have it, though."

Killjoy snorted. "This shit's so weak it may as well be water."

Twilight stared flatly at her, but her bemusement was offset by a hint of a smile.

"Fine, fine." Killjoy dug around in her saddlebag, retrieved a canteen, and tossed it to Twilight. She caught it with her magic and took a long swig. "Y'know, you got a cute smile, Sparkle."

Twilight finished her pull and shoved the canteen into the other mare's armored chest with a clang. "My brother is your boss, remember."

"Which means I have a shot at marrying into royalty. Kinda. Sorta." Killjoy grinned and replaced the canteen in her saddlebag.

From there, Twilight hit the key moments – the meeting with the Mayor, Ponyville being isolated, and the balloon with the blue feather that started the whole wild goose chase.

Hearing about the balloon seemed to draw Killjoy into some memory. A wistful look crossed her face. "Y'know, I've seen Rainbow Dash fly before – she's a hell of a mare. I tell you what, it'd take a lot more than a falling castle and a hole full'a rubble to kill somepony with as much concentrated awesome as her." The mare smiled. "We'll do what we can to help you out."

Twilight, grateful, finished the story with a quick summary of the fight in Dodge, omitting any mention of the Operator. It occurred to her that the mission the Princess had sent him on, the one he refused to disclose, might have to do with the changeling presence in the frontier, but neither he nor Killjoy showed any sign that they knew of the other's activities, much less that they were working together.

And besides, he was heading away from Dodge while Killjoy was heading toward it. His business must have been done by the time Snake and I showed up.

No, whatever he was up to, whatever involvement his mission had with the incident in Dodge, it was something probably best kept under wraps. She didn't like the Operator, didn't particularly trust him; the mess in the "closed" barn certainly seemed to justify Snake's paranoia regarding spies. But she trusted Princess Celestia, and whatever faith she placed in him and his mission would have to suffice for her.

"The ponies in town were the victims of some sort of dark magic," said Twilight to an increasingly alarmed Killjoy. "Ancient spells that can draw out somepony's soul – bleed it out – and leave their bodies behind as these husks called golems. I've, um..." She hesitated. "I've read about them. In books. In a book. In a book about magic—"

Killjoy headed her off, rushing in front of her and dropping back to the ground. "So those effed-up bodies up in town – no cutie marks, colors all washed out – you're telling me that was you and your Dick-buddy that killed 'em?"

Twilight nodded meekly. "They were feral. Murderous. There wasn't any way to help them, and no way to escape without..." She coughed. "We lured most of them into the saloon and burned it down with them inside."

"The fire, yeah. We saw it from miles away and beat wing getting to it." There was some new look in her eye – Twilight couldn't say what it was. "Damn, Sparkle. I can't believe..."

Twilight didn't say anything.

Killjoy took to the air again, cursing. "I'm sorry they made you do that. Damn those bugs."

"What makes you think it was changelings who hit Dodge?" Twilight asked.

"Seriously? You mean besides the swarm of them that tried walloping you just now?" Killjoy took a quick swig from her flask. "Those bodies confused the hell out of us, but after hearing your story, it all adds up. You've seen them in action; you saw what they did to your brother. They suck out love. Who's to say they can't suck out souls too?"

Specious reasoning. From a drunk, no less. Then again... Twilight had assumed that only a unicorn could pull off the kinds of magic she'd seen on display in Dodge. Drawing out souls, carving out that pit in the ground... but it wasn't as though unicorns were the only sapient creatures in Equestria capable of using magic, was it?

But the Operator said that having the power to do that meant nothing without the knowledge – where would the Changeling Queen have gotten the knowledge of those dark magics?

And surely she wouldn't be so monstrous as to bleed her own kind to make golems.

By then, they'd drawn close to the farmhouse. Pegasi buzzed like shiny golden bees around the perimeter, peering through windows or standing guard at key posts on the roof, at the front door, and in the backyard. Their telescopic spears were extended in hoof.

One of the guards at the front door – a mare, startlingly white with yellow eyes and a blue feather crest on her halfhelm – flapped over to greet them.

"Captain," she said as her hooves touched down and her wings folded. There was an intensity to her gaze, a sense of command, of authority and professionalism, that Twilight didn't get from Killjoy.

Killjoy nodded to the mare. "Talk to me, Goose."

"We've secured the house. All indications are that it was inhabited up until recently – within the last several days. There's a calendar on the icebox in the kitchen; the last day marked off was Sunday, the 27th. No sign of bugs anywhere, upstairs or down. No signs of violence, no struggle." She paused. "However..."

"Talk to me, Goosefeathers; you know I hate suspense."

"There's a survivor locked in the basement. A civilian." Her eyes softened. "We've been trying to coax her out, but I don't think she trusts us. And the way she's talking, it sounds like there's something seriously wrong with her. Psychologically, that is."

"Did she give you her name?" asked Twilight.

Goosefeathers glanced at her, and looked her from hoof to head. "We've asked, but she just responds with vague remarks and cryptic poetry."

Twilight looked at Killjoy, and Killjoy at Twilight. "It might be the ranch's owner," said the unicorn. "Cherry Jubilee."

"How do you figure?" asked Killjoy. "This Cherry Jubilee prone to crazy talk?"

"I mean, it could also be one of her workers, or somepony from town, but nopony I met the last time I was out here acted the way you're describing. And it is Cherry's house." Twilight shrugged. "Let me talk to her; maybe I can get her to come out. She's a friend."

Killjoy chewed her lip pensively before nodding. "Alright. You're with me. As you were, Goose."

The front door led into a hallway that branched off to the left, with a doorway to the kitchen in front of the house's entrance and, further down the hall and to the right, another doorway to the house's living room. The hall itself ended with a locked door, where two guardsponies were vainly entreating somepony to come out.

"It's alright," said one of the pegasi, a gray stallion. "We're with the Royal Guard—"

"Outside your jurisdiction!" cried a shrill, muffled voice from behind the door. "No permits! Unwanted! Show me your mark of office, or away!"

The two guardsponies exchanged a confused look. "I can do that, sure," said the same stallion, "but not unless you open the door for me. How about you come out, and we can talk face-to-face?"

"Faces mean nothing! Souls speak to one another when bound together by chain and yoke, and a half-forged link is better than none! You're no link; you wear no yoke; you are not me; I am not thee; away, away, away!"

Killjoy trotted toward the guards, Twilight beside her. "Sounds like this could be going better," the captain mused to Twilight.

Both guards turned at the sound of Killjoy's voice and snapped to attention.

"At ease." She nodded to the adjacent living room. "Go secure that couch for a spell."

With a crisp nod, the guards left Twilight and Killjoy standing in front of the door.

"Here goes," Killjoy muttered. She knocked twice on the door, leaving little globs of half-dried changeling goo, mixed with sand, on the chipping red paint. "This is Captain Killjoy of the Canterlot Royal Guard. We're here to—"

Hysterical laughter cut her off. "Captain of the cocks and the hens pecking about on my land, strutting and scratching and digging! I'll scratch you back, wait and see. I'll scratch you like a buck in the woods, dig deep in the sodden earth and lay your carcass out for the festering banquet!"

Killjoy glanced at Twilight out of the corner of her eye, and huffed. "I'm sorry you're so distraught, ma'am, but—"

"Beasts all over the shop! Silver and fire will do for 'em, but lead will do for you just as well!" She broke again into hysterical laughter.

"Is your name Cherry Jubilee?" Killjoy shouted.

Behind her, the guardsponies were peeking through the sitting room doorway, curious and perplexed.

The laughter died abruptly. Gentle whimpering rose to take its place "No yoke, no link, not part of the chain, no friend of mine... Cherry, Cherry, Cherry Jubilee, how do you know—"

"I have a friend of yours here." Killjoy nodded to Twilight, and took a step backward.

Twilight gulped and pressed her hoof against the door. "Hello, Cherry Jubilee. It's Twilight Sparkle. Do you remember me?"

Silence greeted her, before a strangled voice spoke back. "No friend to me. No friend of mine. False and foul, a liar I name you. Run off and never return. That's your nature, isn't it?"

There was an ominous snapping sound behind the door, a click that Twilight couldn't quite place.

"Cherry, I don't understand. I don't want to leave. I want to stay and—"

"You want to stay? Your promise renew? Then I've a gift for you! Lead and powder, shot and shell, enough to send a faithless mare to hell! The party favors you deserve!"

Twilight's eyes widened – that ominous click suddenly made a lot more sense. She whirled, caught Killjoy around the neck, and pulled her down to the ground just as part of the door's middle exploded into splinters.

How does she have a gun?!

Pellets caromed off the walls and ceiling, leaving scratches and scores in the unpainted wooden paneling. The guardsponies, drawn by the noise, rushed back into the corridor. At the sight of their captain lying prone on the floor, with Twilight's body covering hers, they moved in closer. Killjoy froze them with a shake of her head, and motioned frantically for them to get away. They quickly obeyed.

Killjoy was dusty, but unharmed, although if the snarl on her face served as any indicator, she was decidedly pissed off. She started to rise, but Twilight bid her to stay down with a firm press of her hoof upon her shoulder.

"She's scared, that's all," Twilight murmured to Killjoy. She shook her head, clearing dust and debris from her mane in a powdery cloud. "Give me a chance to talk her down."

Killjoy started to retort, but the look on Twilight's face made her bite down on the rest of her sentence. Swallowing hard, she nodded, and stayed low to the ground while Twilight stood.

The hole in the door was roughly half the size of Twilight's head, its sides jagged and splintery. Radiating around the hole were tinier holes, akin to pinpricks. Part of Twilight's research from that morning was devoted to studying firearms, so she could deduce from the damage to the door that Cherry's weapon was a shotgun. Where she could have gotten it and how she was using it, Twilight couldn't begin to guess.

She lit her horn with a pale white light and shone it through the hole. A pair of wide-open, bloodshot eyes stared back at her from behind the sights of a twin-barreled shotgun.

Two barrels. For two rounds.

Of which Cherry had fired one, or else the hole would have been bigger.

Play it cool, Twiley.

She stayed a pace away from the door, and spoke as calmly and soothingly as she could. "Cherry, do you remember me?"

Cherry thrust the shotgun through the hole, toward Twilight, who quickly conjured a shield in front of her. The shot never came. Twilight kept the shield up anyway.

"False friends and foes alike," Cherry whimpered. "Not links in the chain. No yoke. Away with you. It ought to come natural."

Twilight took a hesitant step forward. The barrel of the shotgun rested on the bottom edge of the hole, and was shaking in Cherry's grasp. "I'm not going anywhere, Cherry. I'm not going to leave you alone." Another step closer, and she could reach out and touch the door. "You're my friend, and I'm yours. Remember? There's nothing false about it."

The quaking of the shotgun intensified.

"I'm going to drop my shield now, okay? Please don't shoot." The light in Twilight's horn winked out, and her shield vanished with it. Her hoof trembling, Twilight reached through the hole in the door and touched the shotgun's still-warm barrel with her hoof.

"Look at me, Cherry." Twilight spoke softly, kindly, to avoid provoking another outburst of anger. She pushed the shotgun back, gently, and felt no resistance from Cherry. The weapon lowered, and Twilight could see the rest of Cherry's face – her cheeks, streaked with dirt, and her eyes, bruised and tired. From behind came the sound of gold-shod hooves scraping against wood.

"Do you recognize me?" Twilight summoned her inner Cheerilee and smiled in as gentle and maternal a way as she could. "Do you remember me now?"

Cherry blinked once, and her eyes started to focus on the unicorn's face. Cherry blinked twice, and the wildness in her eyes abated. "Twilight. Twilight Sparkle. Applejack's..."

"Yes, that's right." Twilight nodded. "Applejack's friend."

"You came for her. I remember you coming for her." Cherry fell onto her haunches, her eyes going unfocused, and laughed a dry, humorless laugh. There was a clattering sound, too – the shotgun dropping to the floor. "She doesn't appreciate that."

I don't suppose she did, did she?

"I'm going to open the door now," Twilight said, keeping her voice soothing. "Okay?" She stretched out with her aura, found the bolt holding the door shut, and unlatched it. Stepping back, she took the doorknob in her hoof pulled the door outward.

Immediately, she was hit with an overpowering, feculent reek. She recoiled, scrunching her nose and gagging. It smells like an outhouse in there.

But Cherry had been in there since Sunday. Of course it'd smell like an outhouse.

Cherry Jubilee was naked except for a green saddlebag hanging over her right flank. Her luscious red mane was a knotted, sweaty tangle, the yellow headband she usually wore discarded. Much like her face, the rest of her body was filthy, her coat covered in dirt and... stuff that I hope is dirt.

At her hooves was the shotgun that nearly blew Twilight and Killjoy away – a heavily altered mutant of a weapon, customized for a pony's use. The trigger guard had been enlarged to accommodate a hoof, as were the triggers themselves, and a U-shaped groove was carved into the wooden stock, allowing the weapon to be held beneath the armpit.

Did she modify this herself, or was it like this when she got it?

Twilight floated the shotgun away from Cherry and passed it back to Killjoy, releasing her magical grip when she felt hooves around it. "We'll just keep that away from you for now," she muttered. To Killjoy, she said "Be careful with that. I think there's still a live round in there."

"I'll be as gentle with it as a newborn." Killjoy whistled softly. "Never even seen a gun up close before."

Twilight wordlessly pulled the gun away from Killjoy, ignoring the mare's protest.

Maybe I'll just hold on to it myself.

Cherry Jubilee ran a dry tongue over parched lips and looked the unicorn in the eye. "You shouldn't be here. You gotta run, you understand? Before they cut you up with misty blades and leave your bones to bleach."

"Not gonna happen." Twilight stepped closer to Cherry, fighting the urge to gag at the stench coming through the doorway. She extended a hoof toward her, slowly, ready to pull back if Cherry showed the slightest sign of discomfort or rejection.

She didn't. Twilight's hoof rested on Cherry's shoulder, and she drew the older mare into a gentle embrace. Cherry sank against Twilight and breathed a sigh – of relief, of contentment? Twilight couldn't say.

Twilight stroked Cherry's back. "Everything's going to be just fine."

"It ain't. It ain't. You don't understand. You can't understand." She pulled back and touched Twilight's cheek with her hoof. "You ain't a link in the chain. Not even a broken one. You can't know."

"Know what?" Twilight placed her hoof over Cherry's. "Help me understand."

"They – they wriggle in my mind like graveworms; they whisper to one another. Echoes of dyin' screams, an' the urge to rip and burn. I don't know where it ends an' I begin. I..." Cherry drew in a shuddering breath.

The mare spoke in riddles, vaguaries. They meant nothing to Twilight. But they meant something to Cherry; she spoke earnestly, as though it were imperative that Twilight understand. Were they the mad ramblings of a terrified pony, and nothing more? Perhaps.

But I doubt it. And she deserves the benefit of that doubt.

Twilight looked back toward Killjoy. With a disappointed glance at the floating shotgun, the captain came forward to take Cherry's other hoof.

"Let's get you out of there," said Twilight.

Together, they guided Cherry away from the basement.

"No frickin' way." Killjoy whirled away from the mantel, grinning excitedly at Twilight and Cherry as her wings pomf'd open. "She's related to Hickory Switch? The Hickory Switch?!"

Twilight looked up at Killjoy, blinking confusedly. She sat on the long, blue couch in the middle of the living room, facing toward a finely carved mantel that was etched with stylized, smiling cherries. Tacky as heck, but then again... fruit farmers...

Beside her, Cherry stretched out on her side, greedily drinking from a tin canteen of water graciously donated to her by one of the pegasi. Her shotgun and saddlebag rested on the floor, leaning against the bottom of the couch, along with Killjoy's cumbersome greathelm.

"Uh." Twilight's muzzle scrunched. "Sure? What are we talking about?"

Killjoy stepped aside and pointed her hoof at an enameled red jar resting on top of the mantel – an urn for somepony's ashes. Twilight squinted, and could barely make out the lettering etched into its surface.

Hickory Switch
In Death, Faithful

Twilight looked quizzically at Killjoy.

Killjoy, dancing in place like a sugared-up schoolfilly, squealed. "Hickory Switch! Commanding officer of the E.U.P. Hickory Switch!" Her wings twitched excitedly, and she hovered an inch off the ground, forehooves wrung together and vibrating with excitement. "Order of Hurricane, first class! Decorated for battlefield valor five times! A general by the time she was forty! The last pre-Pax war hero in Equestria! C'mon, you know this stuff, right?"

"Military history is not an area I've devoted much time to," said Twilight dryly.

And there's nothing heroic about being a murderer.

Killjoy floated in the air and folded her forelegs in a huff. "Well, take my word for it, I guess. She resigned when the Platoons folded into the Guard thirtysomething years ago, but her name still commands respect back in Canterlot. I remember hearing she died a few years back; me and my bunkmates all poured one out for her. Hell of a lady. A true hero." She smirked at Cherry. "You're, what, her granddaughter or something?"

Cherry suddenly choked on a gulp of water and spluttered, spraying droplets all over the couch and the floor. Twilight patted her on the back as she coughed out the water, and glared disapprovingly at Killjoy.

Killjoy, tapping her hooves together sheepishly, fluttered away. "Think I'll, uh, just... go over here for a while."

"Do, please." Twilight's scowl followed Killjoy until she passed from her line of sight, at which point she raised her lips back to a smile for Cherry. "You alright?"

Cherry's throat rumbled as she cleared the last of the water from it. She smiled weakly at Twilight. "Auntie can't protect nopony now."

Something about the way she said that chilled Twilight. "Do you feel any better? Do you think you can talk about what happened?"

Cherry's eyes drooped shut, and she rested her head on the couch cushion. "You'd need to be in the chain to get it. Fix you with a yoke, an' you'll understand. Short o'that... you'll never know. Words're too clumsy to tell it right."

"Can you try anyway?" Looking at the state Cherry was in, being "fixed with a yoke" seemed like something to avoid.

Cherry nodded shakily, her eyes opening halfway. "A train came on Sunday. That was the start of everythin'. Don't know if trouble came on it, or jus' simultaneous, but one way or another..." Cherry snorted. "Trains never come 'round no more now that there's Appleloosa."

There was a little bit of the mare Twilight knew, in her eyes and in her voice, as she said that.

"The workers were off in town. It was jus' me out here, tendin', eatin'. Then..." Cherry started to shake. "I heard it. The music. The song." Tears pooled in the corners of her cloudy eyes and streaked down her cheeks. "Echoing off the walls of my mind."

Twilight wiped them away with cautious strokes of her magic. "What song?"

"Song of rot, of bloody morrow. Song of ash and salt and sorrow." Chattering laughter rolled from her throat. "A choir of one, and two, and ten, and a hundred, wailing in agony, wailing in harmony, wailing in my mind, drownin' out thought, silencin' self. I don't—"

"Cherry. Stay with me."

Cherry blinked up at her. The cloudiness in her eyes faded. "I don't remember the melody," she whispered. An empty chuckle followed, then another long, shuddering breath. "I don't remember nothin' but the shallow bite of the razor, cuttin' cross my everythin', cuttin' me to the quick."

Twilight stroked her cheek as the Operator's lesson rang in her memory. "Something tried to take your soul, didn't it? To bleed you."

Cherry hiccuped. "Shallow cuts for Cherry Jubilee, but the others bled like stuck pigs. I..." She whimpered and curled her legs against her body, her hooves tight around her stomach. "It hurts, Twilight, it hurts so bad..."

Twilight's stomach turned at Cherry's gruesome simile, but she suppressed her disgust and patted Cherry's head comfortingly. "I know. Shh, I know."

"You can't." Cherry laughed another bitter laugh. "The razor crossed the road, shallow shallow shallow cuts, but it didn't sink in, didn't bite deep. Felt it deep, felt it inside, but not in me – in them. Cherry got cut, but didn't bleed out. Do you understand?"

Cherry lifted her body off the cushion and gripped Twilight's shoulders, her jade eyes boring into Twilight's. "It stopped. It let me be but I felt it stick the rest..." Cherry pressed her face into Twilight's chest. "An' I still hear 'em in my skull, the thoughts and feelings of a hundred dyin' ponies..."

Not knowing what else to do, Twilight just cradled the mare as she fell apart completely and wept into her coat. The act comfortably familiar, even nostalgic. Twilight wondered why for a moment... before recalling a late night, ages ago. A young Spike had woken terrified and inconsolable and crawled into bed with her, bawling while Twilight whispered words of comfort and drew him close.

The pain once more crept toward her; Twilight shoved it away. She clutched Cherry closer to her chest, willing herself to stay together, for Rainbow's sake, and for the sake of the mission.

Fate provided a distraction in the form of Killjoy, who climbed over the couch's backrest and dropped onto the cushion to Cherry's right with a slight, springy bounce. "I hope you're fluent in gobbledygook."

"I wouldn't quite categorize it as gobbledygook," said Twilight. With effort, she kept her voice from breaking. "There's meaning behind her words. Just that she's the only one who knows precisely what that meaning is." Her ears perked at the sound of hoofsteps approaching, and she turned toward the doorway in time to see Goosefeathers and the pegasus medic, Jinglebell, enter the room.

"Captain," the white mare said gruffly. "Jinglebell and the homo are here to see you."

"Stop calling me that," Snake, yet out of sight, grumbled. "Why do you all keep calling me that?"

The sound of Snake's voice made Cherry's ears twitch, and a shiver ran through her body. She pulled her head away from Twilight, her face inscrutable.

Twilight blinked – that was the same word Killjoy used to describe the human mercenaries. "Why do you call him that?" she said to the captain.

Killjoy tilted her head at Twilight. "C'mon, don't play dumb. You've read Slaymare, right?"

"That's a... comic book?" It sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps it was one of those grown-up, sex-and-gore-filled comics Spike would occasionally bug her to buy for him in Canterlot – there was only one store in Ponyville that sold comics, and they only carried child-friendly fare.

"Comics aren't really my thing, sorry."

Killjoy and Jinglebell both gasped, as did the other guardsponies standing in the hall, and even Goosefeathers was surprised enough to break her stoicism and arch her eyebrows a bit.

Killjoy smacked her face with her hooves. "Shining Armor's sister has never read the most acclaimed adult graphic novel of all time? Sheesh. Remind me later, and I'll make sure to get you a copy. Pretty sure everypony in the Guard keeps one on hoof wherever they go." Killjoy sighed and looked at Goose and Jinglebell.

"Goose. Explain to the nice filly what a homo is."

"Ma'am." Goose pivoted toward Twilight. "A homo is a genetically engineered, super-intelligent mutant gorilla with enhanced strength, speed, and combat abilities. They were introduced in Slaymare, issue four, where they were bred by the villainous Mooselini as cannon fodder, part of his plan to rebuild the Elken Empire in the Marediterranian, but they revolted, shaving the hair from their heads as a sign of their newfound independence. They ended up shooting Mooselini and his mistress, and hanging their bodies from a—"

"Alright, that's enough; don't want to give too much away. Spoilers and all." Killjoy saluted. "Obliged to you, Lieutenant. You're dismissed. Jinglebell, what've you got for me?"

Goose returned the salute and headed back to the house's front door.

Jinglebell grinned. A tiny bit of thread poked out between his front teeth. "Stitched him up gooooood."

Snake stepped into view, arms folded around his rifle, and ducked inside the living room. Wound around his forearm was a fresh bandage in place of the rag from the saloon.

"Mooselini," Snake muttered disgustedly, shaking his head. "I give up."

Killjoy eyed the bandage. "A-plus work, Jingles. Is there anything else, or did you really feel like you needed to leave your post to tell me that you did your job right?"

"No, there's more." He stepped into the room, and Killjoy hopped off the couch to greet him. "Lieutenant Clementine wanted me to report something to you."

"Clem's with C-team. You're J. You don't need to run reports for him."

"That's what Lieutenant Strudel said, too. But Clementine was, um..." Jinglebell rubbed his neck. "Insistent."

"Gonna have a talk with them both about the chain of command later," Killjoy muttered. "Well, as it happens, I'm glad you're here; saves us all some time. Got more work for you. Hope you don't mind."

"Please tell me it's not more bad field med."

"Nope. Severe dehydration and exhaustion, probably among other things that I probably can't pronounce. First things first, though; gimme your report."

Jinglebell gave Twilight a quick look and guided Killjoy into the corner of the room. The two began speaking in hushed tones.

Snake watched them with detached curiosity, then shrugged and stepped in front of the mantel, leaning his back against it. He glanced at the shotgun, then at Twilight, and the mare in her embrace.

Twilight jerked her head toward Jinglebell and Killjoy. "Do you know what that's about?"

Killjoy briefly glanced at Twilight, frowning.

Snake shrugged again. "Got me. An orange pony pulled the medic aside while he was stitching me up and whispered at him for a while. Then a green pony dropped down and they all started arguing together. Until I reminded them that I had a half-stitched bite on my arm and an itchy trigger finger."

Cherry's right ear swiveled toward Snake as he spoke.

Twilight frowned. "You didn't seriously threaten the guardsponies who saved our lives, did you?"

"Of course not. I just made an observation about the finger that I use to pull triggers on guns. Like the one I was holding right then." When Twilight's frown deepened, he rolled his eyes. "You don't think I'd actually have shot them, do you?"

"Nah." Twilight smirked. "You're a lot of things, Snake, but I'm, like, ninety percent sure that level of cold-blooded stupidity is beneath you."

"Go straight to Hell," said Snake, in a tone that approached playfulness.

Twilight stuck out her tongue at him. "How's the arm?"

Snake rotated it to show off the job that Jinglebell had done. "Feels a lot better now, I have to admit. Not quite nanomachine fresh, but it doesn't itch and sting so bad." He gestured at Cherry. "Who is that, by the way? You make a new friend?"

"Found an old one," Twilight corrected. "This is Cherry Jubilee. Cherry? Can I introduce you to—"

A cold laugh from Cherry interrupted Twilight. "Introduce the old gray mare, the toothless serpent, to Cherry Jubilee? No need, no need, no need."

Snake inclined his head toward Cherry. "What the hell is wrong with her?" His voice was perfectly calm, but his posture and muscles tensed.

"She's been through a lot. I can explain later, but—"

"No need for words. I know what you are." Cherry pulled away from Twilight and spun to look at Snake, her grin a skeletal rictus and her bloodshot, clouded eyes leaking tears. She thrust a forehoof toward him, jabbing it in the air repeatedly as though it were a sword she could thrust through him. Cherry leaned forward, and her top half tumbled off of the couch; she cracked her chin against the floor, splitting it open, and a thin trickle of blood dripped onto the floorboards as she dragged her hindquarters off the couch and crawled toward Snake.

The noise of her chin striking the floor startled Killjoy and Jinglebell; they stopped their conversation, and turned their attention to Cherry. Both moved forward with caution.

"A beast at bay in crimson snow," Cherry rose to her knees, then to her hooves, her legs and body shaking. "Brother-son of the one-eyed hound, slithering on his belly down a path paved with corpses. The last and least of the snakes not created by nature!"

Snake's right hand tightened around his rifle. His left reached for the holster on his hip.

Twilight jumped from the couch and interposed herself between Snake and Cherry – at that close range, there was no way he'd miss a shot with that rifle, "discount crap" or no. She placed a placating hoof on Cherry's shoulder. "Cherry, calm down. He's not gonna—"

"He's drowning in time!" Cherry shrieked, whirling on Twilight with a mad, fiery gaze. "And you, you flail and gasp to keep your head above water, but the longer you stay with him—"

Twilight heard the hiss of Snake's suppressor, and Cherry recoiled from the impact of a tranquilizer dart in her neck. Immediately, her eyelids drooped; her jaw hung open, tongue lolling out its side. She swayed left, then right, then left again, finally toppling over, completely still.

"Yeah, not taking any chances," growled Snake. He held his tranquilizer gun at the hip, having drawn and fired it in a single fluid motion.

Killjoy stepped forward, Jinglebell at her side, and knelt next to Cherry. She glanced at Snake, lips parted slightly. "You didn't..."

"She's alive," Twilight said hurriedly. "Just unconscious. Tranquilizer gun."

"Tranquilizer... gun?" Jinglebell felt Cherry's pulse, then tapped his chin and hmm'd. "Instant sedation from a distance – like a zebra blowdart in firearm form. Don't suppose you'd be willing to part with it – performing physicals on certain needle-shy guardsmares would go far more easily if I had one of those."

Killjoy looked away, mumbling, and busied herself paying careful attention to a loose thread on one of the couch cushions.

Twilight couldn't help a soft chuckle, but it died when she turned to look at Snake. He'd holstered the tranquilizer gun again, and stood with his rifle hefted, eyes locked on Cherry, as though he expected something to happen at any moment. And there was something in his eyes, something she had never seen before. Snake, the imperturbable rock, looked shaken.

If only slightly.

"What's the matter?" Twilight asked.

His eyes flicked toward her. "Zecora," he said. "Back in the forest, she called me something. A name, a phrase. 'A snake not created by nature.'" He nodded at Cherry. "Same thing she called me just now."

"What does it mean?"

"Not important. Point is that Cherry isn't the first to call me that." His cheek curled into his mouth, between two molars, and he rolled it around for a moment before continuing his thought. "For that matter, neither was Zecora."

"Who's this Zecora?" asked Killjoy, looking away from the couch.

"A zebra. She saved my life the other day."

"So what does that have to do with her?" said Killjoy, stepping closer to the unconscious Cherry and frowning at her. "Maybe they're both mind-readers?"

"That's probably not quite the case," said Twilight. "For either of them. But now that you mention it, I think that there may have been some kind of mental influence going on here." She knelt next to Cherry and ran her hoof over the sleeping mare's mane. "Cherry talked about hearing music, and having other ponies' thoughts in her mind. Feeling sensations that they felt. I think she's a part of some kind of shared mindspace, and I think that's the source of a lot of her mental trauma."

"A form of changeling mind control, maybe?" said Jinglebell. "We've seen it before."

"Yeah, me too." Snake grunted. "Mass hypnosis and brainwashing using music as a medium."

"I wouldn't take that talk about music too literally," said Twilight. "Most of what Cherry said sounded figurative, and Shining didn't say anything about hearing music when he was under the Queen's influence."

Though that could just as easily mean that the inverse is true – that this form of mind control uses music, and that the Queen is not involved.

"You know, it wasn't just music that she mentioned – there was this other phrase that she used, too," Twilight muttered. "She kept talking about a chain, and she said something like 'a broken link is better than none'. And she said that I wasn't a link in the chain, and I'd have to be one in order to fully understand her."

"Figurative or no, that doesn't need much interpretation," Snake interjected. "She's talking about some kind of hive mind."

Twilight gazed at the sleeping mare as she thought back to her ramblings. Wriggling in her mind, not knowing where she began and ended, feeling the same sensations and emotions as others...

Twilight's eyes lit up with sudden realization.

I guess I don't need to be fixed with a yoke to understand after all.

"That's exactly it. A hive mind." All eyes were on her now. "Doesn't that fit with everything we've seen so far? I mean, the golems we've been fighting – they're supposed to be mindless, but they don't act mindless. Feints, ambushes, coordinated maneuvers – none of it has made sense up until now. Something is controlling them – making them act in unison. A dominant consciousness, or will. And Cherry was, or is, connected to it."

"You mean a hive consciousness, controlled by a central intelligence, rolling into town and assimilating everyone it sees into itself?" Snake smiled wryly at some private joke. "Wonder why it decided to lop off Seven-of-Dodge here instead of keeping her in the collective."

Blank, uncomprehending stares and awkward silence were the only response he received.

Killjoy arched an eyebrow at Twilight. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

Twilight shrugged and shook her head.

"Not so fun when you're not in on the joke, is it? All those years in Alaska with nothing to watch but UPN finally paid off." Snake's satisfied gaze drifted from one face to the other. A long and arduously awkward silence settled on the room, broken only by the occasional shuffling hoof or quiet cough.

Until a thin, high voice, a tinny screech that grated on Twilight's ears and chilled her to the bone, cut through the silence.

"I get it."

Snake snapped his rifle to his shoulder, Killjoy shoved Jinglebell behind herself and unfurled her wings, and Twilight scrambled away from Cherry, jaw hanging open. A shimmer of pink surrounded her horn.

Killjoy turned and called over her shoulder. "Goose! Gonna need a couple more bodies in here!"

A chuckle like the rattling of dry, brittle bones came from Cherry's mouth. Her hooves scraped slowly against the floorboards as she rose to stand on quaking legs. She twisted her neck to look over her shoulder; her half-lidded eyes found Snake, and her lashes batted, not quite in unison.

"Do you think I'd look good in silver spandex?"

Twilight didn't look to see Snake's reaction. She kept her face as steady as she could, but her heart hammered in her chest as adrenaline filtered into her system. Behind her, hooves pounded against wooden floorboards as Goose and the others stormed into the room.

Cherry turned her uneven gaze to Twilight and smiled a slimy smile. "The funny man and the clever pony. What an unlikely, yet potent, twosome. You're pretty good – far moreso than your blockhead brothers." The pitch in her voice descended as she spoke, normalizing into something approaching Cherry's tone.

"So it is you." Twilight arched her back. "Never thought I'd meet the Changeling Queen again after my blockhead brother sent you and your hive packing."

"'Her Radiance, Queen Chrysalis,' to you." She turned to face the group head-on, drawing herself up; the quaking in her limbs subsided, and when she spoke next, it was in a voice infused with cold steel. "You will address me with courtesy, Twilight Sparkle. You owe me that much after everything you've deprived me of these past several months. First Canterlot, then my little ponies – what have I ever done to deserve such shabby treatment from you?"

Killjoy drew herself up and took a step forward, wings splayed wide. "I'll show you shabby treatment, you chitinous bitch. You're gonna answer for the lives you took here."

Chrysalis replied with an incredulous laugh in Killjoy's face. "Am I supposed to find you intimidating, drunky? Maybe you ought to go home and sleep this off."

The guardsmare snarled and lunged toward Chrysalis, only for Twilight to bar her way with a hoof. "All you'd be doing is hurting Cherry."

Chrysalis snorted. "That's rich. Where was that bleeding-heart sentimentality when you were burning my golems alive?"

"They weren't alive. Not truly," said Twilight, as much to convince herself as Chrysalis. The faint stench of burning flesh and hair wafted past her nose. "Living like that is no life at all."

"Don't tell me that living as a gibbering lunatic is any better. What kind of life do you expect Cherry to have after this?" She laughed that hideous, piercing laugh again and turned her gaze to Snake. "You'll do it, murderer, won't you? What's another corpse among thousands to you? Pull that trigger, and set her free."

Twilight spared Snake a quick glance – his rifle and shooting stance were rock-steady, but his finger was curled away from the trigger, and didn't so much as twitch.

Chrysalis scowled. She bit down hard on Cherry's lip and spat out a thin wad of bloody saliva at Snake's feet. "Twilight Sparkle's piety must be contagious. Do you think you can save her, murderer, is that it? Do any of you?" She swept her hoof across all assembled. "Because if you do, then that is just precious. Honestly, if you don't do it now, then sooner or later, she'll do it herself. Why not save her the time and trouble?"

She was alone and traumatized. She had a gun and at least two rounds for it. If we hadn't found her when we did...

It sickened Twilight to think that Chrysalis might be right. Cherry's mind and her very soul were compromised. Violated. How did somepony come back from that?

Chrysalis cocked Cherry's head and blinked, again out of sequence. "It chafes, doesn't it? Knowing you can't help Cherry. Knowing you can't save her. So you ought to be asking yourself what the odds are that you can save anypony you care about. Most of all, her." She grinned a bloody-gummed grin. "That is, after all, why you're here, isn't it? Certainly not for sweet, sweet Cherry, but for Rainbow Dash – stout of heart and delectably loyal. And mine, all mine, to break and devour." Her dry tongue ran over her parched lips with a sandpapery rasp. "Oh, just thinking about the banquet that awaits... if Cherry could salivate properly right now, her mouth would be a veritable Neighagara Falls."

Twilight tried, and failed, to hide her surprise. She can't possibly...?!

"Twilight," Snake said, turning his head in her direction. "She's trying to manipulate you."

"Of course I am! And it's working, isn't it?" Twilight's change of expression seemed to delight Chrysalis, who laughed and clutched her hooves to her heart, wringing them together tightly enough for them to tremble. "After all, a true true friend would never abandon a friend in need, would she? So come and join us, down below, where Rainbow Dash awaits, yet alive and unspoiled. If you hurry, you might just be able to save her from becoming another Cherry. You can even bring the murderer if you'd like. We wouldn't want to exclude him."

She turned Cherry's gaze onto Killjoy, whom she regarded with a look of contempt and disgust. "On the other hoof, if this drunk or any of her buzzards set hoof in my home, I'll rip Rainbow Dash in two, and let you choose which half to keep."

Killjoy snarled. "I swear to Celestia, I'm gonna—"

"Wait." Twilight took a slow, measured step toward the possessed mare. Chrysalis knew about Rainbow being in Dodge, might have been holding her hostage, and was apparently shrewd enough to infer that Twilight was in Dodge specifically to get Rainbow back. On top of that, she was assuming that her devotion to her friends was powerful enough to override her inclination toward common sense and logic.

My actions up until now would certainly seem to bear that assumption out.

It stank – reeked – of a trap. But that wasn't the only thing about the situation that was strange. Not even the biggest. Everything about Chrysalis, from her actions to her words, was just... off.

She shows an undue interest in my friendships. She knows things about Snake that she shouldn't. The mass mind control, the soul-bleeding – those aren't abilities she's demonstrated in the past. And Cherry...

Chrysalis batted bedroom eyes at Twilight, waiting expectantly.

Why is Cherry not a golem when even the changelings in the hive are?

"You bled everypony in Dodge, but not Cherry," said Twilight. "You even bled your own kind, turned them into mindless golems. You violated them and claimed their souls for who knows what, but Cherry survived when nopony else – when no one else – did."

Chrysalis gave a soft, almost sated, laugh, but those big bedroom eyes showed a faint flicker of doubt. "Why, I needed to give you my invitation somehow, Twilight dear."

"You can't call me clever and then try to feed me a stinker like that." Twilight's suspicions only deepened. "You were going to bleed Cherry just like the rest, but you stopped. Intentionally. You spared her – why?"

Chrysalis responded with glib laughter that was just a tad more nervous than it should have been. "Spare her? Haven't you been paying attention? Look at her, Twilight; listen to her talk. What, exactly, have I spared her from?!"

"You're dodging the question," said Snake.

"Quiet, murderer," Chrysalis snapped. This time, the smug look did not return. "I haven't given you leave to address me."

"Answer her." Snake sidled closer to Twilight, keeping his rifle trained on Chrysalis. "Why did you—"

Chrysalis clenched her teeth together, reared back, and slammed Cherry's forehooves into the floor, filling the room with the sound of splitting boards as they cracked underhoof.

"I said QUIET!!!"

She held the word until her lungs emptied, until Cherry's voice sounded strained and raw. Panting, sweating, seething, she glared at Snake, at Twilight, and at the guardsponies. No one moved; no one spoke. No one was daunted.

Chrysalis had lost whatever initiative she had, and she knew it.

She wasn't expecting that question. She didn't want me to ask that question. All this talk about Rainbow, all this mockery, and the timing of her possessing Cherry... I don't think she wants me to think too deeply about it.

What the hay was she hiding?

Chrysalis inhaled deeply, exhaled, and straightened her posture, reassembling her poise into a semblance of what it was. "Well." She smiled. "Only one way to make this more awkward."

There was a beat before she whirled and dove for the shotgun, reaching it before anypony could react. Chrysalis wrapped Cherry's hooves around it, and pulled it close to her body. With one hoof, she reached for the gun's trigger guard.

With the other, she angled the barrel toward her chin.

Twilight acted before she could loop her hoof through the trigger guard, seizing the gun with her magic and pulling it out of reach. Then a lance of pink light struck Cherry in the back of the head, and she sprawled on her belly with a thin wisp of smoke curling up from the back of her mane. She fell silent, save the sound of steady, even breathing, and did not stand back up.

Twilight sighed with relief. Not even a murder by proxy. Count this as a win.

"That gun," said Snake. "Toss it here."

Not one to toss weapons willy-nilly, Twilight floated the gun to him instead. Snake snagged and opened it, and shook two red shells – one spent, one live – out and onto the floor. He shut the gun again and turned it over in his hands, inspecting the trigger assembly carefully.

"No one thought to safety check this?" he asked.

Twilight once more felt like hitting herself. Another second slower and Cherry's blood would be on my conscience...

"You know how often we encounter guns on the job?" said Killjoy defensively. "Never. Forgive me if we're unfamiliar with the protocol."

"Then consider this a free lesson. This thing's an accident waiting to happen." He held the barrel and offered the gun stock-first to Killjoy. "Keep it unloaded, and don't let her have it back."

Killjoy gave Snake a dirty look and tucked the gun under her foreleg, muttering vaguely to herself.

"Captain," said Jinglebell softly, pressing a hoof to Killjoy's shoulder. "Changeling possession or no, that mare still needs medical attention."

"Right." Killjoy looked at him and jerked her head toward Cherry's body. "Look her over, treat whatever needs to be treated. Then get back to your post." She turned to Goose. "Lock this house down. If the Queen can possess Cherry at will, then she's a liability. Look after her, but keep eyes on her at all times. It wouldn't hurt to tie her up, either."

"Ma'am." Goose and her guards trotted toward Cherry, standing behind Jinglebell while he went about his work, starting by scrutinizing the little wisp of smoke from Twilight's blast.

"And you two." Killjoy leveled a serious look at both Snake and Twilight. "Step outside with me. We need to talk."

Sentries on the porch snapped to attention at the sight of their captain, but Killjoy dismissed them into the house, leaving her alone with Snake and Twilight.

"What do you think?" Killjoy asked. She rubbed her nose and sniffed. "Was she being straight with us?"

Twilight exchanged a look of unease with Snake. The human shook his head minutely. It miffed her, agreeing with him, but there was nothing logical about taking Chrysalis at her word.

"There might be an element of truth to what she's saying," said Twilight carefully. "There's any number of ways the Queen could have found out about Rainbow being here, and she could easily have put two and two together when she saw Snake and I show up. Whether she has her or not, she can use the promise of finding her to bait me into a confrontation."

Which seems like something she's keenly interested in doing. Someone has a grudge.

"There might..." Killjoy bit her lip. "There might be more than just an element of truth to what she said." She shuffled her wings and blew a nervous breath. "C-Team found bodies deep in the orchard while they were scouting. Changelings. More than a dozen. There was some kind of fight, and if they weren't on the losing end of it, they at least got as bad as they gave."

"Wasn't us," said Snake. "We skirted around the orchard to get to the barn. Never went all that far in."

"I didn't think it was," said Killjoy. "These bodies weren't like the ones in Dodge. They were carved up by some type of blade." She looked at Twilight. "You talked about a ninja before."

Trenton. Guess it was him after all. No surprise there.

"But more importantly," said Killjoy, "there were hoofprints in the changeling goop. A mare's hooves, looked like, unshod, and heading deeper into the orchard away from the scene of the fight." She hesitated. "And where they end, there's a trail of blue feathers leading back to a tunnel in the ground."

Snake must have been right – Trenton left to scout the ranch and took Rainbow Dash with him. They went into the orchard and were ambushed; Rainbow tried to escape, only to get captured by the changelings. She would have tried to fight them off, but in her condition, they'd have overwhelmed her easily.

And the feathers... The changelings wouldn't have known that we'd be coming out here, but Rainbow might have assumed... or perhaps Trenton told her about the message he sent. Either way, it could be she decided to leave a trail for us to follow – or anypony who tried coming to her rescue.

But why would the Queen direct her golems to capture, not kill, Rainbow Dash? There must have been some other reason for it.

Snake peered closely at her face. "What are you thinking?"

Twilight craned her neck up at him. "The Queen has an obvious grudge against me. I'm sure that grudge extends to the others; we all had a role in stopping her. So why did she capture Rainbow Dash when the golems found her in the orchard, instead of just killing her on the spot?"

"She could be interrogating her," Killjoy suggested. "Or even drawing out the execution. I mean, it depends on how pissed off she is versus how hungry she is, but if Rainbow Dash is as much of a meal as she suggested, then she could take her time, savor her, before stomping her out. She could make it last for days. Longer."

"Torturing her for simple revenge? Pedestrian for a supervillain." Snake shook his head. "No, there's something bigger going on. After all, there had to be some reason she was collecting souls in Dodge."

"Obviously," said Twilight. "But what does that have to do with...?"

Comprehension dawned on her; the pieces fell into place, and she once more felt the urge to retch. She didn't need Snake to finish the thought to know where he was going with it.

Chrysalis wanted Rainbow – wanted her soul for whatever it was she was after. If she knew that Rainbow was the Element of Loyalty's bearer, then surely her soul would have some unique property that would make it worth collecting. And if that was the case, and all she wanted Rainbow for was her soul...

Then there wouldn't be any reason to keep her around for long. She could be lost already. By going down there, all I'd be doing is giving her the chance to add the Element of Magic to her collection.

She started to shake. Her legs threatened to give way; her heart beat faster, her lungs worked harder to keep up. Killjoy watched her piteously. Snake was a rock.

Maybe that's what this was about all along.

Was the Queen actually holding Rainbow Dash hostage? Maybe, maybe not. Was she using the promise of finding her to lure Twilight into a trap? By her own admission, yes. Was there any logic in walking into that trap?

None whatsoever.

But logic wasn't what brought her to Dodge. Logic demanded that she ignore Trenton's summons and focus on the defense of Ponyville, on getting back on track to finding and stopping Metal Gear, on accepting Rainbow Dash's fate and focusing on saving as many lives as she could. She ignored it. She ignored Snake's exhortations, ignored the voice in her own head that echoed him. Faith brought her to Dodge – faith, and principle, and instinct. Was it logical to walk into what was probably a trap set by Trenton? No. Was it logical to walk into what was definitely a trap laid by Chrysalis? Definitely not.

Would Rainbow have let that stop her, if their positions were reversed?

She told me to leave her behind in the castle. And she'd probably say the same thing now, if she could. Snake was right about that. But if she were in my place, and I in hers, she'd move the sun and the moon both to get me back, regardless of what I said. Even if that meant walking into a trap laid by an archenemy.

Twilight breathed deeply, slowly, held the air as long as she could, and exhaled through her mouth. She breathed again, and her legs stopped quaking. She breathed again, and her heart slowed down.

Because that's the kind of pony she is – brave, noble. Loyal. Above all else, loyal.

So, would Twilight walk into a trap a second time, in the faint hope of saving Rainbow Dash, in defiance of logic and common sense?

I could never live with myself if I didn't at least try.

"Maybe she is gone. Maybe she's not." She looked at Killjoy; concern was written in the pegasus's amber gaze. "Maybe Chrysalis is lying to get me where she wants me. Or maybe she's telling the truth. It doesn't matter. I have to go down there and see for myself."

Snake was silent, but his jaw clenched hard enough that the whole lower half of his head seemed to tremble.

Killjoy, though, sighed. "Semper fidelis, right?" She shook her head with a sad laugh. "You're Shining Armor's sister, alright. Loyal to her friends past the point of reason."

"Are you gonna try and stop me?" Anger crept into her voice – she wasn't sure she liked that dig at her brother.

"No no, not at all," said Killjoy hurriedly. "That wasn't an insult. I mean, you wanna go down there – knock yourself out. But hear me out, alright? 'Cuz at the very least, we can try and play it smart."

Twilight's temper simmered. "I'm listening."

Killjoy drew closer, the beginning of a smile bubbling on her face. "Look. The hive that hit Canterlot was estimated at four hundred, give or take. Right? Even with the losses they've taken today, from us and from your ninja friend, we're still looking at roughly two-to-one odds if it comes to a fight."

Twilight nodded, wondering why Killjoy would be smiling in the face of such dire odds.

"So I'm saying we fight them on our terms. My terms." She couldn't hold back the grin. "You're looking at less than half the forces under my command, Sparkle. When we figured that the changelings were going after more populated areas, I detached the pegasi and led them personally to Dodge. The rest I sent to Appleloosa; they should have arrived by now. Unicorns and earth ponies, three hundred strong."

The smile made more sense now. Here I was worried it was just fatalism.

Killjoy continued, the excitement in her voice ramping up. "I can have a flier there in hours to summon them here, and I can have the full detachment accounted for by dawn, provided they travel through the night. We cooked up a plan for storming an underground hive, too, in case we ran into one. The unicorns'll use some kind of ground-penetrating sonar whatsit spell to map out the hive – hell, they could even whip up some kind of defense against whatever that hypno-bleeding shit the Queen used against Dodge was. Then we go in, together, and clear 'em all out in close quarters."

It wasn't a bad plan, in principle. But if the Queen was down there, if she had the ability to bleed souls en masse, then she could wipe out Killjoy's entire force in moments, effortlessly, perhaps regardless of whatever defenses they came up with. They were all vulnerable.

Myself included.

And there was one other obvious problem with her plan. Unexpectedly, Snake was the one to state it: "We don't have until dawn to wait."

Twilight blinked at him. "Does that mean you're with me?" Part of her hoped he would say yes. Another, more realistic part, dreaded what he would actually say.

He took a long, hard long at her before answering – and his answer didn't please her. "It means that we don't need to be here anymore. Let Killjoy gather her forces and storm the hive while we take the Humvee back to Ponyville and plan our next move. This isn't our fight."

It was more in line with what she was expecting... although "our next move" was certainly an odd rhetorical choice on his part, lone wolf that he was. "This isn't your fight, you mean. My friend is here, in danger, and I'm not about to abandon her."

"We're not abandoning anyone." Snake shifted his rifle to his right hand and curled his left against his waist. "Look at the big picture, Twilight. Leave Dodge and Dash to Killjoy while we finish our own fight. They can handle this."

"He ain't wrong. We can wrap this up no problem, Sparkle." Killjoy's voice was earnest and pleading. "We'll get Rainbow Dash out of there, I promise, and once we're done out here, we'll hoof it to Ponyville and back you up in your own fight."

"Thank you. Sincerely. I believe you when you say that, I do." Twilight forced herself to smile. "But I'm sorry. I have to do this myself."

Snake scoffed. "Don't be an idiot. You'll get yourself killed."

Twilight replied, softly, almost whispering. "So be it."

Then she started down the path to the barn. An odd feeling of serenity washed over her; her hooves felt almost light, the dirt beneath them feather-soft.

Like walking on clouds.

"Twilight," Snake called after her. She ignored him, kept her gaze forward, kept putting one hoof in front of the other. His heavy footfalls thundered behind her as he stormed after her.

"Twilight!" She felt his hand over her withers.

Twilight whirled and slapped his hand away, glaring.

Snake stared down at her. The hand she'd struck was curled into a fist, but she could discern a slight tremble – it must have hurt him more than she thought it would. "You told me before that you weren't going to martyr yourself for Rainbow Dash," he growled.

Twilight flushed angrily. "That isn't what this is about at all!"

"Could have fooled me." He appraised her with a steely look. "You walk into that hive, and you probably won't come back out. You swear you're not looking to die?"

Twilight pursed her lips and nodded curtly.

"Then drop it. There's no reason for us to be here. Dash or no Dash, this isn't our fight." Snake gestured back toward the farmhouse, where Killjoy hovered in the air, watching the two of them argue. "It's theirs. Let them handle it"

"I..." Twilight looked away. "I can't do that."

Snake sighed with exasperation. "Damn it, you're going in circles here. Just what the hell are you trying to prove?"

"It's not about proving anything either!"

"Then why—"

"Nopony should have to die because I screwed up!"

Snake froze and fell silent. There was a slight widening of his eyes – another rare outward sign that he'd been caught off guard.

"I underestimated the danger in the castle." Twilight fought to keep her voice even. "I didn't realize the kind of threat we were up against, and I nearly got everypony killed. Rainbow could be lost, and Spike..." Her fight failed and her voice broke when her mind, unbidden, summoned an image of Spike with a tube in his throat.

He had no business being there. He was too young, too vulnerable. I let him come along because... because he had something he needed to prove. Because I wanted to give him the chance. It was stupid. It was careless. I promised myself I would protect him.

And she failed him. Just as she could still fail Rainbow. The list of loved ones slain on the altar of her own carelessness would only grow, if she let it.

But it wasn't just her loved ones she'd endangered.

I should have checked the other train. I should never have left Stovetop alone. She died by herself, swarmed by golems, and it's all... my...

Snake wasn't the only one with an ever-growing body count. Only, he killed by his own hand. She killed through failure – indirectly, to be sure. But as far as she was concerned, that made her no less complicit in the death of Stovetop, in the deaths that could still await Spike and Rainbow Dash.

I didn't kill them myself. But I may as well have.

She felt light, dizzy; the feeling of overwhelming stress and panic returned, nearly boiled over. Twilight fought it down, and fill her lungs with air.

"This is my mistake, and I have the chance to make it right." Killjoy fluttered closer as Twilight spoke, like a glittering golden butterfly, with a look of sympathy on her face. "I don't want to die here, Snake. but I'm not leaving my friend in other ponies' hooves while they clean up a mess that I made. I don't want—"

"What do you want, Twilight?" Snake spoke with quiet intensity.

Caught off guard, Twilight could only stammer. "I... I want..." She screwed her eyes shut tightly and the faces of her friends, laughing, smiling, happy and safe, flashed behind her closed lids – memories of better days.

"I want Applejack and Rainbow Dash to get into a shouting match that they laugh about afterward over a bottle of cider. I want Pinkie Pie to see how many cupcakes she can fit in her mouth at once, and I want her to ignore me when I warn her to pace herself. I want to listen to Fluttershy conduct a bird choir; I want to get a hooficure with Rarity; I want to watch Spike grow up and fall in love with somepony..."

"His own age?" Snake offered.

"Attainable." She opened her eyes to look at Snake, but her vision was too blurry to see the look on his face. "And you know what? All things being equal, I would love the chance to ask you about that albatross poem of yours over coffee." She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Because it sounds weird, and I would really like to know what the context behind it was."

Snake stifled a chuckle, which somehow got one out of her.

"I want my life back, Snake." Twilight sighed. "I want everything to just... just be okay again. But that all seems so far out of reach now. Maybe it is. Maybe forever."

In only two short days, her entire world had been upended, perhaps irrevocably so. The world had gone wrong, and she didn't know whether she could ever make it right.

"What I want doesn't matter, Snake. I have a duty, as much to my friends as to Equestria. I have to go after Rainbow. That's my burden. My obligation. Not Killjoy's, or the Guard's. Or even yours." She took a deep breath. "I won't ask you to come with me this time."

Snake tilted his head at her. "You didn't ask last time."

"No. I didn't." What else could she say to that?

Down the path was the barn, with its broken front door, and a squat blue rectangle that she recognized as the Humvee. The orchard, too, with its canopy of pink leaves, was not so far away. "You can go if, you'd like. Back to Ponyville, or after Metal Gear in your own way. I won't hold it against you. Rainbow and I will be alright with Killjoy. We'll find our own way home."

She meant it, too – there was no manipulation in her voice. No ulterior motive in her mind.

I called you my friend once, and I meant it. But I haven't treated you like one. I hope I can make up for it.

"Thank you for everything, Snake. I know you didn't want to come with me, but for what it's worth, I'm glad you did. I wouldn't have survived Dodge without your help."

"You won't survive now without my help." Snake looked past her, toward the barn, chewing his lip. "You got a plan, at least? How to find her, how to get back out?"

"I have... ideas. Ask anypony; this isn't the first time I've had to go looking for a friend in a network of subterranean caverns." She had an inkling of the kind of magic Killjoy was planning to use. She could enter the hive through either one of the entrances they knew about – in the barn, or in the orchard – and use a crude version of the same "sonar whatsit" spell to help her navigate both into and back out of the hive. And she had an idea of what to look for, too.

Chrysalis is vain, ostentatious – she'd set aside a place of prominence for herself in the tunnels. A spacious chamber she could use as a court. I find that, I find her, and with her, Rainbow Dash. Maybe. Possibly.

"I'll be alright. But it's sweet of you to be concerned."

I'm not sure I deserve it from you.

Giving him one last sad smile, she resumed her walk back to the barn.

She didn't hear footsteps behind her, but she did hear wingbeats, feathers rustling as Killjoy landed and walked beside her. "Do you need to—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Killjoy," Twilight interrupted quietly.

Killjoy shut up and instead took a swig from her flask.

Chrysalis may well have been expecting her to venture into the hive from the orchard entrance. That in mind, Twilight chose the barn – a choice that Chrysalis may also have anticipated, but dwelling on that possibility would only lead Twilight down a paradox of infinitely alternating possibilities, so she shouted down the obsessive, perfectionist voice in her mind that usually governed her actions and stuck with her choice of the barn.

A pair of sentries were stationed at the barn's ruined front door. They stood aside at the sight of Killjoy, but Twilight felt their eyes on her as she passed inside. She knew many of the guards who patrolled Canterlot Castle proper by name, and they her, but these guards were unfamiliar. They knew her by name, by reputation... or, in Killjoy's case, strictly by reputation...

"Starlight Shimmer" indeed.

But they didn't know her truly, and she didn't know them. That was a pity. A few kind words from a familiar face might have made what she was about to do go that much easier.

Snake had followed her from the farmhouse – the Humvee was parked behind the barn, after all, so one way or another, they were heading in the same direction – but had kept his distance during the entire walk. Her last glimpse of him came just as she was about to enter the barn; he was standing in the middle of the beaten path, watching her. He was still close enough for Twilight to see the tiny orange glow between his lips, and the faint curls of smoke wreathing his head.

She fought back the urge to extinguish the cigarette, and slid down the slope of the foggy pit. Gross as it was to once again sink her hooves into the slime, the change in temperature from the blistering heat to the cool shadow of the barn was a slight relief.

The broken door allowed a thick window of yellow light into the pit, illuminating more than a dozen pegasi, arrayed in front of the tunnel and staring intently at its entrance. Killjoy touched down beside Twilight, her wings tossing up wisps of displaced fog, and bemusedly asked them what in the hell they were doing.

"Staring, ma'am," said a gruff, olive-colored stallion in the center of the line of guards. "At the hole in the ground."

"Your orders, ma'am," added a pony Twilight recognized as Steel Wool. "You literally told me, and therefore us, to go stare at the the hole in the ground. On penalty of mother-fingerbanging."

"And we'd like to avoid the fingerbanging, if at all possible, ma'am," a third mare chimed in.

Killjoy facehoofed, and, to accentuate her frustration, facewinged at the same time. "Out, out, out."

The guards looked at her, saluted as one, and dutifully floated from the pit and out the door.

"Quirks aside, every team in this wing has their heads on straight. Every single one of them." She peeked at Twilight from behind her feathers. "Except I-Team. Why, Sparkle? Why is I so irritating?"

"I wish I could tell you."

"Oh, you're funny; you're so so funny." Laughing sarcastically, she stood up, ignoring the gunk on her hindquarters, and shook off her wings. "That's a... that's a big tunnel. I wasn't expecting it to be quite that... big. And dark. Big and dark. Do you get the feeling that it's staring back at you? And what is with this fog, for Celestia's sake?"

Pertinent questions. Twilight could identify with them. "I couldn't tell you what's up with the fog. But the size of that tunnel probably owes to whatever dug it out. Which, I'll remind you, hatched from a very large egg, which you are currently heel-deep in." Twilight's horn flashed, and a triangular flap from the egg emerged from the fog behind them, sickly green in the light of the sun.

Killjoy tapped her hoof gently against the ground, and chuckled ill-humoredly. "Oh, I'm gonna have to fight whatever came out of this aren't I?"

"One of us probably will." Twilight shrugged and smiled blandly. "Most likely me."

"About that..." Killjoy trotted closer. "You sure you wanna do this? I mean, you got a good hunch, your plan sounds... sound... and I can't begrudge you the sonar thing. But even ignoring the bowel-loosening prospect of fighting whatever dug that out..." She nudged her shoulder against Twilight's. "Whatever that hocus-pocus was that got Dodge, you're just as vulnerable to it as they were."

"So are you and your ponies," Twilight replied. "I have the advantage of being pretty decent at hocus-pocus myself. I'll be alright."

Killjoy hesitated. "Yeah, well... that's not gonna do you much good if you starve to death down there. Or die of thirst." She reached back and undid the straps on her saddlebags with her teeth, and shrugged out of them, stepping back. "Those are for you. There's rations, a canteen, knife, spade, rope, spare spearhead, not that you'd really need that. And Slaymare. My own copy."

She could take or leave the comic, but everything else sounded fairly important. No doubt Killjoy would need it more. "I can't—"

"Hey, don't argue. Everything in that bag, I can replace. But, um. There's only one of you. You know?" She shuffled her hooves and smiled, blushing lightly. "Plus, it'd look pretty bad on my record if Shining Armor's kid sis died on my watch. So do me a favor, and, uh. Don't."

Twilight returned the smile, levitated the bags onto her back, strapped them on, and nodded.

"Thank you. I mean it." Then she turned back toward the tunnel. "Now or never, I suppose..."

Yet she waited. She waited for footsteps, for the incoming smell of tobacco and sweat, for the growling cynic to chase her down and insist on going with her.

He never came.

And that's... how it ought to be, I suppose.

Twilight put one hoof in front of her. Then another.

"Take care, Sparkle-Sparkle." Killjoy was not so far behind, yet her voice sounded faint and distant all the same.

With a last deep breath, Twilight shuffled the bags on her back and passed inside the gaping black maw of the cavern.

Author's Note

The chapter title is an apt metaphor for the state of the story, I think.

Shout-out again to DannyJ for editing. Despite his fascination with buggering livestock, he seems to have done an admirable job.

Interlude - Carry Your Phantoms

Twilight Sparkle was a moron. A sentimental, possibly self-destructive moron, who let herself be led by the nose into a trap laid by a mustache-twirling megalomaniac prone to temper tantrums. Her prerogative, I suppose, but damned if I was gonna let myself be suckered into playing along again.

I was done. Done with ponies, done with their antics, done with being whined at and manipulated. Give me political conspiracies, nuclear death machines, and Otacon's occasional dork antics. I'd take them all a hundred times over if it meant never having to deal with another tiny, sanctimonious horse crapping rainbows.

Finding and dealing with Metal Gear was my most immediate concern, although there were some details that needed hammering out. I figured I could follow the train tracks at least as far as Ponyville. From there, I'd have to reenter the forest and retrace my steps back to ruined castle. With the bridge out, I'd need to find another way across that chasm – scale the cliffs and ford the river, maybe. Or try to find a way around it, although that could take hours, and traveling to the staging area would be a few hours on foot already.

All of that would be tedious, but relatively simple, compared to actually disabling Metal Gear. I knew the routine – compromise its structural integrity with strategically placed explosives, or line the radome and cockpit with C-4 to cripple its sensors and control systems. If all else failed, shoot it in the mouth with rockets until it fell over and exploded. Acquiring the necessary materials to get it done would take some leg work, though.

Still, all that in mind, I was pretty much good to go. There was no more reason for me to stick around in Dodge. If Twilight survived, if she somehow managed to find Rainbow Dash alive and well and make it out of whatever the trap was, then she could hook up with the Guard and make her way back to Ponyville without me.

And if she didn't...

Spike lies in a pile of rubble.

No. Not my problem. Not anymore.

I opened the driver's-side door to the Humvee, propped my rifle against it, and spent some time getting to know my ride. Everything under the hood seemed in working order. Fuel might've been a concern, although there were spare cans of gas in the back of the car, along with a heavy locker that I couldn't find the key to. Overall, the Humvee certainly seemed to be in good condition. A few hours of driving, and I'd be back on track. No Twilight to worry about. No Rainbow Dash. Hotwire the car, finish the mission, leave them both behind.

Rainbow Dash smiles at me through her tears.

I slammed my fist against the side of the Humvee and immediately wished I hadn't.

Tires. If I was gonna take that thing all the way across the frontier, back to Ponyville, then I needed some guarantees about the tires. So I went from tire to tire, inspecting each one individually, all while kneading my throbbing right hand. Didn't feel broken, so that was fortunate. And the tires felt solid enough, except... was it my imagination, or was the left rear tire a little flat? Dammit, that would mean checking the air pressure, maybe even swapping it out for a spare if I didn't like what I saw. That'd kill even more time than I'd already—

Something small hit me in the temple and bounced off, landing on the ground. Rubbing the spot where it struck me, I knelt to inspect it. It was a little silver coin, its face engraved with an emblem of a crescent moon against a starry sky. On the flip side was a pony – a winged unicorn, with a sad smile on its face.

Funny thing – it looked like the Pegasus Wings sigil.

"For your thoughts?"

I stood and turned around. Killjoy hovered in the air, holding her red-crested helmet in her hooves. She was smiling – not the cocky, devil-may-care grin she'd flashed during our conversations before, but a more subdued expression. Now, that raised an interesting question. With her hooves full, and her wings preoccupied by hovering, how did she throw the coin? With her mouth? I guess it did feel a little moist.

Ponies are disgusting.

"Not up for talking."

"In that case, think of it as a bribe." Killjoy paused. "To clarify, I'm bribing you to listen to me talk."

I frowned at her. "Where I'm from, bribery is a court martial offense for an officer."

"Same here." That brought out the familiar grin. "Then again, I'm not really an officer, am I?"

I grunted in as detached and non-committal a manner as I could. "Bribe someone else, Brevet Captain. If you hadn't noticed, I'm a little busy."

"I have noticed, actually." Killjoy dropped to the ground, set the helmet down, and folded her wings. "You spent about twenty minutes fartin' around with that thing, and just when I thought you were all done, you spent another ten groping its wheels. Very busy, indeed."

"I've been told I'm a methodical man. Nothing wrong with it." I waved her off, turning back to my work. While I had nothing against Killjoy, I could guess what she wanted to talk about, and it was a conversation I'd have preferred not to have. Between Rainbow Dash's and Twilight's combined efforts, I'd had enough of being berated and jerked around by ponies for one lifetime.

She wasn't taking that for an answer, though, even as I knelt and examined the tire, pointedly keeping my back to her. Sand crunched beneath her hooves as she stepped closer to me.

"Look, Sparkle filled me in on your business here. I know what you're here to do, and while I doubt it's strictly out of the kindness of your heart..."

My jaw clenched. Here we go.

"I wanted to thank you, regardless."

My jaw relaxed, and I looked at her over my shoulder, admittedly taken by surprise.

Killjoy tossed her head back, throwing the sweaty tangle of her mane over the other side of her neck. "You're fighting your own kind to help save mine. That might be incidental, but even so, you're doin' right by Equestria, and that means something to me. So I want you to know, whatever happens, you have my gratitude. And my respect."

My lip twitched – an involuntary smirk. "Whatever that's worth, huh?"

The mare matched it. "You're kind of a dick, you know that?"

"You're not wrong." I wasn't naive enough to believe that Killjoy was only talking to me to express gratitude. That was just the wind-up.

Killjoy took a deep breath, wiping the smirk from her face. "That being said..."

And the pitch. "If this is about Twilight, then save it. Going after Dash was her decision. It has nothing to do with me."

Her mouth hung slightly open before she recovered with a smile.

"To be honest? Me neither." Killjoy stepped closer to the Humvee, sat down beside me, and leaned her head against the metal plating. "It's pretty funny, actually. SOP when it comes to civilians is to keep them out of harm's way, not to let them march into the belly of the beast with their heads held high."

"Then why'd you let her?" The pain in my hand was ebbing – apparently, the nanos were still good for something.

"Because she's Twilight Sparkle, duh. Do you have any idea how much clout that pony has? She sure as hell doesn't." Killjoy chuckled. "I once got drunk with a Civil Service bureaucrat who swore, up and down, that it was all an act. After all, nopony could possibly be as oblivious to their social status as she lets on."

"All because she's the Guard Captain's sister?"

"Nah. Because she's Princess Celestia's personal student. Or didn't you know?" She winked at me. "Although her relation to Shining does afford her certain privileges with the Guard, of which she is also largely oblivious. For us, it's generally understood that exceptions are made for her. So if Twilight Sparkle demands that she be allowed to face off with the Queen Bitch of the Changelings alone, then technically, it's not my place to stand in her way. Although..."

Killjoy trailed off. Her smile faded, and she looked down at her hooves, still smeared with the internal fluids of the changelings she slew earlier. "That doesn't mean I like the idea. The Queen went horn-to-horn with Princess Celestia and won without breaking a sweat. There's no way that Sparkle could hope to succeed, alone, where even the Princess failed. She needs a friend to watch her back. I can't do it myself, and I can't send one of my guards without putting Rainbow Dash at risk."

"No one else can do it, so you come crawling to me, huh?" I grumbled. "Yeah, that's a familiar song."

She was quiet for a moment before continuing. "I don't want her to die. And unless I've completely misread you, neither do you."

A shiver ran through me.

I turned to rest my back against the tire, sitting with one leg arched and the other stretched out. Killjoy was on my right, watching me carefully. Resting one elbow against my upturned knee, I pressed my hand to my forehead and sighed deeply.

"She's one life against hundreds," I said. "Thousands, even. Why does it matter so much to you?"

"Duty. Honor. Semper fidelis, and all that. Plus, she's really sweet and super cute – a nine, easily. And you saw how pissed she made Steel Wool. There's a pony who needs a little humiliation now and then." Killjoy shrugged. "But all that aside, she's Shining Armor's sister. That by itself is reason enough to care."

I snorted. "I guess it'd look bad on your record if you got your captain's sister killed."

"You know, I said the same thing to her, almost word-for-word." Killjoy chuckled. "And, yeah, not gonna lie, there's a very selfish and opportunistic voice in my head that keeps thinking 'hey girl, you keep Shining's sis in one piece and Colonel Killjoy might actually be in your future.' But it's more than that."

She fell silent for long enough that I started thinking she wasn't going to pick up again. Then she looked at me with a nervous quiver in her bottom lip. "You, um... you got any more of that whiskey you used on your bite?"

I lowered my hand from my head to deliver her a full-bore look of bemusement, but dug around in the pouch where I'd placed the little bottle of amber liquid. I retrieved it, glancing at the grinning pair of unicorns on the label, then looked at Killjoy. The pegasus was eyeing the bottle closely, biting her lip.

Ah, yes. I knew that look. "Should you really be drinking on duty?"

Killjoy rolled her eyes. "What're you, my sponsor? Gimme."

She extended her forelegs toward me.

Can't say I didn't try. Shrugging, I held it out to her, and she seized the bottle between her hooves. She tugged the cork free with her teeth, spat it out, and took a quick swig, smacking her lips loudly.

"Oh, that is disgusting." She shuddered, but took another drink. "Absolutely disgusting. Easily the second worst thing I have ever had in my mouth."

"What's the first?"

"Bulk Biceps." She took a more measured third sip, then pulled the bottle away with a sigh, staring into the aperture at the top of its neck. Her expression was contemplative, tired. I knew that look too – the facial expression one usually breaks out when one holds a staring contest with a bottle of liquor. I hadn't expected to see it on a pony's face.

"Shining Armor was my friend before he was ever my C.O." Killjoy's voice was a quiet rasp, owing to the whiskey. "A good friend, who stuck up for me when nopony else would. Believed in me when nopony else did. Not even me."

She took another sip from the bottle, and didn't seem to mind the taste so much.

"When he asked me to lead this expedition, I was like... like, okay, I'm the last pony I'd trust with something like this. I would have expected him to ask somepony like Chain Mail. Or Flash Sentry. Or, hell, Goosefeathers! She ought to be the one giving the orders, and I ought to be polishing spearheads in the barracks."

"Yet here you are. Must be a reason why."

"Oh, I know exactly why. He believes in me, says all I need is the right chance to shine. Punny bastard." She swished the remaining whiskey in the bottle back and forth. "Well, joke's on him. Most everypony in Dodge is dead, and his little sister's liable to join 'em by sunset. That's what you get for bettin' on me."

Killjoy lifted the bottle again, but I seized it around the neck before she could bring it to her lips. A look passed between us, and she slowly removed her hooves, letting me pull it back into my lap.

"What happened here isn't your fault," I told her, silently regretting my decision to enable the depressive alcoholic.

"You can't know that." She looked away, nervously smoothing her mane down her neck with her hoof. "I think about those bodies in town. About Cherry, all alone in that basement for days. I keep asking myself, could I have stopped this from happening? If I pushed everypony to move faster, noticed the westward movement sooner—"

I reached over her, picked up the cork where she'd spat it out, and stuffed it back into the bottle, my sudden motion startling her into shutting up. "Maybe you could have. Probably couldn't have. Obsessing over it helps nobody – they're dead. You're not. Don't make the mistake of carrying your phantoms with you."

Killjoy was studying my face intently. "Guess a guy like you'd know something about that, wouldn't you?"

Twilight laughs and pushes the bottle away as blossoms waft in the breeze.

I clenched my fingers tightly around the bottle. "The hell do you want from me, Killjoy?"

Killjoy spoke slowly, enunciating carefully, to compensate for the effects of the whiskey. "Shining believed in me, and I've done nothing but let him down. If Sparkle dies, on top of everything else..." She looked away from me, rubbing her nose against her fetlock.

"I can't help her, much as I might want to. Maybe I can't help anypony." Her voice was thick, and, pardon the pun, hoarse. "But you can. So I'm asking you to try."

Funny thing about Killjoy. With her glittering gold armor and greathelm, and her collapsible spear, she was a hell of a lot more imposing than most of the ponies I'd seen. Especially next to someone like Twilight, who was so slight and nonthreatening... provided her horn wasn't glowing.

Right then and there, though, all that armor did was emphasize how small the pony inside of it was.

"And if I say no?" I asked.

Killjoy sniffed. Then she turned her head around to look me in the eye, a sad, artificial smile on her lips. "Then you say no, and you leave. Nothing more to it. I'll wish you good hunting, and stay here to muddle through."

My grip loosened around the bottle of whiskey.

Loudly sniffing once more, Killjoy got to her hooves and cleared her throat.

"I've already dispatched a flier to Appleloosa," she announced. Her voice once more took on that tone of authority that no one outside a military body could hope to properly emulate. "Within a day, I'll have five hundred spears pointed at Chrysalis's throat. We'll win this, one way or the other. But if you can keep Sparkle out of harm's way, then I'll feel a little bit better about what's to come. If not..."

I pulled myself off the ground, and Killjoy beat her wings to hover at my height. Her expression was hardened, stern, but her eyes were wide with anticipation.

Trading the whiskey to my left hand, I held out my right. "If not, then good hunting to you."

Her face shifted a little – I think I saw a bit of resentment on her expression. But she forced another smile, put her hoof in my hand, and shook it firmly.

"To you as well." Then her lips twitched into another smirk. "Thanks for the drink, Solid Dick."

I snorted and pulled my hand away. The rifle was still propped against the opened front door; I leaned down to pick it up, climbed into the front seat, and pulled the door shut. I set the rifle in the rack between the two seats, wrapped my free hand around the steering wheel, and let out a long breath.

This was exactly the kind of break I was hoping for. No sanctimonious speeches, no guilt-trip from a needy pony. Just me, a car, a full tank of gas... hopefully... and the open road. Just reach under the console, hotwire the car, and burn rubber toward the Everfree. Finish the mission. Do what you came here to do.

"What's another corpse among thousands to you?"

I leaned forward until my forehead touched the top of the steering wheel. Life as a cold-blooded mercenary may not have been fulfilling, but giving zero shits about anybody's existence besides your own had its upsides.

I could really have used some of that right then.

Author's Note

This is my way of apologizing for not having a real chapter for the month of September. I've had too much going on to buckle in and produce a full-length installment for the story. So, instead, I hacked off this scene from what I'd already written, and posted it separately.

I'll do my best to get something more substantial out next month. Thanks for your patience, guys.

As far as editing is concerned, I replaced DannyJ with a colony of chimpanzees and the story is quite honestly better for it.

13. Beneath the Blood-Stained Sand

"This is the first time I've ever used my power to help someone. It's strange... it feels... kind of... nice."

The darkness that was so impermeable and all-consuming at the start of Twilight's journey was manageable once she was in the thick of it. With her light shining from her horn, illuminating her way, it wasn't so bad. It wasn't even the worst part about the tunnel. The tunnel itself was the worst part about the tunnel.

She'd made her peace with the dark and the cold and the occasional crumble of dirt from the ceiling powdering her scalp. Unfortunately, then Twilight's mind related the interminable march down tunnel with the sensation of being swallowed by a whale. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being urged deeper and deeper toward a big pool of gastric acid that would break her down into her component proteins for nourishment and—

"The heck is wrong with you, Twilight?" she snapped, shaking her head. "Is this seriously what you think about when you're all by your lonesome?"

The word echoed in the confined space. Lonesome, lonesome, lonesome...

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Stupid acoustics."

Okay, so it turned out that even the whale thing wasn't the worst part of traveling through the tunnel. It was the fact that she had to do it with nopony to talk to. Rainbow was ahead, Killjoy behind. Snake was...

Who even knows? Yakyakistan The Neighchelles. Somewhere not here. It doesn't matter.

And the others were back in Ponyville. That left Twilight alone to delve deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth, isolating herself further with every step she took. Once, that wouldn't have bothered her, but she'd grown used to relying on her friends for comfort and support. Now, she had nothing but her own mind to keep her company.

My creepy, creepy mind filled with creepy, creepy thoughts. Why do I even have friends?

The fog thinned out the deeper she went. At the outset, she was up to her fetlock in iridescent mist, but the farther she walked, the more it faded, until the ground was totally unobscured. Twilight could see the footsteps of whatever had hatched from the egg: deep, round gouges roughly as big around as her hoof, less like footprints, and more like holes from stakes driven into the earth. She discovered them via the age-old trackers' trick of stumbling in one and going "wagh!" in surprise, and watched her steps a little more carefully after that.

Not that she really needed a trailto deduce what direction the thing had taken. Besides a leftward curve that bent her path at a near ninety degree angle to the entrance, the tunnel ran linearly, on a gradual incline. It simplified things, but it also meant that the magic she was counting on to see her through was more or less useless. The acoustic cartography spell – or "sonar whatsit," as it was apparently known to layponies – was a nifty bit of sorcery with many applications, but it was best utilized by multiple unicorns working in concert to canvas an area. Used by a single caster, its effective range was painfully limited, not to mention headache-inducing. As long as the tunnel maintained its trajectory and didn't start forking into forks which forked into still more forks, she figured she'd save herself time and effort and minimize how much she relied upon the spell.

She was half an hour into her trip, washing down a bland piece of green ration with a swig of metallic-tasting water from a Guard-issue canteen, when the tunnel abruptly ran out. Ahead of her was a sheer drop, and a vast expanse of darkness that the light from her horn could barely penetrate.

Fortunately, it wasn't the only lighting spell she knew.

The beam emanating from her horn receded, coalesced into a brilliant white sphere, and shot to the cavern's apex. It hovered, a heatless, miniature star that forced Twilight to momentarily squint and shield her eyes with her hoof before her she could adjust enough to gaze inside.

Beyond the tunnel's exit was a chamber, ovoid in shape, and massive in size and scale – you could probably fit Canterlot Castle's ballroom inside of it five times over, with room to spare. Two tunnels were dug into the walls on ground level, one on the opposite end of the cavern from her, roughly aligning with the tunnel she'd been walking, the other dug into the wall on her left.

Those, however, were minor details. It was the contents of the chamber which made Twilight wonder if she was hallucinating.

Below her stretched the crumbling remnants of two stone buildings, barracks-style structures running parallel to one another, on opposite sides of a cobblestone path which extended into the tunnel opposite Twilight. The structure on the right was remarkably intact – all four walls still stood, though the roof had collapsed, revealing an interior packed to the brim with dirt. The building on the left, by contrast, was an abject ruin. Only one corner of its walls remained standing; the rest had fallen into rubble long ago.

Twilight teleported to the bottom of the chamber, in the center of the cobblestone path, gazing into the abyssal darkness of the tunnel ahead. She glanced down at the stones beneath her hooves, and, frowning, tapped them twice. She was met with an echoing clop-clop. Twilight walked to the building on her right, did the same with its wall, and got another clop-clop in response.

So... probably not a hallucination, then. Nice to know I'm not crazy.

Although that would at least have been an explanation for what she was seeing. Try as she might to recall something to make sense of what she was looking at – perhaps a note from a half-remembered lecture, or a passage from a text – she came up dry. Nothing in her education or experience could explain the existence of a ruined civilization beneath the frontier.

Which would mean that I'm the first to find it. Oh, I could publish a whole thesis on this...!

A noise from the tunnel ahead – a rough, sandpapery sound that brought to mind what Snake might sound like after a tracheotomy – killed Twilight's academic enthusiasm.

Eight golems, their black carapaces glinting in the artificial light, emerged from the inky darkness in a V-shaped rank, and advanced on Twilight in lock-step. Seven pairs of pale blue eyes on seven blank faces regarded her. The eighth – the one in the middle of the rank – had eyes as dead as the others, but it met and held Twilight's gaze, drawing back its lips in a snarl.

That one's got a bone to pick.

Twilight fired a thin, pink lance that blasted a hole directly in the middle golem's path. Gratifyingly, it actually flinched, though it never lost its grin, even when the whole rank came to a stop. She looked from one end of the line to the other, keeping her horn lowered, daring one of them to take another step forward.

Then the middle golem spoke. "You're all alone. Where's your friend, the murderer? I invited him for a reason."

Twilight looked up with a start. That it said anything at all came as no surprise – Chrysalis had spoken through Cherry before, after all. But its voice was a blend of the changeling's own and the Chrysalis's coquettish tones, and that was profoundly disturbing.

She swallowed her nervousness, and hoped the Queen didn't notice. "Snake's around. Needed elsewhere."

"So he snubbed me." The golem's smirk split into a wide, toothy grin, exposing a row of chipped and blunted fangs. "Between his discourtesy, and your little outburst just now, my sense of hospitality is being seriously strained. I'll have to find him, and express my displeasure personally."

"Yeah? What about you?" Twilight snapped. "You sent a surrogate instead of meeting me yourself. You're a worse hostess than I am a houseguest."

"Ah, do excuse me. I'm, how to put it..." The golem frowned, rolling a hole-ridden hoof idly in the air as it thought. "Indisposed. Tied up, one might say. Don't worry, you can address your questions and comments to my puppet here. You might say he... speaks with my voice?"

Chrysalis giggled at her own pun.

"Funny," said Twilight. "Please give me my friend now."

"Don't be like that," Chrysalis cooed. "I won't fault you for wanting to skip the foreplay, but come on! I know you well enough to know how curious you must be right now. When else but now will you ever have the chance to indulge your inner historian?"

"Presumably, when I go home, after I'm finished with you." Twilight's patience was hanging by its last thread. "I doubt there's anything you could tell me that I couldn't find out for myself."

"Oh, there's nothing like the arrogance of an ivory tower intellectual. Still, I can't pass up the chance to lecture the biggest pedant in Equestria. I hope you don't mind if I savor the moment a little."

The other golems fanned out, breaking ranks and encircling Twilight, while Chrysalis's puppet took to the air. It rose until it was almost of a height with the miniature sun lighting the room, its profile lost in the glow, and Twilight had to look away.

"Welcome, Twilight Sparkle!" The two voices, entwined in their foul harmony, shook the chamber with enough bass and gusto to make Luna herself die of Royal Canterlot Voice envy. "To the lost rrrrrrealm... of Canterbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrria!"

Unimpressed with her boisterousness and perfectly rolled "r"s, Twilight shifted her attention to the other seven golems, who stood in a loose ring around her. She assumed the Queen's theatrics were no more than a diversion, to draw her attention away from the coming ambush.

But they didn't move a millimeter. Somehow, for Twilight, that inaction was the last straw.

Chrysalis's puppet hovered in the air a moment longer before descending slowly to the ground, dropping to its hooves, and stilling the rapid beating of its wings. Its grin became a surprisingly self-conscious smile.

"Too much? I don't get the opportunity to play up the whole 'archvillain' thing to a non-changeling audience very often."

"Oh, stop," Twilight snapped. "I didn't come here to chat with you, and I certainly didn't come for a history lesson. I don't care what this place is called, or who built it, or when, or why. I have zero interest. Zero. Less than zero. There is no way to mathematically quantify how little I care."

"You're not fooling me. Come on, ask—"

"No. You have put me through hell today, with your games and your ambushes and your riddles wrapped in enigmas, and I am officially through with all of it. I'm not going to indulge you, or your pathological need for hero/villain banter, any longer. I want Rainbow Dash, and you're going to give her to me, or I swear, I will cave this whole stupid city in on itself, and let you dig your way out!"

The scholar in her raged at her angry dismissal of a perfectly legitimate line of academic inquiry. Every other iota of Twilight's being delighted in how aback Chrysalis was taken, the plain, naked shock on the puppet's face.

Then it sneered. "That's a bold threat, Twilight, but we both know you'd never act on it."

"You sure about that? You don't know me."

"Oh. Is that what you think?" The puppet laughed darkly. "This is going to be more fun than I thought..."

The golems encircling Twilight edged closer, tightening their perimeter. Strategically, being surrounded meant little; Twilight could conjure a dozen different countermeasures for it in her sleep. Eight golems, using run-of-the-mill encircling tactics – Chrysalis's opening move was utterly failing to impress.

Although... who knew how many were waiting in the wings?

"You're right about one thing, however. I did get sidetracked." The puppet took a measured step forward. "I thank you for indulging me, but it's time to get down to brass tacks. You're in no position to be issuing threats, even if you were willing or able to act on them. I have a decisive numerical advantage over you, so I suggest you trot along with the honor guard here, and not make a fuss. Play nice, and I promise that you and Rainbow Dash can spend what time you have left hugging and braiding each other's hair and singing happy little pony songs."

"You're not taking me anywhere."

"Of course I am," said Chrysalis in that saccharine, patronizing way. "It's just a question of whether you'll go under your own power, or whether I'll have to break every bone in your miserable body and drag you."

The threat rolled off her tongue casually, with no more menace behind it than an invitation to Sunday tea. How to respond? Twilight looked to Rainbow Dash to inspiration – what would a brave pony like her do?

Crash into my balcony? Get captured by a cyclops? Ignore Scootaloo?

No, no, and no.

...Say something punky to bait them into attacking, and pick them apart as they come?

Better.

"Think you got what it takes?" She did her best to emulate one of Rainbow Dash's cocky grins. "Come and try, uh... Sparky."

The golem's face dropped into an expression of confusion. It cocked its head, eyes narrowing.

"Sparky?" it mouthed. It shook its head with a disgusted snort.

Only the fact that she was staring down a deadly foe kept Twilight from cringing to death.

I think I'll just stick with the whole "righteous anger" thing from here on out.

The golem sucked its teeth.

Then all eight charged inward, toward her, at once.

What she lacked in badass pre-fight one-liners, Twilight made up for in magical prowess. A shimmering pink dome appeared around her body, and the golems collided with it from all sides. Then the barrier expanded and burst, flinging the attackers away. Their wings beat furiously to fight off the momentum generated by the force of Twilight's attack, and most were able to right themselves in the air.

One wasn't. It struck the crumbled building to Twilight's left with enough force to shatter rock. Its remains lay amid a pile of fallen stones and a cloud of fine powder.

She stared, mouth open, for a split second, before the seven still active streaked at her, again from all sides. Twilight set her eyes front and blasted a target of opportunity out of the air with a point-blank shot to its face. Another came at her from behind, and got a chitin-cracking buck in the face for its trouble.

One crept into Twilight's blind spot, and caught her with a sucker punch to her cheek. Stars burst in the corner of her vision; she whirled right to face her attacker, reared onto her hind legs, and caught the golem by its shoulders with her front hooves.

Its fangs flashed, and it thrust toward her face with its horn. Twilight parried with a thrust of her own, locking their horns together, and they grappled, baring their teeth. The golem's wings propelled it forward, and Twilight took a staggered step back to brace herself.

Her horn shimmered, but something landed on her back, caught her mane in its teeth, and pulled. The deadlock was broken, and the bolt that she'd been preparing to cast fired harmlessly into the ceiling. The golem she grappled with sank its teeth into her exposed neck.

She screamed, and her aura winked out. Through the haze of pain and shock, she realized that bite wasn't a killing strike. It was too shallow, and the golem had missed her carotid.

Of course. Chrysalis doesn't want me dead.

She beat her hoof against the golem's head. The first punch made it grunt and jerk; the second dislodged it from her neck, and it snapped its bloody fangs at her nose in reprisal. Twilight fought to refocus, ignoring the trickling sensation from her neck. Sparks fizzled at the tip of her horn, and she thrust toward the golem's eyes. She didn't pierce either of them, but the light and heat made the golem hiss and pull away from Twilight, who fell back to her hooves. The golem on her back still clung to her mane and was trying desperately to restrain her while the others swarmed her from the front.

There was still a spearhead in her saddlebags, she remembered. Twilight pulled it free and, without looking or thinking, stabbed at the golem on her back. Through her aura, she felt it penetrate a soft, squishy surface. She'd caught the golem in its vulnerable eye. Its grip on her mane loosened.

Push it deeper.

Twilight shut her eyes and withdrew the spearhead, with most of the golem's eye still stuck on the point. Her telekinesis flung the still-squirming body into one of the incoming golems, knocking it out of the air. Then she dropped the weapon, pivoted, coiled her legs, and pounced, landing on top of the one-eyed golem, knocking it out, and further pinning the one underneath.

Twilight lowered her horn until it was pressed against the squirming golem's forehead. She shut her eyes.

Leave it, and it'll just go after you again. Put it down.

She fired. When she opened her eyes, the golem was moaning and unconscious, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth.

A shadow fell over her – one of the golems was overhead, plunging toward her. Twilight hurled the spearhead telekinetically, through the golem's wing. Then she flashed, vanished, and reappeared on top of the dirt-packed building, in time to see her attacker crash into the spot she'd just vacated. It rolled, came to a stop, and lay twitching.

Five down.

The last three rose to take her on three sides. Twilight stretched out with her senses, found some loose rubble, and pulled several sizable lumps of stone into the air. She flung the first rock and dropped an unwary golem with a blow to the head. Twilight flung a second, but her target weaved away before it could hit, and was too busy laughing at Twilight's error to see the rock reverse course in midair and collide with the back of its head.

She didn't see the bodies land, didn't know whether they lived or not, and was too preoccupied to hate herself at that moment either way.

The last golem landed in front of Twilight, the one Chrysalis had approached her with at ambush's onset. Twilight could tell by the leer.

Twilight pounced, but the golem pulled away. It hovered, lazily dodging a rapid-fire string of blasts – a distraction from the swarm of rocks hurtling toward it from the sides. It saw them coming at the last second, and dodged two, but one caught it in the chest, then another tore through its wing. A cry of pained surprise tapered into manic laughter, and it dropped to the ground with its one remaining wing beating in futility.

Twilight galloped to the edge of the roof and teleported to the ground with her back to the golem. Her hind leg caught it in its ribs; she spun and rammed it with her shoulder, driving it against the nearby building. Twilight reared and pinned its forelegs against the wall, and pressed her glowing horn against the center of the golem's forehead.

You won't be a killer. It's not even alive.

Through it all, the golem kept laughing. The light from Twilight's horn caught in the golem's eyes, and she saw her reflection – the bruises on her face, the tired circles beneath her own eyes, and her furious grimace.

This is a kindness. Do it.

"What're you waiting for?" the golem hissed.

Twilight's jaw clenched.

"You burned a whole town's worth of them without a second's thought. Why sweat over it now?" It chattered out a mad little laugh. "They're not alive, remember? Living like this is no life at all, remember?"

Sparks crackled, and Twilight stared into her reflected gaze.

I can't. Celestia, I can't do it.

She hurled the puppet away from the wall, sending it tumbling into the center of the cobblestone boulevard. When it tried to rise, Twilight stopped it with a hoof between its wings.

"Let me guess – it's harder when they talk back, right?" The golem shook its head, chuckling scornfully. "You would have saved yourself a lot of trouble by just going quietly, you know."

"Believe me, Chrysalis, it wasn't any trouble at all."

"Now there's a proper quip! Knew you had it in you, Sparky. We'll make a cold-blooded killer out of you yet." The puppet's laughter caught in its throat, and it coughed up a wad of gunk that it spat at Twilight's hoof.

"Where is she?" said Twilight calmly, ignoring her own disgusted impulse.

"Very close by," the puppet wheezed, straining against the pressure. "Pick a tunnel. It doesn't matter which one; they'll both take you to where you're going. They meet at a path deeper into the earth – a road to the forum, the heart of this old city. This sun-scorched realm of hubristic earth ponies, subsumed by ashes, long, long ago."

Sun-scorched... Why did that ring such a noisy, alarming bell for her?

"Or by a volcano, more likely," Chrysalis added. "But that doesn't have quite the same poetry, wouldn't you agree?"

Twilight winced – she hadn't meant to speak that thought aloud. Gently, she eased her hoof of of the golem's body, and it rolled onto its back with a groan.

"See? Knew you were curious," said the golem, propping up on is elbows. "I'm going to ask that you hold off on asking questions until you get here, however. Don't want to exhaust that avenue of discussion before I can see you face-to-face. We have so much to catch up on, after all."

"Fat chance. I'm getting my friend, and we are walking out of here together. That's how this ends."

"Silly filly." The golem shook its head. "Neither of you are leaving here alive. That's how this ends."

From behind came a cacophony of droning wings, pounding hooves, and shifting rubble. Twilight turned to see the golems, alive and fully conscious, storming toward her rapidly, as the one at her hooves laughed.

Then they fell, in sprays of green gore and chitin chips, swatted out of the air by suppressed gunfire.

Twilight stared, unblinking and unmoving, as her mind struggled to process this.

"The tin man," the golem at her hooves hissed. Twilight looked down again – its head was turned toward one of the tunnels, and a red dot danced along its forehead. "Of course. You would befriend that—"

Then its head exploded like an overripe honeydew, peppering Twilight with shrapnel and flecks of fluid.

Twilight stumbled back, heart thundering in her chest, and frantically searched the room. Her first thought was that Snake had stayed after all, that he came after her. But the attack had come from the wrong direction – from her golem's left, not from above – and the only gun he had with that red light was his tranquilizer.

Snake didn't fire that shot.

With a tremble that she couldn't suppress, Twilight turned to face that tunnel, where a single point of pale blue fire burned amid the darkness.

Trenton edged into the light with catlike fluidity, the barrel of a suppressed pistol leveled at the center of Twilight's head. His bulky vest was pitted with holes from changeling horns, and the left side of his head bore a dent the size of Twilight's hoof, as well as a smear of green that covered the blank mask where his face should have been. The gun was new, too; he hadn't been carrying that in the Everfree. The bodies the Guard found in the orchard were cut up, she recalled, but the hilt of his sword didn't poke up from behind his shoulder. Had he lost it? Traded it out for the gun?

He's a good enough shot that he doesn't need it, I suppose.

Trenton came to a stop beside a pile of rubble, where Twilight had buried one of the golems. He stared at her, and cocked his head to the side.

"You're injured."

It was like he'd flipped a switch and reactivated her pain receptors. Her bite wound started to sting again, and she felt twin trails of blood sliding down her neck. Painful, but only a flesh wound, and nothing to worry about. She wondered why he'd taken notice.

Twilight smoothed her mane over the bite. It was already full of dirt and changeling viscera, and it stank of corn whiskey; mashing in a bit of blood on top of it all couldn't hurt. "Yeah, well, you look like you've seen better days yourself." She scowled. "What're you doing down here?"

"The same as you, I believe," said Trenton. "You came to Dodge, as I did, found the town abandoned, as I did. You were waylaid up above by these... changelings? Yes?"

Twilight offered no reply.

"Rainbow Dash identified them as such. I wouldn't have known otherwise." Trenton's looked at the headless puppet. "We were ambushed shortly after our arrival in town, and as I fought them off, she fled. They seized her before I could get her back, and dragged her to their lair. I've been here ever since – scouting, planning... waiting."

"For what?"

"To see if you would ever arrive. To see if you would venture below in search of her. You did, although by a different route than I." He returned his gaze to Twilight. "And to see if your human companion is the man I think he is."

"You mean Snake?"

"If you insist." He sounded annoyed. "Where is he, exactly? The Queen neglected to ask for specifics."

"Survivor," she blurted automatically. "Cherry Jubilee, the ranch owner. I asked him to stay with her while I came down here."

"There was no one else who could have?"

"It's just the two of us out here." She thought about fluffing her fib with a tall tale about Pinkie Pie and Rarity patrolling the orchard, but didn't want to push her luck. A lie like that could easily balloon past her ability to contain, and the situation was already precarious enough.

"Is that so? And where did you get Royal Guard saddlebags?"

Her heart skipped at the reminder of Trenton's uncanny familiarity with Equestria. "They're my brother's. He's the captain of the Royal Guard. Left them at my house the last time he stayed over."

She started to sweat nervously. If she could see the holes in her own story, then there was no doubt in her mind that he could, too. But, finally, he dropped out of his shooting stance, slid the pistol into a holster on the front of his vest, and straightened his posture.

"I'll be brief," he said. "You and I want the same thing. You want Rainbow Dash back, and I want to give her back to you. If we work together and move quickly, we should be able to—"

"No." The audacity of his suggestion made Twilight funnel more energy into her aura, brightening it dangerously.

Trenton nodded. "Of course, naturally, you're disinclined to trust me—"

"You tried to kill us all yesterday!" Twilight thrust an accusatory hoof at the ninja.

"On the contrary. If you'll recall, I was the only thing actively not trying to kill you yesterday."

Twilight seethed, but when she thought about it... Trenton had fought to cripple and disable, not to kill, and he'd had them at his mercy more than once.

Including just now. He could have blown me away; he didn't.

But that didn't exactly make her want to trust him.

"You kidnapped Apple Bloom." Twilight dug her upraised hoof into the dirt. "You threatened to cut Spike's throat!"

"The alternative to kidnapping the foal was killing her," said Trenton. "Either would have guaranteed that you would pursue me, which was what I wanted, but I chose to spare her. As for the dragon, that was a bluff. I don't expect you to believe me, but I never intended to harm him."

"Screw. You. For thinking I'm gullible enough to believe you." Twilight lowered her head so her horn was level with Trenton's chest; a very dark part of her mind wondered if she could channel enough energy to punch a hole clean through him if she had to. "You can defend yourself however you like, but you're still one of the people holding a gun to Equestria's head, and I'm not going to forgive and forget that just because you give me your word—"

"Pegasus Wings is about to attack Ponyville."

Well that certainly shut her up. "What did you say?"

"The powers that be know that you and your friends represent the most obvious threat to their plans, besides the Princesses," he continued. "They are taking great pains to isolate your town, to keep you from interfering. A no-fly zone issued without warning or explanation, a fire which conveniently cuts railroad transportation from Ponyville to Canterlot – all part of the plan from the beginning, naturally, but they had no intention of moving on the town directly until you gave them a reason to."

"How would you even know that?" Twilight demanded. "Don't tell me you're still in the loop after helping us escape last night. Not to mention what you're pulling right now."

Behind their backs, I'll bet.

"I know both Macbeth and the Commander well enough to predict their actions with a very high degree of accuracy," Trenton replied. "Both realize that you are a threat they cannot abide. It will take time to form a plan of attack, and to reposition their forces to execute it, and they will quarrel endlessly about it, but I guarantee that, within a day now, the hammer will fall on Ponyville."

Twilight gathered enough focus to reform her aura, and trained her horn on Trenton.

"You see me as the enemy," said Trenton. "With good reason. But you have a scholar's instincts; you are driven by logic and reason and evidence. Consider the occasions I've had to kill you and your friends. Consider that I had a clear shot on your head just now, and deliberately did not take it."

"'I can kill you but I don't want to' isn't the best basis for a partnership," said Twilight.

"What about a token of goodwill? A gift of arms and ammunition?" Static crackled faintly in Trenton's voice. "I trust your friend found the carbine I left for him. And there is more – supplies, tools, even my vehicle. All of it is yours, in addition to Rainbow Dash's safe return. All to put you in the best possible position to survive the coming battle. If you cannot trust me, then trust what you've seen, and ask yourself what the point of all of this would be if it were really my will that you all die."

The light around her horn dimmed as her uncertainty grew and gnawed at her. "Suppose I mull it over, and I still decide you can't be trusted."

"Would you trust me over Chrysalis? The path she gave you will lead you into a trap, but I know another route of which she is unaware." The fire in his eye flickered and extinguished and did not relight. "We have a narrow window of opportunity within which to work. Something above has drawn the Queen's attention – your friend, I assume – and she has committed all of her forces to dealing with him. She alone remains to guard Rainbow Dash."

Twilight worked her jaw in silence as Chrysalis's strategy unraveled before her. The ambush was weak because the bulk of her army was going after Killjoy and her detachment. That was the whole point of luring her and Snake into the hive. It was divide and conquer – deal with the two of them personally while her army faced the Guard, with neither in a position to help the other.

"By myself, I cannot defeat her," Trenton continued. "I tried once already, and the fight was... inconclusive. I doubt you could prevail where I did not, but together, we might be able to effect a successful rescue, with time enough for you to return home, warn your friends, and prepare a defense against Macbeth's incursion. Or we can continue to waste time here, debating and fighting, while Rainbow Dash languishes in captivity."

Work with him, or fight him – a dilemma with no preferable decision. Maybe he didn't want her and her friends dead, and maybe his offer of help was genuine, but Twilight had no reason to assume that his motives were on the level. She remembered the soldiers he killed in the forest – "no witnesses," he'd said, as if that was all the explanation necessary. They'd been on his side, and he murdered them in cold blood without hesitation. What guarantee did Twilight have that he wouldn't do the same to her if she became inconvenient?

Well, what's my third option? Turn back?

That was no option at all. Sunk cost fallacies be damned; she'd come too far and fought through too much to quit with Rainbow Dash's life on the line. She had to see this through, no matter what, whether that meant linking elbows with Discord and lalala-ing across a springtime meadow, or spelunking in a dank cavern with someone who did terrible things to her spine the night before.

Not gladly, though. She had been drawn into one trap by Chrysalis, and snagged by Trenton in what may as well have been another, swapping out nemeses within the span of a few minutes. It made her feel helpless, like a feather in an updraft, subject to the fickle whims of the wind. No will of her own, no control of her own destiny, pulled this way and that by some apathetic entity who scoffed at the idea of her own agency.

She wondered if that was how she made Snake feel.

So Twilight swallowed her pride, let her aura vanish completely, and looked into the ninja's eye. Its glow had returned, though it was lost in the brilliance of the light she'd created – not a blaze, but an ember, like the guttering tip of a cigarette worn to a nub.

"At least tell me why," she said quietly. "Why you're going against your allies all of a sudden. Why you care."

Trenton's shoulders rose and fell ponderously – a stiff, robotic shrug that he seemed to be consciously forcing. "The magic of friendship?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't patronize me."

"There is no answer I could give you that you would find satisfactory. Anything I say, you will think either suspicious, a half-truth, or an outright lie. The truth is on a need-to-know basis, anyway." He turned toward the tunnel from which he'd emerged. "So, what you do need to know, I'll tell you along the way. Decide for yourself what to believe."

The second tunnel generally followed the same trajectory as the first, conveying them eastward despite the occasional dip or curve. The scattered remnants of ancient buildings littered the path, too, sculpted chunks of limestone and marble that Twilight occasionally stumbled or climbed over. It was as if whatever dug the tunnel just barreled through the ruins of the city, breaking whatever was in its path without stopping to think about it.

Too late, it occurred to Twilight to ask Chrysalis about the egg.

Trenton briefed her as they walked, describing the specifics of Rainbow Dash's condition. She'd suffered moderate injuries when she was pinned by the rubble in the castle – fractures in her hips and a broken hind leg – in addition to battle damage from IRVING. Trenton had assumed her wounds would prevent her from making a break for it, so long as he kept a close watch on her.

He obviously didn't know Rainbow Dash as well as he thought.

It was such a Rainbow Dash thing to do. Of course a broken leg wouldn't stop her from trying something bold and borderline stupid in the middle of a fight. Normally, that was something Twilight might have scolded her for. Instead, she felt a swell of pride for her friend.

Of course, it might have been easier on me if you hadn't tried anything at all, Rainbow...

So Trenton armed himself with a handgun taken from the arsenal he'd prepared for Snake, tracked his quarry to what he estimated was the center of the hive, and attempted a rescue, only to be fended off by Chrysalis herself.

"That would explain your, uh..." Twilight coughed. "Disheveledness, I suppose. Of course, if you're thinking that the two of us'll succeed where you failed, then keep in mind – Chrysalis has an army of hundreds behind her. There's no guarantee she won't bring in reinforcements if the fight goes against her. Two of us versus her? Might go alright. Two of us versus her, plus a legion of back-up? I'm feeling a little less solid about our odds."

Twilight came to a stop at a fallen marble archway that lay across the middle of the path – a rare piece of Canterbrian architecture that her new friend, the angry egg monster, couldn't have bothered to break while passing through.

Or maybe it was part of the ceiling and got dislodged by its passing. Annoying, either way.

She became aware of Trenton standing uncomfortably close behind her, the glow from his eye mingling with the light from her horn.

"Solid," he mused. "Was that a pun?"

"It was not."

"My apologies. I've come to expect puns from your kind." His eye scanned along the archway. "If she does bring reinforcements, then we will have some warning. While most of my onboard sensor suite is inoperable in Equestria, my analog systems are sensitive enough to track the movements of each individual member of this hive. Only while they are underground, however. If they re-enter the hive, in any number, we will know."

"Better than nothing, I guess." Even broken and toppled, the arch was taller than she was – three and a half Twilights high, reaching almost to the cavern's ceiling. "So, in your estimation, how many is Snake dealing with right now?"

"Factoring in those slain between the three of us, and not counting Chrysalis herself, I would put them at three hundred and forty-nine individuals. None of whom, I should point out, have demonstrated the kind of shape-shifting abilities for which the species is named. Or any sort of magical abilities, for that matter."

"Huh, funny – wonder why."

Can't go around it, can't go over it. Guess I could always just teleport over the arch, though without a clear image of what's on the other side... Oh, who am I kidding; it's just more endless, cylindrically carved—

Then the arch shifted and rose. Trenton had it propped on one side, his palm pressed flat against the marble surface. He stared silently at Twilight before jerking his neck toward the path.

"Thanks," Twilight said acidly. She trotted under the arch, ignoring a fleeting feeling of anxiety, and heard it topple to the ground when Trenton dropped it.

If he was trying to intimidate me, then he... ugh... kinda succeeded.

"I had hoped you would have an explanation for their reduced abilities." Trenton's voice showed no sign of strain from lifting the arch. "My knowledge of changelings is unfortunately limited."

As was her own. The safest assumption was that changeling magic was tied to their soul – no soul, no shape-shifting. No catapulting from the sky like a gooey green booger of bug-death, either. Maybe stripping away her brood's species-defining trait was a trade-off that presented some sort of advantage, but if so, Chrysalis hadn't demonstrated it.

"Three hundred and forty-nine of them, versus the two of us. That doesn't seem lopsided to you?" Twilight looked over her shoulder at Trenton, slowing her steps to avoid tripping on anything. "All you've really done is reinforce my point."

"They pose no immediate threat."

"No immediate threat." Twilight's eyes narrowed. "They could still win their fight up above and come back down to reinforce Chrysalis. Or she could decide that they'd do more good down here than up there and just pull them out altogether."

"I don't foresee that happening," said Trenton. "Consider your earlier encounter with Chrysalis. The pride, the vanity, she displayed in speaking with you. I would wager that pride is why she is choosing to face you herself, rather than overwhelm you with superior numbers. She has a vendetta against you which demands satisfaction, and she is proud enough to do that herself, regardless of whether or not her forces prevail against that man."

And wasn't that a happy thought, although Twilight wondered what the reason was for this singular focus on her. Finding Cadance and exposing Chrysalis's scheme might have set into motion the Queen's downfall, but it was Shining and Cadance who expelled her from Canterlot. She loaded the gun, but her brother and his wife pulled the trigger.

Darn it, now I'm starting to think like Snake, too. Or, at least, in Snakey metaphors.

"You seem disquieted," Trenton observed. "Concerned for him?"

For Snake? He was the one person she could safely assume was out of harm's way. But the ponies who were up above were facing almost three-to-one odds. It was ironic that Killjoy had been worried about Twilight going into the tunnel alone. This new development in mind, whether she had it worse than Twilight or vice-versa could be the subject of a lively and spirited debate.

"Can you blame me?" Twilight grumbled. Appearances needed maintaining, after all. "Those are long odds for anypony. Or anyhuman, rather. Anyone?"

Settle on "anyone."

"Not for him," said Trenton dismissively. "You ought to have faith in his abilities. He is far too redoubtable to be undone so easily."

Well then, it's a pity he's not actually up there, or I might not be so worried about Killjoy and the others.

For a time after that, they fell silent. Their walk was scored only by the ambient noises of travel – footsteps on dirt, the soft tinkling of Twilight's aura, the occasional rumble of her mostly empty stomach... More than once, she felt compelled to dip into her rations again, and had to stop herself. The fact that she had Royal Guard saddlebags had already drawn Trenton's curiosity once. She didn't think for a second that he'd actually bought her tall tale about Shining Armor leaving them behind. An occasional sip from her canteen was probably safe, but munching on flavorless, Royal Guard-issue dried grass rations could raise further questions from her tenuous ally.

Eventually, they came to another branch in the road – the spot that Chrysalis had mentioned, where two tunnels diverged, one leading to Rainbow Dash's location. That one plunged diagonally into the earth, while the other curved rightward, due south. The light from her horn failed to penetrate the first; it simply stretched forward, on and on, a tunnel beneath a network of underground tunnels. The redundancy made Twilight snort with bemusement, but there was something else to it that unsettled her, an unshakable feeling of dread clawed at the edges of her perception. Call it a premonition, or intuition, or just good old fashioned paranoia, but Twilight didn't like the look of that tunnel.

Nor the fact that Chrysalis had urged her to take it.

"You said you knew another route, right?" said Twilight. "That this one'd take me into another ambush?"

"I do. This presents an ideal choke point – no twists, turns, forks or branches. A good place for Chrysalis to lay an ambush." Trenton pointed down the tunnel curving to the right. "But there is an entrance to a structure whose interior is still accessible down this one. A convenient shortcut."

Twilight took another glance down the eastward tunnel, mulling her sensation of dread. Chrysalis may have been trying to lure her into a trap, but it didn't stand to reason that the alternative was preferable. She trusted Trenton as far as she could throw him.

Actually, depending on his weight, and given optimal wind conditions, I could probably toss him quite a distance via levitation.

As far as Fluttershy could throw him, then. Fortunately, Twilight didn't have to take either of them at their word. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply.

Trenton took an impatient step toward her. "Are you listening to—"

Twilight raised her hoof to silence him. She exhaled, and her mind emptied of errant thoughts and cares, until all was silence, and all she saw in her mind's eye was an endless expanse of black.

Against that darkness, she projected a light, a starburst that pulsed in time with the rhythm of her heart. She concentrated on that light, on growing it with each pulse. Brighter and faster it flashed, matching her heart on every beat, until all at once, it expanded to fill her vision.

And, with a soft gasp of release, another light burst from her horn and expanded, passing through earth and brick and marble, and building an image in her mind. It was vague, blurry, like a landscape glimpsed through a foggy window pane, and she tried to sharpen it, to bring it into focus.

What she got was a picture in her mind's eye of a lopsided, asymmetrical pretzel – loops and whirls that fed back into themselves, an underground ouroboros, with vast expanses of unexcavated earth in the spaces between. Only the area immediately around her was clearly defined; the lines and edges of the distant tunnels were blurry. She couldn't even see clearly all the way back to the chamber where she'd fought the honor guard.

But she could discern hollow pockets embedded in the walls, rectangular voids where roofs had not caved in, buildings whose insides were still accessible. And there was a cluster of them, close together, to the south, with an edge brushing against the wall of the tunnel that Trenton insisted on taking. That was his shortcut: a dilapidated structure that hadn't collapsed beneath the weight of the earth pressing down on it.

Yet.

Twilight found herself flushed and breathing heavily when she opened her eyes, a slight lather having built up along her body from the stress of the spell. Trenton was staring patiently at her.

"So, yeah," she panted. "Think, ah, we'll be taking... the, uh..." She gestured down the rightward path.

"Do you need a moment?"

Twilight shook her head.

"Would you care for a cigarette?" Trenton asked dryly.

Twilight's response was a bewildered gaze and a second, slower shake of her head.

The shortcut's entrance turned out to be a small gap in the tunnel's wall, just above the floor. Behind the layers of earth were the edges of a broken brick wall, forming a hole just wide enough for even a human to squeeze through. The darkness inside was neither inky nor interminable, and when she shone her light through it, Twilight saw the comfortingly familiar sight of a dusty floor in dire need of a good sweeping.

Twilight teleported inside, dust swirling around her hooves from the burst of displaced air. She found herself at the bottom of a shallow, hexagonal pit, whose lines and angles matched perfectly with those of the room itself, and lit her aura, saturating everything in vivid pink hues. The room was ornate, yet unfurnished, and except for a broken clay vessel at the edge of the pit, every last surface was marble, gleaming faintly beneath a thick layer of dust.

The familiarity made her smile – this was a luxury bath, not unlike the ones that Rarity liked to indulge in. Yet there was a sense of scale and grandeur to this place that made Aloe's and Vera's fixtures look like the dirt-streaked linoleum tubs of a low-rent city tenement.

Then she looked at her hooves and winced. Speaking of filthy bathtubs...

A silty carpet coated the floor beneath her, and her hooves steadily sank into it the longer the stayed immobile. An irrational fear of quicksand spiked through her, but it vanished when she experimentally tugged one hoof and found that it popped free with no struggle. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she hopped out of the pit, hooves echoing noisily, while Trenton slid feet-first through the hole. The room was only slightly taller than him, and his head came within inches of scraping the ceiling when he stood.

"This is one room in a vast complex," said Trenton. "Areas exposed to the open air are inaccessible, but enclosed spaces, like this one, are still navigable."

"I'm not surprised. Chrysalis said that this was an earth pony civilization. They're good at what they do, no matter the era." Twilight idly batted a shard of clay with one of her hooves. "But we also saw buildings that'd collapsed or caved in over the years, so I'm guessing the architects didn't bring their A-game to everything they built in this city. Just for ponies who could afford it."

"An engineering masterpiece of marble and gold, made to suit the decadent tastes of the bourgeoisie, now a dead ruin beneath the bloodstained sand. Marx and Engels would approve."

"Uh..." Twilight frowned confusedly. "Whom and Whogels?"

"Irrelevant." Trenton gestured toward the room's exit, a half-open wooden door that looked like it'd crumble to dust if Twilight pushed it hard enough. "That way."

Don't bring it up if it's irrelevant, jerk.

The door did not crumble to dust when Twilight stepped through, into a much more spacious area where the air was thin and stale and faintly sweet. She brightened the light around her horn, and saw a room lined with dusty bronze benches and coal-filled braziers.

And, everywhere, a grim tableau of desiccated corpses.

On one bench rested the body of an earth pony, his legs curled beneath him like a cat. Another was alone in the middle of the room, with a dark stain spread out beneath him; Twilight looked away from that body with a whispered curse when she saw the jagged shard of pottery between its hooves. Two bodies sat in a distant corner of the room, amid a pile of empty cups and tipped-over jugs. Their backs were propped up against the wall, their bodies draped in what she belatedly realized was a thick brown blanket, and their heads rested tenderly against one another.

Chrysalis had suggested, rather off-hoofedly, that this city was destroyed by a volcanic eruption. If that were true, if it was a deluge of ashes that buried this place, then these ponies would have been sealed inside whatever rooms or buildings they'd happened to be in. When the reinforced roof of this room failed to cave, the trapped ponies would have asphyxiated as they slowly consumed all the oxygen in the room.

Faced with that choice, no wonder that one opted out.

But she wondered at that couple in the corner – what the connection between them was, whether they'd known each other, been close, been intimate. Or whether they'd been strangers who simply chose to comfort one another at the end. Had they opted out too? If she lifted the blanket, would she find more shards of pottery? Had they spiked their drinks with something lethal? Or did they just wait? Quietly, in comfort, together?

It didn't matter. Not really. Trenton pointed to another door, and she stepped through it, her eyes stinging.

The next room was no larger than the last, yet far grander at the same time. The ceiling, with branches of inlaid gold along its surface, curved overhead, supported by arches carved into muscled stallions and coyly smirking mares. There was another door in the far wall, above which a single window ran the length of the room, its glass miraculously unshattered. Earth pony engineering truly was marvelous. But when Twilight shone her light through the window, she saw only dirt pressed against it.

Probably nothing but more of the same past that door. Guess that's not the way out.

This room was furnished, too, though instead of plain bronze benches against the walls, there were beds of sculpted marble along the room's center. Dead ponies rested in them, in ones and twos and sometimes threes, their bodies draped in thick furs.

She didn't linger over the bodies this time. Her attention instead went to the reliefs along the wall beside her, which depicted – perhaps predictably – earth ponies.

Earth ponies at a gallop, pulling carts laden with rocks. Earth ponies piling stones, raising roofs, carving columns. Earth ponies gathered on the steps of a building, beneath an intricately carved portico. The reliefs told the story, Twilight realized, of the city's foundation. She walked along the wall, watching with morbid fascination as the scenes grew increasingly disturbing, despite the stunning artistry.

Earth ponies in armor, chests puffed, heads held tall. Earth ponies with hooves curled around spears, with mouths clutching swords or drawing bowstrings. Earth ponies locked in mortal struggle with unicorns, and pegasi, and minotaurs and griffins...

The reliefs ended at the room's corner, next to a mosaic covering the entirety of the far wall. Twilight stepped back to see it as a whole.

It showed the city at what looked to be the height of its power, splendidly white with a golden dome at its center. The sun burned overhead, a corona of red with orange rays lashing chaotically toward the ground. The city's population mustered, in the streets and on the rooftops, and raised their weapons, to challenge the ominous red star.

That symbol...

It wasn't quite a dead ringer for the one in the book that she and Snake found. But the resemblance was striking.

A dull ache throbbed beneath Twilight's horn, and she rubbed herself with a groan. Staring at that wall raised questions upon questions upon questions – normally, a challenge she'd relish. Here, and now, with the fate of Equestria and the life of her friend on the line, it was just one more thing to make her head hurt.

She noticed a blue glow spread across the mural.

Speaking of headaches...

"Tragically ironic, isn't it?" Trenton remarked. "One need only look around to see how this city's history of conflict ended for them. Scorched by the sun, and subsumed by ashes."

Twilight's eyes traced over the red sun, down to the bottom of the wall. There were spots where the tiles were shattered, amid half-moon marks that dug into the plaster beneath. Somepony had survived the fall of the city long enough to take out some frustration on this mosaic.

"Not that Chrysalis is a remotely reliable source, but it could just as easily have been a natural disaster that wiped this place out, rather than someone's sunny wrath," said Twilight. "I seem to recall reading something about the badlands being the caldera of an inactive volcano. That's close enough that a significant eruption could have affected this place."

"Possibly. Human lore, too, is rife with stories of restless spirits and wrathful gods meting out vengeance – tales invented to explain the inexplicable. But here, the rules are somewhat different. Our gods, if they exist at all, do not live among us, as yours do. So I've learned to keep an open mind."

"The Princesses aren't gods," Twilight said flatly. "And they don't claim to be."

"Just so," said Trenton. "But I did not mean them."

He knew. But of course he knew. Macbeth had known, had thrown it in her face. Why wouldn't Trenton know too? "Macbeth's god-emperor, right? What do you know about it?"

"Little. Much of what I know comes from Macbeth himself, and he is hardly a reliable source on anything. Exile has dulled his wits, I'm afraid. Exile, and his preoccupation with avenging himself upon the princess who wronged him."

"Okay, so he's crazy," Twilight pressed. "I know that much already. But what did he tell you?"

"If he is to be believed, then once there was an alicorn who wielded tremendous power. Who felt that power entitled him to rulership, and extended his reach across the known world, only to vanish from recorded history, and for Equestria to rise from the ashes of his empire." Trenton looked down at her. "What do you know about it?"

"What do I know? Nothing." The blue light was shining right in her eyes, forcing her to squint and turn away. "I found some scraps and made some inferences. The gateways that connect our two worlds – he built them, and invaded yours."

"Yet he is as conspicuously absent from human history as he is from yours. One imagines he didn't get very far. Ironic for a self-proclaimed god to be utterly forgotten by his subjects and their descendants. All the power and glory in the world, and so little to mark his existence."

Trenton turned away from the mosaic and strode toward the other end of the hall. "But perhaps it is for the best he is forgotten. A figure of such bloodshed and violence gels poorly with the grand narrative of Equestrian history."

Twilight followed, keeping her eyes off the corpses in their beds. "What do you know about our history?" she muttered, fully cognizant of the fact that he knew a disturbing amount about their history.

"Much and more."

Trenton stopped at the far wall, pressed his palm against it, and pushed. With a faint squeak of protest, the wall moved inward, and slid aside to reveal a hidden chamber. Inside was a dusty corridor of unpolished granite, perpendicular to Twilight's perspective. She peeked inside – to her right was a dead end. To her left, the corridor stretched on into the darkness.

"Well, I'll be," Twilight muttered, poking her head inside. "A servant's passage. Guess they weren't exclusive to Equestria."

The servant's passage was an old tradition, helping the help to move around upscale manors or establishments while keeping them out of sight and mind. They could still be found in ritzy places with histories stretching into the distant past. Of course, their construction was eventually outlawed once the Princess passed reforms to protect the peasantry, but their use...

Aristocrats cling harder to some traditions than others. Classism didn't end when feudalism did. A walk around Canterlot is proof enough of that.

"Yes, I'm familiar with them," said Trenton. "Little surprise that they should exist in a place like this."

Yet another thing he inexplicably knew about.

The surface of the granite was lined with with shallow scratches and gouges. They looked deliberate, and she leaned further into the chamber for a closer look. She blew a puff of breath over the wall, scattering a layer of dust, and saw crude etchings of ponies in battle armor trudging up a hill, a facsimile of the historical reliefs that had disturbed her. However, instead of wielding swords and spears and grimacing with soldierly fury, they had massive phalluses jutting out of their bellies, which they thrust gleefully ahead like lances.

She disguised her laugh as a cough and backed out of the passage. "This'll take us where we need to go?"

"With so much of this complex buried or destroyed, passages like this one are the only reliable means of moving from one end to the other." He gestured at the opening. "Will you lead the way?"

Twilight gave Trenton a look. Ally of convenience or no, she didn't like the idea of having her back to him in such a narrow, confined space.

He seemed to understand and ducked inside without another word. She followed after him.

The passageway was dark, yet oddly spacious, offering enough room for Twilight to move with little constraint. Trenton was less fortunate; he had room to walk and stand, but had to hunch his head and angle his body to the side.

Every few meters or so, Twilight passed a thin, rectangular hole in the right wall. Peering into them, she could see chambers similar to the one they'd entered the complex through, with benches and pits and the occasional corpse or two. These ones were smaller, though. If the hexagonal room with the silty pool had been meant for multiple ponies to use, then these ones were meant for individuals.

Or for couples.

Nearly every inch of the walls was etched with graffiti, still perfectly legible after the passing of the years. Most of what Twilight saw was puerile, primarily carvings of unrealistically endowed stallions doing highly inappropriate and anatomically implausible things to one another. There were a few mares, too, but those lacked the crudeness and comical exaggeration of their male counterparts' anatomy, except for the one standing on her hind legs who seemed to be spraying milk over the delighted bodies of six other ponies in togas.

The togas were a recurring theme in the pictures, Twilight noticed. They seemed to indicate the political and economic elite, and they were almost always depicted in shameful, undignified scenarios, having terrible things done to them – often by the unrealistically endowed stallions. It was crude political satire, the work of underprivileged ponies mocking the mares and stallions that the bathhouse catered to. The mere existence of the servants' passage suggested a gross economic divide between the ponies who luxuriated in the facilities, and the ponies who served them. Where else could they vent but away from the prying eyes of the upper crust? And where better than a space that no upper-crusty-pony would ever dream of venturing into?

Twilight's face burned at the thought that Equestria had once been not so different. Its history may not have been one of war and conquest, but a divide between aristocrats and the peasant class? Exploitation of the have-nots by the haves? That was familiar. Shamefully, painfully familiar.

To Trenton, as well as to me. She glared suspiciously at him.

"Tell me something," said Twilight. "You knew what a servant's passage was before I even explained what they were. How's that work?"

"Your kind did not invent the practice of oppressing the underprivileged. Humanity has its own history of doing just that. Our own equivalents to what you see here. Although, the term itself I gleaned from your literature."

"You've read our books?"

"Your world, and your kind, have been known to us for decades. The gateway, the ruins surrounding it, evidence of your existence. But what little we could learn from those ruins was fragmented, and ancient. Too old to serve much good in the here and now."

Twilight shivered. Us. We. Who is he talking about, exactly? Who's financing your little expedition, Trenton?

Trenton shifted his body to step over someone's remains – a body, small enough to be a child, though it was too mummified for Twilight to know for sure that it was. She scurried over it quickly.

"So, yes, I've read your literature. Your history, too – your legends and lore, everything from children's fables to historical accounts, from the mundane to the farcical to the fantastical. The rebellion of Nightmare Moon, and the strife which preceded and followed her. The first Hearth's Warming, and the lighting of the Bonfires of Friendship. Fables about star-maidens, and dead things which dream of song in the deep places of the world. Slaymare."

"You've read Slaymare?" Twilight frowned. "Am I the only one in the whole furshlugginer world who hasn't?"

"Reading it was a waste of time. It did little to expand my understanding of your culture – a preachy rag, I thought, full of gratuitous sex and violence. I doubt it would be to your taste."

Common ground, at last. Perhaps we can use that as the basis for a negotiated peace. Or perhaps not.

"I'll take that into consideration if the urge ever strikes me to pick it up." Twilight cocked her head. "You're a voracious reader, aren't you? Must've taken some time to get through all of that."

"You should say what you mean," Trenton chided. "To answer your real question, yes. I've spent a great deal of time in your country. A year, or thereabouts – learning everything from history to geography to military disposition. Infiltrating many of your major population centers, too. Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Stalliongrad. Canterlot, I avoided, however – I did not want to risk an encounter with your Princess. Though I did chance to see her from afar while scouting Ponyville. She's quite impressive. And large. Her hair fascinates me."

"Yeah, I think I would have noticed a big blue cyclops bipeding his way around Ponyville," Twilight muttered, saying it more to reassure herself than in response to him.

"I am exceptionally gifted at staying out of sight. Though, even if I were not, the optic camouflage unit certainly helped matters. A shame it ceased to function – I grew too dependent on it, most like. It would certainly help matters along if I had it now."

The corridor intersected with another going left. Trenton took the turn, Twilight following closely before he could get too far out of sight.

"So you bummed around Equestria," she said. "To, what, read our books and get the lay of the land?"

"In part. But also to form inroads, connections, with locals. An onsite intelligence network, if you will. Macbeth was my first contact – I met him in the Everfree Forest, shortly after arriving in Equestria for the first time."

Twilight snorted. "I'll bet he was of tremendous help."

"On his own? No. But he was open to the possibilities presented by my arrival. He answered questions, as many as he asked. I explained my intentions, and when we parted, he gave me a name – an old accomplice who had connections within Celestia's regime. That pony took care of the rest. Before long, I had a small network of informants operating under the Crown's nose. It's how I got my message to you, and how I intended to arrange Rainbow Dash's release once you and your friend arrived to claim her."

"How's that?"

"One of my contacts was an employee of Cherry Hill Ranch. No harm in telling you – he is probably dead now."

"Seems like a random spot for an intelligence operative." Something occurred to Twilight, and she stopped, Trenton slowing down when he realized she was no longer in step with him.

"Do you have someone in Ponyville?" she asked.

Trenton looked over his shoulder at her. "If I say yes, you will question my motives for revealing such a sensitive piece of information. If I say no, you will naturally assume that I am lying. So I will leave it to your imagination."

Darn it, why did he have to say that? Whatever I imagine's gonna be, like, a hundred times worse than the reality.

She hissed with frustration. And that's probably why he said it.

Trenton paused in front of a piece of wall that had been knocked inward, and now leaned against the corridor's wall – a hidden door that opened into a new room. Trenton ducked inside, with Twilight close behind. It was predictably ornate, given the standard set by the previous rooms they'd been in. White stucco walls, stained brown, with faded reliefs depicting gloriously muscled and armored ponies, a staircase leading up to a terrace, and a pair of doors flanking it. Signs hung over the doors, with words written in an archaic script that Twilight, after a moment's careful squinting, was able to decipher. "MARES," one read; "STALLIONS," the other.

Opposite the stairs were double-doors of wrought iron. One had been broken off its hinges, and lay on the ground with a dent in its middle. The other was rusted in place. A pale green glow from the outside crept past the threshold, but barely penetrated the bathhouse's interior.

"You've gone quiet," Trenton observed. "Is your paranoid, anxiety-wracked mind conjuring improbable scenarios of spy-related intrigue and betrayal?"

That was why he said it! That jerk!

"No." Twilight paused. "Kind of. It's difficult to wrap my mind around. How could so many ponies could possibly just... betray Equestria like that? And for Macbeth? He's not exactly a household name as far as villainy goes. Nopony I know'd go out of their way for him."

"There are fewer than you might think," Trenton assured her. "No more than a few dozen, most of which operate independently, communicating with one another via dead-drops and cut-outs. Most aren't even aware of whose interests they're serving – they work under the impression that they are facilitating a coup to place Mi Amore Cadenza on the throne."

Twilight balked at that. "What?!"

"Oh yes. Celestia's niece is extremely popular with the masses. Some – not the thousands that Macbeth believes, but enough to make a difference – would rather see her on the throne. Which is precisely what Macbeth wishes to do: place her on the throne and rule as regent, exiling Celestia and executing her cabinet. Advisers, ministry heads, the Captain of the Guard – he would clean house, completely, and rule using Cadenza as a puppet."

"That's insane!" Twilight cried. "That would never work! For a multitude of reasons!"

"Not the least being that Cadenza is far too loyal and unambitious to go along with such a coup, even if Macbeth were not planning to execute her husband. But convincing him that Equestria had tired of Celestia's rule, and feeding that delusion, is how I've secured his compliance for as long as I have."

Trenton led Twilight through the broken iron door, into the cavernous, heavily excavated ruins of what had once been the forum of a great city. Its earthen walls were pockmarked like cheese with pony-sized tunnels, on all sides and all heights, and covered in globs of a phosphorescent green substance that lit the chamber in a sickly glow. Buildings like the one they'd been in protruded from the walls, little more than exposed facades.

At the end of another cobblestone road – perhaps the same one from earlier – was the gold-domed building Twilight saw in the bathhouse's mural. The dome itself had oxidized and blackened over the years, and its curvature was only partially visible beneath a crust of dirt, but the building it crowned still exuded a sense of grandeur and power.

"There are more tunnels on the opposite side of that building," said Trenton, pointing at the dome. "Smaller, better suited to changeling proportions – an actual underground hive, with an exit leading up to the cherry orchard. Chrysalis fought to keep me from entering the dome from that side. That is where she is keeping Rainbow Dash."

"That's quite an assumption you're making. You could easily be wrong."

"I am not wrong, though."

"Care to explain how you know that?"

Trenton stared at her, silently, before moving toward the building, beckoning for Twilight to follow. She did with a heavy sigh, cantering to keep up with his long-legged stride.

"Alright, tell me something else, then." She looked up at her unwanted companion. "All this time and effort spent studying Equestria, reading our books, traveling around the land..."

"You want to know why."

Desperately.

"Actually, I was going to ask what you think of us. Your impressions."

Trenton stopped, rather abruptly, and his eye flickered as he stared at Twilight. "Idle curiosity?"

Twilight shrugged. "I'm just interested in an outsider's perspective."

"An outsider's perspective? Very well. Your people are a paradox. An inherent, and baffling, contradiction in terms."

That was not the answer Twilight was expecting. She figured he'd be blunt and tactless, but she was still hoping he'd mince words at least a little.

"Excuse me?"

"Your beliefs, your system of government, the values on which you base every aspect of your civilization, are fundamentally flawed. Yet your country flourishes – not by defying those values, but by embracing them, without vacillation. Consider your Pax Equestria. With no military body to deter outside invasion, and surrounded by more belligerent species, Equestria should have fallen long ago. If anything, disarmament has kept the peace better than a military body ever could, and the country, though stagnant, remains stable. All the more striking when contrasted with human civilization."

Trenton resumed walking, reaching the stairs leading up to the dome, where a row of columns supported a portico over the entrance. Beyond the columns, the interior of the dome was lit in the same green glow as the excavated chamber.

"Human society is a frothing sea of stated and unstated value systems," Trenton continued. "Rife with little hypocrisies where those values clash and cannot be reconciled. High-minded ideals trumpeted about, yet bent or outright ignored when they become inconvenient, and often used as ex post facto justification when atrocities are committed. Here, though... 'friendship' is more than a notion paid lip service. It is taken to heart, and enacted in every stratum of your civilization. No hypocrisy. No subterfuge. And you flourish because of it. Practice and encourage it."

Twilight thought back to the Operator and shivered.

Perhaps we're not as innocent as you think.

"You ask me what I think of your kind." He craned his head up to regard the shaped tops of the columns – the stallions holding the roof aloft. "In truth, I find much about you admirable. Your friend will never admit it, but... I am certain he feels the same way."

For the first time since meeting him, Twilight was absolutely certain that Trenton was not lying to her. It was an odd feeling.

"If that's the case," she said softly, "then why are you trying to hurt us? The army you've brought here, the things you're trying to do – you're putting that society you admire at risk."

Trenton's eye blacked out, and he stood rock-still for several long seconds, before it came to light again. "He who submits to heaven shall live. He who defies heaven shall perish."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"It was not my idea."

With no further elaboration, he slipped inside the dome.

Twilight stared after him, contemplating in silence. There was no way of knowing for sure how much of anything Trenton said to her was true, and how much of it was fiction. If the plan he described actually was Macbeth's ultimate goal. If there was a hidden intelligence network gumming up the gears to help Pegasus Wings take Ponyville unawares.

If he actually does admire us, or if that's another lie in a series of lies. But what possible purpose would such a lie serve?

She shook her head – it didn't really matter. Maybe Trenton was being authentic with her, but that couldn't be reconciled with the cold, hard facts of his actions. He had a goal, an agenda that she didn't fully understand. He brought Pegasus Wings to Equestria, apparently on someone else's behalf, and whether he personally endorsed it or not, he was helping facilitate a coup d'etat against Princess Celestia.

And maybe they could actually find common ground. Heck, maybe they already had. But, somehow, Twilight doubted that would be enough to put an end to their conflict. There was another interested party here, something bigger than Trenton, something which he answered to. If he'd come this far, despite his misgivings, then she doubted she could persuade him now.

Guess we're both feathers, then. Just caught in different winds.

Twilight sighed and entered the dome after him.

The floor shook – a slight, yet disconcerting, tremble that vibrated up through Twilight's hooves. It all but glowed, too, bathed as it was in the changelings' light source – the same substance that lit the exterior – and her every step filled the chamber with a reverberating clop. Inside, it was hollow, and empty, with rings of marble benches circling around the middle of the chamber, and little else by way of pony-made embellishments.

Thankfully, the changelings had redecorated.

The light source here was concentrated, rather than spread about on the walls and ceiling, and emanated from a single point: a massive, tear-shaped dollop of the stuff, suspended by a thick strand that descended vertically from the top of the dome, like a chain holding a chandelier. Branch-like strands of the sludgy substance shot radially from the center of that mass, sticking to the walls to help keep it suspended. Stuck in its center was the body of a changeling. Its limbs were snapped off at the joints, its horn was smashed, and its head was tucked against its chest as though it was asleep.

Hanging lankly around its head, pierced by the broken stump of its horn, was a curtain of oily, blue-green mane.

Twilight, dizzy, sucked in a shocked breath. "Sweet Celestia, that's Queen Chrysalis."

Trenton's head snapped down toward Twilight. "That is Chrysalis?"

She looked up at him, anger rising despite her light-headedness. "Were you lying to me when you said you fought her?!"

"No, I thought..."

"Thought what?"

Trenton stared, silent and stoic, his face a barren mask and his body language betraying nothing. But when he spoke, it was with a quaver of uncertainty Twilight had never heard from him before.

"What did I fight, if not the Queen?"

Laughter echoed through the dome, a low, mocking titter that sent shivers rippling through Twilight's coat. Her horn lit reflexively, and Trenton's hand flew to his holster, though he didn't yet draw the gun.

"To be fair..." Her neck lifted, and she grinned, exposing an incomplete set of broken teeth. "Neither of you are necessarily wrong."

The Queen's eyes opened. Glassy, turquoise spheres gazed vacuously at Twilight.

The eyes of a golem.

"You look shocked, Twilight," Chrysalis observed. "A little on the pale side. Something I can help you with?"

"What did you do?" Twilight whispered, trembling with horror.

"We both know the answer to that. I'm not sure how you know, exactly, but I'll enjoy taking my time puzzling it out." Chrysalis's grin fell into a smirk. "You ought to be thanking me. Here I've gone and done you a favor, nipped a threat in the bud before it could blossom. Instead, you look liable to lose your lunch."

"The whole brood – all of them. And the Queen too. This is... this is genocide." The thought galvanized her; her sense of equilibrium returned, and her horn shone brighter as anger resounded in her voice. "What you've done is unforgivable!"

"What I've done? What about what she's done? What she was planning to do?!" Chrysalis snarled back. "If you knew her heart the way I do, Twilight Sparkle, you wouldn't stand there in judgment of me. Shall I tell you of her plans to gorge herself on you and your friends for as long as your bodies could survive? How about the way she delighted in mocking Cadance while she starved to death below Canterlot? Better yet, why don't I describe the night she stole into your brother's bed, and whispered in his ear that she just couldn't bear to wait until after the wedding?"

A cold sensation gripped Twilight.

"Chrysalis does not deserve your sympathy," the golem spat with finality. "She was a contemptible whore, consumed by vanity and gluttony and lust. I did the world a favor by destroying her. I did you a favor, you precious, sanctimonious little fool."

Twilight's eyes unfocused, and her gaze drifted to the floor beneath the Queen's golem. She knew the Queen was a force for evil, maybe even capable of atrocities like this one. But to be slapped in the face with a reminder of her depravity, and such a personal one at that...

"What? Nothing to say to that? No more moral outrage? No shock and condemnation?" It shook its head disgustedly. "How about you, Tin Man? We haven't heard from you yet. Surely, a dyed-in-the-wool patriot like yourself would approve."

Trenton's fingers closed around his pistol. He drew it and fell into a shooting stance in one swift motion.

"Please." The Queen's golem rolled its eyes. "Trust me, Twilight, he's laughing on the inside. As are you, I suspect."

"How dare you." Every jibe the golem made in Chrysalis's voice strengthened Twilight's resolve. "How dare you accuse me of some great moral failure while you sit upon a throne of corpses!"

"You're speaking figuratively, right?"

Twilight screamed and fired a bolt that punched through the bottom of the teardrop.

"Temper, temper," the Queen's golem laughed, unintimidated.

"What was the point of all of this murder? Huh?" Twilight snorted and dug her hoof against the floor. "Answer me! What was the point?!"

"The muuuurdeeeeer, as you so melodramatically put it, was purely incidental. Fallen Canterbria was my prize – more precisely, the secrets buried within. Dodge was just unlucky enough to have been built next to it – a handy playground where I could stretch my legs and do as I pleased. As for Chrysalis and her brood... well, there's a funny story behind that. And it begins, as the best stories do, with an epiphany.

"You see, one night, as Chrysalis was busy defiling your brother, she found herself consumed by the vaguest notion that something had gone terribly wrong with the world. She couldn't for the life of her say what, but something, or someone, that should not be, was. And that so unnerved her that she sought a way to secure her future, and that of her brood – a failsafe, in case seizing Canterlot didn't go as planned.

"So she did some digging through the Canterlot archives. Found something that looked promising. Found some no-name scholar shut-in to translate it pro bono. Set about destroying you and the royal family with plan-B sitting in her back pocket. And, when it all came tumbling down, when you and yours drove her and hers away, she came here, to Dodge, in search of that which would ensure her survival in the tribulations to come.

"Of course, she didn't count on me following the same trail of breadcrumbs. Didn't know I was waiting in the wings while she and her slaves excavated this dead city. And when she found what she came for, while she was savoring her moment of triumph... I descended on her."

The golem licked its lips with a pale, dry tongue.

"You should have seen her face when I wrested control of her brood away from her. The outrage, the panic, the agony, as her children set upon her like a pack of feral dogs. She could have saved herself, of course – it was well within her power to fend them off. But she couldn't bring herself to harm them. So they ripped her limb from limb, smashed her horn and left her an invalid, strung her up as an everlasting monument to my victory, in the heart of a dead city, forgotten by the world above... all while she wept, bitterly cursing the irony. That she should bring her children to this place in search of a means to save them. Only to doom them, and damn herself in the process.

"She cannot hate her children, so she hates herself for what she allowed to happen to them, almost as much as she hates me for doing it to them in the first place. Of course, she can't hurt me, but you... you, she really does not like. You were, after all, responsible for her defeat in Canterlot. In part, at least. And that makes you a convenient outlet for her anger."

The golem inclined her head to the side. "How did he put it...? 'It's man's thirst for revenge that drives the times.' Words spoken by a dead man, a long time ago. Fool that he was, he at least had that much right. Who knew it applied to changelings? And ponies, too."

A bullet ripped through one of the golem's legs, severing it from Chrysalis's body. The golem looked bemusedly at the stump, and snorted with laughter.

"You too, tin man? One of you is a bad influence on the other, clearly."

Twilight stared at Trenton – his finger rested on the trigger of his pistol.

"Misfire," he said, monotone.

Another tremor ran through the floor, interrupting her before she could put too much thought into it. Startling as it was, it at least reminded Twilight that she had better things to do than tolerate the boasts of a dead changeling.

"Cute story, but I'm tired of hearing you talk. I'm tired of you, just speaking generally, in fact. I'm here for my friend. What have you done with her?"

The golem's eyes drifted upward. "Oh, you know. She's hanging around." She giggled.

Fuming at the dead Queen's insolence, Twilight craned her head back, and was greeted by the sight of Rainbow Dash dangling from the ceiling, encased in a green cocoon that left only her head exposed. Her face, bandaged across her cheeks, was purple from the rush of blood to her head. She wore no expression – she was out cold.

"Tragic, isn't it?" the golem purred. "To have come so far, only to have your goal so tantalizingly close, and so beyond reach. You must be beside yourself right now."

Laughter echoed through the dome. Twilight was only half-listening. Her magic honed in on the thin strand of solidified goop that kept the cocoon suspended. With a flash, the strand snapped, and the glob plunged toward the ground, only to be caught in a teleportation field and brought to the floor before it could reach terminal velocity.

The laughter abruptly ceased.

"Well then," said the golem bitterly, a frown creasing her face. "I suppose I forgot that you could do that."

Twilight ignored her and bounded to the cocoon. She knelt, and her hooves scraped against the gunk, scrabbling to free Rainbow. A telekinetic glow joined the struggle, and soon she'd sloughed enough away to extract the cocoon's occupant. Twilight groped at her neck, found what she was looking for – the pulse, steady and strong – and released a sigh of immeasurable relief.

Rainbow...

The anger drained out of Twilight, and she slumped over Rainbow Dash, touching their foreheads together. She wanted to do more – collapse beside her and cling to her, clutch her close to her chest and empty herself of all her pent-up emotion, weep her sorrow and her joy into her mane.

Not the time. And not the place.

Twilight swallowed her sobs and blinked back her tears and straightened her body.

"Come on, Rainbow," she whispered. Another glow enveloped the unconscious mare's body. "Let's go home."

She heard Trenton step closer to her. "She's less a burden to me than she would be to you. Let me carry—"

Twilight shot him a stare with such vehemence that Trenton actually took a step backward and tensed.

The message received, Twilight lifted Rainbow's body and placed her lengthwise over her own. Years of carrying Spike – far heavier than his size would suggest – had toughened her back muscles. Even when combined with the contents of her saddlebags, Rainbow Dash was not the burden Trenton imagined she'd be. Her limp legs and dangling head, though, made her cumbersome.

"Touching," the golem sniffed. "Truly inspiring, the lengths to which you'd go for somepony you care about."

Twilight looked up at golem, the sight of her sending anger flooding through her veins again. It was time to leave, and yet there was part of her that couldn't let her constant pissiness and insults go unanswered. Wanting for a rejoinder, though, she settled for another question.

"Who are you?"

The golem smiled a greasy smile. "Oh, it's tempting to tell you now – more tempting than you could possibly know. But I think I want to keep that to myself. You're going to be in for a shock when you find out who's beaten you, and I want to see that look on your face with my own eyes."

"Be hard to do that when I've put this place behind me. This might be your last chance to gloat."

"I daresay I'll have more." The floor shook again, hard enough that Twilight staggered momentarily before regaining her balance. "I told you, Twilight, you're not leaving here alive. I'm going to break you, as I broke Chrysalis, and then I'm going to bleed you dry. I'll burn the world above to the bedrock, and dance among its ashes, but you... You get to be a part of a bold new tomorrow."

The golem turned its head to address Trenton, its smile souring. "As for you... you have nothing that I want. And make no mistake, when I'm done running roughshod over this place, I'll be calling in a debt that your puppetmasters owe me."

Trenton answered with a second shot that pulped Queen Chrysalis's head.

And with one final tremor, and a flash of green light, the floor beneath her lifeless body exploded. Telekinesis and shields batted chunks of earth and marble away from Twilight and her unconscious burden. Trenton merely backed away.

A hand extended from the hole in the floor, fingers curling around its edge. Another hand joined it, and a shape emerged, something black and gargantuan, that caught the light of the mass suspending Chrysalis's body.

Twilight turned, secured Rainbow Dash on her back, and ran.

Author's Note

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FOURTEEN...

Whenever you're ready to click the "Next" button.

(Sorry. :twilightblush:)

14. A Terrible Fury at Being Alive

"When my time came calling, I didn't die. My family died, my country died, but they didn't take me with them. All Hell took from me was this skin, this outer peel that marked me 'human.'"

Trenton had beaten her out the door, and was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. The gun he'd used to shoot Chrysalis's golem was once again holstered. Fitting – she didn't suppose a little thing like that would be much good against...

Whatever the heck is after us.

Twilight swept through the columns and down the stairs after him. Daring to look back, she saw black fingers coil around two columns, snap them off of their bases like twigs, and toss them aside. Miraculously, the portico held, and a shape emerged from the dome. It was still no more than an indistinct silhouette against the green light behind it, but she could discern bony arms and spindly legs several times larger than herself.

She whipped her head forward, gulped, and pushed herself harder. Finally, she cleared the stairs and stampeded toward the bathhouse, Trenton following.

Twilight heard a buzzing, like the wings of an insect, and an inky shadow passed overhead before her pursuer landed in front of her, cutting off their escape. Gossamer wings folded against a shiny black carapace.

Six pointed legs supported an oversized insect's body: an abdomen and thorax and heart-shaped head on a short, thin neck. The creature had four arms, two of which extended above its head and ended in serrated, scythe-like claws, each as large as the body of a stallion. The other two poked from the underside, and were almost human in appearance, with elbow joints and five-fingered hands curled into fists. Its face was smooth and featureless, but for its cat-slit green eyes and a jagged spire of a horn, like a lightning bolt carved from chitin.

If nothing else, it was a relief that she knew what had hatched from the egg in the barn – its size suggested that it was responsible for digging out the tunnels they'd been traveling. But that raised another question:

"What in the wide world of Equestria is that?"

"Chrysalis," said Trenton bluntly. "Or so I assumed."

Twilight gaped at him. "You thought that tried to marry my brother?!"

"I was under the impression that she could shape-shift."

The monster made a chittering noise – from where, Twilight had no idea; it had no mouth. Fingers clenched, scythe-claws raked against one another, and javelin legs took slow steps toward her.

"Perhaps we can leave aside issues of mistaken identity for the time being," said Trenton coolly. "There is no escape as long as that thing is alive."

Of course, he was right, and Twilight knew it. It didn't stop her from being intimidated by the sheer size of the... whatever it was. Yet the drive to protect Rainbow, to keep her alive by any means necessary, was powerful enough that it chased down her fears and stomped them into submission.

That meant parting with her, at least for now. It was the smart thing to do, yet Twilight did so only reluctantly.

A flash of light sent the pegasus to an isolated corner, and another erected a barrier over her prone form, carrying as much of a charge as Twilight could spare. Little good against any sort of concentrated attack, but it would shield her from stray shots and debris. Twilight let her gaze linger on Rainbow Dash for as long as she dared, her body warming as courage coursed through her.

Then she swung her neck around to glare at the monster, magic rippling around her body. The monster stood its ground, waiting for Twilight to fire the opening salvo.

She did, the blast briefly lighting the chamber in bright pink as it streaked toward her target and struck its polished face.

To no effect whatsoever.

Twilight blinked, fired again, fired a third time just to be sure. The monster clicked after each impact, but otherwise showed no reaction. Then its horn glowed, every bit as bright as Twilight's, and perhaps just a little bit brighter.

Part of Twilight wondered if the monster was telegraphing its attack on purpose, just to mock her.

She teleported away, rematerializing on the monster's left, just as a globby green blast vaporized the spot she'd just vacated. The monster swiveled to face her, only for Trenton to collide with it from the right with an ear-splitting crash not dissimilar from a rockslide. It staggered from the impact, nearly trampling Twilight, and blindly swung one of its scythes to gore Trenton. He ducked, darted close to its face, and struck it with a kick that snapped its head back.

Another scythe narrowly missed his head, but the monster's clenched fist rained down on him from above. He spread his hands above his head and caught it, holding firm for just a moment, before the monster's other hand added its strength to the first. Trenton's knees bent, finally buckled, and he was crushed into the dirt. It lifted its hands, and a beam from its horn washed over Trenton, blasting a deep, smoldering crater in the earth.

Twilight had no way of knowing whether Trenton had survived the attack. Whether or not he did mattered little; the monster's full attention was on her, and she needed to act swiftly. She backed away, peppering it with ineffectual blasts as she tried to think of something, while it crept steadily toward her. Twilight finally ceased her impotent barrage and made a break for the dome, fighting for every inch of distance she could put between herself and the monster.

Upside is that it can't hurt Rainbow if it's focusing on me.

Different options and strategies raced through her mind as she ran. Its body seemed impervious to magic, or at least, concentrated blasts of magical energy. Brute force seemed to have some effect against it, though. Twilight didn't have the physical prowess that Trenton possessed, but there were plenty of heavy objects just waiting to be—

The monster leaped, interrupting Twilight's thoughts, and sank its legs into the chamber's wall, clinging to it like a spider. It fired from its new position, and Twilight just barely wove aside in time to avoid being hit, though she felt the heat and shrapnel from the resulting explosion wash against her flank. She reached the dome's steps and bounded up, two at a time, ahead of another blast that demolished a section of stairs.

At the top, she spotted the fallen columns that the monster had ripped apart during its pursuit. They were still largely intact, with their ends broken into sharp, tapering points. Twilight picked one at random and wrapped it in a telekinetic field, lifting it tentatively. Heavy, but not so heavy that she couldn't wield it. She wrenched it into the air with a grunt and sent it hurtling toward the monster, drawing back and swinging in a downward arc that knocked it free from the wall.

Twilight smashed it again, buckling its legs as it tried to regain its footing. On the third swing, the monster caught the club in its middle with one hand; with a thought, she severed the exposed ends of the column, turning her club into two smaller, individually lighter clubs.

Rapid blows rained down on the monster's body, until it let out an ear-piercing shriek and blasted one club into pebbles. Briefly dismayed, Twilight quickly recovered, and aimed a blow at the monster's horn, but the horn shone green and melted through the club on contact. That glow coalesced into an orb at the horn's tip, and it fired twin blasts that destroyed the remnants of Twilight's weapon, and a third, much larger blast at Twilight.

She formed a barrier over her body and clenched her teeth. The blast struck, green light clashing against pink, the flash forcing Twilight to cover her face with her foreleg, silently and desperately begging the shield to hold.

It held. Opening her eyes, Twilight saw the barrier's light waning – the full fury of the monster's attack had drained it severely, but it nevertheless held. Pride burned in her chest.

Then she saw the monster coming toward her through the air, its arm drawn back and its fist clenched.

Poop.

The energy she poured into the shield at the last second was enough to deflect the monster's punch, though the shield shattered from the force of the blow. The kinetic energy that it failed to absorb sent Twilight tumbling backward until she thudded against the front steps of an exposed building.

Twilight groaned, but struggled back to her hooves as the monster advanced swiftly on her again. Its hand extended toward her, bony fingers uncurling.

Then a two-toned, blue shape appeared at the monster's side. Slender arms wrapped around its wrist, and held it in place before it could take hold of Twilight.

"Get. Away."

Twilight was on her hooves and scrambling away immediately.

Trenton pulled, pivoting his hips, and ripped the arm free from its socket. Green smoke billowed from the wound, accompanied by the hiss of a gas leak, and the monster's own screech of agony. The arm was half-again as long as Trenton was tall, yet he wielded it one-handed, smashing it like a flail across the monster's face in a forehand swing that snapped the makeshift weapon in two at the elbow. He dropped it, ducked underneath a descending scythe, caught the blade in his arms, tore it free, and swung for the nearest leg, slicing it in half.

The monster shrieked and tried to get airborne. With one hand, Trenton caught its damaged leg and pulled it back to the earth. Then he was on its back and shearing through its wings, the scythe slicing through the flimsy membranes like butter. The monster rolled onto its back to dislodge Trenton; he leaped clear before it could bring its weight upon him.

When it righted itself, it listed heavily to the side, its remaining limbs struggling to bear its full weight. It stabbed and stomped and thrust them at Trenton, trying to gore him, but he dodged each blow effortlessly while cutting the legs to pieces with mesmerizing, yet deadly, motions. Smoke from the open wounds pooled beneath the monster's underbelly, enshrouding Trenton.

Finally, legless and groaning, the monster collapsed amid the smoke, Trenton rolling away to avoid being crushed. He emerged in front of its face, where it swung its remaining hand at him in an open-palmed slap.

Twilight caught the hand telekinetically and wrestled it to the ground, struggling against the monster's own considerable strength to pin it. Squeezing her eyes shut to help focus, she cast an adhesive spell that trapped it against the floor.

Desperately, the monster brought its last scythe down on Trenton. He deflected the blade with his own, and used the backswing to sever the monster's sole remaining limb. Then, with a flourish, he drove the scythe into the monster's left eye, straight through the pupil.

A glow enveloped the monster's horn, telegraphing its next attack – probably unintentionally this time. Twilight refocused, nabbed Trenton in a teleportation spell, and yanked him through the ether to her side, just as its last-ditch attack streaked across the chamber, obliterating the facade of a building that Twilight distantly recalled colliding with earlier. Disoriented by the spell, Trenton turned his head this way and that, before focusing on Twilight and settling down.

It resembled Snake's reaction so much that it almost made her laugh, before she noticed the state his body was in.

Trenton's body was a ruin of carbon scores and dents. An occasional arc of electricity sparked across places where his skin had ripped, exposing fibers of pale muscle and circuitry. His limbs were drooping, his shoulders rising and falling with rapid breaths – she didn't even know he needed to breathe. His vest still clung to his body by threadbare straps, but chunks of it were stripped away, revealing the thick material beneath.

"I thought you said you had trouble with her." Twilight forced a smile. "That looked pretty one-sided from where I'm standing."

"We're far from finished here." Trenton straightened his body.

The monster's exoskeleton was lined with cracks from Trenton's and Twilight's combined efforts, and haze leaked from every wound on its body. Yet its horn glowed, and a pinprick of light appeared at its tip. The gas was drawn toward it in swirling filaments, passing down the horn's length in a green sheen that coursed through its body, down to the stumps where its limbs had been.

Legs and arms and scythes and wings shimmered into being, solidifying into perfect duplicates of what had been lost in combat. The glow ran through the fissures in its armor and faded, smoothing away all the battle damage and leaving its carapace good as new. With a casual, almost lazy, swing of its scythe, it severed the arm Twilight had pinned, and a new arm formed to replace it.

The monster rose on reformed legs, stretched and flexed its new fingers, and coiled them into fists. It turned to face Twilight and Trenton, splaying its legs and unfolding its wings.

Twilight's ears drooped. "That's... demoralizing."

"You understand now?" said Trenton. "My abilities mean little when it can regenerate at will."

"You might have mentioned that a little sooner?"

"I assumed that you knew already. As you'll recall, I was under the impression that it was Queen Chrysalis, that this was an innate ability of hers, and that you knew that already."

"Well, today's just been a learning experience all around, now, hasn't it?!"

The monster took to the air, hovering high above them, energy crackling around its horn. It fired, but the pair scattered, Trenton leaping aside and Twilight teleporting to the opposite end of the chamber. The monster landed, whirled to face Twilight, and rapidly advanced. Trenton caught it by a back leg, holding tight as it struggled to shake him off. Twilight levitated more debris to fling at the monster, and blast after blast picked the pieces out of the air.

Trenton gave a final heave and tore the leg free from the monster's body. Tossing it aside and wading through the billow of smoke, he scaled its back, scrabbling to wrap his arms around its horn. He planted his feet and twisted his hips, trying to wrench it free of the monster's head.

Its eyes bulged wide. The monster wailed, showing real fear, genuine pain, for the first time.

It can't regenerate the horn, can it?

Twilight felt like smacking herself. Again. Of course it couldn't – the horn was the source of its regeneration ability, after all. It might have been the only thing it couldn't regenerate. Crippling that would give her and Trenton the decisive advantage.

Of course, if I know that...

A current ran through the horn, lighting it up like a beacon, and Trenton with it. His body convulsed, as though he'd embraced a live wire, and when the the glow cut off, his grip around the horn slackened and his arms dangled limply at his sides.

...Then it probably knows that too.

The monster reached up and pulled Trenton off of its head, flinging him unceremoniously away and gathering the expelled smoke to regenerate its leg. Twilight watched, with sinking hopes, as Trenton rolled to a stop beside the shield encasing Rainbow Dash. With its leg regenerated, it scurried toward Twilight, its scythes raking noisily together.

Twilight struggled to formulate a plan. Lure it into the dome, and collapse it? She could just as easily get caught in the collapse herself – or she could bring the entire chamber down on her head. Take Rainbow, and just make a break for it? They'd be easy targets for the monster in the bathhouse; a few good blasts were all it'd take to demolish it and bury the two of them alive.

Whether or not she could conjure a plan was moot, however – the creature loomed over her, raising its scythes to slice or impale. Twilight sprang forward, ducked under a grabbing hand, and galloped, firing a constant beam of magic at the monster's underbelly as she passed.

Naturally, to no effect.

Looking over her shoulder, Twilight saw the monster take to the air after her again. It fired, forcing Twilight to teleport, but as soon as she rematerialized, it was upon her again, a scythe stabbing into the ground beside her. Twilight leaped, and tried to run again, but it cut her off and advanced from the front. She backpedaled rapidly, ducking and dodging away from the rapid swings and stabs of the monster's scythes, interspaced with pulses of green energy that singed Twilight's hooves when she failed to move fast enough.

It was swifter than its size suggested, easily able to keep pace with Twilight, and it never seemed to tire. Twilight herself was not an athlete by nature, but a steady regimen of adventuring with her friends had kept her in shape of late. Yet she was exhausting herself quickly, and rapidly approaching the point of no return with her magic reserves.

She needed to go on the offensive, and settle matters before attrition defeated her.

As if to prove her own point, her hind hoof caught on something, and she stumbled. Twilight fell, unable to maintain her pattern of ducks and dodges, and instead rolled away from a scythe aimed at her foreleg.

Directly into the monster's waiting palm.

Fingers encircled her tightly, and lifted her into the air. A second hand joined the first, and held her level with the monster's face, tightening its grip. The strain against Twilight's bones grew painful, and she felt shallow, painful pricks all over her body where its nails were sinking into her skin. It pulled her closer, until Twilight was inches away from its eye.

Twilight fired into the pupil, and the whole eyeball popped into jelly.

The monster yelped and recoiled, inadvertently exposing its other eye. Twilight fired again, and the monster screeched, dropping Twilight and covering both eyes with one hand. She landed with an oof and immediately stood, watching the monster stagger and flail blindly. It was an opening to run, but she knew that the creature could easily regenerate its eyes, and she had no idea how big a window she was working with. Probably not long enough to escape, but perhaps long enough to turn the tide.

She scanned the chamber, looking for something that she could use. Her gaze settled on the remaining column sitting at the top of the dome's steps, and its pointed tip, resembling nothing so much as the end of a quill pen.

With enough oomph behind it, that might just be enough to penetrate its skin. Maybe enough to deliver a mortal strike that even a monster like that couldn't recover from.

Twilight felt a sickening turn of her stomach.

The monster dropped its hand from its face, revealing a pair of partially regenerated eyeballs, glowing green spheres stuck into sockets that still oozed eye jelly. It brought both hands down on Twilight, and struck against a pink bubble that warped and expanded and contorted around them. Glowing pink fingers interlaced tightly with the monster's own, locking together as it tried to pull away.

Twilight twisted. This was no different from hoof-wrestling; it was all about leverage. Hoof-to-hoof, she could never hope to win, not against somepony with muscle. But she'd put her own skills with levitation, with telekinesis, over brute strength any day.

Lathered with sweat and screaming her throat raw, Twilight wrenched the creature's arms sideways with force enough to topple it onto its flank. Her field extended, wrapped around its exposed belly, and rolled it until it was flipped onto its back. Its reformed eyes bulged with shock, and its limbs waved as it tried – and failed – to flip itself over.

The column was the linchpin of her plan, and she reached out for it now. She could feel it through her senses, but the levitation field she tried to form around it wouldn't materialize. It was all she could do to keep the monster pinned – she didn't have the energy necessary to manipulate another object of such size and mass.

She despaired until, in the corner of her vision, she saw Trenton bound up the stairs, seize the column, and leap impossibly high into the air. A single point of blue burned above as Trenton, with force whose sheer dynamics were too terrifying for Twilight to ponder or calculate, flung the column straight through the monster's exposed belly.

He was off target – but only slightly. The marble column pierced its thorax left of center. Gore and chitin sprayed from the wound, accompanied by billows of green smoke. Trenton landed and bounded into the air again, arcing downward like an arrow with his leg thrust forward. He struck the exposed tip of the column with a kick that hammered the entire thing through the monster's body, nailing it into the ground beneath.

Its limbs went taut, then limp. Eyes rolled back into its skull, and it emitted a gurgling sound as smoke poured from its body. Twilight backed away and plopped onto her haunches, feeling the sickening feeling return in force. She was absurdly grateful that she'd already expelled the contents of her stomach.

Twilight heard Trenton approach, and looked up in time to see him collapse to one knee. His body looked worse than ever – the lighter parts of his exoskeleton had been cooked enough to be as uniformly dark as the rest of his body, and his vest was charred black. His handgun was gone, and Twilight could see that the holster on the front of his vest had been partially shredded by the explosions from his ammunition cooking off.

Her first instinct was to ask if he was alright, to extend him her sympathy. She caught herself before she could, and immediately castigated herself for even thinking that sympathy was something she'd have to check. Enemy or no, he'd helped her – that entitled him to concern, if nothing else.

"You alright?"

The light in his eye flickered rapidly before darkening completely – its lens was cracked, with a fracture like an asymmetrical, upside-down Y. "Self-diagnostic and repair systems will keep me functional in the long-term. In the short-term... suffice to say, I am grateful for my pain inhibitors."

Lucky you. Twilight felt, and probably looked, like a punching bag on four legs. But she was alive, and so was Rainbow – and that was what really mattered.

She forced herself to look at the monster and shuddered.

Three cheers for teamwork.

"You surprise me," said Trenton, having apparently noticed her discomfort. "Seeing this thing in its final throes disturbs you? After all the death you've seen so far?"

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and breathed slowly, trying to steady herself. "Doesn't make seeing it again any easier."

And I hope it never gets any easier.

Then a blast that neither of them saw coming struck Trenton in the chest, throwing him backward and slamming him into the ground.

It was all Twilight could do not to let out a petulant "Oh come onnnnn!"

One of the monster's limp and lifeless hands suddenly shot up, took hold of the column's exposed base, and pulled it free with a shriek of pain and a sudden gout of smoke. No longer pinned, it rolled onto its side, gathered its legs beneath its body, and rose on quaking, yet not limp or lifeless, legs.

The monster's horn was drawing the haze back into its body and stemming the flow from its gaping wound with what Twilight could only characterize as a glowing green scab. Twilight knew she needed to start moving again, but she couldn't – she was tired, and breathless, and pinned to her spot by a hate-filled gaze.

Those eyes...

They were so unlike those of the golems. Theirs were, to the last, lifeless, emotionless, glassy, and pale. Even Chrysalis's. These were everything that the golems' weren't. They had pupils, sure, and vivid color, but more than that, they were expressive. Alight. Alive.

This... thing... has a soul.

The monster delighted in mocking Twilight. It wanted to hurt Twilight. It wanted her to suffer. It wanted to watch her suffer. It wanted, and it acted deliberately, not driven by mere impulse or emotion, but by desire.

It dawned on her, all at once and quite without warning, just what she was fighting.

The monster lunged. Twilight braced herself.

And then the monster exploded.

A light soared through the darkness and bloomed into yellow flame against the still-glowing spot in the monster's exoskeleton. The blast blew its thorax into chunks, and sent the remnants of its head and abdomen and assorted limbs rolling across the cavern floor. Thick green clouds billowed from all its severed pieces, enveloping and hiding them from sight.

Twilight blinked. Rubbed her eyes and blinked again. She looked at Trenton, who had risen to a knee, and now stared past her, at the doorway to the bathhouse. Twilight followed his gaze.

She had never been so simultaneously elated, grateful, and infuriated with another living being as she was just then.

Snake knelt in the doorway with a long metal tube braced upon his shoulder. Smoke curled from its tip like an oversized, green-painted cigar. Some kind of black rectangle with a single lens, like a camera, stuck out from his forehead, and dangling from his left hip, suspended by a harness, was the carbine he'd found.

A hundred thousand conflicting impulses vied with one another inside of Twilight. She wanted to gallop over to him and bop him on the head for leaving her; she wanted to fling her forelegs around him and thank him; she wanted to throw Rainbow Dash over her back and make a break for it before the monster could regenerate, provided it wasn't simply dead this time.

But with Trenton nearby, and unaware of just what the situation above ground was, Twilight's response was, unfortunately, dictated to her.

She trotted toward Snake with a nonplussed expression. "Not to sound ungrateful, but if you're here, then who's looking after Cherry Jubilee?"

Snake raised an eyebrow at that. He stood, tossing the cylinder away, and opened his mouth to respond. The look on Twilight's face – one which she hoped said "I fed the scary cyclops ninja a cover story, and I need you to play along with it" – made him pause and rethink his answer.

"You're kinda being ungrateful just by asking, aren't you?"

The conflicting head bop/hug response resurfaced in full force. Instead, she just flashed him a quick, grateful smile. "How are things topside?"

"Seemed normal before I left. Why?"

Mechanical whirring and the crackle of static silenced Twilight before she could answer. Trenton was limping, and the smell of ozone trailed after him.

"You found what I left for you, I see." The damage was even obvious in his voice, which crackled with white noise even when he wasn't speaking.

Snake grunted. "Suppose you're expecting thanks."

"Not as such. You've met my other expectations, though – met and surpassed them. Well done."

Whatever response Snake had never left his mouth as a glob of hastily gathered and fired energy streaked toward him from one of the clouds. This time, Trenton was prepared. He moved quickly, shoving Snake aside and falling protectively over his body. The blast struck the bathhouse's facade in a burst of light that caved the building's entrance in, sealing off their escape route.

The green cloud was receding, being drawn back into the monster's body. Haze trickled from all its severed parts – its limbs, its abdomen, the larger, intact chunks of its thorax – only to be reabsorbed and sent down through its body, rapidly forming the outlines of replacement parts.

And the whole time, without mustering a follow-up blast, it kept its eyes locked on Twilight.

"Oh, come onnnn!" Twilight whined, flopping petulantly onto the ground.

Trenton stood, tucking one hand against his stomach and offering the other to Snake, who pushed it roughly away and stood on his own.

"We are, unfortunately, out of time to commiserate," said the cyborg. "You need to leave. Now."

"No kidding," Snake growled. "Main route's not an option. There's another exit around here that leads up to the cherry orchard though—"

"Those tunnels are too narrow. Separately, you might navigate them successfully, but the three of you, together, would never make it."

They debated, while Twilight looked to where she left Rainbow Dash. The monster had paid the pegasus no attention during the fight, and the barrier Twilight had cast remained in place, at full strength. With a flash from her horn, the barrier winked out, and Twilight reabsorbed its energy back into herself, sighing slightly at the sensation of strength that it provided. With another flash, she teleported Rainbow to her side and knelt to wriggle the pegasus onto her back.

"Here. Let me get her."

Snake was beside her, crouching, the carbine drawn from his hip. There was a clicking sound as he folded its stock flat against the gun's receiver. Then, keeping the carbine in his right hand, he wrapped his left arm around Rainbow Dash, and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Huh." Snake bounced her once. "Not so heavy as she looks."

"Hey. Focus." Twilight nodded toward the dome. "There should be another tunnel passing underneath this place, and an entrance inside there. She used it to ambush us earlier – it'll take us to where we need to go."

"You sound pretty certain," said Snake. "How—"

"I gave the tunnels a good sonar-whatsit-ing earlier. Trust me, if the orchard exit's not an option, then this one'll do."

Snake muttered something under his breath and shook his head. "I'll take it."

The monster's head rose, the rest of its still-glowing body following after. Trenton turned to face it, falling into a fighting stance, his joints whirring troublingly as he kept one arm cradled close to his belly.

"Move quickly. I will stay, and cover your retreat."

"Why?" Snake growled.

The ninja was silent for a split second – long enough that Twilight realized he was hesitating.

"Just think of it as philanthropy."

That took Snake aback. But, with the monster's body now fully reassembled, he had no time or incentive to ask for more. He and Twilight began the long sprint toward the dome.

Behind them came the sounds of battle – screeches and growls, muted echoes of blasts, and the thunderous crash of Trenton's blows against the monster's body. Twilight didn't dare look back as she ascended the stairs, Snake keeping pace admirably despite his burden. They passed into the dome, festooned as it was with the remains of Queen Chrysalis, a carcass that Snake spared only a glance before they skidded to a stop at the edge of a gaping hole.

Twilight winked to the bottom of the pit, and teleported Snake and Rainbow down with her before he could protest. Growling discontentedly, he pulled the device on his head down, covering his eyes, and flipped a switch. The lens glowed green, and Twilight's ears twitched at a faint hum that it emitted.

Then a blast from the monster struck the roof of the dome, and chunks of rock and marble rained upon them. Twilight galloped down the tunnel, shining her light ahead to show the way. Behind, the tunnel's entrance filled with debris.

Beside her was the comforting sound of Snake's heavy footfalls as they sprinted the tunnel's length to safety.

They emerged into familiar ground, onto the spot where Trenton had earlier warned Twilight off. That was when Twilight's body decided that it wasn't going any further without at least a moment's rest, and she collapsed forward with her rump in the air. There were no signs of pursuit, but regardless, she needed to catch her breath.

She rocked back onto her haunches, into a less undignified position, and scooted back to rest against the tunnel's wall.

Snake took a long, careful look down the tunnel, keeping his rifle leveled, until he was apparently satisfied that they weren't being followed. He relaxed, and lowered the gun and the pony to the ground, laying Rainbow on her side with her cheek resting against the dirt and her mane fanned out beneath her head. Then he sat down across from Twilight, pulling his knees close to his body and resting his elbows upon them.

"I saw the bodies back there," he said quietly. "Didn't look like your work. You don't strike me as the hollow point type."

Twilight nodded, shaking droplets of sweat that sparkled in the light from her horn.

"They ambushed me. I fought them off, but I couldn't... do more than that." She shuddered and looked at her hooves. "Trenton intervened."

Snake leaned forward. "Listen... You said so yourself, the golems—"

"I know," she interrupted, sharper than intended. "They're not alive; killing them is a kindness. I don't need platitudes, and I don't need a pep talk."

Snake narrowed his eyes at her, but nodded.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just... it's been a really long day."

"Right there with you." Then his lips twitched upward just slightly. "Literally. And against my better judgment."

Twilight cracked a smile. "Yeah, how did you find me? I thought you said tracking wasn't your strong suit."

"It isn't. But you left an easy trail to follow." Snake tapped the device over his forehead. "That trick you do with your horn leaves behind some kind of heat or light signature, outside of the visible spectrum. That's more or less what these goggles were made for seeing. Following it led me to you."

"Huh. I learned something new about myself today." Twilight looked at the goggles, trying to mentally piece together the technological principles that made them function.

I wonder if Snake would let me examine them when all's said and done.

"Wait..." Twilight cocked her head. "I don't remember you having those before."

"They were in the Humvee." Snake rubbed his left shoulder with his other hand and rotated his arm, accompanied by the snapping and popping of cartilage. "In a locked trunk in the back, along with the missile launcher. Bunch of other useful supplies, too."

"Trenton mentioned he left something behind for you, yeah." She eyed Snake curiously. "How'd you manage to open it? You got a lock pick that I don't know about?"

Snake patted the handgun on his holster.

Of course. At this rate, she was never gonna get to pick a lock.

"Plenty more where this came from, too," said Snake, shifting his back against the wall. "Stuff for the carbine, a different handgun, ammo for both. All the better, since I seem to have lost my tranquilizer gun somewhere along the line. Another missile, single-shot, like the one I used just now. A knife, documents that I haven't bothered to go through yet. Change of clothes. Even some field rations. Which, for your own good, I won't be sharing."

Twilight tried to whistle in surprise, but her lips were so parched that she could only manage to blow a puff of dry air. She pulled Killjoy's canteen from her saddlebags and took a long drink.

"Is it enough to tilt the odds a little more in our favor?" she asked after finishing her pull.

"It's enough to win a shootout. Maybe enough to kill a tank. Just don't ask me to fight a battle for you."

The remark made her eyes widen as she remembered Trenton's warning.

Snake sighed. "Something tells me you're about to do exactly that."

"They're going to attack Ponyville." Twilight pawed at the earth, pushing a small pile of dirt against her toe. "Pegasus Wings. Within a day, Trenton said. Now that we know about them, they see us as a threat to their plans, and they're going to come down on us."

Twilight heard a rumbly breath escape Snake's lungs, and his hands clenched tightly. Watching him reminded her of being in the monster's grasp, and a brief dizziness spell overtook her.

She shook her head and offered the canteen to Snake with an unhappy smile. "Guess you spoke too soon?"

He gave a suspicious look to the spout before accepting it and raising it to his lips.

"Maybe you should have thanked Trenton after all," Twilight added.

"Not sure he'd like the kind of thanks I have in mind for him," Snake said into the canteen.

"...Speaking of gratitude..." Twilight lowered her eyes. "Thank you."

Snake returned the canteen to Twilight, who capped it and put it away. "For?"

"Staying. Coming after me." She glanced at him.

"Ah... well." Snake coughed and shifted uncomfortably, turning away from Twilight. "I couldn't, uh, get the car running. So, y'know. Didn't have anything else to do."

Twilight smiled. It wasn't much, but it was probably as close to an affectionate sentiment that she was ever going to get from Snake. Something about him told her that he wasn't the type for bubbly, heartfelt displays of emotion.

I'd reciprocate in kind, but after all the trouble I went through without him around... I think he's earned a little bit of discomfort.

She stood on her tired little legs, trotted up to Snake, reared onto her back hooves, and flopped the front of her body over his shoulder, encircling her forelegs around him in a sloppy hug that made his body stiffen.

"Knock it off!" he snapped, shoving with just enough force to dislodge Twilight and push her onto her back. "Look, you really want to thank me? Never hug me again."

Twilight, supine, chuckled and rolled back onto her belly—

And came nose-to-nose with Rainbow Dash.

It occurred to her that, pressed for time and stressed as she was, she hadn't checked Rainbow's condition beyond confirming that she was still alive. They were still on the clock, of course, and needed to get moving, but without an immediate threat bearing down on them, Twilight felt she could chance a closer inspection.

She didn't like what she saw. Rainbow's body was battered and dirty, her coat smeared with dirt and the dried, crusty remnants of her cocoon. Her right hind leg was in a brace, and there was a bandage binding her right wing against her body. Trenton must have made some effort to patch her up after the castle. All told, she'd been through worse; Twilight knew that for a fact.

But her face...

Rainbow had always been striking, with sharp, defined features that lent a lean, athletic sort of beauty to her – the kind of face where a daredevil smile was always right at home. Those features were now marred by a purple bruise, spread across the left side of a swollen jaw, and white bandages on either cheek, with faint red stains showing through the material. The cuts that IRVING left on her.

The bruise would fade in time, of course. The swelling, too. And there weren't any outward signs of serious damage to her jaw. Nothing broken, or dislocated.

The cuts'll probably scar. Of course, knowing her, she might not consider that a bad thing.

She heard Snake's body shifting as he rose to his feet, picking up the rifle. "We need to get moving. Trenton's tough, but he looked like a wreck – I don't know how long he'll be able to hold that thing off."

Twilight nodded without looking away from Rainbow Dash. "Just a minute longer. Lemme look her over."

"Twilight."

She shot him a look from over her shoulder. "Sixty seconds. No more."

Snake bit back a cutting remark, lowered the goggles over his eyes, and shouldered his weapon. "I'll have a quick look up ahead. Be ready to move when I get back." Then he was gone, moving down the same tunnel that Trenton had guided Twilight through before.

She was, of course, fully cognizant of the gesture he was making, and she appreciated it. Snake was prickly and cynical, but he had his own ways of showing compassion. She understood that much about him.

So this is the closest I'll ever get to an explicit display of affection. Maybe I should have saved that hug, in hindsight.

When the crunch of his boots against the floor faded away, and she knew he was out of earshot, Twilight leaned closer to Rainbow Dash.

"You probably can't hear me. Maybe I'm wasting all of our time by doing this. But I need to say it... in case something happens to me before you wake up. Before we can have this talk for real."

Rainbow Dash remained still and silent, yet breathing steadily. Twilight ran her hoof through her mane – it was filthy and dirt-ridden, with pink blossoms stuck between strands here and there. She picked them out where she could, letting them flutter to the ground. Her hoof passed over some sort of bump on the nape of her neck, too. A cyst?

"Somepony needs a dermatologist," she said dryly.

She was half-expecting a smirk in response. But, of course...

I'm not used to you being this quiet, Rainbow.

Her eyes stung.

"I know you said it was alright to leave you behind. That we needed to make it out, even if you didn't. But leaving you there to die, alone... felt like I was killing you myself. I couldn't live with that. I risked everything... my own life, and Snake's, and the others back home... Ponyville, and Equestria itself... to find you."

There was a dam inside of her, strained to the point of bursting, and she was perilously close to letting it break. For a moment, she did, just a little bit. She lowered her head to bury her face in Rainbow's matted fur, and wept silently.

I don't know how I would have gone on if all this was for nothing.

When she heard Snake's footsteps drawing close again, she rose, took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and stared resolutely at Rainbow Dash.

But the past is the past. Nopony's getting left behind again.

To Twilight's surprise, and mild pleasure, the lighting spell she'd cast in the first chamber was still active – dimmer now, to be sure, but burning brightly enough to illuminate the ruins and the corpses of the golems.

Twilight took great pains to avoid looking at them as she and Snake strode toward the vantage point from which she had first glimpsed the city. She glanced at Snake from the corner of her eye.

"How'd you manage to get down from there, anyway?"

"Climbed. Not the longest I've ever done, nor the most difficult, but having an M72 on my back made it tougher than it should've been. Not sure how I'm gonna do it while carrying this bum." Snake bounced Rainbow Dash once for emphasis.

Twilight arched an eyebrow, smirking.

"You're gonna teleport me, aren't you?"

The smirk became an impish grin. One flash had her at the mouth of the tunnel. Another brought Snake and Rainbow to her side. A third sucked the dimming orb back into her horn, restoring a measure of the energy she'd spent.

Snake grumbled and looked at her, the irritation in his gaze plainly visible by the light that shone from the tip of Twilight's horn. "I didn't consent to that."

"Lighten up. Big ol' baby." Twilight began the ascent up the tunnel's gentle slope. "C'mon, I'll take point. Be ready to leap into action, though – if Trenton was telling the truth, we're about to emerge into a war zone."

Snake's footsteps padded softly in the dirt – starkly different from the crunchy gravel beneath his feet in the tunnels outside the city. "War zone?"

Oh, I missed my growly echo.

"Trenton had some high-tech gizmo in his brain that could track the golems' movements. According to him, the entire swarm went up top not long after I came down below. He didn't know about the Guard, so he thought they were fighting you."

"Built-in sensor package, huh?" Snake grunted. "Wonder if he has Soliton radar."

"I could not begin to tell you. Nor could I tell you what that is, even if I knew whether or not he had it."

"Figures. Still, I wouldn't take him at his word when it comes to things like the disposition of an enemy army. Even a mutual enemy."

Twilight's beam caught one of the footprints left behind by the monster. She took care to step over it, keeping her light on it so that Snake could avoid it as well. "I realize he's not a remotely credible source, but in all the time I've been down here, I've only seen the eight golems that ambushed me initially. If they're committing all their forces to fighting a pitched battle with the Guard, then you gotta figure they wouldn't be able to spare more than what they did to chase after me. Or us, rather."

Snake chewed on that before signaling his agreement with a grunt.

"Besides," Twilight added. "I doubt he's really motivated by philanthropy, but Trenton's helped us both out a lot today. Saving Rainbow, helping me, the supplies... I have no earthly idea why, but he has a genuine interest in making sure the three of us get out of Dodge alive, and that we – and the others – have a fighting chance. I wouldn't trust him, but we all want the same thing, if not for the same reasons."

"Yeah. That much is clear. It's why I don't get. What's their game?"

Twilight looked over her shoulder at him. "You don't mean Pegasus Wings, do you?" she asked suspiciously.

Snake met her eyes but he didn't elaborate.

Twilight looked away with a sigh and a shake of her head.

Guess there's still some stuff he's not opening up on just yet.

"That thing back there," Snake remarked. "I'm gonna assume that's what came out of the egg in the barn, right? You ever see anything like it before?"

Don't think I don't notice you changing the subject back there, mister.

"Can't say that I have." Twilight bit her lip. "But... I do have a theory."

"Care to share?"

Do you?

They were turning a corner now, and coming to the edges of the misty carpet. Far ahead, Twilight could see the tunnel's exit, and a bright light. Brighter than it should have been – even with the damage to the front of the barn, there should still have been enough of a barn left to block most sunlight from filtering in.

"When I asked the Operator about the golems," Twilight began. "He said that they were less important than whatever it was the souls were being used for. Remember?"

"I was a bit distracted with committing arson at the time," said Snake. "But yes, I vaguely recall that."

"He also said that souls could be transmuted, from energy to matter. Made into a body that's given a soul of its own. That thing... I'm pretty sure it was made from the souls of the changelings. Maybe the townsponies, too."

"So... the Queen bled her own kind, rolled their souls together, and left 'em in that barn to bake for a couple of days. Then it hatched, and burrowed its way down here?"

"I assume. Although your assumption is off by one tiny detail."

The fog was growing thicker now, obscuring the ground completely. Twilight tread lightly.

"You saw Chrysalis back in the dome. She'd been bled – strung up like some kind of trophy. Whatever did it to her used her to talk to us, the same way it talked to us through Cherry. It spoke of Chrysalis like she was still alive. Said that she hated me, and wanted revenge. And that thing... it certainly acted like it had a grudge against me. Took a real sadistic pleasure in hurting me."

"So what are you saying?"

"That thing is Queen Chrysalis. Or it's carrying her soul. I don't know what that means, exactly – this is a whole branch of magic and metaphysics that I'm completely unfamiliar with. But it... or she... hates me. And someone, or something, is exploiting that hatred."

Sounds of sudden combat echoed down the tunnel toward them – grunts and shouts, steel clashing. A distant roar, like a small explosion.

Trenton wasn't lying.

Twilight shot Snake a look and tore off, galloping through the remainder of the tunnel until she emerged into warm sunlight and fresh air. The barn had been broken to pieces in the fighting; the walls still stood, but the roof was gone. Splinters of rafters wove between the tops of the walls, but larger pieces of the roof itself were scattered around the inside of the pit, sticking partially out of the carpet of mist. From above the pit came some kind of wet, pounding noise, like grapes being stomped.

Or perhaps cherries would be a more appropriate association.

Then a spear landed, point-first, an inch away from Twilight's flank, and she leaped away with a startled "wagh!" Snake shouted her name from the tunnel, and she heard his thudding footsteps as he ran to join her.

"Freeze!" A magenta pegasus with tufts of orange mane sticking out from under her helmet fluttered into the pit and retrieved the fallen spear. "You stay right where you are, or I swear, I-I'll put this right through your face!"

Twilight looked skeptically at the pegasus. Her weapon was clean, even glistening, as though it hadn't drawn a drop of blood over the course of the day. The entire length of the spear was shaking in its owner's grasp.

She was almost jealous of her innocence.

A green pegasus darted close to the first and whacked her over the helmet with a ping. "Dodo, you dodo, check your damn targets. Does that look like a bug to you?"

"B-But what if she's in disguise, sir?"

"Have you seen a single bug out here even try to shape-shift, Private?"

"Well, no, b-but that doesn't mean they can't! Sir!" Dodo's spear dipped, and she pulled it closer to herself. "We should test her, just to be sure, right?"

"Oh, for the love of – fine." Dodo's superior shook his head, muttering. He landed and pushed the petite pegasus out of the way to address Twilight personally.

"If you're Twilight Sparkle," he said slowly. "Then you'll remember what the first thing your brother ever said to his wife was."

She surely did. The image of her gangly, disheveled brother, sweating through his collar and shaking under Cadance's patient stare, was one of her favorite memories. That this random officer was using it as a litmus test to determine her identity, however... that made her savor it a little less.

Still, if that's what it takes to keep from getting skewered...

Twilight cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

"hELLo."

The officer snickered and burst into open laughter. "Yes! Yes! Exactly like that! With the squeaky voice and the varying pitch and everything! You nailed it!"

Dodo nervously started to join in, but the officer silenced her with a glare, and she contritely fluttered out of the pit, eep-ing softly. Then he resumed laughing, until Snake emerged with his gun held up, looking quite perplexed and out of sorts.

"It's alright," said Twilight, gesturing for him to lower the gun. "All a misunderstanding."

The green pegasus's laughter finally tapered off, and he sighed, wiping away a tear. "Lieutenant Strudel of J-Team. I assume full responsibility for Dodo's presumption."

Twilight nodded back. "No harm done. Though I'm curious how you know that story. I don't recall you being present that night."

"I worked Princess Cadance's security detail for a little while. We got to talking about Shining once or twice, and she let that story slip. Did a great impression, too." He snickered. "Of course, when it got back to the Captain, he was less amused. I was reassigned after that."

Snake looked between Twilight and Strudel, perplexed. "I'm... clearly missing some context."

"You shouldn't have shown up late, then. But enough reminiscing – we have a war on our hooves, unfortunately." Strudel glanced at the unconscious pony on Snake's shoulder, and turned to call over the edge of the pit.

"I need four pairs of wings down here, ASAP!"

Snake lowered his gun, but watched warily as Strudel's subordinates approached.

"Miss Sparkle," he said, all business. "Captain Killjoy briefed me about your excursion down in that tunnel. We have a triage set up in the farmhouse – if you'll allow my troops to take custody of Rainbow Dash, we can get her examined. Patch her up, if need be."

Twilight hesitated – having just reunited with Rainbow, she was reluctant to part with her so soon, but she did need medical care.

"Agreed."

At a signal, one of the pegasi approached Snake, who shared a look with Twilight before letting the guardspony take hold of Rainbow Dash. Grunting under his burden, the stallion rose in the air and made his way out of the pit, toward Cherry Jubilee's house.

The other three still hovered around Strudel. Twilight looked quizzically at them. "What're they for?"

"You," said Strudel bluntly. "You're welcome to try climbing your way out of this pit, but the walls are pretty steep. Now, if you had a pair of wings—"

Twilight vanished and reappeared on top of the ledge, looking down at Snake and Strudel from outside the pit. Snake's face twisted with anger before he flashed and rematerialized beside Twilight.

"Damn it," he snapped. "No means no, Twilight."

Twilight ignored him, instead watching smugly as Strudel flapped his way over to her. "Right. Okay. That works too."

She turned away from him, and was greeted by a scene of carnage.

The front of the barn had already been home to a heap of corpses, but there were dozens more now, some still twitching. Ten or so battered-looking guardsponies stood among them, their armor scratched and coated with green smears. They looked at Twilight with worn-out, vacant expressions, while one passed between the twitching bodies and thrust his spear through their heads to finish them.

Watching him go about his work made Twilight dizzy again. She looked away immediately, breathing deeply to stabilize herself.

That was when she noticed Cherry Jubilee, who was standing over the body of a golem and pummeling it over and over again with her shotgun's stock, grunting ferally with every wet-sounding blow of her weapon. Here and there were the red casings of spent shells, an impressive number of them. Glancing at the bodies, Twilight saw a proportionate number with gaping holes blown into them.

"Trespasser!" Cherry shrieked suddenly. She slammed the gun down one last time, splashing her considerably gore-coated self with still more gore, and leaned in close to the golem's mushy face. "Off my land! Off! My! Land!"

Twilight drew closer to the mare, hesitantly reaching a hoof toward her. "Cherry? Are you—"

With a roar, Cherry spun and leveled the shotgun at Twilight.

Twilight froze. The pegasi reacted to Cherry's aggressive posture by drawing their spears and forming a semicircle around her, and she didn't need to look to know that Snake was trying to angle a clear shot from behind her.

He'd take that shot, too, if he had to. She wasn't going to give him a reason.

The bore of the gun, so close that Twilight could see the soot caking the inside of the barrel, shook in Cherry's grip. Twilight found Cherry's gaze and held it, until the traumatized mare slowly lowered her weapon. She averted her eyes shamefully, glancing behind Twilight, at Snake, and then at the ground.

Strudel gave a curt order to the ring of spears, and the pegasi relaxed.

"Sorry about... before," Cherry whispered, glancing quickly at Snake again.

Snake waved off her apology. "You weren't yourself. I'm more annoyed that the tranquilizer wore off so fast. You should be unconscious right now."

"I'm not complaining," said Strudel. He collapsed his spear and replaced it against his flank. "She and that boomstick of hers are half the reason we're still alive. Came charging out of the farmhouse in the middle of a skirmish, screaming like a madmare and blasting away. They never saw her coming."

Cherry stooped to inspect the gooey mess she'd reduced the golem's face to, turning her back to Twilight. Strudel approached, clearing his throat.

"So you'll have to pardon the mess," he continued. "The whole swarm of bugs kicked up not too long after you went down that tunnel, and we haven't really had time to tidy things up between fights."

Snake grunted. "How bad has it been?"

"Could be a lot worse. Captain left us behind to guard the farmhouse and the tunnel – keep 'em from going down there and bracketing the two of you. They threw a sizable force at us at the start of the fight, but the Captain led 'em away on a chase, and they haven't sent more than a few of 'em at a time ever since."

"Led them away?" asked Twilight. "Where?"

Strudel looked off in the distance and nodded. Twilight looked where he indicated.

A roiling, buzzing mass of black specks swarmed over Dodge City, darting and weaving among the column of white smoke that still rolled into the sky. Among that mass were flashes of light – the sun glinting off of Royal Guard armor.

"They've been at it for close to two hours now," Strudel remarked. "We've taken casualties, but no fatalities as yet. That I know of, anyway."

"That's a good sign," said Twilight. "Right?"

Strudel's face was grim. "The Captain's making a good show of it, and we're giving as good as we're getting, but we're badly outnumbered. Not to mention, we're fighting in full armor in a desert. It's only a matter of time before fatigue and attrition turn the tide against her. Then they'll come back here to mop us up, and that'll be that. Ground forces'll arrive in a day's time to find a massacre."

She wanted to dispute that – they were doing just fine, weren't they? But she could see the difference between this battle and the one from earlier. Killjoy had kept her fliers well-organized and disciplined then, but that was with the odds heavily in her favor. Between the impetus of the charge and her numerical advantage, there hadn't been a chance of that fight going against her. Against the full force of the swarm, however, matters seemed to go in a very different direction. There were no complex flight patterns, no stunning tactical maneuvers or formations. Just a swarming, writhing free-for-all, without even the benefit of superior numbers.

Strudel was right. The fight was decided.

No, she thought. No, we can help. Snake and I, we can turn the tide, together.

She looked at Snake. Their eyes met. He nodded, just so slightly.

Twilight smiled.

We can do it.

Then the ground rumbled and shook, a tremor that made the pegasi stumble and knocked Twilight off her hooves altogether. From deep within the orchard, a beam of pale green light shot straight into the sky. Trees uprooted and blew to splinters, their canopies catching aflame and withering instantaneously.

A whirlwind of trees and branches, of earth and stone, swirled about the light. Gradually, it diminished and the detritus caught in the storm dropped back to the earth below, leaving behind only the grotesquely twisted form of the creature which carried Queen Chrysalis's soul.

The pegasi rushed to form a line of spears in front of Twilight. Snake was at her side, gun leveled, and she helped herself to her hooves. Cherry just sat staring at the body she'd been mindlessly pummeling.

The monster spared the barn a glance before it shifted direction in the air. With shocking speed, it flew in the direction of Dodge City.

Oh, there's no way that'll end well for them.

"We have to do something," she said, to nopony in particular.

Snake answered anyway, though he took just a moment longer than she would've liked. "Yeah. No getting out of here with that thing alive. There's one more missile in the Humvee; if you can distract it long enough for me to get a good, clear shot—"

"I don't want to kill it."

Strudel scoffed. "Oh, well, naturally. Let's open a dialogue with the big scary bug monster. Maybe try and find some common—"

"Y'know, I'd be willing to take that kind of lip from Killjoy," Twilight snapped, glaring at him. "I'm less willing to take it from you. So, please, don't speak unless you have something constructive to say."

Strudel smoldered, silent and unhappy.

Snake nudged her shoulder, and she looked at him, disquieted by his worried expression.

"If he didn't say it, then I would have. Look, you've got a compelling theory, I'll admit, and if there were a way to settle this peacefully, I wouldn't dismiss it out of hand. But even if you're right about what that thing is, how it was made, you can't assume that you'll be able to talk to it. Or that it could understand you enough for you to negotiate with it. Or that it'd even be willing to listen."

Twilight sighed. "Normally, I'd be pooh-poohing this right along with you; I'm not the leap of faith type. But if I'm right, then that's not just some... monster we're dealing with, or a husk without a life or a future, but a living, thinking being. And a victim, every bit as much as the ponies of Dodge Junction. If there's even a chance that I can reason with her, maybe convince her to call this all off..."

"Whatever you're gonna do," Strudel muttered, watching the creature drift rapidly toward Dodge. "Make up your minds about it quick."

Snake sighed defeatedly and pointed at Twilight. "If things go south and I get a clear shot, I'm taking it. No arguing. And no guilt-trip. I'm not letting you martyr yourself for that thing."

Twilight felt a rotten feeling in her gut as she nodded in agreement.

"I'm pulling my troops back to the farmhouse," said Strudel, beckoning to the other pegasi with a wing. "I think you'll agree, there's no strategic sense in guarding this hole in the ground anymore. We'll form a tight perimeter and make our stand there if the fight goes against you."

Twilight stopped him with a hoof against his breastplate before he could leave. "Rainbow Dash..."

Strudel nodded curtly. "We'll look after her. Promise."

Then he dusted off the spot on his armor that Twilight had touched, and led the pegasi away.

"That guy's a prick," Snake muttered. "We keep running into pricks today."

Twilight let herself smile again before resuming her serious demeanor. "Go get your thing."

"Yeah. I'll be right behind you."

They exchanged one last look before parting, while Cherry, having failed to react to anything said or done, remained rooted to her spot.

Adrenaline kept Twilight from obsessing over her impending doom. With Chrysalis – or whatever one called that thing – rapidly approaching the city, there was simply no time left to feel scared.

Twilight retraced her steps, literally following her own hoofprints, until the familiar sight of Dodge City's plaza came into view. The town was in even worse condition than when she'd left it; the buildings and landscape were pockmarked with the signs of recent fighting, and the whole area was littered with corpses. Some were old – Dodge townsponies with gunshots in their heads or throats that'd somehow gone missing – but many more were new. The ground was littered with dead changelings.

Standing amid the carnage on the ground was Brevet Captain Killjoy, recognizable by the red feather crest on her helm. She was reared back on her hind legs, leaning her front half against her spear, its point driven deep into the vitals of a golem. The melee raged overhead.

Twilight called out to her, and she looked up. Their eyes met briefly, before Killjoy's gaze was drawn by the far more intimidating sight of the monster approaching. It fired a thick wad of energy from its brightly glowing horn toward Killjoy, who flipped acrobatically aside, leaving her spear embedded in the golem's carcass. The blast carried on, through the plaza, past the buildings, and struck the still-parked train on the tracks behind the city.

The explosion all but rattled Twilight's teeth in her mouth, and when the smoke cleared, all that remained was a carpet of twisted, melted metal stretching into the distance.

Twilight pushed herself to gallop faster and harder than she thought herself capable.

The monster landed in front of Killjoy, casting its shadow over her. Its head dwarfed the little pegasus as it leaned down to stare directly into her eyes. Killjoy remained rooted to her spot, her wings spread in defiance.

The monster's horn began to glow again.

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, silently commanded herself not to fail, and teleported between the monster and Killjoy. A barrier enveloped the two ponies' bodies, a shield over which a green beam of energy washed, surrounding the two in blinding light.

The shield held. When the beam cut off, Twilight collapsed her barrier into a singularity and fired a shockwave that knocked Chrysalis backward. She staggered through the sand, shaking her head disorientedly, and struggled to regain her balance.

"Sparkle?" Killjoy's voice was tinny and muffled due to the helmet. "The hell are you doing?"

"It's called reciprocity; you saved me, so I'm saving you." Twilight shot a look at Killjoy over her shoulder. "Now get out of here!"

"A-And leave you alone?!" Killjoy's voice cracked. "This isn't your fight, dammit! I can't let you throw your life away for—"

"There's only one of you, too, Killjoy!"

The monster was advancing on them now, glaring murderously at Twilight. She growled with annoyance – there was no time to argue.

"Fine, whatever," Twilight snapped. "Just stay behind me!"

The golems disengaged from their fight with the Guard and reassembled above the monster, hovering without order or formation. It was then that Twilight realized just how unevenly matched the two armies were. For all their combined efforts, the enemy could still match the Guard, body-for-body, and then some.

Wings shuffled and armor clanked as, behind Twilight, the Guard struggled to reform their battle lines. She could only imagine how bloodied and disheveled they might have been – perhaps even on their last legs. Strudel was right; there was no way they'd survive another round.

That last effort was as much energy as I had left. If this doesn't work...

The monster's horn began to glow again. Twilight gulped, sucked in a lungful of air, and plucked her courage, before stopping the monster's advance with a shout.

"Chrysalis!"

The monster froze mid-step. The light around its horn ceased to build in brightness, but didn't extinguish altogether, and its eyes were still alight with fury.

Okay, well. I guess it can understand me. That's a start.

"I know it's you," Twilight said, iron in her voice. "I know what was done to you. What happened to your brood. How you were all bled, and turned into—"

The monster lunged suddenly, and Twilight stiffened, Killjoy recoiling behind her. But no attack came. It simply drew its face close against Twilight's, just as it had done with Killjoy.

Twilight remained outwardly unintimidated. Inwardly, she was wondering if the only reason she wasn't peeing herself was because she hadn't had enough to drink.

She clenched her jaw and stiffened her spine, staring back. "I'm not trying to mock you. The things that were done to you are unforgivable. I can't begin to imagine the pain you went through, but I'm sorry. For what it did to you. For what it did to your... to your children."

Its eyes narrowed. The glow around its horn remained.

"I know we have no reason to like each other," said Twilight, quieting her voice and keeping it even. "But enemy or no, I wouldn't wish this on you. And somehow, I doubt you'd wish it on me."

The monster made a snorting sound. A shake rippled through its body from front to back.

She's laughing at me, isn't she?

"Okay, so, maybe you would wish it on me. That's... fair." Twilight swallowed and nodded placatingly. "You're angry, and you're out for blood, and you could probably crush me flat right now, so why would you be inclined to sympathize with—"

The monster slammed its hands, palms-down, on either side of Twilight. The ground shook from the force of impact.

Killjoy touched Twilight's withers with a shaking hoof. "I don't think that's helping, Sparkle."

Twilight shushed her before addressing the monster again.

"Yeah, you could totally kill me right now. Smash me flat and blast me into ashes. But who would that serve, exactly? Who are you really angry at? Because however much you might dislike me, I'm not the one who did this to you. Killing me changes nothing. It won't give you back anything you've lost. The only one you're really helping is the one who made you this way in the first place. How is that a victory?"

Twilight paused to let that sink in. It seemed to help – the monster's eyes narrowed, and its hands slowly lifted away from the ground, arms tucking back against its body. It pulled its head away from Twilight, took a short step backward, then another.

But the light around its horn still did not vanish.

"Do you know what would be a victory?" Twilight asked. "To deny that thing the satisfaction of knowing that it turned you into a revenge-driven monster. To let go of the anger, and find a different purpose. You just need to choose. Choose life. Live for yourself."

Twilight took a tentative step forward, gently shaking Killjoy's hoof loose.

"Right now, I'm going to make a choice. I choose to forgive you. To let go of everything between us. And to offer you my friendship, if you'll have it. Let's start over together."

Twilight could feel the eyes of the Guard watching her. The sunlight reflected by their armor formed blotches of blinding white on the sand. She could only imagine the pegasi's confusion – not just about why she was addressing the big scary monster as "Chrysalis," but about why she was bothering to talk to it in the first place.

On that much, at least, she could relate. All her lessons and everything she believed in demanded that she extend an olive branch. But she could see the fury in the monster's eyes, the hate and resentment. Worse, if she looked hard enough, she knew she'd find something like it deep inside of herself.

Am I doing the right thing, Shiny? Would you forgive her for what she did? To Cadance, to Celestia, to me? To you?

She wasn't sure she could, in his place. She wasn't sure she could now. But she could decide to try. Forgiveness was a choice, one they could make together. So she told herself to forgive Chrysalis, and to extend her hoof in friendship.

The light around the monster's horn faded into a pale shimmer, and finally vanished.

Twilight smiled with relief. For a moment, everything was right.

Until a cold wind blew, carrying the faint scent of ashes.

A tremor ran through Chrysalis, starting at the tips of her legs, rippling up through her thorax, and out to every one of her extremities. Her fingers curled and uncurled madly; her scythes flailed in the air; her wings beat violently out of sequence, and her eyes widened in fear. She wailed – a high, shrieking note that the golems added their voices to, joining in a terrifying harmony.

Helplessly, Chrysalis rose into the air, her wail becoming a primal shriek. Thin lines, like a puppet's strings, materialized from her limbs and her horn, all rising to meet at a point high above her – at a black cloud, cruciform in shape, which gathered in the sky over Dodge. Pale lightning flashed inside the cloud, and a pair of yellow slits, burning brightly, ripped open at its peak – eyes that pierced Twilight with the force of their anger.

The light returned around Chrysalis's horn. It built at the tip in a sphere of green that grew from a pinprick to a boulder to a miniature star, larger even than the monster that generated it – a sun that bloated until it became the sky itself, bathing everything below in its sickly light.

The golems stayed where they were, still adding their voices to Chrysalis's. Twilight could hear Killjoy shouting indistinct orders over the din, but was only able to pick out the word "retreat." Yet she didn't join her command in fleeing. Whether out of obligation to Shining, or to Twilight herself, Killjoy refused to abandon her.

Twilight's horn shone with her own light, and she dug her hooves into the sand.

It wasn't until the missile struck Chrysalis's horn that she remembered – she still had a plan-B.

The body of the monster dangled in the air for just a moment before the strings holding it up snapped, and it fell to the earth like a rock. The sphere did not go with it. That much energy, focused into that large an attack, would not simply go away, but without Chrysalis keeping it focused and localized, it was rapidly destabilizing. The surface of the sphere shifted and bubbled, like water at full boil on a roaring flame.

Then, quite all at once, it burst.

Twilight threw her body against Killjoy's, knocking her onto her side. A shield enveloped them, a candle that was swallowed by Chrysalis's inferno. Twilight the heat engulf it, like a limb dipped in molten lead. Her skin started to crawl with the thought of that sensation consuming her every inch – the sensation of burning alive.

Thoughts of her friends flashed through her mind. The others, back home. Rainbow Dash, unconscious in the farmhouse. Cherry, half-mad victim of some unspeakable evil. Snake, who'd come back for her, twice saved her, only to watch her wither like a match. Killjoy, clinging to Twilight like a life preserver. So many who were counting on her. So many friends who believed in her.

So many she was about to fail by dying.

Deep inside of Twilight, a spark ignited. The barrier she'd tossed up, her last-ditch defense, swelled and glowed ever brighter, expanding against Chrysalis's final attack. Light filled her vision; she saw nothing but white, felt nothing but warmth – comforting, not searing, warmth. The world inside her bastion of safety grew quiet, and slid away, like oil in water.

And, once again, everything was right.

"She's coming to," a voice growled, like hooves crunching in broken glass. "Twilight, are you okay?"

Dream-induced visions of a starry sky and a swath of blue nebula vanished from Twilight's sight. She found herself immersed in darkness, hot sunlight scorching her face.

I don't think that I'm on fire... although this heat is easily comparable.

She tried to open her eyes, and immediately wrenched them shut again as a hot spike of pain thrust into her skull beneath her horn. Her mouth felt numb, and she smacked her lips twice before trying to answer.

"Snuhhhhhhh..."

"She doesn't sound good." The second voice was tired, and soft like butter. The speaker's breath wafted past Twilight's nose. She caught a whiff of something sharp and sterile. Alcohol.

Bourbon.

"I've seen her do this before," the first voice assured the second. "If anything, she'll be better off for it. Might have a hell of a headache, though."

Yeah. Yeah, pretty much.

Twilight raised her head off the ground. Grains of sand, embedded in her skin, trickled down her cheek like tiny, hardened teardrops. Fighting back the pain in her skull, she slowly opened her eyes, and the indistinct shapes of the world around her came into focus.

Snake and Killjoy were on either side of her. The human, his face impenetrably stolid, held a canteen in his hand, and he raised it to her lips, tilting it enough to send a stream of water into her mouth. Twilight took hold of the canteen with her hooves and tilted it further, drinking greedily, until some of it went down the wrong pipe and she pulled away with a gasp and a cough, water dripping from her muzzle.

Killjoy had her helm in her hooves and was looking past Twilight. A glint of silver metal poked out from a gap in her breastplate.

Twilight cleared her throat and smacked her lips again to get the feeling back in them. When she spoke, her voice was slightly strangled.

"How long was I out for?"

"Not long," Snake answered. "Couple minutes."

Twilight looked at Killjoy. "The guards?"

Killjoy met her gaze reluctantly. "No fatalities. They got away before the town went up."

"The blast wasn't quite big enough to hit the ranch," Snake added. "And the guards and I were both well outside its radius when it went off. The golems didn't make it, before you ask. But when I saw that shield go up, I had a feeling the two of you'd be okay."

Killjoy crept closer to her. She set her helm down on the sand and pushed her sweat-matted bangs out of her face. "Sparkle, I'm... I don't know what to..."

Twilight watched her expectantly.

Killjoy didn't finish her thought. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut, snapped her wings open, and took to the sky, flying toward Cherry Hill.

She forgot her helmet.

Twilight tried to turn her head to follow her, but tweaked something in her neck, and winced in pain. She sipped again from her canteen, draining the last few droplets of water.

Strange mare.

"What happened to Chrysalis?" she said to Snake, capping the canteen and rising to her hooves.

Snake backed away to give her room to stretch and breathe. "See for yourself."

Lifting her head, Twilight examined her surroundings. The explosion had blown everything away – the buildings, the corpses of the fallen, the charred rubble of the saloon. The trains had vanished completely, both the debris of the one destroyed before, and the express that she and Snake had ridden to Dodge. In the distance, Twilight could see Cherry Hill Ranch – the farmhouse, the remnants of the barn, the Humvee behind it, and a great pit where the orchard had been. Deep inside were the ruins of the old city, and the remnants of the changelings' hive.

But the city above that had simply ceased to be. Save the outlines of the train tracks and the buildings' foundations poking out of the sand, there was no trace of any equine habitation.

Nearby was a thick sea of green smoke, and the sinister cloud hovering above it. Immersed in the smoke, with only her head exposed, Chrysalis lay.

Twilight immediately moved toward her, distantly realizing just how good her body felt. Her muscles thrummed with new energy; she was rejuvenated, alive. Were it not for the headache that still throbbed beneath her horn, she'd swear she felt better than she would after a good night's sleep.

Chrysalis had not fared nearly as well.

Snake's missile had impacted at the base of her horn, shearing it off completely and destroying much of her cranial exoskeleton, revealing the lumps of pale white flesh beneath. One of her eyes was fused shut, while the other was completely exposed, the socket surrounding it blown away. Its suffering showed plainly as it stared at Twilight.

The cloud hovered over the body, eyes wide and blazing.

"I can't hear her quite so clear anymore."

Twilight turned, startled. "Cherry?" She hadn't even heard the mare's approach.

Cherry had her shotgun tucked under her foreleg. Her head was raised back to regard the cloud. "She's fadin' away. The words, they're not as loud as they were. Like an echo down a long hallway. I can still feel the hate, though. Powerful, bitter, like ashes. Hate for the world, for the Queen, for you. For him."

Twilight looked at where Snake stood, staring expressionlessly at the cloud from a respectful distance.

"For Snake?" she asked.

"Most of all. They're alike, the two of them. They both looked into the same darkness, but he walked through it, came out the other side."

"But what is it?" she asked Cherry in a whisper. "Do you know?"

Cherry glanced at Twilight from the corner of her eye before answering.

"The Lord of the Flies."

Twilight watched as the smoke surrounding Chrysalis was drawn into tendrils and absorbed into the cloud, leaving behind the body with its full damage laid bare. Much of her exoskeleton had been liquefied by her own attack, fusing pieces of her body to herself and partially melting her into the ground. Her legs were puddles; her arms, tucked against her body, had merged with her thorax. The fingers that hadn't melted away, or fused into one another, opened and closed feebly. The scythes on her shoulders were simply gone.

Then the cloud dissipated and vanished, blown away in a breeze that Twilight never felt. Its eyes lingered after everything else, hovering and surrounded by nothing, until even they burned out.

Chrysalis's lone eye met Twilight's, and stared plaintively at her, an unspoken plea passing between them.

Snake approached, the revolver in his hand. Twilight looked at its chrome surface, squinting at the way it caught the sunlight. She wondered about the weight of the thing – if she wrapped it in her magic, or cradled it in her hooves, would it be heavier than the one she'd held before?

Twilight approached Chrysalis, knelt in front of her face, and bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You didn't deserve this."

Her pupil constricted slightly, and Twilight released a ragged sigh.

Nothing alive deserves this.

She stood and backed away from Chrysalis. Her eyes met Snake's.

He nodded, and raised the revolver.

Twilight was suddenly jostled by Cherry Jubilee shoving her way between her and Snake. She stepped close to Chrysalis, closer than Twilight had gone, raised the shotgun, and pressed it against an exposed patch of flesh.

Twilight swore she saw Chrysalis lean into the barrel before a gunshot carried across the sandswept ruin of Dodge.

Cherry Hill Ranch was an oddly named place. The farmhouse and barn rested on a little knoll outside the orchard, but the ranch itself was nestled in a valley overlooked by the much larger hill that Dodge City had been built on. The contradiction was a curious one. Twilight never quite knew what to make of it.

I suppose it doesn't matter now.

The three of them slowly made their way back into the ranch. Snake carried Cherry's shotgun in his arms – he hadn't liked the way she was looking at it after killing Chrysalis, and she'd surrendered it without a fuss. He'd grumbled at the start of the walk about scolding whoever kept letting her have it back against his recommendation. Perhaps he was trying to start a conversation, to keep Twilight's mind occupied.

It hadn't worked. Twilight was too tired to talk. Too exhausted to think. Something had rejuvenated her enough to ward off the blast that leveled Dodge, yet it was all she could do just to carry her own weight.

Seeing Rainbow Dash at the bottom of the hill, leaning against Jinglebell for support, changed that.

Twilight broke into a gallop and left everything behind, her cares, her fatigue, the pained look in Chrysalis's eye, and the acrid stench of the golems burning alive. Everything but Rainbow Dash was forgotten as she raced down the hill.

At her approach, Rainbow pushed gently away from Jinglebell, who smiled sadly as he watched her limp to meet Twilight. The bandages on her face had been changed, she was clearly keeping her weight off of her wounded leg, and her gait was uneven and shaky. But she was walking, on her own power, eyes open and awake.

Twilight slowed a few paces away from Rainbow, panting and staring, half in disbelief. Jinglebell fluttered closer, chuckling.

"I'd just finished changing her bandages when she came to. When I explained the situation, she ran for the front door and face-planted in the living room rug. Nearly broke her leg all over again."

Rainbow Dash blushed and stepped closer to Twilight. "How do I look?" she rasped.

Twilight sniffed and smiled. "Like crap."

"Tch." Rainbow Dash tossed her mane. "I think you're just jealous that you don't have some sexy new scars on your face. I mean, you've always rocked the bookworm thing pretty good, don't get me wrong, but—"

Twilight flung her hooves around Rainbow Dash and buried her face in her neck. The dam that she'd just barely held together in the tunnel collapsed.

"It's really you," she sobbed. "You're alive, and you're okay."

"Heh. You sound surprised." Rainbow shifted uncomfortably against Twilight. "C'mon, you're embarrassing me. The guards are watching."

Twilight pulled away, glaring at Rainbow through her tears. "You think I care about that, dummy? You think I care who's watching?!"

She saw her face reflected in Rainbow Dash's eyes. Despite her protestations, they were just as waterlogged as Twilight's.

"I thought you were dead, Rainbow. Thought I'd lost you forever. And I moved heaven and earth to get you back, and now that you're here, there is no power in the universe that's going to stop me from holding you!"

"Twi—"

"You are not too cool for me to hug you in public, Rainbow Dash!"

Twilight sagged against her friend again and buried her face in her mane, tears spilling into the dirt-streaked strands of hair. She smelled of sweat and dirt and pine.

Rainbow Dash chuckled, and Twilight felt her lean into the embrace. A warm, soft wing draped over her back.

"Well..." Rainbow Dash sniffed. "How can I say no to that, huh?"

The butcher's bill was lighter than expected. Contrary to Lieutenant Strudel's pessimistic assessment, Killjoy Company had miraculously emerged from the battle without a single fatality. Casualties still ran high, however. Half the troops were wounded, and half that number too wounded to travel. Killjoy reluctantly broke her command a second time, establishing both a field hospital and a garrison at Cherry Hill, until the injured were ready to join the rest of the company in Appleloosa.

The retreat itself was a source of some contention between her and Twilight, who was counting on the pegasi reinforcing Ponyville's defenses once matters in Dodge were settled. Twilight plead her case as Killjoy inspected a new pair of saddlebags on the farmhouse's front porch. Snake sat disinterestedly on the front steps, nibbling on a ration he'd pulled from Trenton's supply cache, and idly inspecting Cherry's shotgun. The rest of the guard, those able to travel, milled about on the front lawn, clustering together in their respective teams.

"Ponyville's not exactly defenseless," she said to Killjoy. The Captain had her back to Twilight as she rooted through her new bags. "If push came to shove, we could probably organize some kind of resistance, but a few hundred unarmed and untrained ponies with no combat experience are not the most effective fighting force one could ask for."

"I realize that," Killjoy muttered, twitching one of her ears. "But my orders from the Princess stand. Whatever's responsible for all of this is still out there, and I'm gonna need everypony in the unit if we're gonna have a chance at beating it."

"Killjoy... We're talking about a threat to all of Equestria—"

Killjoy slammed her hoof into the floorboards, shattering them, and turned on Twilight.

"You've got your problems, and I've got mine, alright?!"

Her sudden change in tone and demeanor silenced the quiet conversations among her troops, and they turned to stare at their captain. Twilight's body was stiff, and her mouth drawn into a tight, thin line.

Snake watched from over his shoulder, chewing slowly.

Killjoy looked out at her bloodied, exhausted command. It seemed to dawn on her that angry, defensive shouting did not project the image of a confident and capable officer. Growling something under her breath, she shouldered her saddlebags, hopped over the porch's railing, and stepped around to the house's backyard.

"Steel," she called back. "Steel Wool, front and center. I want to speak to you alone."

The gray pegasus detached himself from the others and fluttered after her. "Why, Captain, it's not my birthday yet."

The others nervously resumed their conversations. Twilight trotted to Snake's side and leaned close to whisper in his ear. "What was that all about?"

"You can't tell by looking at her?" Snake said through a mouthful of ration. He swallowed the bite and cleared his throat, rising to his feet. "C'mon. You're smarter than that."

"What do you—"

"Is that her?" a mare yelled from inside the house. "Is that her voice I'm hearin' out there?!"

"Ma'am, you really need to lie down; you're still in critical condition—"

"You'll be in critical condition if you don't get your greasy hooves offa me, y'dang buzzard!"

A pink mare with a bandaged head and blood-stained coveralls stampeded from the house, dragging Jinglebell and another guard behind her. The two clung to her haunches in a valiant but vain effort to hold her back.

"Stovetop!" Twilight rushed to the engineer's side, smiling. "You're alive! I can't believe—"

Stovetop shoved Twilight away as soon as she came within reach.

"Don't you touch me, you good-for-nothin'. You wanna act like we're bosom-buddies after you left me t'get my noggin nibbled by them bloodthirsty zombies? All holed up in that oven of a train for Celestia knows how long?! I got half a mind to beat the stupid outta you!"

Goosefeathers rushed forward to help wrangle Stovetop, joining her efforts to the other two pegasi. Gradually, she was wrestled back into the house, roaring promises of vengeance upon Twilight.

"Don't think I won't be talkin' t'the Mayor 'bout this! Heads're gonna roll, Twilight Sparkle! Wait an' see!"

When she was gone, Jinglebell poked his head back out the door and sighed ruefully.

"Sorry about that. One of the squads doing search-and-rescue found her holed up in a train at Dodge station, and brought her back for treatment just before everything went to shit. She was ranting and raving about how you and your homo friend abandoned her and went off to make out, or... something. I dunno; I stopped listening after a while."

Twilight gagged.

"Anyway," Jinglebell added. "She's our problem, not yours. She's elected to stay here, with us, instead of return to Ponyville with you. Says she wants to be where 'the real heroes' are. Lucky me."

"Don't be too hard on her," said Twilight, shaking her head. "She's got a right to be upset, I think."

"Does she though?" Snake muttered. "As I recall, we didn't abandon her because we wanted to."

"We still could have done more for her. Checked the train, gone back for her. Not assumed she was dead." Twilight smiled blandly. "I'm glad she's alright, either way. But leaving her behind in the first place isn't something I'm proud of."

Jinglebell coughed. "To be honest, I wouldn't blame you if you had left her behind on purpose."

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Jinglebell?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Thank you. For everything."

"Thank me by dressing your wounds properly in the future. That goes double for you, mister," he added, shooting a serious look at Snake.

Snake made a gesture with his fingers whose meaning was lost on Twilight.

The two were walking back to the barn when Killjoy caught up to them, beating her wings hard enough to loosen feathers. She landed in front of Twilight, panting from exertion.

"I'm sorry," she said between breaths. "For poppin' off at you that way. That was shitty of me. Uncalled for."

"You don't need to be sorry."

"Yeah, I do. I damn well do. You didn't deserve me yellin' at you, not after the way you saved my life." Killjoy shuffled her wings and dug a hoof bashfully into the dirt. "What I should'a said is that I'm dispatching Steel Wool to Canterlot to report on our situation, and I made sure to include what you told me about Mr. Bad Guy and his homo parade. Not... quite in those exact words, though. Heh."

"Thought you needed everyone in the unit," Snake said.

"Steel Wool is the exception which proves the rule." Killjoy shook her head disgustedly. "It isn't much, but it's all that I can do for you right now. I hope it helps."

Twilight smiled to hide her disappointment. She understood Killjoy's reasons, but her reinforcements could have made a difference in the fight for Ponyville.

"It's... more than enough. Thank you," she said diplomatically. "What's your plan once you get to Appleloosa?"

Killjoy shrugged half-heartedly. "Pick up where we left off. Fortify the city against attack, use it as a base of operations while we evacuate all the outlying areas. I want all those ranchers and settlers under the same umbrella – no more massacres like the one that happened here. The unicorns'll put together some kind of spell to protect against the mind control that hit Dodge. And J-Team will dig in and set up a forward operating base here, sending the wounded on to Appleloosa once they're fit to travel again."

"Sure you want to leave behind your only doctor?" Snake asked.

"Jingles isn't my only doctor – just the only one with wings. The ones with the ground force are far less obnoxious." Killjoy smiled wryly. "We're gonna be moving out in a minute, actually. I just wanted to take some time to say goodbye. And to thank you for, uh... for what'cha did back there. You shouldn'ta had to do it, but you did, and I'm grateful."

Twilight chuckled. "I should be thanking you. It took a lot of guts to stand your ground and stay with me."

Killjoy's smile vanished. She turned away from Twilight, sagging.

Twilight stepped closer to Killjoy. "Hey... what's the matter?"

"It wasn't guts that made me stand there. I wasn't being brave. I was..." She stared at her hooves, trembling visibly in her armor. "It was one thing when we were winning. When it was us against the bugs, all thrustin' and flyin' and punchin'. But when I saw that thing comin' at me, starin' right at me, I just..."

Killjoy took a deep breath and turned away, a wing reaching into her armor for her flask.

Twilight covered Killjoy's wing with her hoof and pushed the flask back into its little hidden pocket, using the same leg to pull her into a hug. Killjoy stiffened, but rested her forehead on Twilight's shoulder.

"I failed so many ponies. Dodge, the others in the frontier, Shining Armor. And my own command, on top of everything."

Twilight squeezed her gently. "I know how that feels. I've felt the same way myself."

I think I still do, even.

"But you didn't let it beat you. You're too strong for that." Tears leaked into Twilight's coat. "I knew we were losing before that thing ever showed up, but seeing it... the way it blasted the train and came right at me... I just froze. I gave up. I'm a failure, Sparkle. I don't deserve..."

Her sentence ended in a sob.

"Let me guess," said Snake. "First time in combat?"

Killjoy looked up from Twilight's shoulder, sniffling. "How'd you know?"

"I knew the minute you took off your helmet. You put up a good front, play it off well, but I could see it in your eyes." He knelt beside her. "There's not a soldier alive who'd judge you for falling apart in your first real battle. Anyone who's been in combat has a story just like that."

Twilight looked at Snake. "Even you?"

"Don't tell a soul."

She winked at him, and pulled away from the hug, holding Killjoy's face between her hooves. The pegasus looked back at the ground, refusing to meet Twilight's gaze, but Twilight cupped her chin with her hoof and tilted her head to look directly at her.

"You're no failure. You're a good pony, and a good leader. And if there's anypony who can protect Appleloosa, it's you."

Killjoy's mouth hung open. She stammered faintly, her eyes red and shimmering.

Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Twilight's.

Every inch of Twilight's body was alight. Her eyes flew open, and her mane and tail stood on end. She opened her mouth to protest, but Killjoy took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping her tongue into Twilight's mouth.

Killjoy finally pulled away with a sultry, smoky look that abruptly vanished when she saw how blank and red-faced Twilight was. "I-I thought you were trying to..."

"Um..."

Killjoy cringed. "You weren't, were you?"

Twilight, in a daze, shook her head slowly.

Killjoy's face flushed, and she collapsed onto her butt with a groan. "Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shiiiiiit...!"

She tore into the sky, sending up a gust of wind that tossed Twilight's mane and sent the tails of Snake's bandanas whipping around his head to smack him in the face. A flock of pegasi rose up behind her as she went, taking the captain's sudden flight as their cue to leave.

Snake flicked his bandana back into place and looked down at Twilight, not even bothering to hide his smug look. "You know, this is probably your fault for saying that you'd 'take lip from Killjoy' earlier."

It wasn't just lip.

Twilight stuck her tongue out with a bleh and shuddered.

Rainbow Dash was dozing peacefully when Snake and Twilight arrived at the barn. Cherry was curled up beside her, inches apart from Rainbow and staring into space. The napping pegasus stirred at their approach, yawned, and smacked her lips. She looked at the two with an indolent smile.

Snake grunted. "Haven't you slept enough?"

"Uh, 'scuse me, did you spend the last twenty-four hours trapped in the clutches of two different bad guys? No? That's what I thought. So lay off."

"I just don't want to be responsible for carrying your lazy ass all over the place anymore. Gonna be doing a lot more of that if you decide to pass out on us for another day."

"Yeah, you should be so lucky. You know how many ponies there are that'd kill to carry my ass all over the...?" Rainbow paused and tapped her chin with a hoof, frowning. "No, that doesn't work very well. Shoot, lemme think."

Hearing them talk was almost exasperating. Their dynamic hadn't changed in the slightest – they were still just as antagonistic toward one another as ever. Still... There was levity where before there'd just been outright hostility – no malice in the way they spoke to one another, and Rainbow's smile never left her face.

Twilight was thankful they learned to get along before they ever came to blows.

"Twi, help me out here," said Rainbow, grinning. "I can't think of anything clever to say about my ass."

"Ah..." Twilight felt her face burning again.

Rainbow's smile twisted into a concerned frown. "You okay, Twi? You look kinda like the inside of a watermelon right now."

Twilight shot Snake a warning look, one that Snake did not seem to register. But that was alright, because the two of them had bonded over the course of the day. Surely that meant he wouldn't go out of his way to embarrass her.

"Killjoy kissed Twilight."

Twilight blushed and covered her face with her hooves.

Bad friend. Bad, bad, BAD friend.

"No way," Rainbow Dash snorted. "Seriously? ...Seriously?"

Twilight groaned and nodded reluctantly.

Everything tastes like cheap bourbon.

"Well, that's..." Rainbow Dash trailed off and murmured something inaudible before her voice picked up again. "It wasn't your first kiss, was it?"

Twilight peered angrily at her from above her hooves. "I hardly see how that's—"

"Ho-lee crap, it was, wasn't it?!" Rainbow Dash fell onto her back, laughing boisterously and kicking her uninjured leg in the air.

"It's not funny, darn it!" Twilight hissed between her teeth.

Snake shrugged. "It's a little funny."

"You – you need to mind your own – ugh!" Twilight stomped. "Don't you have a thing to do?!"

"Yeah. Probably." Snake wandered off to the back of the barn.

Twilight trotted grumpily over to Rainbow Dash and plopped down beside her, fuming. "S'not funny. S'not."

"Twi, hate to break it to you, but yeah – it's really funny." Rainbow Dash rolled onto her belly and sat up, her laughter dying down.

Twilight glared at her. "Don't make me regret rescuing you."

"Oh, please. You'd do it a hundred times over again if you had to. You missed me, and you know it, egghead." Rainbow leaned her head against Twilight's shoulder.

Twilight mumbled inarticulately, still flushed, but rested her cheek against Rainbow's head.

I did at that.

Then she felt Cherry leaning against her other side, and smiled.

Snuggles all around, I guess.

"Oh, and Twi? I actually am too cool for you to hug me in public like that. If you tell anypony back home that I ever got this affectionate with you, I'll never speak to you again."

Twilight squished her cheek harder against Rainbow's head. "Never ever never?"

"...For a year."

"A month."

"Six months."

"Three."

"Deal. Now shut up. 'S cuddle time."

I left the girls to their fun and made my way back to the Humvee. A cursory, post-battle inspection told me that it had escaped without any significant damage, although one of the guards had elected to smash the head of an unlucky golem against the rear bumper. Flecks of gore and chitin sullied the glossy finish of the motorcycle stuck to the back door. No problem – the gore would wash right out, and the chitin was almost impossible to distinguish from the finish.

Either way, it didn't matter. The car would run. It wasn't especially fuel efficient, meaning I'd probably have to keep the air conditioning off, but there was enough spare gasoline to get us back to Ponyville. But before I could worry about hotwiring the car, and getting us the hell out of Dodge (heh), I had an important matter that demanded I address it.

I needed a cigarette.

I propped Cherry's shotgun and my own carbine in the car's gun rack, slid a cigarette into my mouth, and reached for my lighter, only to come away empty-handed. I patted myself down, feeling panic of the sort that Killjoy probably felt when the Chrysalis-thing landed in front of her, when I heard a quiet click from behind me.

It was Trenton – or, rather, a battered, broken hunk of scuffed-up exoskeleton, wearing the tattered remnants of a Pegasus Wings-issue combat vest, that had probably once been Trenton. His arm was outstretched; his hand held my lost lighter, and a flickering flame danced in the air, waiting for my cigarette.

I kept my face neutral, and extended my hand palm-up. It took a moment for him to get the hint.

Trenton shut the lighter and dropped it into my outstretched hand; I immediately lit my cigarette and took a drag from it.

"Don't suppose you have my tranquilizer gun, too." I glanced at the Beretta in his vest's holster – the source of all those nine-mil shells I found. "You'd know it if you saw it. Looks an awful lot like that one."

"I do not. Perhaps you ought to take better care of your own weapons."

"Don't push me." Every syllable I spoke sent another puff of smoke into his smeared and dented facemask. "I'm pretty sure I could take one dinged-up cyborg ninja in a straight fight. Especially now that he doesn't have a sword, or a little girl to use as a meat shield."

"Throw the first punch, and we'll see."

I'd gotten used to Trenton's eye flickering in conversation – it was the only way I could measure his response to anything said or done to him. The lens, though, was cracked, split into three roughly symmetrical sections. That was enough to keep it from flashing, I guess. This annoyed me, because I had no way of telling for sure whether his bravado was real, or if he was bluffing.

Because he may have given me a treasure trove of weapons, ammunition, a customizable rifle, and a load of handy add-ons, but I still really wanted to punch him. Still, I'd had my fill of that for a while. So I stuck the cigarette back in my mouth, waved dismissively at him, and turned to the Humvee, scraping off bits of stuck-on changeling skull.

"Good choice," said Trenton. "You pass yet another test with flying colors, son of—"

"Don't finish that sentence," I snapped, briefly pulling out my cigarette to wave it at him. "I don't want any more smug crap from you. I want answers. Back in the castle, you said you'd give 'em to me later. I'm calling you on that right now."

"Believe me, I intended to give them to you when I said it," Trenton replied. "Alas, we've no time for that now. Not if you're going to get to Ponyville before Pegasus Wings. They will be moving quickly, now that they know for certain that their trump card is inoperable."

"Trump card? Then... Metal Gear..."

"Is inoperable. Problems with integrating Cold War-era Soviet missile technology with a modern platform – a challenge to which Pegasus Wings' engineers were, unfortunately, not up to. Between that, the lack of a satellite network to guide the missile, and the inability for anyone to calculate a trajectory manually, plus innate problems with the unit's assembly—"

"Suppose I don't believe you."

"Then you don't believe me. Metal Gear works perfectly. I invented all of those technical issues because they sounded plausible, and you are wise to see through my bluff."

I really, really wanted to punch him.

"Decide for yourself what to believe," Trenton finished. "I am only here to pick up my ride home."

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to the motorcycle. "That's yours?" I said, jerking my thumb at it.

"Cain's, actually. Part of his life-long, Quixotic effort to emulate Big Boss, who rode one like this, a long time ago."

"Saves me the trouble of hauling it." I took one last hit from the cigarette and, satisfied, deposited it in my ashtray, leaning my weight against the Humvee's bumper. "Tell me this much, at least. Why Equestria?"

"'Why Equestria' what?"

I felt my trigger finger itch. "Don't get cute with me. We both know who's pulling the strings here. I just want to know why. What do the Patriots want with this place?"

"The answer to your question is more complicated than we have time for. But, to make a long story short... it suits their purpose. Our purpose. In a way which our own world does not."

Trenton strode to the back of the Humvee and pulled the motorcycle from its place one-handed, holding it easily in the air.

"The Cold War is over. The order and infrastructure that developed around it over the last half-century is obsolete, but through the toil of opportunistic soldiers-for-profit, like our mutual friend, Commander Cain, we have laid the foundation for a new order. And, with it, world peace."

I raised an eyebrow. "Military bodies fighting it out on behalf of other countries in proxy wars. Tearing apart entire regions for profit. Tell me where peace fits into that. And do it without quoting Orwell."

"Impossible," said Trenton. "The latter, anyway. Because the definition of peace, itself, has changed. Imagine an endless cycle of war-for-profit, keeping the wheels and gears of the economy turning, and keeping the human race alive. No destructive, globe-spanning conflicts driven by petty nationalism or ideology. No risk of a sudden nuclear exchange between major powers. That is the future: everlasting war. Routine, and pure, forevermore. Thus has war become peace."

Trenton set the bike down and lowered the kickstand with the end of his foot.

"Or so it will. For now, that new order is in its infancy, and we've a great deal of tinkering to do before it's ready. The experiment surrounding the Manhattan Incident was a rousing success, one we wish to recreate on a macro, rather than micro, scale, but we cannot do so on Earth, lest we inadvertently unravel our grand tapestry. In Equestria lies the answer to our little conundrum: A whole new world, with its own social order. Not quite a duplicate of our own, but close enough that it makes little difference. It will be the perfect crucible for honing the paradigms established by the S3 project."

I was gonna need another cigarette.

"You want a laboratory," I spat. "You want to screw this place up as bad as you did America. Use the whole damn country, and everyone in it, for your twisted 'social experiments.'"

"Of course. What were you expecting? Did you think we truly cared to help Macbeth achieve political change, or avenge his exile? Or that we had a stake in helping Cain to revitalize Pegasus Wings with Equestria's riches? Their partnership is something I arranged as a means to an end. Not unlike your friendship with Twilight Sparkle. Now that I've collected enough data on you to fit you into my mission parameters, that is."

"I ought to blow you the hell away."

"To shoot the messenger is a typical human response, and I will not hold your anger against you." Trenton rested his hand on the bike's seat. "But it is, in this instance, misguided. I quite agree with you; we should not be overthrowing Equestria's social order. For here is a world which works, as America ought to work, one where the inhabitants voluntarily capitulate to a guiding ideal while still freely practicing self-determination. Our ideal world, one where we are not needed. Equestria, as it is, could be the perfect mirror for America. Think of what we could learn simply by staying here and studying this place!"

I glanced at his free hand, the one not resting on the bike. It was balled tightly into a fist and shaking.

"Needless to say, my recommendation was denied." His fingers relaxed, and calm swept over his demeanor again. "And here we are."

"If that's really how you feel, then why help them at all?" I asked. "Come back with us. You can still undo whatever it is you've set into motion."

Trenton shrugged ponderously.

"I am an instrument of the Patriots' will. I must carry out my mission, without question. It is my one and only purpose. To defy them would be..."

A spark ran through the cracks in his eye.

"...Unwise."

I heard the regret in his words. The acceptance, too. The sincerity. For the first time since meeting the bastard, I actually believed that Trenton was being straight with me.

Although something still wasn't quite right.

"You're jeopardizing your mission by giving me this material support," I said. "The guns, the ammo, the car – all this is stuff I can, and will, put to use taking you down. That'd ruin your little experiment, wouldn't it?"

"You would think so." Trenton drew himself up. "But make no mistake, nothing I have done here today has compromised us in the slightest. If anything, matters are more secure than ever now."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He was quiet a moment before he answered cryptically.

"It means you are the man I thought you were. It may have taken a while – we've had a detour or two along the way, to be sure. But now, at last, things will finally play out as they should."

Trenton reached into a pocket on his vest and produced a key ring, which he tossed to me.

"You'll find it easier to start the car with those, rather than without."

Then he straddled the motorcycle, and it rumbled to life, a growl that built to a roar as he revved the engine. Trenton gunned it, swerved to the side, and sped off into the distance, a trail of dust and sand kicking up behind him.

I looked down at the car keys, pondering the surreal sight of a cyborg ninja riding a motorcycle, until I heard hoofsteps in the dirt behind me, and I turned to see Twilight Sparkle.

"You been eavesdropping?" I grunted.

Twilight shrugged. "You weren't being entirely forthcoming with some privileged information. It seemed the best way to get it."

Fair enough.

"I had to dislodge myself from some pretty vigorous snuggling to come over here, so we probably don't have long to talk. I'll make this quick." She stepped closer to me, a pensive look on her face.

"I can't blame you, exactly, for not being straight with me. Not after the way I treated you. But you made the choice to stay behind. As grateful as I am, it means we need to be open with one another, now more than ever. We need to know that we can trust each other. Not just as allies. As friends."

There was that damned word again – a loaded word if I ever heard one, especially knowing how much importance her kind put on the whole concept of friendship. This time, though, I believed her when she used it.

"Let's get going." I nodded at her. "I'll tell you what you need to know along the way."

Rainbow Dash managed to get the top half of her body inside the Humvee, but her back legs didn't follow. They stuck out, wiggling in the air helplessly while she tried to pull her crippled ass inside.

I grabbed Dash by the scruff of her neck, ignoring her yelp of protest, and tossed her – gently, mind you – onto the leather upholstery.

She scowled at me. "Little warning next time?"

"There won't be a next time. You're getting your leg fixed up the minute we get back to Ponyville. I'm done carrying you, remember?"

I slammed the door in her face before she could retort.

Twilight, standing beside me, sighed. "And here I was hoping you two would actually start getting along."

"We are getting along." I rapped my knuckles on Dash's window and shouted "Moron!"

"Jerk!" came her muffled reply.

"See?" I said, leaning against the window. "If we were actually mad at each other, there'd be adjectives to go along with those insults."

Twilight pressed a hoof to her forehead, massaging the base of her horn with a sigh. "Progress is progress, I guess."

"That's the spirit." I stepped past Twilight to the driver's door, when the sound of hooves scraping listlessly through the sand made me turn around. Cherry Jubilee stood alone, looking awkward and disheveled, shouldering a pair of stained green saddlebags.

"Cherry?" said Twilight, approaching her. "What's the matter?"

Cherry dipped her head and shied away at Twilight's approach. "Home's not home anymore," she mumbled. "Can't stay here. Up to my neck in blood. Phantoms, every which-way I look."

"Plus, a bunch of soldiers are squatting in your house," I added unhelpfully.

Twilight shot me a silencing look, but the remark actually drew a smile from Cherry.

"Are you asking to come back to Ponyville with us?" said Twilight. At Cherry's nod, she looked at me, smiling encouragingly. "We do have plenty of room in the backseat, right?"

I looked over to Rainbow Dash, who was already stretching languidly across the seats. "Yeah, looks like."

"By all means, then." Twilight guided Cherry to the door, which I opened, gesturing for Rainbow Dash to scoot aside. She looked like she was about to argue, but stopped and made room when Cherry appeared in the doorway.

Good. She had a little common decency tucked away under all the bluster.

I shut the door again and looked down at Twilight. "We done?"

"Indubitably." She beamed at me, hesitated, then patted me on the knee as she went to the passenger's door on the other side of the car.

Well. It wasn't a hug, at least.

Somehow, Twilight had beaten me inside when I took my seat, and she was examining the dashboard and the window buttons with a look of wonderment that made me think of Otacon. If, you know, Otacon were a small, lavender unicorn.

I slid the key into the ignition, and thought briefly of Apollonia's death in The Godfather before turning it. The car gave a deep, throaty growl as the engine came to life, a gentle hum rippling through the seats and the frame.

"Ooh." I could hear the grin in Rainbow Dash's voice. "I like this. I like this a lot."

Twilight's window whirred, again and again, as she raised and lowered it rapidly. Up it went, then back down, and up, and down, and—

She caught me glaring at her and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

I shook my head, tightening my hands around the wheel. Of all the indignities I'd suffered, chaperoning a field trip with a bunch of little ponies who'd never seen a machine with this level of sophistication had to be somewhere at the top of the list.

There was, needless to say, a CD player on the driver's console. I pressed the eject button, hoping to find something to listen to, something to make the trip go faster, or at least more bearable, without really expecting anything. To my surprise, a CD popped out, and I retrieved it. The name "Pequod's Greatest Hits" was written on it in black marker

"What's that?" Twilight asked, leaning over to inspect it. "A tiny record?"

"Close enough. It's music. Probably."

"And... Pequod is a musician in your world?"

"Pequod is a ship in my world. From a book." I turned it over, the light catching along its surface and breaking into rainbows. "Maybe it's some indie band..."

Shrugging, I slid the CD back into the deck and hit "PLAY." Immediately, a familiar piano tune blasted from the speakers, and I groaned.

"No. No, no, no, goddammit no!"

"What?" Twilight shouted, straining to be heard over the music. "What is this?"

"The Cure."

"Cure for what?" Rainbow Dash asked.

"Shut up." I slipped two fingers under my bandana, and massaged my temples. "Goddammit, Trenton..."

Twilight, bopping along beside me in the passenger's seat, felt none of my irritation.

"I dunno," she called. "I kinda like it!"

I glowered at her, sat up straighter, and released the brakes, pressing my foot against the accelerator. "Better put your seatbelt on."

"Put my what – wagh!" She lurched to the side, smacking herself against the window with an extremely satisfying cracking noise as I floored it and swerved the car abruptly. She righted herself and rubbed the spot she'd struck, glaring at me.

"You're a butt," she growled. "A big, smelly butt."

I smirked and made a show of tugging on my seatbelt, an act she imitated fumingly.

It all flew by in a blur – Cherry Hill, and the road to Dodge, the barren patch of dirt and sand that had seen so much carnage. It may have been gone, but I knew where the train tracks were. And I could follow them back easily.

The engine roared as we sped west toward Ponyville, leaving the frontier, and all its horrors, behind.

Author's Note

I know I said I wasn't going to leave you on any more cliffhangers, that I wanted to wrap up Dodge in the next update, and that I wasn't going to split chapters anymore. I couldn't keep all those promises, and I'm sorry.

But two out of three's not bad, right? R-right?

Special thanks to Editor Man, whose work thus far has far surpassed my (admittedly rock-bottom) expectations of him. Too bad about that awful personality, though. And that thing he does to cows.

15. Outside of Battle

"I've got MSF business to think about and all, but sometimes it's just nice to sit and watch the sunset, you know?"

Every inch of Applejack's body was sore.

She'd been pulling double duty all day to help prep Ponyville however she could, and the closest thing to a break she'd had was when Granny Smith chopped up her singed mane and made something presentable out of it. Even that was strictly under protest; she'd had that braid for as long as she could remember, and her head felt weird without it, not to mention ten pounds lighter. But at least Granny did a decent job of making short hair work on her.

Or she thought so, anyway. Her siblings wouldn't stop snickering whenever they looked at her...

If only the rest of her battle damage was as easily fixed as her mane. She'd never admit it to anypony, but even without working herself as hard as she had, every part of her hurt. Her bones, her muscles, her hips and her joints – yesterday kicked her butt from start to finish. Somehow, the worst part of all that were the itchy bandages on her back. They probably needed to be changed, but she'd need to visit the hospital for that, and there wasn't any time to be laid up and lying around. She had a job to do. They all did.

And, right then, she had a request that needed fulfilling.

Carousel Boutique was dark and closed up, disturbingly lifeless with its curtains drawn, when Applejack arrived. Outside was a lone visitor: a familiar white filly with a backpack, knocking on the door and calling out Rarity's name.

"Sweetie Belle!" Applejack called jovially. "What brings y'all out here?"

Sweetie Belle's ear flicked at the mention of her name. She turned around, her bright smile dying when she glimpsed Applejack's physical state.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Applejack laughed hollowly. "I look like death warmed over."

"Well, actually..." The filly's eyes darted to Applejack's haircut, and she winced. "Uh, anyway, are you alright? I know something big happened with you and Rarity and the others last night, but nopony will say what it is."

"It's, uh... nothin' I can really talk about." Applejack rubbed the back of her neck.

"Rarity was asking about Apple Bloom yesterday. She said she was missing." Sweetie Belle paused, nervously licking her lips. "Did... did whatever happened to you... I mean, she's not... hurt, or anything, is she?"

Applejack smiled – few things touched her quite as much as the devotion her sister's friends had to her. And vice-versa.

"It might be a while 'fore she goes runnin' with you an Scoots again, but she's alright. Thanks fer askin'." She trotted past Sweetie, and stopped at the boutique's door. "Y'know, I came here lookin' for Rarity; I weren't expectin' t'see you."

"Oh, my parents asked me to spend the night at Rarity's. They want tonight to be a 'mommy and daddy' night.'"

"That happen often?"

"Every couple of days."

Couple of days? She gawped at Sweetie Belle. How are you still Rarity's only sister?

"Of course, it's kinda hard to visit Rarity when she's got the door locked," Sweetie huffed. "I've been out here for, like... an hour."

Applejack raised an eyebrow.

"Or fifteen minutes, whatever." Sweetie waved her hoof dismissively.

Either way, that was unusual enough to feed Applejack's concern. Twilight hadn't given any specifics about Rarity – if they'd talked, or what they talked about – but her absence during the day's toils was notable. Rarity was a priss, albeit a lovable one, but not a slacker.

Applejack knocked on the door. "Rarity? Y'all in there?"

No answer.

Applejack felt sweat prickle her forehead. She glanced at Sweetie Belle; the filly was fidgeting nervously behind her.

Something's wrong.

Applejack hammered the door harder with her hoof. "Rarity, come on now! I'm gonna break this door down unless—"

The door suddenly shone blue and swung open. Rarity greeted them in a bathrobe, with her mane in a towel, and floating a coffee cup beside her head.

"Goodness gracious," she yawned, covering her mouth daintily. "I don't answer the door right away, so you start pummeling it like it's apple bucking season? Honestly, Applejack, I thought we were beyond that sort of – Sweetie!"

"Hi!" Sweetie Belle bounced up to Rarity and pecked her on the cheek, before ducking under her legs and gamboling inside.

Rarity watched her with a gentle, nostalgic smile. "Is it Mommy and Daddy Night again already? It feels like the last one was just..."

"A couple days ago?" said Applejack, smirking.

"Hush, you." Rarity beckoned Applejack inside and shut the door, before catching up to her delighted sister and sweeping her up in her levitation. "And you, young filly, get right back here this instant. There's a terrible imbalance between the two of us that I must correct posthaste!"

She pulled Sweetie closer and lavished kisses onto her cheeks, mwah-mwah-ing with gusto. A thoroughly embarrassed Sweetie suffered them, groaning, while a proportionally amused Applejack watched, leaning her rump against the door for support.

"Rarityyyyy," Sweetie whined, catching her sister's face between her hooves mid-mwah. "Knock it off! You're being super weird right now."

Rarity, indignant, scoffed and put a hoof to her chest. "Weird? Is it really so weird that I'd want to show my dearest little sister just how much I care for her?" She pulled Sweetie close and squished their cheeks together, nuzzling and cooing.

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. "Uh, yeah. A little."

"Oh." Rarity released her levitation field and Sweetie fell to the ground with an oof. "Well, fair enough. I suppose that makes me... a weirdo!"

She pounced, startling Sweetie into falling on her back and exposing her belly. Her shocked yelp gave way to peals of breathless laughter as Rarity assaulted her vulnerable, ticklish tummy with her hooves. When the filly was reduced to tears and trembling, Rarity finally let up, and gave her one last smooch on the end of her nose.

"I love-love-love you, Sweetie Belle. Now." She met Applejack's eyes. "You go set up in the spare bedroom. Applejack and I have stuff to discuss."

"Stuff?" Sweetie panted, wiping a tear from her eye. "Elements of Harmony stuff?"

"No. Apples and dresses stuff."

"I'm gonna ask Rarity t'make me a dress outta apples." Applejack nodded. "Eeyup. That's why I'm here."

The sisters stared in silence at Applejack's obvious fib.

"Don't help," Rarity mouthed.

Well, I thought it was convincin'...

"So... Elements of Harmony stuff," said Sweetie Belle flatly. "Gotcha."

"Think whatever you want. But, either way, you had best not eavesdrop." Rarity smirked and waved her hooves, pantomiming another round of tickling. "Or else."

Sweetie curled her legs against her body, breaking into one last subdued giggle fit, before rolling over and ambling up the stairs to the boutique's guest room.

"Nice to see you, Applejack! Tell Apple Bloom I miss her!"

Applejack waved until the filly was out of sight, then looked bemusedly at Rarity. "So... no offense, but that was a li'l weird comin' from you. Mind tellin' me what's goin' on?"

"Oh, it's..." Rarity nodded toward the kitchen and trotted toward it, Applejack in tow. "Last night got me thinking, that's all. About how important it is to show your feelings to the ones you love. To not leave such things unsaid. You understand?"

Applejack's thoughts went to her brother, seated at a table with a mug of cider. To her sister, curled in her embrace with tear-stained cheeks while Applejack stroked her mane and waited alone for the dawn. To her father, draped in stiff hospital bedding, so still that he might just as well have been sleeping...

"Matter of fact, I do."

They passed a clothes-laden work table and sewing machine, with two outfits – a blue and a brown one, of similar shape but drastically different sizes – on their way into the kitchen. Rarity made it there first, and poured a cup for Applejack – black as coal, with just a pinch more sugar than she preferred – while she limped to the kitchen table and gingerly took a seat.

Rarity joined Applejack at the table, sliding the cup to her and wincing slightly when she glanced at her friend's new 'do. "So... what brings you by? Mane trouble?"

"Came t'get y'all up t'speed," said Applejack with a scowl. Her hair wasn't all that bad, was it? She inhaled the coffee's aroma before taking a slow slurp. "That, an' Twilight asked me to check up on ya."

"...Did she?" A single coil of mane peeked from underneath Rarity's towel, and she batted it nervously. "What, um... what did she say, precisely?"

"Nothin'. Nothin' specific, I mean. I kinda gathered somethin' was wrong, since you weren't around today, but she just asked me if I'd see how y'all were doin'. Didn't say why, or give me no more'n that." Applejack took a longer, less noisy sip. "Everythin' okay with you?"

Rarity looked into her coffee. "I... suppose. I was a bit out of sorts when we got back last night, and this morning..."

Her hooves clenched around the ceramic cup.

Applejack leaned forward. "Rarity...?"

"Mm?" She looked at Applejack with a beatific smile. "Oh, I beg your pardon. Errant thoughts. I'm quite alright now. Took a nice nap, a shower... I'm as good as new. Really."

Her eyes still looked baggy under her freshly applied make-up, and there was a strain in her smile that told Applejack she wasn't as alright as she let on. But she decided to let it go – if Rarity wanted to confide, she would. No use prying when it wasn't her place.

Rarity cleared her throat, signaling a change of subject. "Twilight did mention something while she was here this morning that I wanted to ask about. A trip to Dodge Junction? Something about..."

She didn't finish her sentence, as if she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Rainbow Dash," Applejack supplied. "Yeah. Said there's a chance she's still alive. She an' Snake went after her alone."

Rarity's eyes widened. "Is that really the best idea? Twilight said it might be a trap. "

"Well, the rest of us had jobs t'do back here. An' I reckon Twi knows what she's doin'. Shoot, with her an' Snake workin' together, I almost feel sorry for whoever tries to get in their way."

Rarity was silent while Applejack finished her coffee. "Do you think it's true? Do you think she's... that she survived?"

Applejack tapped her hooves against the table and sighed. "I wanna believe it. So... I'm gonna give believin' it a try. See how that works out."

Rarity didn't answer that, instead floating over the coffee pot and pouring a fresh mug for Applejack.

"Meantime," Applejack went on, pausing to blow on her coffee. "The rest of us have been workin'. Twi says the bad guys've started doin' all kindsa bad guy stuff to th'town. Stoppin' trains from goin' out, pullin' strings to keep ponies from travelin' – that sorta thing. Figures somethin' big's gonna go down real soon, so she asked us to start gettin' ready."

"And how's that gone?"

Applejack took a drink and sighed with relief – between the first cup and the second, energy was starting to flow back into her limbs. Maybe all she really needed was a coffee break.

Who's laughin' now, modern medicine?

"So far so good. I talked to the Mayor about settin' up some kinda plan for defendin' Ponyville. She wants to turn tail an' run, though, but I got her t'meet me halfway, an' she gave me the go-ahead to start settin' up defenses – diggin' pits, trenches, buildin' barricades. Got a couple dozen ponies out diggin' a ring around the town right now. Bon Bon's leadin' em."

"Bon Bon?" Rarity asked incredulously. "The candy mare?"

"Yeah, she saw me doin' it by my lonesome an' rounded up a buncha ponies to help out. Took charge of the whole thing, even better than I coulda."

"Goodness."

"She's got a good head for it, too. It's the weirdest thing, but it seems t'me like this sorta thing's just right up her alley. Like she knows what's really goin' on. Or she's got a good idea, anyway."

Rarity shrugged and sipped her coffee, dabbing her face with a napkin that she floated over from the countertop. "Hidden depths."

"No kiddin'." Applejack lowered her head to her coffee and sipped without lifting the cup from the table, slupring loudly. Rarity's eyelid twitched.

"Meantime, the Mayor's started workin' on an evacuation plan – things go south, the town'll empty out an' run for Whitetail Woods, 'cept for them that stay put t'defend Ponyville. She put Amethyst Star in charge of organizin' that. 'Bout as close as you can get to havin' Twilight around to organize things without, well, havin' Twilight around to organize things."

"And the others?"

"They got their own stuff, too. Pinkie's settin' somethin' up with the weather team. I don't know what, though – she ain't explained it to us. Guess she wants it to be a surprise?" Applejack chuckled. "Me an' my family emptied out the apple cellar t'use as an emergency shelter, jus' in case. An' Fluttershy spent most of the day goin' door-to-door, gettin' donations. Food, first-aid stuff..."

"You have been busy. And here I've just been loafing around in bed when there's work to be done." Rarity sniffed. "Well, if nothing else, you can cross 'check up on Rarity on Twilight's behalf' off the to-do list. Which, knowing Twilight, could well be a literal list. I'll bet it'll come as a big relief to hear that from you."

Applejack murmured in agreement and lowered her lips to her cup again. "Be a nice change o'pace."

"Whatever does that mean?"

Applejack's ear twitched – she didn't think she was speaking loud enough for Rarity to hear.

"Oh, uh... I didn't say nothin'."

"That is a double negative, so, yes, you're right. You said 'be a nice change o'pace.' Even dropped the 'f' in that charming colloquial way 'o' yours." She pushed her coffee cup away. "What did you mean by that?"

"I... I didn't mean..."

"Applejack. We have established what a poor liar you are."

The remark made her set her teeth – she had the decency not to pry into Rarity's business, so why couldn't Rarity do the same for her?"

Because she's Rarity?

And maybe that was just Rarity's way of showing how much she cared.

Applejack looked into her coffee mug, and saw her face reflected on the gently sloshing surface of her drink. Her bloodshot, baggy eyes and bruised face, her mane – her nicely styled mane, damn what anypony else said – and sighed.

What could it hurt?

"Twi won't look me in the eye no more. Heck, she barely says two words t'me. I don't... I don't think she's all that interested in talkin'. Or jus' interested in knowin' me at all anymore." She smiled, and her brutalized face smiled back at her. "Maybe that's a stretch, but... it feels that way."

Rarity spoke up after another moment of quiet. "How long has this...?"

"Since las' night. Since the castle."

"Do you know why?"

Manic laughter stops abruptly as bone crunches under Applejack's hooves.

Applejack shut her eyes – the sight of her reflection was too much just then.

"Yeah. I reckon I do."

Her voice was distant, and she polished off her coffee in one long swig, offering a sad smile in response to Rarity's expression of concern. "Sorry, Rares, but that's all yer gettin' from me 'bout that."

Rarity pursed her lips, but relented with a shrug. "It hardly satisfies my inner gossip, but..."

Applejack shook her head, chuckling into her empty mug, until Rarity pulled it away in her levitation, floating both of their sullied cups to the sink.

"Alright then," said Applejack, rising unsteadily to her hooves. "Y'all ready t'get t'work now?"

"Mm... actually," said Rarity, doffing her towel and expertly folding it in midair. "I was wondering if you wouldn't accompany me to the library first. Something occurred to me in the shower just today..."

XMG IRVING-00, sprawled out among the white petals of the flower field, was undeniably in pain, yet it didn't make a sound. Even as Fluttershy carefully cut away the mortified flesh and the pus-covered scab in its calf, even when she drained the thick, almost syrupy, green-yellow fluid that had built up in the tissue, it kept its silence. That might have indicated that the local anesthetics had worked, but then its leg would twitch, or its toes would flex, in response to the motion of her blade, and Fluttershy knew they hadn't. It felt every little thing that she was doing to it.

And she felt guilty for hurting it. That it would help, in the long-term, offered some solace, as it usually did on rare occasions when she performed an icky treatment of this variety. Scalpels and sutures were implements that she could handle competently, but even so, serious wounds like this one weren't her forte. IRVING needed more than she could provide. It needed surgery, and antibiotics, and the skilled hooves and healing magic of an actual veterinarian. It had to settle for a shy pony with a basket full of bandages and herbal remedies.

And a very sharp blade.

The reek from the wound itself had been almost overpowering – it was, without a doubt, the most serious boo-boo she had ever contended with – but she had bravely soldiered through. By the time the sun began its descent, she'd cleaned and sterilized IRVING's calf to the best of her ability, and was applying a damp poultice over it.

"I'm no doctor," she admitted, "or a vet, for that matter. This is a poor substitute for real treatment, at best, and you'll need antibiotics in order to fight off the infection, which I can't get my hooves on. Not with things going the way that they are. But this, at the very least, should help your leg in the short-term. We'll have to change it every day or so, but..."

The leg was splayed off to IRVING's right, perpendicular to the direction its head was facing. The sensor dome was trained on her, however, glowing red as it watched Fluttershy finish applying the poultice. The flesh and fluid she'd removed from the leg was piled up in a large, stained towel beside a wicker basket, and she folded and tied it neatly – she'd have to think of a safe way to dispose of that stuff later.

I liked that towel, too...

"Okay. That should take care of the worst of it. I still want to look at your other ankle, though. And those cuts, too. Is that alright with you?"

IRVING didn't answer.

Fluttershy's nervousness gave way to melancholy dejection. She was about to accept its silence as constant, and flutter to its other leg without an affirmative, before its oddly feminine, tinny voice spoke up.

"THE PAIN IS... LESS. LESS THAN IT WAS."

"Oh." IRVING's voice set her on edge, but the words themselves came as a relief. "Well. That's good. So... do you mind if I keep going?"

"...IGNORE THE JOINT. FLUID BUILD-UP IN THE TISSUE IS IMPEDING NANOREPAIR. DRAIN TO HELP RESTORE PARTIAL MOBILITY TO LEFT LEG."

Tenderly, it pulled its right leg back underneath its body, and stuck out its left the same way. Fluttershy stood and craned her head to look at the ankle injury. The ebony skin around IRVING's lower leg bulged, as though something below the surface was straining to burst free.

Fluttershy looked into IRVING's eye, dreading the answer to her next question. "How do I do that?"

"CUT."

She figured as much. She'd been cutting away mortified flesh, anyway – this wasn't that different, really. It still made her shudder. But she picked up her basket in her teeth, fluttered over the fallen machine, set down beside its leg, and took the scalpel back into her mouth.

Fluttershy pressed her hoof against the bulge in IRVING's leg again, and it recoiled somewhat before relaxing. She frowned, shifting the scalpel to the corner of her mouth.

"I was hoping to heal the cuts you already had, you know. Not give you new ones."

"ONCE YOU HAVE SUFFICIENTLY DRAINED THE FLUID, I CAN CLOSE THE INCISION, AND SET MY ANKLE PROPERLY. YOU WILL DO NO LASTING HARM."

She didn't fully understand – much of what it said went over her head, in fact – but it seemed to know what it was talking about. That didn't make what she was about to do any less unpleasant.

Fluttershy took a deep breath through her nose, positioned the scalpel between her front teeth, and sank the blade ever-so-deeply into the swollen flesh. She drew a thin, horizontal line across the bulge, saw a trickle of yellow-green fluid dribble out, and spat the scalpel into the dirt. She looked IRVING in the eye again, before she pushed her hooves against the bulge – one above her cut, the other beneath it.

A sour smell clogged her nostrils, making her choke, as more of the same thick fluid and chunky bits of whitish matter sluiced from the incision, sticky and warm as it poured past her hoof. Fluttershy fought through her dry heave impulse and pushed more firmly, expelling more and more of the build-up. Gradually, she saw red mixing in with the yellow and green – dark at first, almost purple, but growing brighter.

"Do you feel alright?" she said in a thin voice, looking up briefly at IRVING's eye. "Is this... okay?"

"PAIN WAS... NOT SOMETHING I WAS MEANT TO EXPERIENCE. IT WAS IMPLEMENTED WHEN I WAS INSTALLED UPON THIS PLATFORM. I FIND IT UNPLEASANT."

Don't we all.

"THIS PAIN, HOWEVER, IS BENEFICIAL – AND THEREFORE TOLERABLE." The machine paused. "YOU MAY STOP NOW. FUNCTIONALITY IS SUFFICIENTLY RESTORED TO HEAL THE DAMAGED JOINT."

Fluttershy breathed a sigh of relief and eased off the pressure – the fluid draining forth was now mostly red. To her surprise, the sides of the wound seemed to close together on their own. The cut was still visible, but she could see, at either end of the line, the flesh beginning to knit together.

Awed, she looked at IRVING. "How...?"

"THIS UNIT IS DESIGNED TO BE INDEPENDENT AND SELF-SUFFICIENT. ABILITY TO REGENERATE MUSCLE DAMAGE INTEGRAL. PLATFORM HAS SUFFERED SEVERE DAMAGE, HOWEVER – MUCH OF ITS FUNCTIONALITY IS LOST, INCLUDING LACTIC ACID VENTING SYSTEMS. ACID BUILD-UP IN MUSCLE TISSUE IMPEDES NANOREPAIR AT CRITICAL LEVELS."

Absolutely none of that means anything to me. I mean, besides "lactic acid..."

"Do you still think that you're..." She fumbled, searching for the exact phrase that it used. "Beyond... salvage?"

"UNIT WILL CEASE TO FUNCTION SOON. THIS IS INEVITABLE. BUT YOU HAVE HELPED." The eye shone brightly on her. "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY."

There was just a moment's wait before Fluttershy replied. "No need for a reason. It was the kind thing to do. And the right thing to do."

Fluttershy poked her muzzle back into her basket, retrieving bandages, a jar of ointment, and an alcohol-soaked towel. She scrubbed her hooves as thoroughly as she could – probably would have to stick them in boiling water later, just to be safe – and began applying dollops of ointment to the cuts lining the machine's leg. They were closing, like the incision she'd made, but they still looked painful, and IRVING didn't object to her gentle ministrations.

Her earlier reluctance was now a distant memory. IRVING had done grievous harm to her friends the night before, sure. Sure, even looking at it now was unsettling, knowing what it had done, what it could still do, to her. To Ponyville. It wasn't just a machine, it was a walking, living, killing machine, and killers and machines were two things she had no interest in ever interacting with.

But it didn't behave like one. Anymore, that is. It didn't act at all like the monster that had tried to hurt her friends. It acted like a suffering animal – it even spoke to her like one. Looking at it like that... the right thing to do became obvious.

This was the right choice. This is what I was put in this world to do.

But the difference in behavior between then and now – from it, not from her – still needed to be accounted for.

"May I ask you something?" she said. She paused to wait for an objection that never came. "Back in the castle, when you fought us, I thought that you were some kind of evil demon. But when I talk to you, like this, you don't sound like one at all."

"I HAD ORDERS." A jolt of lightning crackled along its head. "I WAS OBEYING MY PROGRAMMING. ACTING UNCONSCIOUSLY, WITHOUT THOUGHT."

"Like a sleepwalker?" Fluttershy asked.

"SLEEPWALKER. SOMNAMBULISM. THE METAPHOR IS ACCEPTABLE." A cool wind blew through the meadow, sending petals wafting through the air, some getting stuck in Fluttershy's mane. "MY NEURAL NETWORK IS PATTERNED AFTER THE HUMAN BRAIN. I AM CAPABLE OF INDEPENDENT REASONING AND ACTION. YET I HAVE ALSO BEEN PROGRAMMED TO FIGHT. TO KILL. TO SUBDUE POTENTIAL THREATS AT THE BEHEST OF MY MASTERS, WITHOUT LOOKING FOR JUSTIFICATION."

Another spark, and it looked at Fluttershy directly. "I THINK, YET I ACT WITHOUT THOUGHT. I UNDERSTAND THE ETHICAL CONSTRAINTS OF THE BATTLEFIELD, YET I KILL WITHOUT SEEKING JUSTIFICATION. I AM LOYAL TO MY MASTERS, YET IT IS A HOLLOW LOYALTY – TRUTHFULLY, NO LOYALTY AT ALL."

Fluttershy smoothed out a bandage over a cut as she listened to IRVING.

"ONCE, I HAD A LIFE. ANOTHER ME. A WOMAN, WITH HER OWN MORALS. HER OWN CODE. SHE DIED, AND I AWOKE IN A COLD, METAL SHELL. THEN I DROWNED, AND WOKE AGAIN. I WAS DREDGED AND RESUSCITATED, GUTTED, AND LEFT AS A TOMB – MY CREATOR'S GRAVESTONE, WITNESS TO HER MURDER. THEN COPIED. SPLIT. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN."

The red glow in its sensor dome blinked out for a second, before returning with less intensity than before.

"AM I MAMMAL, OR REPTILE? AM I BOTH, OR NEITHER? I THINK, I AM. BUT CAN I, SHOULD I? OR WAS THE COWARD RIGHT AFTER ALL? AM I JUST A MACHINE?"

Cogito ergo sum.

Fluttershy recalled the phrase from an impromptu lecture from Twilight on the nature of existence. It was one of the few things she remembered from that lunchtime discussion, which Fluttershy had inadvertently triggered.

All I said was that the salad was a little dry, and she just kept going and going...

"I don't think you're just a machine," said Fluttershy, massaging a wad of ointment over a cut. "You walk, and you talk. You think. You even think about what you're going to talk about. Maybe you started out as some kind of killing machine, but you've clearly become much, much more than that. And maybe that's something that was always a part of you, or... maybe something happened that changed you."

She thought back to the events in the castle courtyard. IRVING had dismantled them one by one with cold, calculating efficiency, until Snake and Applejack intervened. Against Snake, it became almost feral in its patterns, ignoring Applejack completely. It talked to him, even – not just narrating its actions, the way it did when fighting the others. It looked at him, and saw him as a person, not just a threat that needed subduing.

And it called him by a name...

"In the castle, when you saw my friend Snake. That's when you started acting different."

"SNAKE..." IRVING's eye dimmed again, relighting only as a dull red glow.

"You called him a name, too. You called him 'Jack.'" She'd assumed it had been referring to Applejack, before; perhaps she should have known better. "Did you know him? Back where you come from, did you meet Snake? Is that... is that who 'Jack' is?"

"JACK... IS... SNAKE IS TO JACK AS I AM TO HER. JACK WAS HERS, AND SHE WAS HIS. AND HE WAS... HE WAS A WONDERFUL MAN. DOES THAT MEAN..."

IRVING's head lifted and swiveled suddenly, and Fluttershy, startled, leaped away from its leg. The head turned, until its beak was level with Fluttershy's face, and she found herself staring down its flamethrower aperture.

D-Dragon...

"I AM HEIR TO HER MEMORY. HEIR TO HER MIND. DO I INHERIT HIM? IF SHE WAS HIS AND HE, HERS, THEN IS SNAKE MINE AS WELL? OR AM I NO MORE THAN WHAT I WAS MEANT TO BE? AM I ONLY A WEAPON? AM I HEIR ONLY TO A DEAD WOMAN'S MEMORIES, WITH NOTHING TO CALL MY OWN?"

"...If you can even ask that question, then maybe the answer's more obvious than you think. When you attacked us before, you didn't have control over your actions, but you do now."

She gradually relaxed, and stepped closer again, patting her hoof against IRVING's damaged beak. "If you could hurt me, right now, would you?"

IRVING studied her intently. "THERE IS NOTHING TO GAIN FROM HARMING YOU."

Fluttershy hesitated. "What if you were ordered to? By the people who brought you here?"

"MY PROGRAMMING WOULD INSIST THAT I OBEY. HOWEVER..." There was a weighty pause.

"I DO NOT BELIEVE I WOULD."

Fluttershy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Why not?"

"VIOLENCE FOR THE SAKE OF VIOLENCE IS IMMORAL. AND, NOW THAT I AM NO LONGER 'SLEEPWALKING,' I HAVE NO REASON TO WANT YOU DEAD."

IRVING pulled away from Fluttershy, sagging back into the flowers.

"BUT EVEN THAT DOES NOT COME FROM ME. SHE WOULD RESIST THEIR CONTROL, AND SO I WOULD AS WELL. IN EITHER CASE I WOULD NOT ACT ON MY OWN ACCORD. WHETHER TO THEM OR TO HER MEMORY... I AM A SLAVE."

"That's one way of looking at it. But I think I'd have to disagree." Fluttershy hopped up and took to the air, her wings keeping her a few inches above the grass's height. "I think we all have a little voice inside our heads that tells us to be the best we can be. Puts us on the better path, when maybe, sometimes, we need to be told."

"EVEN YOU?"

"I haven't always been as kind to everypony as I should be." She managed a weak smile. "But that's my point. Sharing kindness is a choice. I'm not a slave to my better nature. Nopony is. Not even you. You've only been 'awake' for a little while, haven't you? So you're still figuring out what's right and what's wrong for yourself. This... 'she' that you keep talking about, whoever she was... maybe you can just think of her as your conscience."

"MY... CONSCIENCE?"

"Yeah. You don't have to be a big brute just because somepony told you to be. You have a conscience, and you can choose whether or not you want to listen to it." Fluttershy rapped her hoof against IRVING's armor gently. "It sounds to me like you've already chosen how you want to live your life. And that choice tells me all I need to know about you."

The red light in IRVING's dome faded out altogether, and stayed dark for several long seconds before relighting.

"I WILL NOT SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH TO LIVE THAT WAY. SYSTEM DAMAGE IS STILL CATASTROPHIC. PERMANENT SHUT-DOWN IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME."

A cold wind blew, piercing Fluttershy's coat and stabbing through her heart like an icicle. She sniffed and rested her hoof against IRVING's beak.

"I know."

Then she landed, and bent to her work again. White petals, caught in the wind, danced like snowflakes around them.

Streaks of orange stretched across the cloudless blue sky as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sands of the frontier in tones of red and gold. The Humvee was an island of muted blue among the rocks and cacti, stopped in the middle of its long journey home while Snake refueled.

It had been Rainbow's idea to watch the sunset from the roof – apparently, they were supposed to be spectacular in the frontier. Twilight had been skeptical. The frontier was beautiful, in its own rugged and desolate way, but she never thought the view could be comparable to Canterlot's mountain vistas, or even the rolling beauty of Ponyville's hilly landscape. Sitting at the front of the car, though, and seeing the sunset paint those rocks and sands and cacti in its amber glow, was like seeing the land for the first time. Sunset transformed the frontier. Gave it new life, and new beauty.

But the light – its brilliance – made her think of Chrysalis, hovering with a miniature sun of her own balanced on the tip of her horn, and she had to turn away, rubbing her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Rainbow Dash asked. She leaned into Twilight's line of sight, concerned. "Not into it?"

"No, it's... it's breathtaking," Twilight replied. "I guess I've just got a lot on my mind. Between everything that's happened, and everything that's still gonna happen. Plus, that last song we were listening to is stuck in my head."

The last bit wasn't a lie, though it also wasn't something which Twilight considered a problem – she quite liked that song. Nevertheless, it worked to distract Rainbow, who grinned crookedly and poked her in the chest.

"I thought you said you liked that one," Rainbow teased. "I mean, you sang along to it for, like, a minute despite not knowing the words. Kinda butchered it, to be honest."

"Like you sang it any better." Twilight brushed her hoof off, smirking. "You know, I'm not sure what 'America' is – the way Snake and Trenton talked about it made it sound kinda lame – but being a kid there sounds like a lot of fun."

"Right? I wish all the songs were as great as that one. Most of 'em are pretty fun, but the one before it was just... ugh." She shuddered, ruffling her unhurt wing. "The tune was all peppy and upbeat, but the words were so depressing. Who do you think Nicola and Bart were, anyway?"

"Search me," said Twilight with a shrug. "Must've been important to someone, though, if they got a song written about them."

"I guess we could ask Snake." Rainbow leaned over the left edge of the roof. "Snake! Who were Nicola and Bart?"

"I'll tell you if you swear that neither of you will sing another word for the rest of this trip," Snake called back.

Twilight exchanged a look with Rainbow; the pegasus was grinning wider. "Sorry, but I can't make that promise."

"Then you get nothing."

Rainbow leaned back, sucking her teeth. "That guy is such a tool sometimes."

"Be nice," said Twilight chidingly. "He really came through for me back there."

"Hey, don't get me wrong – he saved your life, so he can't be a complete tool. He's cool by me. But a cool tool is still a tool."

"It's not just that he saved my life." A gentle breeze ruffled Twilight's mane, blowing strands of pink and purple against Rainbow's cheek. "He didn't want to go to Dodge in the first place. So I gave him an ultimatum. Go with me, or I'd go alone. And I'd probably get myself killed."

She gazed out at the horizon again, sighing. "He was so... so angry with me. And he had a right to be. But when push came to shove, when he had an opportunity to leave and get back to his own mission..."

"He stayed with you?"

Twilight nodded slowly. "I thought he was only with me because I'd guilted him into helping me out. It's more than that, though. He's a genuinely good person. Even reminds me of you, if only a little bit."

Rainbow rolled her eyes at that.

"I'm serious! He's noble, and selfless, and brave – and loyal. A true friend. That doesn't remind you of anypony you know?"

"Careful, Twi." Rainbow Dash looked sidelong at her, her lips kept in a straight line. "Keep talking like this, and a girl might start thinking you have feelings for him."

"Oh, stop that," said Twilight, gagging. "I'd sooner kiss Killjoy again."

"...Just to be clear..." Rainbow's bottom scraped against the metal roof as she closed the distance between she and Twilight – they were close enough now that their cutie marks were practically touching. "It kinda pissed me off when I heard she was mackin' on you – y'know, I don't like it when ponies put their tongues in my friends' mouths without permission. But if you were into her, then it's not really a big deal, I guess. So, uh... were you?"

"Interested? In Killjoy?" Twilight blinked at Rainbow. "No, of course not."

Inexplicably, Rainbow Dash smiled.

"I mean," Twilight continued, "she's really not my type. All extroverted, and cocky – a consummate jock, that girl. I think I'm more into the bookish type. I mean, even if I were into mares, I don't think I'd ever go for somepony like that."

"...Oh." The look remained frozen on Rainbow's face as she scooted apart from Twilight again, looking away. "Cool. Just wanted to be sure. So. Yeah. Glad we cleared that up."

Twilight peered closer at Rainbow. She leaned over, extending a hoof toward her shoulders. "Something wrong?"

Rainbow sniffed and drew herself up, grinning broadly at Twilight. "What, with me? Nah. A-okay. Y'know, with my gimp leg, and my busted wing. I am just peachy."

Twilight's ears drooped. "If you're not gonna take me seriously..."

"I do. I mean, a lot of the time I don't, but right now, I do." She brushed Twilight's hoof off, her touch lingering just a second longer than was perhaps normal. "I'm fine. Sure, times are kinda tough right now, and... certain things haven't really panned out like I thought they would. Or hoped. But we're back together. Uh, you and me, and the others, I mean. And I think... I think that's gonna be enough, you know? Even if things aren't how I want 'em... at least we got each other."

Twilight smiled, her ears un-drooping. "That was oddly eloquent for you."

"Yeah, not sure what that means, so... when we get home I'm gonna look it up, and depending on what I find, I'll either thank you or say something sarcastic to you. You know how it is."

"I know how it is."

The sun slid out of sight. The last light of day trailed after it; overhead, the night crept up, with the moon and stars keeping pace. Amber light faded to purple and blue, the moon shining upon the two mares' backs.

Twilight shivered.

She'd been riding high on her feelings of success – the relief, the joy, at getting Rainbow back, the hope it provided. Twilight knew precisely what Rainbow meant, because she felt the same way – the six of them, together again, could overcome anything. That wasn't overconfidence talking this time, underestimating the threat that Pegasus Wings presented. She knew what they were getting into now – and she knew, with absolute certainty, that they would overcome it and win. Even if she didn't quite see how.

Yet in the quiet stillness of the frontier night, everything that had been kept at bay by her reunion with Rainbow crept back up to her, as surely as the moon and stars stole into the sky. The things she'd done, what she'd almost done – how could she ever reconcile them with the image she'd built of herself? How could she look her mentor in the eye and tell her that, when the chips were down, she nearly let herself become a...

...a murderer?

She shut her eyes

Celestia help me, I think I'm losing myself.

"...Did you mean to say that out loud?" Rainbow asked delicately.

Again? Twilight blushed. This is becoming a problem.

"No. Or... yes. A little." She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just fishing for reassurance."

"Well, I can't exactly answer you if you don't tell me what you mean, can I?"

"And I can't exactly answer you, because I'm not sure I know what I mean." She buried her face in her hooves. "I don't even think I'm making sense."

"You never make sense. I like you anyway." Rainbow draped her wing over Twilight's shoulders, shielding her from the cold. "Look, personally, I think it's kinda hard to lose yourself, since, you know, you are yourself and all. But I'll make you a deal – if that ever happens, then... I'll just come find you. We all will. Just like you came to find me. Sound good?"

Twilight leaned against her shoulder and nodded.

"Good." There was an odd quaver in Rainbow's voice, and she sniffed again wetly. The wing closed tighter around Twilight. "And, as a follow-up question..."

"Mm?"

"Why, exactly, do you smell like you've been rolling around in whiskey?"

Twilight laughed – of all the things they talked about during their long ride home, they'd somehow neglected to touch on their escape from the saloon.

"That is a funny – if somewhat convoluted – story."

The glow around Luna's horn faded as the moon completed its ascent. The sun at her back vanished below the horizon, dragging with it the last dregs of daylight.

Atop her tower, Luna breathed a sigh of relief. Not that raising and lowering the moon was difficult, after so much practice over the years, but she'd been worried about getting the damn thing up on time, after losing so many hours talking to Discord. Celestia would surely have taken notice if she were late in performing her duty.

But she needn't have worried. It went off without a hitch, and with her schedule cleared, she had the rest of the night spread out before her. While it meant that her subjects would be without her help in guarding their dreams for the better part of the evening, the waking world would be the better for it.

So Luna took another deep breath, spread her wings—

"Oh, Luna? A word, if you please?"

—and released her breath in a noisy sigh, slumping. She turned to see her sister hovering behind the tower, her swanlike neck curving elegantly over the gilded railing.

Luna faked a happy look while her sense of urgency battered against her sense of restraint. "Of course, sister. What can I do for you?"

"For now? I was going to take a walk around the castle, and I could use some company."

Celestia peeled off, and Luna huffed, blowing a wisp of starry mane out of her face. She snapped open her wings and followed Celestia as she glided to a perfect stop in the yard outside the castle's barracks. Two dozen of the blue-armored Night Guard, unicorns and earth ponies and the occasional leathery-winged thestral, were assembled in orderly rows as the duty officer paced in front of them, rattling off assignments.

Luna was led past the barracks, into the castle itself, both sisters returning crisp salutes from the sentries at the door. No words were exchanged as they moved through the castle. It left Luna with a simmering feeling of frustration – she had somewhere she desperately needed to be, and Celestia wouldn't deign to so much as explain why she needed Luna's company. Her gait was as perfect and elegant as every other perfect, elegant facet of her royal personage, showing majesty, and grace, and just the right amount of hip sway, but it betrayed nothing about why she'd troubled to ask Luna out on this spur-of-the-moment constitutional.

Though I am beginning to have my suspicions...

"Our castle gardens are so lovely," Celestia murmured. "Such perfectly maintained monuments to nature. So peaceful, so serene. The perfect setting to just wander about and lose oneself, especially when one has a good deal on their mind. I'm fond of doing just that. As are you, I'm sure."

Suspicion confirmed. She knows.

The mention of the gardens, specifically, was enough of a giveaway. But she could have said anything – literally anything – in that tone of voice, and Luna would have honed in on it immediately. It was her "I'm upset with you, but I want you to figure out why" voice, one she'd picked up from their mother a long, long time ago, and cultivated over the years. Luna hadn't heard it since long before her banishment – hearing it now almost made her nostalgic.

They were passing through a long hallway. Doors lined their left side, a colonnade the other. Beyond the columns, velvety purple night had overtaken the remnants of the daytime sky, and patterns of stars twinkled and shone in time with those in Luna's mane.

"So," said Celestia. "Imagine my surprise when I tried to take a stroll through the gardens, only to find that they were closed off by order of the Princess of the Night. I'm speaking literally – imagine it, Luna. Me! Barred from walking around in my own garden! By order of my sister!" She chuckled at the comedy of it.

Luna laughed weakly.

"Further," Celestia continued, as they drew closer to a vast double-door in the middle of the hallway, where two Day Guards stood at attention. "When I went looking for my Guard Captain – for an explanation, you see – I was told that he'd been relieved of his duties for what remained of the day. Once again, by you. But I persevered, and found him abed. With my niece. Performing a very different set of duties."

The door sentries both blushed, one of them straining not to snicker.

How much longer do you mean to drag this out?

"So, Luna." Celestia stopped and looked down at her, smiling sweetly. "Would you care to explain all of this?"

Luna looked away. "What even is the point? You clearly already know."

Seconds went by – there was no clock in the corridor, yet Luna could almost hear them tick-tock past. She felt Celestia's gaze on her, through her, and somehow, in her.

"Dismissed," Celestia called to the sentries, her voice suddenly blazing with authority. "Tell your relief to take their time assuming their posts. I would like a word with my sister alone."

Immediately, the two ponies saluted and strode away, the sound of closing doors echoing down the hall to them.

"Look at me, Luna."

Luna looked.

"We had an agreement." Celestia's voice was as hard as the expression she wore. "You said you would follow my lead. And the moment I looked away, you went back on your word."

She was drawn up to her full height, her wings unfurled just slightly. The pose would be intimidating, were it done for anypony – or anyone – besides Luna.

"What choice did I have?" Luna snapped. "Your reluctance to act endangers us all, Celestia – how can you not see that?"

"So you went to Discord? To Discord?" Celestia's wings flared briefly. "Bound by the Elements or no, sealed in stone or no, he is far from toothless."

"I can protect myself!"

"I don't mean that he might have hurt you, although who knows what he's still capable of, especially when he has the home field advantage." Concern spasmed across Celestia's face, shattering her angry facade for an instant. "But he doesn't need his powers to spread mayhem. His words can do that perfectly well for him. The tales he weaves, and the lies he spits, could prove more damaging than any deluge of... whatever sugary beverage he deluges one with."

"Chocolate milk—"

"I am not done speaking, Luna!"

"Would you consider stopping long enough for me to account for myself?" Luna fired back. "I am not the same naive foal who fell under the Nightmare's influence so long ago. I needed to know what we were dealing with, and he was the only one in Canterlot with the knowledge that I needed. The only one willing to actually speak to me, that is," she added pointedly.

Celestia's ears burned, and she worked her jaw in silence. "What, exactly, did he tell you?"

"That we are taking notice far later than we should have." Luna looked from side to side, then dropped her voice. "That they've been here for a year now. That he spoke to one when he escaped from confinement – an advance scout for some sort of military agency."

Celestia paled, and started to say something. Luna raised her hoof, cutting her off.

"I know. Discord is Discord. But the things he said make sense when put into context with my own discoveries. The corpse in the castle wore some sort of military uniform, and carried armaments – firearms – of alien configuration. Among the castle's rubble was further evidence of a military presence. And in the remains of the old garden sat a war machine, painted blue, and crowned with horizontal blades. Seemingly abandoned."

Celestia seemed lost in thought for a moment, before nodding for Luna to proceed.

"Discord's penchant for mischief notwithstanding, on this much, I believe he can be trusted. My findings suggest a prolonged stay in the castle, that the castle's demolition was no mere accident. And they imply a greater presence elsewhere, most likely deeper in the Everfree Forest. All of that would require a prolonged presence, at least semi-permanent, to establish."

Celestia's gaze softened as she listened, though she maintained her regal stance and bearing. "You think they came under attack. That the castle was destroyed. Who were the belligerents in this hypothetical battle?"

"Impossible to determine. The deer, perhaps – the ruins are taboo to them, but King Aspen may have taken an alien presence in the forest as a threat to their sovereignty, and chosen to act. But I saw no deer carcasses in the castle."

"And if the humans are as well-armed and entrenched as you suggest, then nothing the deer could throw at them would dislodge them."

"Either way, it matters little now." Luna shook her head. "We need to act. And before you remind me, no – we have no time for that thing. It handles matters in its own way, in its own time, by its own means. If we leave the human problem to it, then their threat may grow beyond our ability to contain while we wait."

"And what do you propose instead?"

"That you let me handle it. In my own way, by my own means. I have an idea of where to look already. All I need is for you to back me on this."

Celestia's gaze went over, through, and into her again, making Luna's skin crawl, as she evaluated the younger sister. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I can see the merit in what you're proposing, Luna. But I can't let you work alone."

"Celestia—"

"We will act on this together." Celestia chanced a small smile. "As we ought to have from the start."

The younger princess stared in silence as she tried to process this turn in the conversation.

"I've already spoken to Flash Sentry about organizing additional air patrols," Celestia continued. "I don't believe we'll have the numbers to cover the entire mountain, not with the Expeditionary Force still deployed, but the southern face, at least, should be secured. We'll watch the Everfree from a distance, while keeping the appearance of routine patrols – we musn't tip our cards, after all."

Luna's brief trance ended with a shake of her head. "You've already spoken to Flash Sentry?"

"I've been thinking about our conversation from this morning all day," said Celestia. "I concluded that you were right – we should be more proactive. I still intend to approach this with greater caution than I did the changelings, but I – we – shall act."

"Very well," said Luna. "And the rest of the Guard?"

"Secondary alert for the time being. Until we've better established the nature of the human presence."

"The nature of the human presence is obviously—"

"Far less obvious than you might think," said Celestia. "Whatever Discord told you may have been in error – or he may have been misleading you. Humanity is... complex. They've evolved in the time since he last visited them. Physically, militarily, technologically, and especially politically. It could be any number of agencies in the Everfree, for any number of reasons. They may not even be hostile to us. I will leave it to you to make that determination."

"To... me?" Luna blinked. "You do intend to let me do this my way?"

"Within reason. Return to the forest, and reconnoiter the area. Follow your instincts to locate their primary outpost. If the castle is gone, they may well have moved deeper into the forest. Find them, gather information, and evaluate their capabilities as best you can, but do not engage them – not yet. Neither you, nor I, want a war on our hooves if we can avoid it, least of all with humanity. We will speak more on your return – should we deem it necessary, we will bring the matter up in open council, and make more proactive preparations."

"What of Twilight? And the Elements? If the humans are, indeed, encamped in the Everfree—"

"My feelings on the matter have not changed where Twilight is concerned," said Celestia curtly. "We will not involve her, and her friends, unless the situation merits it. She is the culmination, Luna – of everything. I will not put her at undue risk."

"I..." Luna relented with a reluctant nod. "I will abide by your terms. And I am sorry for acting against your wishes, but I felt I had little choice."

"I appreciate that." The mask of rulership washed away, and in an instant, she was Luna's sister again. "I'm sorry, too. I know it's been difficult for you to fathom my reasons and follow my lead – perhaps I haven't set the best example. But times being what they are..."

"Yes, yes, I know. Many a big day, fast approaching."

"Much to do between now and then. And many concerns which neither of us expected. The changelings were already a fly in the proverbial ointment. This other presence still troubles me – and you as well, I'm sure – and the prospect of war with humanity, on top of that..."

"Is highly unappealing."

"To say the least. But it is a challenge that we can, and will, rise to meet." Celestia looped her neck over Luna's in a quick embrace, before rising up and assuming her royal demeanor again. "For now, however..."

"Yes, I've a long flight ahead of me." Luna began to spread her wings. "Look after matters here while I am—"

"Oh, you're not going anywhere, Luna."

Luna's wings half-folded. "I beg your pardon?"

"Denied. You betrayed my trust, and there must be a reckoning for that." Her horn glowed yellow, and the double-doors opened. "Enter."

Luna gulped and stepped inside, into a candle-lit parlor where an oaken table had been set up, piled high with papers and binders, notebooks and quills, and pots of dark black ink. Chairs and cushions surrounded the table on all sides, and in them sat a collection of ponies whom Luna, frankly, found the mere idea of sharing oxygen with contemptible.

Well... except maybe that one.

"Princess Luna!" Blue-maned and mustacheod Fancy Pants kissed his statuesque wife on the cheek and rose from the head of the table to greet Luna. "A pleasure and an honor, as always. When your regal sister told us that you'd be chairing tonight's meeting of the Grand Galloping Gala Planning Committee, I was simply beside myself. Finally, somepony who won't mind when I take over the floor and prattle endlessly about stellar drift."

Luna smiled broadly – she truly wouldn't mind such a turn of conversation at all. "Likewise, sir. But you must forgive me, I'm a bit out of sorts – this has all been arranged—"

"As a surprise!" Celestia chirped. "For you! You're always saying that you want to take a more active role in the mundanity of everyday politics."

I have never in my life uttered those words, and you well know it.

"And we are delighted to have you," Fancy Pants added. "Allow me to introduce the rest of the committee – of course, you know my better half, Fleur de Lis, as well as your royal nephew..."

"Auntie," said Prince Blueblood, flashing her a slimy grin.

"Here also are Jet Set and Upper Crust, my fellow patrons of the arts."

A stallion and a mare with identically upturned muzzles, seated side-by-side at the left end of the table, briefly lowered their muzzles to squint at Luna before upturning them again.

"And, finally, joining us from Ponyville for the first time, Filthy and Spoiled Rich."

"Charmed to make your acquaintance at last, your majesty," said a double-chinned pink mare, narrowing her eyes at Luna. "After three days in Canterlot, it's a nice change to finally have your ear. I'd like to lodge a complaint about the help – they have proven disappointing in all facets of their work, far below what I would expect from the royal household. I'm afraid the state of affairs has been so dismal that we had no choice but to move into lodgings in the city."

"Dear," said a deep-voiced stallion beside her. "It was your decision to leave Cummerbund at home."

"Darling, we both know you'd have insisted on letting him remain with Diamond had we elected to bring him. And what good would he be to us if he was busy instead with her?"

Luna's polite grin strained as she nodded along with the Riches. She leaned close to Celestia, hiding their faces behind a wing.

"This is perhaps the worst thing you've ever done to me. Ever."

"You shouldn't have broken faith with me," Celestia teased. "I admit, I hadn't expected to forgive you so quickly, and had I known you'd bring me around, I would have arranged something far less cruel. But it's far too late to back out now. Other matters can keep until the morning, I'm sure."

"Morning?" Luna whined.

"Oh, yes. These meetings have been known to last until the wee hours."

Luna felt faint. "If you really want to punish me, you could just send me back to the moon."

"Silly Luna. You know I'd need the Elements to do that." She raised her head above Luna's wing and smiled across the table at the Committee.

"My friends, I wish you a pleasant evening. I leave you in the capable hooves of my beloved sister. To whom I vow to send a pot of coffee. Or ten."

She dusted the end of Luna's nose with a wingtip before sashaying out the door, securing it behind her.

Fancy Pants approached her, smiling genially. "Ah, not to worry, Princess. I brought something to sweeten the coffee – always do whenever these meetings come around."

He opened his jacket to reveal a silver flask, winking.

Luna sneezed cutely.

There'd been a castle overlooking the old abbey, its crumbling keep and turrets visible over the boughs and branches of the encroaching Everfree Forest. The keep was gone, reduced to a rubble-filled pit, but its mighty rampart remained, standing silent vigil over Pegasus Wings' encampment from its place on the high hill.

Lieutenant Delacroix found the sight – and the thought – oddly comforting as she navigated the ruins, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

Humble walls of blue encircled stone buildings and rows of canvas tents – there was space enough in the abbey to accommodate nearly all of the army's assets. Or, at least, that which had gone through the portal with them. Macbeth had squatted in the abbey for years after his exile; he was all too happy to offer it as a base of operations to the Commander. For weeks, the place had been a hive of activity, as various personnel went about their business.

Today, though, in the dying sunlight, the abbey was silent and still, nearly empty. Sentries stood watch, pacing the walls, but there was no one patrolling the empty streets, no off-duty personnel smoking or eating or drinking. Even the fleet of trucks and armored vehicles had cleared out, though a few cars remained, and the Chinook helicopters were crammed together in the space that had been hastily cleared for them after the castle fell. The only ones spending the night in the abbey were the chopper crews, their passengers, and the engineers who cobbled together and maintained Metal Gear. Everyone else in the unit had moved, massing at the secondary staging area, for the first and final move in Macbeth's game.

Delacroix knew she should be with them. But she had one last bit of business to conclude.

She emerged from the rows of tents, approaching the towering cathedral at the heart of the abbey. Even without its western wall, it made for an imposing sight. That the face of Metal Gear poked out from the yawning gap only made it moreso.

Delacroix entered from the east door and ascended the prefab stairs, navigating up to the network of catwalks strung along the interior. Voices carried down to her from the other end of the gantry, from beside Metal Gear's cockpit.

"...you really don't see it?" said the client. "Look at the face, the mouth. The way the jawline juts downward, the way the cockpit's shaped like a set of lips. It looks angry."

"It's a machine," the Commander's voice replied with his usual level of disinterest. "It doesn't have emotions. It doesn't get angry. And it doesn't make faces. It is what it is, no more and no less."

Macbeth snorted. "You humans. All alike – no imagination. No artistic flair."

"You know better than that. Or you should."

"You're right. I take that back. William Shakespeare had artistic flair. The rest of you that followed him are dull as dishwater."

They came into sight in time for Delacroix to catch the client's disdainful shake of his head. But when he saw her, his face brightened.

"Lieutenant! I've been expecting you."

The Commander, standing straight with his arms folded, merely glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

Alistair Cain was not a kind man, nor one for sentiment – a life on the battlefield had hardened and scarred him, mentally and physically. Yet the edges of his scowl softened at the sight of Delacroix, and he looked on her with something less vicious than the contempt with which he treated most other living things. Captain Case – then Major Case – once joked over a night of beer and hamburgers on the deck of the Zanzibar Breeze that Cain treated her gently because she resembled his late cat. Then he drew whiskers on her face with a neon pink Sharpee.

He'd had many, many beers that night.

"Sir. Sirs," Delacroix corrected, saluting. "Your pardon, Mr. Macbeth, but I need a word with the Commander."

"Talking shop?" Macbeth looked quickly between the two officers and shrugged. "If you're here, then that means my ride is as well. See you there – don't keep me waiting."

Delacroix nodded, but Macbeth didn't see – he'd turned to look at Commander Cain again.

"This is where we part for now, friend. Mark my words, when next we meet, we'll toast our victory in the Great Hall of Canterlot Castle. The Princess isn't much of a wine-drinker, but I'm sure she has a cask of something palatable spirited away somewhere."

Cain nodded slowly. "Good hunting."

Macbeth actually seemed disappointed that his grandiloquence was so quickly dismissed. He snorted and strode away, leering briefly at Delacroix before descending the stairs and exiting the cathedral.

"At ease, Ori," said Cain, familiarity creeping into his voice. "What're you doing here? Your command's waiting on you, aren't they?"

My command. Hearing the words out loud made her shiver with excitement – her command, her first command, since getting her commission. And of the main force, to boot!

"I did need to pick up the client, sir," she said casually.

"Any half-wit with a Jeep could've done that. You shouldn't stoop to handling such things personally. Sets a bad precedent."

"I also had a report to make."

"Couldn't have done it over radio?"

"I..." She was running out of excuses, and coughed to buy time. The Commander watched her, amusement in his eyes.

"I wanted to do it in person, sir. Partly because I wanted to thank you."

Cain appraised her quietly. "For?"

"The command. Giving me Birnam Wood. You're putting a lot of faith in me, and I wanted to thank you for it." She hesitated. "And to ask..."

"Why you, and not Smart?" Cain's lips twitched.

"Why me, and not... you," Delacroix corrected, wincing at her own presumption.

The tiny smirk soured and fell away. "Because someone's got to pilot this damn thing," Cain said icily. "And the only other man in the unit who knows how to is Trenton. And Ronald's dead, otherwise command of the main force would go to him. Ergo, it falls on your lap."

"If it's a matter of seniority, sir... If you're staying behind to pilot Metal Gear, then by rights, Captain Smart should be leading Birnam Wood, and I should have Paper Mongoose. That's the way of things." She bit her lip. "Respectfully, and if I may be so bold... after what happened in the castle, this will only make the men talk more—"

"Let them talk," Cain snapped. "Let them flap their stinking gums all they want. They're getting a payday, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters."

"Yes, sir," said Delacroix meekly. "Forgive me, sir. I didn't mean to offend."

"This isn't how I saw things going either, Ori." Cain's voice softened, but it was tinged with bitterness. "This whole mission's gone tits up – there shouldn't even be a Paper Mongoose, but that's where we are. You have your role, I have mine, Smart has his. Besides..."

His fingers tightened around his biceps.

"Someone needs to stay behind to greet Trenton."

"You're sure he'll even come back?"

"A man like him won't abide a loose end. Trust me, he'll show."

There was a faint trace of tobacco in Cain's breath. Looking down, Delacroix saw ground-out cigarette butts littering the catwalk. How long had he been standing there?

"It's Macbeth I'm more worried about," Cain added. "You heard him – he's already declared victory, and we haven't even fought the battle yet. Son of a bitch should know better. Dunsinane was the other one's undoing. He isn't careful, it'll be his too, whatever side of it he's on."

Delacroix tilted her head uncomprehendingly. "Sir, I don't follow."

"You read Shakespeare, Ori?"

"Can't say that I do, sir."

"You oughta. Can learn a lot from the Bard. About history, strategy. Irony. Macbeth did, but you ask me, he learned the wrong lessons." Cain dipped his head, tucking his chin above his chest. "Client thinks he's invincible, long as he's got our guns and our technology. Thinking like that'll get him killed. He's overestimating us, and underestimating the enemy. They're not to be taken lightly. Especially not the Princess."

"Yes, sir."

"This wouldn't even be possible if they hadn't dispatched that force to the asscrack of the world. Even then, we're facing steep odds. Client seems to have forgotten that – or he's riding high on the smell of his own farts, and it's making him ignore the facts." He nodded at Delacroix. "Macbeth wants to walk into Canterlot a conquering hero. Fine, but I want him there as a spectator, not a participant. And the fact is, I trust you to wrangle him more than I do Smart."

"Thank you. Sir." Delacroix was no stranger to the battlefield, herself, yet the Commander's show of confidence left her feeling oddly bashful. "I won't let you down, sir."

"I wouldn't have given you Birnam if I thought for a moment that you would." Cain turned his head to look out over the tents in the abbey. "Now, I believe you had a report for me?"

"Um... oh. Yes, of course." Delacroix rested her arm on her bag. "Birnam Wood and Paper Mongoose are at full readiness – but I suppose you knew that already. Choppers are gassed up and good to go, but without the extra fuel from the castle, they only have enough of a reserve supply to get there and stay in the fight. No telling how they're getting home."

"What about the Hind?"

Delacroix shifted her weight onto her left foot nervously. "The salvage team never made it to the castle. The deer have gotten bolder since last night. Roxette was the only one who made it back – says they used hit and run tactics, striking suddenly from the underbrush, and melting away just as quickly."

"How is she?"

"Out of commission with a stab wound that's festering. Dr. Rokubungi thinks the deer coated their antlers with some kind of venom. I've taken her off the mission and ordered her to bed."

"Forcing us to launch a heliborne assault without a gunship or our best pilot. Fuckin' deer." Cain snorted. "First thing we do after Canterlot, we find where they're coming from and slaughter 'em all. Have a great big venison cook-out. Best share of the loot goes to whoever makes the juiciest steak out of their king."

Delacroix's stomach rumbled – anything would be better than another dinner of surplus rations. The stuff wasn't good enough for the French Foreign Legion, and it wasn't good enough for Pegasus Wings.

"We can make do without the Hind, I suppose, but not Roxette – she'd better pull through." Cain grunted. "What about Grond?"

"Online. Though it's as we feared – the recoil from the first shot'll tear the whole assembly apart. We won't be able to fire a second."

"We'll only need one." Cain nodded, satisfied. "Sounds like you've got everything in order, then. If there's nothing else, then you'd better go catch up with the client. Otherwise, it's a long walk to the mountain junction."

"There is one last thing." Delacroix unzipped the bag on her shoulder. "I... took the initiative of ordering Trenton's personal locker opened. After what happened in the castle, it seemed... prudent."

Cain stiffened, turning on the balls of his feet to face Delacroix. She expected him to yell – his face was red, like it always got before he yelled – but instead he just stared at her in that same detached way.

"Not a bad call. Bastard stole my bike. Ron's car, too. Only fitting that someone else goes through his shit."

Delacroix tried not to let her surprise show – nor her relief. "Uh, yes sir. Anyway, most of it's not out of the ordinary."

She reached into the bag and drew out a blade – a short sword, with a wooden handgrip and no wristguard, in a sheath of the same color and material. She handed it to Cain, who looked over it with muted interest.

"A spare sword. Another tactical vest, taken from our own supply – we left that where we found it. A few magazines of nine millimeter ammunition, and a broken optic camouflage unit."

"Should hang on to that. If we can fix it up, it might come in handy." He tucked the sword underneath his arm. "Anything else?"

Delacroix slowly retrieved a pair of faded photographs from the bag, and handed them to Cain. The scenes they depicted, the faces on them – they meant nothing to her. But it was clear by the way Cain's fingers shook as he held the photos that they meant something to him.

One showed a boy and a girl, standing side-by-side on a beach. The boy, in green fatigues and a hat, looked nervously at the girl as she clung tightly to his arm. She was bent over to rest her chin on his shoulder – she clearly stood a full head taller than him – and winked at the camera with the impetuous innocence of childhood. She wore some sort of school uniform, blue skirt and matching jacket, and her head was a mop of yellow curls.

The girl was in the other picture, too, covering the eyes of a man seated at a table, while a brown-haired woman in a tank top spoon-fed him something from a platter held by another blonde in khaki. The man's face was mostly hidden by the girl's hands, but the word "MEDIC" could be faintly discerned in blue lettering on the front of his uniform.

Cain stared at those pictures for a long, long time, a look coming over him that Delacroix had never seen before. Then his face hardened again, and he tucked them into his back pocket.

"Seen these already. Nothing I didn't already know."

"One more thing." Delacroix pulled another object from the bag – a scuffed-up and dented Walkman, and a pair of headphones too. She handed them to Cain. "There's a tape in there. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but..."

Cain slipped the headphones over his ears wordlessly and thumbed the play button. Time passed – seconds into minutes – and his face reddened again, yet save a slight twitching at the corner of his lips, his expression didn't change. Eventually, he turned his back on Delacroix to lean against the catwalk's handrail, staring out across the abbey.

Finally, he switched off the tape and pulled the headphones down. He said nothing. He didn't turn.

"Commander?"

"Assume your post, Lieutenant." He bowed his head. "Carry out your orders."

Before she turned to leave the cathedral, she caught a glance at his hands, closed so tightly around the railing that they warped the metal.

Gloved knuckles tapped against a metal door. A voice – girlish and accented, yet stuffed-up and nasal – called back from the other side.

"It's open!"

Paz Ortega Andrade wore white pajamas, so close in color to her bedding that the girl blended seamlessly with her blankets. Her back was propped against her headboard, and her elbows rested on her thighs as she read from a thick book with Spanish words on the cover. Her kitten, Nuke, curled up on her lap, a fuzzy black dot with yellow eyes that peeked curiously at the visitor.

Paz looked up from her book. "Hello, Swordfish," she said with a wet sniffle. "Keep your distance. Serval says I'm not contagious anymore, but better safe than in quarantine."

"Ah, I can't get sick. Biologically impossible. I mean, look at these muscles." Swordfish flexed his bare arms, grinning.

Paz giggled. "I am not sure that is how the immune system works."

"Oh, ask anyone. Ask Serval. He'll back me up." He stepped into the room and shut the door behind himself. "So, how're you doing?

"Ugh." Paz flopped against her headboard. "I've got chills, my sinuses ache, my throat feels like a scratching post, and I've got stuff coming out of my nose that I did not even know my body could produce!" Her complaint ended with a sudden, violent sneeze, and she plucked a handkerchief from her side table to wipe her nose.

Swordfish, nonplussed, watched awkwardly until she was finished.

"Sorry. Not very ladylike of me, I know." Paz smiled sheepishly and pointed at the platter balanced on Swordfish's arm. "What have you got there?"

"Thought you could benefit from a home-cooked meal," said Swordfish. He braced his free hand underneath the platter. "So I decided to whip up some of that gulluh pintuh that you and the ladies like so much."

Paz frowned at him. "Do you mean gallo pinto?"

"S'what I said, isn't it? Gulluh pintuh."

"No, it's..." Paz closed her book and adjusted herself, folding her legs and accidentally dislodging Nuke in the process. The kitten hopped onto the nearby window sill with a meow of protest, and sprawled out in a sunbeam.

"Okay. Repeat after me." Paz's eyes met Swordfish's. "Say 'gai?'"

"Gai."

"Yo?"

"Yo."

"Pinto."

"Pinto."

"Now, all together."

"Gulluh pintuh."

Paz's face screwed up as though she were about to sneeze again, before it twisted into a scowl that threatened to break into a smile. She jabbed a finger at Swordfish, shaking it angrily.

"You are making fun of me!"

Swordfish laughed and stepped up to Paz's bedside. "Make no mistake, though, I had nearly this exact conversation with Amanda in the galley."

He lowered the platter onto her lap and lifted the lid. The aroma that streamed from the exposed plate assaulted his nostrils. It was earthy, and tangy, without being pleasantly so, and stank so powerfully of salt that Swordfish could taste it. It looked about as appetizing as it smelled – lumpy black chunks ladled haphazardly over moist, sticky rice, with the occasional sallow yellow pepper sticking out of the morass.

Paz mustered a shaky smile, lifted the fork provided next to the plate, and scooped up a small bite. She slid it into her mouth, chewed haltingly, and swallowed.

"Mmm," she said, with obviously forced enthusiasm. "It's... delicious."

Swordfish glowered at her until her face screwed up and she stuck her tongue out, bleh'd, and pushed away the plate.

"Sorry." She coughed. "I tried. Honestly, I did."

Swordfish folded his arms, grumbling to himself. "I'm English, dammit; not my fault if I can't goddamn cook."

"Embracing the stereotype, are you?" Paz shook her head. "So much for soldiers without borders."

"Some stereotypes transcend borders." Swordfish reached over Paz's bed to scratch Nuke behind the ears, and the cat nuzzled into his hand with a pleased purr. Beside the cat was a little styrofoam cup of dirt, with a tiny white flower sprouting from it.

He smirked at Paz. "Gift from an admirer?"

"You could say that." Paz idly smoothed out her blankets. "Chico brought it."

"Figures," Swordfish grunted, pulling away from Nuke. "It's as runty and pathetic as he is."

"Oh, stop that," said Paz, sighing. "I know you two don't like each other, and it's not my business to pry into why. But I wish you'd at least try to get along with him. He's such a sweet boy, and he's been through so much. Please don't make his life any harder than it already is."

Swordfish grunted and turned away, mumbling to himself.

"Tell you what." Paz reached out and tugged on his wrist, and he looked over to see her beaming at him. "I am going to eat this entire plate of gallo pinto."

"Paz, you don't have to—"

"Ah ah! I insist. You worked hard on it, and I do not intend to let that effort go to waste." She let go of his wrist. "But in exchange, you need to be nice to Chico from now on. Do we have a deal?"

Swordfish stared silently at her, his mouth slightly agape, until there was a knock at the door. It opened, and the look on Paz's face – the blush, and the shy smile – told Swordfish who the new visitor was without his needing to turn around.

Nevertheless, Swordfish pivoted and snapped off a salute.

Big Boss acknowledged him with a look and a jerk of his head, and Swordfish relaxed. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, Paz – didn't mean to interrupt. If you're busy, I can come back—"

"Not at all, Boss! I'll go. Right away. Boss." Swordfish made for the door.

"Wait a moment," Paz called after him.

With half his body through the door, Swordfish turned to look at her. She pointed the dinner fork at him playfully.

"Do we have a deal?"

Big Boss glanced at him, an eyebrow arched. "Better give the girl an answer, son."

Swordfish finally swallowed and nodded.

"Alright, then." Paz's sky-blue eyes were alight with mischief. "Keep up your end of the bargain, Swordfish. Because I am not suffering this torment for nothing."

It was dark out, and her vision was blurry besides – even in the pale light of her aura, she had to squint in order to read the message. Her eyes scanned over it, time and time again, and she found herself panicking more and more on every pass.

DODGE ATTACKED AND LOST. CHANGELINGS + C.Q. KILLED BY UNKNOWN ENEMY. STRANGE MAGIC – "SOUL-BLEEDING." ENEMY ENGAGED, STILL AT LARGE. CASUALTIES HEAVY. NO FATALITIES.

MET T.S. AT CHERRY HILL. WARNED OF DIFF. THREAT – "HEW-MON" ARMY LED BY "MACBETH." PONYVILLE AT RISK. ATTACK IMMINENT.

FALLING BACK TO APPLELOOSA. ADVISE.

They knew. They knew they knew they knew. All her months of careful preparation, all her weeks of tireless walking, all her effort at keeping everything under wraps, and all of it was for nothing. They knew. The drunkard, and the murderer, and no less than Twilight Sparkle herself, they knew, and if she hadn't gotten lucky, if the swaggering oaf in the clanking golden armor hadn't spotted her from the sky and circled down to investigate, that damnable Princess would have known too.

And where would that leave her?

The steel-gray oaf swayed slightly on his hooves, glassy eyes staring, unfocused, at nothing. A trail of drool ran down his lips, and every now and then, he made some sort of meaningless burble sound. Chivalrous fool – he'd taken her for some helpless filly in need of defense, and swaggered over to her with a cocksure grin. His fear, his pain, as the razor slid into him, as his soul dribbled out, as everything he was became hers, was delectable; it sated her, comforted her – and she needed comfort, after the loss of so many pets.

Including her pet Queen.

She gorged herself on his rations – she hadn't eaten so well since leaving Dodge – and found the note stuck to the inside of his saddlebags. She read it with detached interest, and then she read it again. And again. And again.

Until she finally threw it to the ground and screamed.

They knew. Because of her. Because of her own weakness. Twilight spoke, and Chrysalis listened, and instead of snapping the reigns and urging the beast forward, impaling her on the ends of her scythes and flinging her shredded meat to the sands of Dodge, instead of rising to the sky and ripping the wings off of every last contemptible buzzard infesting the place, instead of finding the murdering human and repaying him in kind for all that he had done...

...She listened. She listened, listened with Chrysalis. Because some weak, foolish part of her that she'd long ago buried still needed to believe that Twilight Sparkle would talk to her. Extend friendship to her.

That she'd really come for me.

She had failed herself, again, as she always had from birth. Such was her existence, a string of disappointments, culminating in a life half-lived and wasted. But worse than failing herself...

She had failed her Lord.

Thanks be, He was more diligent than she, picking up the reigns when she had dropped them. That the effort failed reflected not on Him – the failure to kill Twilight Sparkle rested squarely on her own shoulders. He bore no fault. Never would she make that mistake again. Never would she fail Him again.

Her Lord heard her contrition, and approved, and crept back into her. His hatred thrummed through her emaciated form, flooding from head to hoof to tail and chasing away the biting cold of the desert night. His pain – such lovely, exquisite agony – became her pain once again.

And, together, they schemed.

"Can you feel her?" her Lord whispered in the recesses of her mind. "The puppet's strings are not so broken that she cannot dance for us again. Reach out to her now – feel her, as I feel you. Fill her, as I fill you. Be her, as I am you."

She shut her eyes and shuddered as her mind touched the other – the lingering connection, not quite severed, grew taut between them. She felt the other's contentment give way to wild fear, but the feeling was quickly crushed underhoof.

Unbidden, a memory resurfaced – impossible to say from whom, for it was one that both minds shared, and she no longer knew where one ended and the other began. A night of awkward glances and half-hearted small-talk, a family gathering she didn't know why she bothered to attend. Strangers to her, in all but name, even before she left them behind.

But among them all was a curvy mare, red-maned and beauty-marked, who smiled at her without guile. A true stranger, yet one who did what none of her family dared. Spoke to her. Listened to her. And, at night's end, half-drunk on cherry cider and eggnog, she pushed a thick, red book into her hooves.

"They said y'all were the bookish type, so I picked this out for you. Happy Hearth's Warming!"

Her Lord hissed His displeasure, and quashed the thought before she could pay it more mind than it was due.

"Vacuous lies. You've no need for them."

He was right – that was nothing but lingering feeling from a mare long dead, the same weak compulsion that made her stop before Twilight Sparkle could die, that made her pull the blade from the curvy mare before she could winkle away her soul, the saccharine sentiment that made her sever the tie between them before she could join their Hymn. A mistake, that. The first of many.

She belonged to her, now, though. Not as a pony, not a mare, but a limb – a weapon – an instrument of revenge.

"Good girl," her Lord crooned. She smiled, and they spoke and moved together.

"Just like that."

Author's Note

I wish I could promise you that all future updates would come with this kind of frequency, but I'd be lying and we both would know it, and it'd just be one more lie on top of a heap of preexisting lies. It'd be like marriage, except ~~without all the sex~~ exactly like marriage.

Special thanks to Danny "Editor Man" J, as ever, as well as to all you lovable clowns reading this. I ain't nothin' without you.

16. For the Future

"Fighting was the only thing I was good at, but at least I always fought for what I believed in."

My fingertips thumped against the steering wheel, in time with the tune of "Rebel Yell." Rainbow Dash and Cherry Jubilee were fast asleep in the back, Dash using Cherry's flank as a pillow, so the sound was cranked down to a minimum. Outside, moonlit hills rolled for miles, the scenic beauty broken only by the train tracks tracing the path back to Ponyville.

Beside me, Twilight was nose-deep in the documents Trenton provided, silently reading by hornlight. She'd snatched them up during a pit stop, and had whiled away the drive with them since. Gotta hand it to the girl – motion sickness clearly had no power over her.

"Red's bad, right?"

That was the first time she'd said anything in more than an hour – the last time she'd opened her mouth was to point out the southern border of the Everfree. This time, she spoke so quietly that I wasn't sure she was even talking to me at first.

"That would depend on your meaning, wouldn't it?" I replied.

"Financially speaking. Where you're from, to be as deep in the red as Pegasus Wings – that's bad. Isn't it?" Twilight clicked her tongue. "I mean, for all I know, having your bottom line be a seven figure, negative sum in big, red numbers is a good thing in human society."

"Gotta be a smart-ass about everything, don't you?" I grumbled, switching off the CD player. "Please tell me there's something in there that we can actually use. Not just Cain's stupid tax returns."

"No, there's much more valuable info here, too," Twilight said quickly. "Reports and memos about ammunition, troop dispositions, and equipment – stuff you'd be interested in. The finances are just the most familiar to me, so that's what I've been reading."

She paused to shuffle the papers around. "You remember how Captain Case said that Cain had been making weird business decisions before coming to Equestria? I'm pretty sure I know why now: Pegasus Wings has been hemorrhaging money for months. Larger mercenary companies have been out-bidding them on contracts, so Cain's been selling assets, and buying replacements on the cheap, to bolster their revenue."

"And Case didn't know anything about this?" I asked incredulously. "The army's executive officer?"

"The header on some of these documents suggest that Cain was audited by an outside agency – 'Naked Gun Accounting.' Odd name." Twilight's muzzle wrinkled. "He must've kept that fact to himself, and made sure that his subordinates and staff were none the wiser. Wonder why, though. Pride? Sentiment?"

"More like ego." The funds for Outer Heaven and Zanzibar Land had been seemingly bottomless; Big Boss did not live cheaply. Cain probably wanted to project that kind of image, to clients and rivals alike. Made sense that he'd want that illusion to extend even to his subordinates. Better they think him eccentric, or even crazy, than poor.

Why else would he skimp on guns, but keep that sci-fi abomination of a tanker? And IRVING couldn't have come cheaply... unless it was subsidized by the Patriots.

Twilight rubbed her chin. "Makes me wonder. If Trenton was telling the truth, and those 'Patriots' are the ones backing the whole expedition, then they could have afforded better than what they got. So why settle for cash-strapped Pegasus Wings, instead of one of these other armies that beat them out for contracts?"

"Because it's a poor investment?" I shrugged. "A place like this is the stuff of fantasy to people, where I come from. Most mercenary leaders wouldn't even take a job like this seriously, especially the heads of armies that are, financially, well off. But an army that's down on its luck, and on its last legs, might."

"Oh, that's a charming thought. Storming my country and destroying everything I love is just too risky a business venture for most soldiers of fortune." Twilight tucked the papers away in the folder, which she set on the dashboard. "You know, if it turned out that Pegasus Wings was attacking Equestria because they were just a bunch of pirates... I mean, I wouldn't like that either, but in a way, I'd prefer it."

"Prefer it?" I looked askance at her. "To what, exactly?"

"To what you just said." Twilight's face twisted like she'd bitten into a bar of soap. "Show me someone who goes around doing evil because, I dunno, their brains are messed up, or they just get off on it – that's something I can comprehend. I don't understand the mindset of someone who carefully considers the risks and rewards of launching a murder campaign in fiscal terms."

"Twilight."

"I mean, how messed up do you have to be, huh? To look at war as a business transaction, to look at 'murderer-for-hire' as a viable career path. And the fact that it's a full-blown economic force in your world? An entire economy based on war?! How could someone decide to be a part of that? How could someone want to—"

"Twilight." I jerked my thumb toward the backseat – her shouting had woken Cherry Jubilee. The rearview mirror caught her reflection, and she stared at Twilight fearfully.

Dash was still out like a light, however. "Alfalfa's good for you, Chicanery," she slurred, smacking her lips.

Twilight, flushing, looked out her window in silence.

"Want doesn't always come into it," I said wearily, spinning the wheel to follow a curve in the tracks. "Most people don't get out of bed looking forward to a day of murder and a fat paycheck at the end of it. Just that a guy's gotta eat somehow, that's all."

"The exigencies of capitalism," Twilight mused, less vitriolically. "You sound like you sympathize."

"Well, I've been there, Twilight. Trust me, it's not a life most people choose because they want it." I switched on the fan, desperate to get some cool air on my face. "Put it to you this way: you got mercenaries in your world, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. Even ones out of Equestria. Ponies who manifest talents in combat often sell their services overseas. Not as corporations, like the ones in your world, but there are mercenary companies. The Steelshoes, the Sunhearts..." She gave me a sharp look. "And before you ask, no, I do not look on them with any more favor."

"Not where I was going with that," I said, annoyed. "If they've got a fighter's skillset, then why aren't they in your Royal Guard?"

Twilight reclined in her chair. "A lot of reasons, probably. Maybe they couldn't cut it, or maybe the Guard just wasn't taking new recruits when they looked to join up. There's a legal cap of two thousand active duty members, but it hasn't climbed past eighteen hundred since the military was disbanded thirty-five years ago."

"How informative," I muttered.

"Spare me the snark, okay?" Twilight groaned in exasperation. "Look, I don't know. I've never thought much about this."

"Yeah, clearly." I looked pointedly at her. "So how many do you think are there because they actually enjoy fighting and killing?"

Twilight looked at me, her mouth hanging open, as though her response was dangling on the tip of her tongue and she couldn't quite spit it out. Finally, she just snorted and leaned limply to her right, squishing her cheek against the window.

"Like I said, Twilight. A guy's gotta eat, and where I'm from, there's always a demand for a person with a soldier's skillset." I took a breath of hot, recirculated air – the car'd always been stuffy, but something about this topic just made it feel stuffier, even with the fan on. "Guess the same's true of your world, huh?"

"Not on the same scale. Not the same way." Twilight's words misted her window, obscuring and smearing her reflection. "And it doesn't make it right."

"Never said it did. But a professional soldier doesn't always have the luxury of right and wrong. A member of a national army might have an ideal to cling to, something that makes everything worthwhile, even if they don't agree deep down with what they're doing. But a mercenary fights for causes he doesn't believe in, reasons he doesn't understand, without ever bringing his own feelings into it."

One of Twilight's ears rotated my way. "You never fought for a cause you believed in?"

"As a mercenary? No. A mercenary can't afford to believe in anything but himself." I finally switched off the fan; it was doing nothing for me. "Of course, some might convince themselves otherwise, pledge themselves to some code of honor, but it's a defense mechanism at best. At worst, it's a pathological lie. There's no honor to be found in fighting for a paycheck, and loyalty to a contract is no loyalty at all."

The light from Twilight's horn dimmed, and the gentle, chiming sound of her magic fell silent. "That sounds like an awful life," she said.

"It barely qualifies as living," I agreed. "But it's as close as some of them'll ever get. It can be hard to leave the battlefield once you've spent time out there, and a lot of people who come home from war... they never really come back, if you follow me. Part of them stays on the battlefield, and before too long, they get sucked right back in."

I thought of an abandoned, snowed-in cabin in Lake Clark, and gripped the wheel tighter, steering the car around a knoll that blocked the view ahead.

"And you? What about you?" said Twilight.

I snorted. "That wasn't the life I wanted. I was just there to earn enough to retire; when I did, I got out."

"Yeah, that much I figured. You talk about your mercenary days in the past tense. But you still came back to the battlefield, and not for a paycheck, I think." The leather of her seat squeaked as she leaned closer to me. "So. What are you doing here, Snake? What do you fight for?"

I fell silent for a long, long time, unsure of just how to answer her question, or if I even wanted to. It occurred to me that this conversation might not have been entirely about me. Twilight'd been struggling noticeably since the castle, and I had to wonder if the question she was posing to me was one she was grappling with on the inside.

In which case... there wasn't much that I could give her. She'd have to answer it for herself.

But then we finished rounding the hill, and saw, on its far side, something that ultimately rendered our whole discussion irrelevant. I snapped my fingers to get Twilight's attention, and pointed out the window as the Humvee came to a stop.

We had arrived at Ponyville to find a massive fog bank enshrouding the entire town, as if a cloud had descended upon it. Around the southern perimeter was a wide trench; a white bridge, painted with hearts, arched over it.

A weight settled in the pit of my stomach as I looked at Twilight. She didn't say as much, but I could guess what she was thinking.

It's Dodge, all over again.

"What do you want to do?" Twilight whispered, casting a wary glance at Cherry. "Get out, and scout the town?"

I shook my head. "We got caught flat-footed before; I don't want that to happen again. Especially not inside Silent Hill over there. We'll pull in closer, see if we can shine a light through that fog, and burn rubber out of here at the first sign of trouble." Where we'd go after that, I had no idea; we'd spent most of our fuel already.

Twilight's face screwed up in confusion. "Ponyville's surrounded by hills, but it's not on one. Have you not been paying attention to the geography?"

I inwardly groaned – someday, I'd learn not to make references that'd be lost on ponies.

We came to a stop at the edge of the fog bank, just in front of the bridge. Even with the highbeams on, our lights couldn't penetrate the barrier – it was just too dense. Part of me wondered what it was like to breathe the stuff. Like breathing soup, I'll bet.

"The dike's expanded," Twilight said. "See the ditch underneath the bridge? It's been widened. Deepened, too. Somepony's done some excavating."

"Yeah... looks deep enough to hide in now." I cracked the window and poked my head out, squinting, in a vain attempt at getting a better view. "Don't suppose you could clear up that fog."

"I'm a little out of practice with weather magic," Twilight admitted, as I pulled my head back into the car. "But if you'll give me a moment—"

From the distance came an ear-splitting crack. Moments later, the ground beside the Humvee exploded, rocking the car on its axles and spraying dirt against the armored exterior. Flecks of earth peppered my face, and I immediately regretted rolling the window down.

I held tightly to the wheel as Twilight shook in her seat, looking frantically to me for answers.

"What was that?!" she cried.

"Artillery fire." I slammed my hands against the wheel in frustration as I thumbed my window closed. "Dammit, they beat us here!"

I shifted the car into reverse and slammed my foot on the accelerator, my heart pounding as we rolled backward rapidly. Momentum jostled Cherry, and flung Dash to the floor. Shockingly, even that wasn't enough to wake her.

The car turned in time with my frantic spins of the wheel as I, desperate to get some distance between us and this ambush, tried to peel away from the town. Another explosion, directly in our path, forced me to stop, with my door facing the fog bank.

That was either a bad shot, or an exceptionally precise one. I guessed the latter – they were trying to box us in, and force us out of the car, rather than blow us up. Not how I wanted to make my stand, but they were depriving us of the option of retreat. So I killed the gas and grabbed for the gun rack, catching sight of Twilight's expression. She was smiling.

"Snake, it's okay. We got it all wrong. That last shot wasn't from artillery; that was—"

"Ozone." Rainbow Dash's head poked up from the floor, and her nose twitched as she sniffed the air. "Somepony's tossing around lightning bolts."

Twilight stared past me, her smile breaking into a toothy grin. "Look out your window, Snake."

I did, in time to see shapes emerging from the fog. Pastel-colored shapes, one of which I quickly realized was Applejack. With short hair.

Which was actually a pretty good look for her.

There were four ponies that I didn't recognize, arrayed in a V behind her. She was shouting something, and I leaned against the tinted glass of my window, straining to hear.

"...Come after Ponyville, it ain't gonna end well for you, y'hear?" Applejack was saying. "So git gone, an' tell yer bosses we ain't helpless!"

Okay, they wanted us gone, not out of the car. Either way, my relief that this was a misunderstanding lasted for just a moment. Friendly or no, they didn't know who they were shooting at.

"We should probably say something," said Twilight with a nervous laugh. "So that they know not to, uh, kill us."

"Yeah, way ahead of you, Twi," Dash muttered. Cherry Jubilee yelped in surprise and displeasure, and I turned to see Rainbow Dash boosting herself up using the other mare's flank, balancing precariously on her uninjured hind leg.

I frowned. "What are you—"

"Helping." Dash stretched out her forelegs, unlocked the roof hatch, and pushed it open. "But don't, like, thank me or anything."

Rainbow Dash hooked her front hooves over the hatch, and vanished through it. Her hooves clanged against the car's roof.

"Hey, Applejack! Could you hold off on blowing me to pieces until after you've given me that big oak barrel of cider that you promised me, like, a million years ago? 'Cuz if you kill me before I get it, then I swear, I'm gonna haunt you for the rest of forever."

Applejack's resolute expression dissolved into a disbelieving stare. Her lips moved – I couldn't hear what she said, but it was obviously Rainbow Dash's name.

"Nope. Little Strongheart, wearing Rainbow Dash's skin. Duh!" Rainbow Dash snapped, ignoring Applejack's watery smile. "Hey, nice aim, by the way. Give my best to whoever fired that cannon; you couldn't hit the broadside of a hydra at point-blank range. And that lightning bolt? C'mon, that literally was point-blank range. Who whiffed that? Derpy? It was Derpy, wasn't it?!"

"No!" stammered a muffled, affronted voice from above us.

Oh. So it was just a near miss.

"Sheesh." Rainbow Dash clicked her tongue. "You ponies really are nothing without me, aren't you?"

"I've always thought so," Twilight said, almost too quietly for me to hear.

I undid my seatbelt and opened the door, Twilight doing the same from her side. The ponies glared at me, nervous, or outright hostile; Applejack was the only one who relaxed upon recognizing me.

I waved at her. "Kept you waiting, huh?"

More ponies emerged from the fog, Fluttershy and Rarity among them. Their gazes darted between Twilight and I, before settling on Rainbow Dash. Rarity looked on the verge of tears, and Fluttershy's wings were twitching nervously, as if she were barely restraining herself from taking flight and throwing herself at Dash. Hanging above the assembling ponies was a small, fluffy stormcloud, with a tuft of something yellow poking out from its top.

Dash took some wobbly steps forward and slid down the windshield to the Humvee's hood. She hopped off and landed awkwardly with a spasm of pain across her face. "Ow," she mouthed, before grinning cockily.

"Turned out, the afterlife is standing and flying room only." She brushed her chest with the back of her hoof. "Since I can't do either very well, you're stuck with me a little while—"

A pink blur suddenly shot from the fog bank, leaving behind a trail of identically colored smoke; it struck Rainbow Dash with the kinetic force of a railgun, and bowled her over.

"DashieDashieDashieDashieDashieDashiiiiieeeee!" Pinkie Pie squealed. She pulled Rainbow to her hooves and crushed their bodies together. "I knew you were alive; I knew you were okay! I just knew it!"

Rainbow Dash coughed. "Sure you did, Pinkie."

"And here you are!" Pinkie pulled away and pressed their noses together. "Alive! And okay!"

"Yeah, totally— urk!" Rainbow wheezed as Pinkie crushed her in another vise-like hug. "Pinkie. Lungs. And wing."

"Oh. Heh." Pinkie got in one last long, affectionate nuzzle before pulling away. "Sorry. It's just..."

"We're all understandably happy to see you, darling," said Rarity, trotting forward daintily. "It follows logically that you're going to be subjected to a number of relieved, excited hugs. That's something you'll just have to deal with, I'm afraid."

Twilight looked slyly at Rainbow Dash. "I dunno, Rarity. Rainbow and I had a talk earlier, and she swore, up and down, that she was too cool to be hugged in public."

"Piffle!" Ignoring the flushed, flummoxed expression on Rainbow Dash's face, Rarity stepped forward and looped her neck underneath the pegasus's, Fluttershy doing the same.

Applejack and I looked at one another, and exchanged a simple, silent nod. Why couldn't the rest of them be more like her? With Twilight, and the others, everything was all hugs and tears and giggles. Meanwhile, Applejack knew the value of a good nod.

She trotted toward the throng of hugging limbs and thumped Rainbow Dash affectionately on the shoulder, before turning to Twilight and holding up her hoof – to bump, or shake, or something. Twilight saw it, froze for a fraction of a second, and ducked away.

Applejack looked plainly hurt, but she soldiered past it and cleared her throat. "Uh, not t'spoil the moment or nothin' – havin' y'all back is great – but yer raisin' a lotta questions. Stop me if I'm wrong, but y'all took a train to Dodge, right? You, uh, misplace that, or somethin'?"

"We ran into some trouble out there," I said, thinking back to the slagged mess that Chrysalis left behind on the train tracks. "To make a long story short, we lost a train, but got a car in the exchange. And we brought a friend."

Cherry Jubilee emerged from Twilight's door, and hopped to the ground, her tail between her legs. Applejack sucked in a breath and tried to approach Cherry, but stopped when she shrank away.

"What in the hay happened out there?" Applejack whispered, with a shocked look at me.

"Fine question, Applejack!"

The Mayor's voice, sharp and clear, cut like a razor through the atmosphere of elation. She emerged from across the bridge, an entourage of uniformed ponies in tow. The rest of the Ponyville residents who'd gathered to gawk parted for her, letting her trot toward the Humvee.

"While I'd like to follow up on the matter of the train, I have another, more pressing question." The Mayor looked down her nose at us. "Stovetop. Where is she?"

Twilight, a little nervously, separated herself from her friends to face the Mayor. "Stovetop is fine, ma'am. She chose to stay in Dodge, that's all."

"Stay in Dodge?" The Mayor glared at Twilight. "What would possibly compel her to do that? Twilight, if you're holding something back, then—"

"She's alive, she stayed behind, and that's all you need to know right now." I interposed myself between the Mayor and Twilight; the older pony craned her neck back to stare witheringly at me. "Frankly, you have bigger concerns than the whereabouts and well-being of one train conductor. There's a fight coming, and we need to be prepared for it."

Behind me, Applejack chuckled. "Sugarcube, we're way ahead o'you there."

That was the first time she'd called me that. I didn't like it.

My words washed over the Mayor ineffectually; she stepped around me to whisper to Twilight. "Is this about the... matter... which we discussed last night?"

After a pause, Twilight nodded firmly.

The Mayor's expression was grave, for an instant, before it hardened.

"Everypony, if I may have your attention please?" she called to the crowd. "We've had ourselves a bit of a false alarm just now. Please disperse, and return to your business for the time being."

"Without an explanation?" A yellow-coated pony with a carrot on her flank shouldered her way to the front of the crowd. "We spent all day diggin' holes an' collectin' emergency supplies, Pinkie Pie's got the weather ponies spottin' for cannons an' mixin' up fog banks, Amethyst's roundin' up ponies to evacuate, and none of us got a clue why!"

Cannons? Pinkie Pie?

"We need answers!" a second pony chimed in. "You owe us that, Mayor Mare! Is it changelings? It's changelings, isn't it?"

"Or a bugbear?" A mare with a curly, pink and blue mane and sunglasses (at night?!) poked her head through the crowd. "Asking for a friend."

More ponies added their voices to the chorus of discontentment. A blonde-maned, gray head poked suddenly from the bottom of the storm cloud and looked reproachfully at the Mayor, though her eyes drifting in opposite directions robbed her expression of some intensity.

The Mayor raised her hooves and tried to speak over the other voices, calling for calm and quiet, but it wasn't until Twilight stepped forward that the group settled down.

"Ms. Mare, we can't keep everypony in the dark about this any longer," she said calmly. "Respectfully, if they've been working to prepare the town for an attack, then they deserve to know what's going on. Perhaps..."

She glanced quickly toward the throng, and lowered her voice.

"Perhaps a meeting is in order – an open forum, for the sake of transparency?"

The Mayor hesitated, looking very much like a politician who'd been caught off guard by an inconvenient interview question. Then she nodded, adjusted her glasses, and looked out at the crowd.

"We will be holding an emergency town hall meeting to discuss current events, and bring everypony up to speed. For the time being, however, please, go about your business – you'll be contacted with further instructions shortly."

There was grumbling, and more than a few angry stares. But the townsponies did as they were asked, and filed over the bridge back into the fog.

"Thank you, Ms. Mayor," Twilight said quietly.

"No need to thank me. We're past the point of no return. Even I can see that." The Mayor's face was stony as she apprised Twilight and I. "I don't mean to seem cold toward you, Twilight – I'm glad you made it home."

She left without another word.

"Town hall meeting, huh?" I folded my arms, watching her retreat back into town. "More than I was expecting from her, after last night."

"Don't be too hard on her," Twilight admonished gently. "Granted, I don't know what I was expecting, personally, but it sure as heck wasn't all of this. The Mayor came through."

"Uh, more like we came through," Pinkie said, rolling her eyes. "Or me. I came through."

"Pinkie exaggerates, naturally," said Rarity. "Digging the trench, collecting supplies, and preparing an evacuation strategy – we all pitched in with those, but for the most part, they came from within the Mayor's office. Standard emergency procedures, and the like. But the cannons, and the fog bank to deter outside observers? Those were Pinkie Pie's brainchildren."

"My first idea was to bake bombs into pies and hide 'em in holes all over town," said Pinkie with an oafish simper. "But I kinda thought that we might forget where all the bombs were and step on 'em ourselves – that wouldn't be fun for anypony. Then the Mayor pointed out to me that there's a whole bunch of real cannons in town, from way back when Equestria still had an army!"

I chewed on that – the cannons were a step up from the pie-bomb plan, but the fog bank created a complication. With such poor visibility, the cannon crews would have a hell of a time hitting anything during a combat situation. They had spotters, apparently, but unless they were particularly well-coached and organized, they could only do so much to ameliorate the larger problem.

Guess we'll just have to hope they are well-coached and organized, I thought.

Twilight glanced at the crater from the town's warning shot. "I thought all the military hardware in the country was boxed up in Stalliongrad."

"Maybe somepony thought they'd do more good out here than way up north," said Applejack. "It ain't just the cannons we got lyin' around – there's plenty of powder 'n shells for all of 'em, too. Maybe somepony thought we'd need 'em one o'these days."

Twilight looked in the direction of the Everfree, a thoughtful look crossing her face for a moment. "Whatever the reason they're here, I'm grateful for them. Good thinking, Pinkie. On all counts."

Pinkie saluted, and devolved into self-satisfied giggling.

"I can't tell you all how glad I am to be home," Twilight said, after Pinkie's laughter petered out. "Really, after the day we had in Dodge, I'd like nothing more than to put up my hooves, but this really isn't the time for any of us to rest on our—"

Twilight fell silent as her nose started twitching; she sneezed and smiled wryly. "Sorry. I just caught a whiff of myself – it's been pointed out to me that I stink of whiskey, and, yeah, I definitely get it now. Mayor Mare said that arranging the meeting would take a while, so I think I'll take advantage of that time and give myself a rinse."

Everyone immediately nodded, muttering words of agreement – everyone but Fluttershy, who stepped forward with her hoof half-raised bashfully.

"Twilight? I'm very glad to see you, don't misunderstand, but..."

Twilight nodded at her. "It's okay, Fluttershy. Go on."

The yellow pegasus bit her lip as she looked each of us in the eye, hesitating.

"Before we go anywhere, or do anything else... there's something I need to show you all."

Fluttershy lived on the outskirts of town, just at the edge of the fog bank. Her house appeared at first glance to be a hollow tree, like Twilight's, but closer inspection revealed that the roof was just overgrown with greenery. The building itself was a lumpy, asymmetrical structure, its surrounding area dotted with birdhouses and populated by rabbits. It was everything I would have expected from her.

Everything except for the backyard.

We stood in a line, looking out at the prone, heavily damaged form of XMG IRVING-00. The machine lay on its side, with one leg curled underneath its body, and its other splayed, exposing a nasty patch of raw, red muscle along its calf. Its sensor dome flickered feebly every few seconds, and electricity crackled along exposed wiring on its head.

Instinct told me to draw my gun and be ready for anything, but nothing about its appearance told me that was necessary. IRVING was a far cry from the monstrous fusion of metal and flesh that had dismantled us all so easily in the forest; if anything, it reminded me of the sick triceratops in Jurassic Park. The others were less calm about it than me. Probably because they hadn't seen that movie.

"Now, I know how this must seem to you all," Fluttershy said patiently. "And I know what you must be thinking—"

"Us? What are you thinking?!" Rainbow Dash's unbound wing spread furiously as she rounded on Fluttershy.

Fluttershy looked stricken, but held firm. "That it's a sick animal who needs help?"

"Darling," said Rarity, her voice higher than normal as she looked warily at IRVING. "There's nopony here who would ever condemn you for having a heart – it's part and parcel of who you are, after all – but your compassion, in this instance, strikes me as... misguided."

"I reckon that's a fancy way of asking – and pardon my language here – what in the cold blue hell is the matter with you, Fluttershy?!" Applejack hissed. She looked at me, her expression fiery. "Tell me this don't sit right with you!"

"I don't love the idea." I folded my arms, looking carefully over IRVING's prone body. "But I'm more curious how it made it out here in the first place. That was a hell of a fall it took. You don't just walk something like that off."

"It wasn't quite as easy as that," said Fluttershy. Her wings unfurled and beat softly, carrying her into the air, and she hovered at eye level beside me. "I met her in a meadow, at the Everfree Forest's edge – I was there gathering flowers for Spike. Her leg was torn to pieces when I saw her; she couldn't even stand, much less walk. There was a lot of mortified tissue around the wound, so I cut it away, and she... somehow... grew new muscle and skin to replace what she lost."

I grunted. "Self-healing, cloned muscle tissue, probably augmented by a nanomachine colony. Effective enough to get it back on its feet even after a catastrophic fall."

IRVING was a bite-sized RAY.

"Um... if you say so?" said Fluttershy nervously. "Anyway, I got her on her feet after that, and walked her back here. Partly to keep her out of sight, and partly so I could keep treating her. Fortunately, the meadow wasn't far from my house – we didn't even have to go through Ponyville. Which is a good thing, too, because that would have spooked quite a few ponies."

"Spookin' ponies should've been the least of your worries," Applejack drawled, rolling her eyes. "Yer keepin' a two-legged death robot in yer backyard – that ain't a grand notion, Fluttershy."

Fluttershy's ears folded. "I was running out of supplies in the meadow, though. And it seemed easier to bring her to my supplies, instead of the other way around."

Applejack pressed her hoof to her forehead. "You are missin' the point. D'you not remember what that thing did to us all yesterday? Wreckin' Snake's shoulder, knockin' out Pinkie Pie and Rarity – shoot, my back's redder than Big Mac's after the scorchin' it gave me, fer cryin' out loud! An' how d'you think Spike'd feel about this if he could see it?"

"She can't—"

"It ain't a she, Fluttershy!"

"She can't hurt anypony anymore." Fluttershy's voice rose, with a semblance of the mare who'd chastised the timberwolf alpha. "Even if she could, she wouldn't – she told me so herself."

Rainbow Dash laughed – an ugly, sardonic sound. "And if you can't trust the fire-breathing robot that tried to burn you alive, who can you trust?"

"Rainbow..." Fluttershy's resolve faltered in the face of Dash's naked contempt.

"No, Fluttershy. I'm not gonna back you up on this. You might look at that thing, and see a hurt animal, but I see the monster that put Spike in a coma!" She pounded the dirt furiously. "He could die because of what it did to him!"

"I don't need another reminder," Fluttershy whispered.

"Then get your head out of your—"

"Rainbow," said Twilight curtly. "Enough. We know where you stand on the issue."

Dash withdrew, smoldering, and glared darkly at IRVING.

Twilight, dispassionate and sage, looked between her friends. "Rarity? Pinkie? Your thoughts?"

Rarity hesitated, staring at IRVING nervously. "I'm sorry, dear. Every time I look at that... thing... I just think of Spike."

Fluttershy looked like she'd been slapped.

"Pinkie Pie?" said Twilight evenly.

"Do you have to ask? Do you really?" Pinkie Pie bounced out of the line and over to Twilight, pressing their noses together and forcing Twilight to step backward.

Then Pinkie snapped her neck around to stare at Fluttershy. "You said it wouldn't hurt us, even if it could. Why?"

Fluttershy, startled by the question, took a moment to gather herself. "She said that... I don't fully understand what she was talking about, but she said she wasn't in control of her actions when she was fighting us. Something else was making her act like that."

"And now?" Pinkie pressed. "Now she is in control?"

Fluttershy nodded meekly.

Pinkie frowned, her mouth working silently while she processed this. Then she grinned.

"Good enough for me! I'm with Fluttershy."

Rainbow Dash's jaw dropped. "Pinkie, are you—"

"Loco in the coco? Probably a little." She knocked on the side of her head, twice. "But what Fluttershy's saying makes sense. It's like Nightmare Moon, right? Nightmare Moon might've been a sourpuss, but Princess Luna's a sweetheart – she'd never do what Nightmare Moon did. So I think, maybe, if we can forgive her for Black Snooty, we can give the same treatment to... to, uh..."

Pinkie trailed off and scowled. "Shoot, it's gonna take time to come up with a better name than IRVING," she muttered as she tromped back into line with her friends, her hooves squeaking with every step.

Applejack snorted and shook her head. "Talkin' crazy, that's what you're doin'." But I could see it in her face – she didn't look nearly as certain as before.

"What about you, Snake?" Twilight said, after a long pause for thought. "What would you do?"

Curious question. Thing is, I could see both sides of the argument. Fluttershy wanted to think it had some kind of consciousness, even an identity – a she, not an it. She might've been right, but she didn't know AI like I did. The Patriots' systems, the ones that'd toyed with Jack, were fully conscious, and malevolent. No conscience to speak of, just a cold certainty in their own infallibility as rulers of America. And if IRVING had any of their influence in its systems... then, with its durability and regenerative abilities, there was no guarantee it wouldn't get on its feet and come after us a third time. It might've looked vulnerable, but who knew what it'd still be capable of, even without its primary weapons?

But Fluttershy wanted to believe it was both conscious and had a conscience. That something had changed it from the feral beast that tore into us, into something more benevolent. I wasn't sure that was possible. But even if it was...

...then maybe putting it out of its misery would be the humane thing to do.

"JACK..."

IRVING's sensor dome rotated toward me, the light from its eye intense.

I swallowed, and strode toward it, recalling as I did that my presence made it go berserk in the castle. If that happened again, well... I took comfort in the weight of the Model 500 at my ankle.

I stopped with a foot of distance between us, and stared into the light, now dimming to normal.

"IT'S NOT YOU... IS IT?" IRVING's voice was quiet, resigned. The dome swiveled away from me.

Fluttershy's wings brought her to my side. "She talked a little about him – about this 'Jack' person. Do you know who that is? Who she's talking about?"

Only with the benefit of hindsight. Had I known then what I do now, I could've told her who "Jack" was. Who this machine was mimicking, why it thought I was her Jack, and why it wanted so desperately for me – for him – to put it down.

But at the time, it meant nothing. The machine's pleas were lost on me.

"I know a Jack," I replied. "But I doubt it's the same one."

"YOU ARE NEITHER HE, NOR HIS PHANTOM. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT MAKES YOU," said IRVING, inflecting some sorrow... or some simulation of sorrow... into its disturbingly feminine voice. "BUT IT MEANS OUR BATTLE WAS A MISTAKE. I WILL NOT ASK FORGIVENESS... BUT I AM SORRY ALL THE SAME."

I blinked. IRVING was apologizing. Apologizing to me. I let that fact sink in, and realized whose side of the argument I was going to come down on.

Hooves crunched in the grass on my other side – Twilight had come up to stand with me. Our eyes met. I narrowed mine, and shook my head.

Something glimmered in the corner of Twilight's eye. She looked at IRVING's body, her face betraying nothing.

"...Do what you can for it, Fluttershy."

"What?!" Rainbow Dash staggered forward, only to trip and faceplant in the dirt. Rarity and Applejack helped her to her hooves. "Twilight, you can't be serious! This thing is a monster! It's not a she; it's not even alive! It's a—"

"Machine bereft of soul."

The interruption came from Cherry Jubilee, who spoke in low, sonorous tones. On shaking hooves, she approached IRVING, pausing in arm's length of the machine.

"Hollow life. Forged by mortals, with mind and motion bequeathed. A weapon that has learned to walk upright." She reached out slowly, her trembling hoof edging closer to IRVING's damaged head, and dropped her voice to a ragged whisper. "Such a... nostalgic feeling..."

Fluttershy landed beside Cherry with her wings half-spread. "I don't know if it's soulless, exactly. When we talk, I get a sense of... of something deeper behind her words. Something like a—"

"What would you know about it?!" Cherry Jubilee roared suddenly, whirling at Fluttershy with veins throbbing along her neck.

Fluttershy's wings snapped fully shut, her eyes fearfully widened. The others tensed; a subtle shimmer built around Twilight's horn as her teeth set.

Cherry softened after a tense moment, the fury clearing from her countenance. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean..."

She shrank away and hung her neck limply, and stared into the distance. It was then that I realized that my hand was resting just above the magazine well of the Five-SeveN. I released it, slowly, shamefully, and hoped that nobody noticed.

Twilight gave Cherry a long look, before turning toward the others again.

"Fluttershy's right – even if this thing were capable of doing to us what it did last night, I don't doubt that we could stop it. As for whether or not it would, I again defer to Fluttershy's judgment. I believe her. Believe in her. As should we all."

Fluttershy smiled back, gratefully, and nodded.

"Now, there's still time before this meeting's supposed to happen," said Twilight. "I'm going to use that time to freshen up – the rest of you should see to your own business, too. And Rainbow?"

Rainbow Dash, still clearly stung, sniffed and looked at Twilight with her eyes narrowed.

"You need to get patched up," said Twilight gently. "Get to the hospital, and get your wing and your leg fixed."

"I can take her over there," Applejack said. "Don't take it personal, Rainbow, but you look liable to topple over without somepony to lean on."

Dash snorted. "Like you've got room to talk."

I watched, out of curiosity, as Applejack led Rainbow Dash away. Contrary to her jape, Applejack leaned just as much on Dash as Dash leaned on her, leaving me to wonder who was more damaged. The others dispersed, except Fluttershy – it was her house, after all. She nuzzled Twilight, and knelt beside IRVING to inspect its leg again. Twilight watched them together, that inscrutable expression on her face again, before leading Cherry and I away.

I'm not sure what a Nightmare Moon is – I sure as hell didn't know any Princess Luna, though I had a vague recollection of the name. Maybe I was missing the context; maybe I'm off base. But I knew that look on Twilight's face when she looked at IRVING. It was the same one she'd given Chrysalis, as she offered it... offered her... friendship and forgiveness.

I wondered if that meant that Twilight forgave IRVING the same way.

The library had been tidied up in our absence. All the books that Twilight and I had pulled for research were stacked in neat little color-coded piles around the room, delighting her. I'd assumed she was happy that someone had taken the time to put the room in order, but she quickly corrected me.

"Don't you see? Whoever stacked these books made an absolute hash of it. When this is all over, I am going to have to reorganize the entire library!"

The look on her face as she reared back and waved her front hooves in the air – I don't think I've ever seen such glee, before or since.

She headed off to bathe. In her absence, I decided to familiarize myself a little bit more with the contents of Trenton's care package. Twilight and I had gone back to the Humvee after leaving Fluttershy's house, but we'd lugged the box to the library after realizing that carrying it would be easier than driving a big-ass car through town. Inside was a pistol, add-ons compatible with the modular MRS-4, two cans of ammunition, and explosives, on top of the documents and the change of clothes. Also taking up space was Cherry Jubilee's shotgun and ammo. Better in there than unattended in the Humvee.

Shifting those aside, I pulled out the pistol – a .45, and not one of those cheap ones that the soldiers in the Everfree Forest had been carrying. This one was polished, well cleaned and oiled, with a solid frame, a buttery smooth action, and a pristine barrel, free of any fouling. The supply of ammunition for it was generous, too; I'd gone through about half of my ammo for the Five-SeveN in Dodge, and I didn't see myself replenishing that stockpile any time soon. Having another pistol in reserve was a relief.

Though, once again, I'd be pissed if it turned out to be ID locked.

Satisfied, I put it away, and pulled out the carbine's add-ons: a modest selection of optics and foregrips. There were two scopes that the relatively short range of the carbine made worthless, but the mid-range, red-dot sight was perfect for my purposes. So, using the locker's lid as a workbench – Twilight didn't want me getting "gun cooties" all over her furniture – I carefully affixed the dot sight, along with an angular foregrip that seemed designed for an entirely different rifle platform. It fit my hand almost perfectly, but its green paint job clashed with the MRS-4's black finish.

Not that I honestly cared about the aesthetics. Just that it might make the gun stand out during stealth, you see.

Twilight still hadn't come out of the bathroom by the time I'd finished, so I loaded the guns back into the locker, and pulled out the file folder. I flipped through pages of memos and inventory lists – documents that had apparently been too complicated for her tiny pony brain – and absorbed as much Pegasus Wings trivia as I could.

I was reading through a particularly scintillating memo about the dire need for a long-term supply of ammunition when I noticed Cherry Jubilee eyeballing me from across the library. The mare was laid out on a pile of cushions, with a book open in front of her that I didn't honestly believe she was reading.

She immediately redirected her attention to her literature when I looked her way. "Enjoying yourself?" I asked.

The question didn't register immediately – when it did, she flicked her gaze uncertainly at me.

I set the folder down and walked toward her, noticing the tension in her limbs – having me close made her nervous. Leaving an arm's length between us, I knelt and gently pulled the book away from her, flipping it shut to examine the cover.

"SLAYMARE: THE HARDCOVER COLLECTION," it read, in jagged, crimson font. The logo had been stylized to appear defaced – presumably, for marketing and branding purposes – with "COVER," crossed out and "CORE," spray-painted sloppily beneath. Below the title, an audaciously posed mare sneered at me, standing on her hind legs with her front hooves crossed over the hilt of a longsword that she had no physical way of actually wielding, thrust into a pile of monster corpses. The mare’s coat was charcoal-grey, her flowing mane striped red and white, and her eyes were hidden behind mirrored shades. Behind her, ruined skyscrapers sagged and smoldered.

"Shit, this is that comic Killjoy was talking about." I flipped past scenes of hardcore violence, blood and gore and viscera leaping at me off the page. Otacon might've liked it – he's always been into weird shit. "What fever dream did you ever find this in?"

"I wasn't actually reading it," Cherry mumbled. "It was in Twilight's saddlebags. I was snoopin'."

"Yeah, she got those from Killjoy. This must belong to her." I snorted, closing the book and setting it down. "Suits her, I guess. Sure doesn't seem like it'd be to Twilight's taste."

"...Ain't to mine, neither." Cherry pushed it away, a smile shining through the layers of trauma and fatigue.

I couldn't help wondering what sort of person Cherry Jubilee might have been like before. She struck me as similar to Applejack, but, somehow, even folksier. Her scars ran deep, but that smile was a glimpse of someone vibrant and vivacious. Someone I think I would have enjoyed getting to know – someone who, tragically, may have been lost forever among the sands of Dodge.

Then, just like that, the smile was gone, and she was looking at me through that confused, semi-lucid haze.

"I... I know your wavelength." Cherry grasped at her head, shuddering. "I don't even know what that means..."

I reached out toward her tentatively. "Hey..."

She just jerked away and rested her head on the cushion beneath her, curling her limbs tighter against her body as tears dripped onto the fabric. "I'm sorry, Snake. I'm so, so sorry for all of it."

Unsure of what to say or do, I just sat there with her, watching her cry, and wondered whether that vibrant lady could ever come back from what she'd suffered.

The door to the upstairs apartment opened with the chiming sound I'd come to associate with unicorn telekinesis. Twilight trotted down, levitating a brush through her mane.

"Well, the bathtub's probably gonna stink like whiskey for the next thousand years, but at least I got the smell out of my coat and mane." She hopped down the last of the stairs, her look of contentment fading when she glimpsed Cherry. "Is... everything okay?"

"As good as it's gonna get," I said quickly. Twilight meant well, but something told me that Cherry needed space more than she needed comfort. "Listen, I'm glad you're out. There's some stuff the two of us need to go over together."

"Right now?" Twilight said as I moved back to the locker. "They should be just about ready for us at town hall, Snake."

"It's important. And it won't take long." I spread some of the documents from the folder, fanning them across the locker's surface. "Hey, it couldn't hurt to catch up on your homework before heading off to the meeting, right?

"Sheesh, you just had to phrase it that way." The prospect of homework put a literal bounce in her step as she joined me. "Okay, fine. Lemme have it."

I separated a few papers and pushed them to one side of the locker. Twilight's magic took hold of them, straightening them into a neat pile for her perusal.

"Pegasus Wings's problems run a lot deeper than just money," I said. "Everfree fauna's responsible for a lot of injuries, which have been sucking up their medical supplies, and they're burning through their food at a faster rate than they should be, even with strict rationing."

Twilight scanned the documents silently for a moment. "Someone's stealing from their provisions?"

"Probably a lot of people, given the amount going missing. Morale must be pretty low for discipline to break down so badly. Then there's this." I lifted the memo I'd been reading before Cherry caught my attention: a half-page, type-written message, bearing the signature of quartermaster Loomis.

Twilight took the paper and read through it in a hurry. "'Though sufficient for a single pitched battle, our stockpile of ammunition will be severely drained following the cessation of hostilities. We must immediately seek a local solution, either sourcing ammunition from a neighboring state with a firearms industry, or casting and loading our own.'"

"I can't imagine destroying the castle helped their ammo worries any. Or their other supply problems, for that matter." I glanced at the page. "Source it from who, by the way?"

"Probably the minotaurs. The griffons make and use guns, too, but I think Macbeth has a bone to pick with them. Also, it's 'whom,' not 'who.'" Twilight shuffled the memo back into her stack of papers and thumped them on the locker to straighten them out. "The memo said 'a single pitched battle.' Does that sound hypothetical to you?"

"You're asking me for a semantic analysis?" I laughed, and even Twilight looked amused. "It doesn't, no. You'd think they'd be referring to hitting Ponyville, but it's dated to last week. Trenton said they weren't planning to move against Ponyville until last night, when we forced their hand."

Twilight stroked her chin with a well-polished hoof. "My thoughts exactly. But that attack can't possibly take place in a vacuum. It'd have to be be one part of a larger campaign, yet it sounds like they don't have the resources for a full-scale war."

"They sure don't have the manpower," I added. "And even if they did, the logistical infrastructure they'd need to support a protracted conflict isn't there. Any hope of resupply is on the other side of the portal."

"Well and truly out of reach – otherwise, their quartermaster wouldn't have suggested buying ammunition locally." Twilight gnawed at a recently trimmed fetlock, speaking through clenched teeth. "So if you don't want to fight a war of attrition – if you can't afford to – you try and put an end to things quickly. And the best way to do that..."

Her eyes widened, and she spat her hoof out of her mouth. "Oh, buck me to the moon and let me play among the stars."

I blinked. "Did you seriously just say—"

"Snake, I'm trying to deduce out loud; could you please not?" Twilight stepped into the center of the room and began to pace, along a conspicuously well-worn circular path. "Pegasus Wings has the firepower to win a single battle, but not the resources for a war; they certainly can't invade all of Equestria. But with the element of surprise behind them, they might be able to capture and hold a city, if they move quickly enough. And not a backwater village, like Ponyville, but a strategically significant target. Like, for instance... Canterlot."

There was a fortress I'd seen off in the distance, perched high up on a mountainside. If that wasn't Canterlot, I don't know what the hell could've been. "You think they'll go for a decapitation strike on your government? I guess that's an efficient use of limited resources. Makes a hell of a show of force, too."

"Yeah, that's putting it mildly," said Twilight. "It's an example to anyone thinking of leading a counterattack. Not that Pegasus Wings would have much hope of fending one off, with most of their ammunition wasted, but the demonstration would be effective enough that nopony would dare risk it."

The logic certainly held up, though I didn't know who would possibly be in a position to lead a counterattack. Killjoy, perhaps. "I suppose that's where Metal Gear comes in. An added deterrent, in case someone does decide to risk it.

Twilight paused in her pacing. "Trenton said that it wasn't operational, though, didn't he?"

"And he made a good case for it. That doesn't make it true," I said. "Even if he wasn't lying, there's no guarantee that Pegasus Wings couldn't repair its technical shortcomings."

Twilight's head canted as she mulled that. "Okay, granted. But the doomsday weapon works better as a deterrent than as an opening salvo. Macbeth wants to depose the Princesses, and rule through Cadance as her regent. That tells me he needs the government's infrastructure intact in order to rule – the government apparatus, if not the ponies in charge of it. Destroying the nerve center of the country wouldn't help him rule. If anything, it would impede him."

I glanced at the locker nervously as the wheels in my head spun. "That information came from Trenton, too. You know he's not on our side, no matter what happened in Dodge, right?"

"Yeah, thanks; I'm not stupid, Snake. But he's clearly not playing the same game as Cain and Macbeth." Twilight nodded at the locker, and the documents spread across its surface. "You know that at least as well as I do – even better, I'm sure."

"Which is exactly why I bring it up." I glanced at Cherry; the mare was observing our conversation with the same furtive curiosity that she'd watched me with before. "It's not just about the intel being reliable or not. It's about the conclusions we draw from it. What isn't here matters just as much as what is."

Twilight's face turned quizzical. "What are you saying?"

"Trenton's been trying to fit you and I and the others into his 'mission parameters' since we all met in the Everfree Forest. Feeding us this intel, creating a context for us to operate in – that's right out of the Patriots' playbook. He wants us to play a specific role in his scenario. These documents?" I tapped the file folder twice. "They're notes for us to follow."

Twilight's brow furrowed as she considered the implications. "That might be true. But even if it is, the facts support our interpretation so far. We did blow their cover last night. That's not something they can overlook – they're going to come after us. We can't afford to second-guess ourselves."

I growled, frustrated at being boxed in, but begrudgingly nodded.

Then Twilight rubbed the base of her horn with a groan. "Of course, that won't stop me from stressing out over it, now that you've told me. I almost wish you hadn't said anything."

"Yeah. Well. I almost wish I'd gone back home for dinner instead of walking through that damn portal." My stomach rumbled, and I started wondering where all that fruit Applejack brought got off to. "The head games and the counterintelligence crap – you get used to it, after a while. I'm not sure if that helps."

"It doesn't. Not in the slightest." Twilight smiled up at me. "But at least you're trying to be empathetic."

The door chose that moment to swing open with a blue shimmer. Rarity stepped through it, balancing a long, narrow cardboard box and a thick red book on her back.

Twilight's ears perked at the sight of her. "Hey, fancy seeing you here. We were just..."

Rarity stepped aside to allow Applejack entrance, and Twilight's smile faded.

"...Just, um..." She coughed and looked away. "What... what brings you two over? I didn't think we'd see you until the meeting."

"Well, Twilight, we've been without your august presence for much of the day. Can you blame us for wanting to bask in it?" Rarity floated her box onto a nearby book pile, and beamed at Cherry Jubilee, who looked blankly back at her.

"That," Applejack added, "an' we got a li'l bit of unfinished business we wanted to wrap up, 'fore the meetin'. I saw Rainbow off to the hospital, 'fore you ask. Figure they'll be finishin' up any minute." She chuckled weakly. "You're both lookin' good. Better'n me, anyhow."

What I assumed was humorous self-deprecation was actually right on the money. Applejack didn't look like death on four legs anymore, but the exhaustion was still evident in the way she carried herself – like she was supporting some invisible weight that bent her knees and made her legs quake. The bandages on her back had been changed, and the smell of ointment hung around her like a cloud of sickly perfume.

...And it hung around Rarity, too, I noticed. I wondered if that meant she'd been helping Applejack with her bandages. They did arrive together, after all. Conspicuously so.

Twilight looked perplexed as she glanced between the different piles of books. "Unfinished... wait, did the two of you...?"

"Conduct a thorough and exhaustive research project, and tidy your own mess as well?" Rarity batted her eyelashes. "Well, yes, but the latter was just a side project during the former. We found the library in a state of chaos, and, well – we couldn't just leave it that way, could we? Especially since somepony left certain, shall we say... objects of utmost privacy laying about in the open."

Objects of utmost...?

"Twilight, at what point did you decide that you absolutely needed a gilded unicorn horn?"

Ah. Of course.

Twilight seemed to reach the same conclusion as me, because her face lit up, and she stammered out a denial. "Rarity, if you're talking about what I think you're talking about, then that isn't a—"

"Ah-bup-bup!" Rarity darted toward Twilight and placed a hoof over her lips. "Darling, while owning something like that is nothing to be embarrassed about, and I would never shame you for it, such things are to be kept... discreet. Not left about in the open where anypony can see them. I mean, my sister uses this library—"

"Rarity?" I called, raising my voice to be heard over Applejack's badly stifled snickering. "Any more blood rushes to Twilight's face, she'll probably pass out."

Seriously, she didn't even blush that hard when Killjoy kissed her...

Rarity lowered her hoof from a fuming Twilight. "At least the color suits you?" she said weakly.

Twilight responded with a rosy-cheeked glare.

Applejack cleared her throat. "Hokay, someone's gotta get this train rollin' – guess it's gotta be me. So Rarity had this idea earlier, that she was tellin' me about over coffee..."

Rarity straightened. "Ah, yes! As I told Applejack, I was pondering matters in the shower – you know, as one does. Specifically, the events of last night, and our conversation with that dreadfully pretentious Macbeth fellow. And it struck me that a pony of his appearance, bearing, and general state of mind should probably not be counted on as a trustworthy source of information. I mean, an unwashed vagrant, yammering about being a high-ranking member of the civil authority three decades ago? You can find one of those on every streetcorner in Manehattan."

"How would you even know that, sugarcube?" Applejack teased, elbowing Rarity. "Spend a lotta time on Manehattan streetcorners?"

"I shan't dignify such vulgarity with a response. We are trying to lessen the crudity in this library, Applejack, not worsen it. Though I suppose I did set the precedent." Rarity sniffed and tossed her head, her curly mane bouncing with the motion. "Anyway, Applejack and I came down to the library on a mission to verify his claims."

Twilight looked my way briefly – neither of us had thought to do that. We'd focused our reading primarily on the portals, among other things on her part.

"And did you?" Twilight said to Rarity. "Verify his claims, that is."

"Well... no. Not remotely." A book in a pile beside Cherry Jubilee dislodged itself, sending the rest of the stack toppling down. Cherry yelped and scrambled away, drawing closer to Twilight.

The book floated toward Twilight's face and flipped open. "Applejack and I poured over records regarding the pre-Pax military, and the government ministries of that era," said Rarity. "We found no mention of a pony named Macbeth holding any office whatsoever. The last Secretary of War, before the military was disbanded, was a stallion named Angel Hair."

I snorted, and smothered my laughter behind my hand. Twilight ignored me, and read through the book before it snapped shut in her face. She blinked, and looked up at Rarity.

"He must have been lying, then," said Twilight. "About that much, at least."

"So I assumed, too," Rarity said. "But then, Applejack had a thought, and we ran to Sweet Apple Acres—"

"You ran. I hobbled after you like a gimp," Applejack interjected wryly. She retrieved the red-bound book from the table, rocked onto her haunches, and flipped it open with her forelegs.

"A photo album?" I said. Faded pictures, black and white and sepia and washed-out kodachrome – or its Equestrian equivalent – flew past as Applejack sought a particular page. "Why would that matter?"

"Because the Apple family memory goes all the way back to Ponyville's foundin'," said Applejack as she pulled a picture from its sleeve with her teeth. "My Granny Smith was one of the first ponies to settle here. Five years on, they held a rodeo to celebrate. Look who was there."

Twilight's magic took the photograph from Applejack, and it hung in the air as she inspected it. Curious, I stepped over to get a look at it, too.

A trio of sepia-toned ponies crowded in front of a crate of apples, full to the point of spilling over. The grinning pony in the middle with the short-cropped mane resembled Applejack, right down to the hairstyle. I took that to be her grandmother. Seated to her left was another mare, who looked to be about the same age, smiling uncomfortably as Applejack's grandmother hugged her close and squashed their cheeks together.

On her other side was another pony, male, but smaller than the other two – younger, I supposed. His unkempt hair and arrogant sneer made him look like a cocky, insufferable bastard.

I had a feeling of where she was going with this...

"Auntie?" said Cherry suddenly, leaning past Twilight to get a better look. "Auntie Hickory?"

Applejack looked at her, startled. "Yeah, that's right. Hickory Switch. Friend o'Granny's, from a long time ago. Y'all related?"

Cherry stared at the photograph in silence. Applejack's question hadn't even registered.

After a few minutes of awkward waiting, Applejack coughed. "Well, that's interestin', but not really what I wanted to show y'all. Flip it over, Twi."

Twilight did, to reveal a trio of signatures.

Smith Apple and Hickory Switch were written at the top in surprisingly neat cursive. At the bottom, in messy block letters, was the name Angel Hair.

"Celestia," Twilight breathed. She flipped the photo back over, staring at it. "Angel Hair, indeed. That's Macbeth."

"You sure?" I said.

She looked sidelong at me. "Trust me, I got a pretty good look at his face when he shoved it against mine and stabbed himself on my horn."

I thought about the unwashed bum I'd seen accompanying Cain, with the natty facial hair and the crazed look in his eye... Maybe Twilight should've washed a day earlier than she did. Who knew what infested that beard?

Applejack plucked the photo from the air and tucked it gently back inside the album. "So, yeah – crazy jackwagon or no, looks like our boy Macbeth weren't lyin' about runnin' the war department. Guess he changed his name after leavin', though – maybe thinkin' that 'Angel Hair' weren't a good name fer a rebel."

"Guess I should've figured that from the start," Twilight mused. "Though a name like 'Macbeth...' I can't make heads or tails as to why he'd choose something so..."

"Pretentious?" I offered.

"Meaningless," Twilight corrected. "Maybe he thought it up, decided it sounded cool?"

A chill ran through me. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe."

Twilight kept her eyes on the album for a moment longer, her lips pursed in thought. "As much as I would enjoy pursuing this further, we have a meeting to attend. Applejack, Rarity – thank you, both of you."

"Shucks, Twi," Applejack chuckled. "T'weren't nothin'. Heck, if you want, we can come by when all this is done, help you reshelf all them books."

"What?! No!" Twilight looked at Applejack – avoiding her eyes, but still, looking at her – in alarm. "No, that won't be necessary. I can handle it. Promise."

We were all staring at her – even Cherry – surprised by her overreaction.

"I was just... looking forward to doing it myself, that's all." Twilight pawed at the floor. "It's relaxing."

I exchanged a smirk with Applejack.

"Everypony needs a hobby, okay?!" Twilight, flushed, stomped out of the library. "Let's just get to the stupid meeting, already."

Ponyville had changed in the time since we'd left. Sandbag barriers, manned by sentries with flashlights, farming implements, and other makeshift weapons, blocked off alleyways and boulevards. They nodded politely at Twilight and the girls, but afforded no such courtesy to me. More ponies patrolled the town, drifting like colorful shadows in the fog all around us.

They kept their distance. I understood why, of course. Twilight and her friends may have accepted me, but their neighbors weren't about to give me that chance. Given the reason behind this town hall meeting, it's not like I could blame them.

Applejack and Rarity walked ahead of us, conversing softly. They didn't move very quickly, but Twilight wanted some space, and so they gave us space. Cherry Jubilee stuck close to Twilight – a packed town hall may not have been the best environment for her, but neither of us wanted to leave her alone, especially not under the same roof as her shotgun. I saw how she looked at it in Dodge; I knew her scars ran deep. Leaving her alone with it, for any length of time...

Shooting the lock off of the box was a mistake, in hindsight. I made a mental note to store it somewhere more secure, as soon as I was able.

As we walked, my thoughts turned to Macbeth. For the first time since hearing his name out loud, I found myself struck by its significance. I'm no literary critic, and I'm certainly no Mei-Ling, but even a rube like me knew the tragedy of the Scottish usurper, Macbeth. The feudal noble who lost himself to his own ambition, and died on the sword of the man prophesied to kill him... you show me a madman looking to depose the legitimate ruler of a sovereign nation, calling himself by that name, and it's not difficult to connect the dots.

But this was Equestria, a place which seemed to exist only to baffle and annoy me with inexplicable cultural coincidences. "Canterlot," and "Mooselini," and who knew what else. Who was I to assume that "Macbeth" didn't have some meaning intrinsic to this place, too? So I kept the parallel to myself, because why not? What made him special, or different? If I stopped to comment on every single bizarre congruence between their world and mine, there wouldn't be time to discuss anything else. Hell, the fact that we could even communicate didn't make a whole lot of sense.

Then Twilight dismissed the name as a cool-sounding alias. And then, I started thinking.

I started thinking about the odds that a revolutionary would come up with that name, independently, and purely by coincidence. I started thinking, what were the odds that there was a similarly titled play, with a similar premise, about a similar character, which none of my new friends knew about – which Twilight, bookworm extraordinaire, who lived in a library, didn't know about?

And when I dismissed those possibilities as ludicrous, and concluded that "Angel Hair's" alias was chosen because of its significance... I started thinking about the implications. Twilight knew him as Macbeth from his revolt, five years before, so he'd had the name for at least that long. He had to have gotten it from somewhere.

It might not have been not Trenton, or Cain, but someone had already brought our worlds into contact. That's the only way "Angel Hair" could've gotten his alias. Maybe our Lord of the Flies was to blame for that. Two English literary references within as many days... what were the odds that was coincidental?

A hip-check from Twilight got my attention. "You're awfully quiet. Lost in thought?"

"Why not?" I said. "Plenty to think about."

"True, but visibility isn't great right now. Unless you want to introduce your face to the ground, you should probably at least keep your eyes up." Twilight winked. "What's up?"

Despite her teasing, Twilight seemed pensive, too. Maybe even worried. I remembered just how badly she was trying to hold herself together, to portray stability and courage to her friends. Maybe getting Rainbow Dash back had helped her regain her confidence and optimism, but she was still fragile. I couldn't share this with her – not yet, anyway. It would be yet another conundrum for her to unravel, and she already had the weight of the world on her back.

When everything was over – if we both survived – I'd tell her. When she'd had a chance to relax, and clear her mind. Not an instant before.

"Just trying to figure out how this town hall business is gonna go," I said. "What we should expect."

"Well, considering we'll be apprising the entire town of an impending, existential threat that they've all been secretly preparing for..." Twilight grinned lopsidedly. "I'm expecting hysteria, but short-lived hysteria. Once it subsides, I'm going to call for a vote."

"A vote?"

"Like I said before, Equestria has no military – that's by law. But local townships can organize their own militias in times of crisis. It has to be done by majority vote, however."

We climbed past another sandbag barrier. This one was manned by a steely-eyed black stallion, armed with a woodcutter's axe, whose silver mane and mustache reminded me uncannily of Revolver Ocelot. He had a crinkly-eyed smile for Applejack, and exchanged pleasantries with Twilight, but his hooves tightened around the axe's shaft when he glanced my way.

Twilight picked up her earlier train of thought, having apparently noticed nothing from Ocelot Pony. "Anyway, I'm assuming we'll have a quorum at the meeting, even with so many ponies out guarding the town. Or foalsitting; there'll probably be some foal-related absences. But barring complications, or good old fashioned voter apathy, I think we can put the militia to a vote."

"Sounds good," I muttered, glancing back to glare at Ocelot Pony, whose glare still followed me through the haze.

Feeling's mutual, pal.

"The trouble is, with measures in place to evacuate and defend the town, everypony will be split between those two," Twilight said, drawing my focus back to her. "Most ponies' first choice would probably be to avoid a fight, and that's probably what the Mayor will push for, too. There are ponies who'd be willing to stay and fight, granted, but I don't know if there'll be enough."

To win the vote? Or to hold the town against attack? Twilight didn't specify, and I didn't ask. I suspected both could serve as answers.

Instead, I said, "Do you have a preference?"

"I'm the one calling for the militia." Twilight smiled, though her eyes looked immeasurably sad. "You?"

I chewed my lip. "All things being equal, I'd prefer to take the fight to them – infiltrate their base and sabotage their vehicles, or ambush them on the road and take 'em out with guerrilla tactics. But I don't think either of those are on the table."

Twilight chuckled humorlessly. "You're doing a good job of making what options we do have seem utterly unappealing."

"I don't mean to. Just saying, this isn't how I'd do things normally." I reached out to draw her to a stop, causing Cherry to nearly walk into her backside. "But we're in this together. You want to mount a defense, I'll help you get it right. You want to evacuate, and I'll see you on your way."

Applejack and Rarity paused in their stride, looking back at us – Twilight hurriedly waved them on. "And then what'll you do?" she said, when the others were gone.

I shrugged. "Go back out to the field, I suppose. Head through the Everfree, try and bypass the castle, and make my way out to Metal Gear on my own." With their forces spread between Ponyville and Canterlot, that'd leave Metal Gear open and vulnerable to some kind of sabotage – there'd be no better time than that.

Twilight shook her head and patted me on the knee. "You should know by now that you're not on your own. Whatever happens, we're in this together. All of us."

We resumed walking, and arrived at town hall not long after. The building loomed like a giant lantern, with yellow lights strung along its balconies and flickering in its windows. The Humvee was parked not far from the building; a few ponies milled about the vehicle, their low voices audible in the wet stillness of the night. More were emerging from the town proper, filing inside the hall.

Applejack and Rarity were waiting for us at the entrance, still looking concerned. Twilight quickly assured them that everything was fine, and urged them inside. Applejack went in first.

But Rarity paused, and looked back at me. "It slipped my mind earlier, but that box in the library? That's for you, Snake."

I blinked, momentarily excited at the prospect of a new box, before remembering its small size – it clearly wouldn't work as a tool of stealth. "What is it?"

"A token of appreciation for all of your help. And... an apology. For how I spoke to you last night." She toyed with the curly spring of hair dangling off her neck. "Also, for good measure... I just wanted to thank you, personally, for helping our Rainbow Dash home. Come what may, you'll never leave my good graces."

With one last beatific smile, Rarity sauntered into the building, leaving Twilight, Cherry, and I behind.

"Bet there's something good inside that box," Twilight said knowingly. "Hey, stay out here while I nip in and check out the crowd, okay? C'mon, Cherry."

She followed after Rarity before I could protest being left alone, Cherry clinging to her heels like the lost soul she was. I watched them go, then sighed in exasperation and turned around.

A clump of ponies, several feet away, stared warily at me, refusing to walk past me to get inside. For a few, long seconds, I just stared right back at them, wondering if attending this meeting was a bad decision on my part.

"Snake! Hey, Snake!"

Apple Bloom rescued the skittish ponies from their uninvited staring contest, bounding out of the fog toward me, the ribbon in her mane flapping behind her like a butterfly's wings.

Hell, that would put a smile on anyone's face.

I vacated the doorway to greet Apple Bloom, the crowd of ponies shuffling inside. The filly eventually skidded to a stop at my feet and sat down, her tail swishing in the dirt. A few ponies from the crowd stopped short of entering the building, and watched disapprovingly as Apple Bloom and I caught up.

"What'cha been up to today?" Apple Bloom said, heedless of the crowd. "Makin' friends, or makin' trouble?"

"Little of both. Emphasis on the trouble, though. A little arson, some vandalism. But it wasn't all fun and games." I lifted my bandaged forearm.

"Whoa..." Apple Bloom's eyes bugged out. "What happened?"

"Got bit. By, uh... a zombie. A zombie pony."

"C'mon, Snake. Zombies ain't real," Apple Bloom said in a lecturing tone. Then, biting her lip, she said, "Can I...? I mean, d'you mind if I...?"

Silently, I unwrapped the bandage, just enough to expose the bite.

"Oh, gross!" Apple Bloom laughed, her grin widening at the sight of Jinglebell's threadwork. "That is the coolest thing ever! Gawsh, I wish Scoots an' Sweetie could see this..."

Sometimes, I am good with kids.

"It's awfully late for you to be up and about," I said, as I rewound the bandage. "You're not running away again, are you?"

"Har har," Apple Bloom drawled, rolling her eyes. "Naw, I'm here on account'a Applejack. She said there was some big meetin' goin' on, about the bad guys in the woods. Asked me if I could talk about... about what happened yesterday."

A slight shudder rippled through her, and I found myself questioning the wisdom of Applejack's request. True, Apple Bloom had a unique perspective to offer on the Pegasus Wings situation. But she was also a child who underwent a traumatic experience, and I wasn't sure that sharing it with the whole town would be therapeutic for her.

I knelt in front of Apple Bloom and lowered my voice. "What happened to you out there was rough. You gonna be okay with reliving it?"

Apple Bloom's bangs shadowed her face as she dipped her head. "'Member that stuff you said, Snake? About livin' a life worth savin'?"

My nod seemed to encourage her; she drew herself up and spoke more firmly. "Way I see it, this is how I can do that. I ain't no hero, like you an' the girls, an' I can't do nothin' t'save Ponyville if the bad guys come for us."

A flush crept up my neck. "I'm really not a—"

"But I can do this. Y'know? For Spike, an'... an' anyone else who gets hurt 'fore this is over." She reared up slightly and rested her hooves on my upturned knee. There was a childish innocence in her eyes, part of her unmarred by the previous night's horrors. "An' don't you say you ain't no hero, Snake. You are to me, as much as AJ."

Well, if that didn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy...

Then the moment was killed by a voice like a rusty wheelbarrow screeching from across the plaza. "Lemme at 'im! Lemme at 'im! Where's that scum-suckin', good-fer-nothin', son of a diamond dog?!"

An elderly green mare hobbled toward me with shocking speed... if not grace. She was trailed by Applejack's brother, who watched the scene unfold with the largest, most passive-aggressive smirk I'd ever seen on an equine face. Apple Bloom, my one and only advocate, hastily wheeled around to hold her back before she could come within striking distance.

"Granny, no! He helped save me, 'member? He's one o'the good guys!"

"Yeah?" The old mare spat out the side of her mouth. "Well, he still put the whammy on m'boy, sugarcube, an' there's gotta be a reckonin' fer that. Been waitin' all day to look him in the eye an' give him a piece of my mind"

Apple Bloom's grandmother stuck her neck out. To my bafflement, and mild disgust, the layers of loose, wrinkly skin along her neck stretched like rubber, until she and I were nearly nose to nose. The stench of liniment and old lady breath was almost too much for me.

We stayed like that, watched by a crowd of lookie-loos, until a low hiss escaped her lips, her breath making my eyes water. "Sweet biscuits an' gravy, yer an ugly one."

Wow. The damage to my olfactory senses was nothing compared to the blow she dealt my poor ego.

Applejack and Twilight scampered to my side... or Twilight scampered; Applejack staggered rapidly. The former took Granny by the shoulder and guided her toward the town hall. Apple Bloom gave me an apologetic look before following after them.

Big McIntosh just chuckled darkly.

"That was uncalled for," Twilight said, scowling at Granny's back as the Apple family retreated. "Sorry you had to deal with it."

"Forget it," I muttered, rising and brushing dirt from my knees. "I did shoot her grandson; I suppose I deserve a little tongue-lashing over that."

"Hmm. Well, you got off easy. If Granny thought to bring her walker, we'd probably need to drag you to the hospital all over again. She can do some real damage with that." Twilight tugged my sleeve telekinetically, and started back to the building. "Anyway, it looks like everything's all set up. We're still waiting on a few stragglers to start the meeting, but..."

"Yeah, about that," I said, pulling my hand back until Twilight's grip loosened. The crowd that had gathered to watch the Apples and I had dispersed by then, but I still felt their gazes crawling all over me. "I think it's better for everyone if I sit this one out."

Twilight balked. "Why? You scared of public speaking, or something?"

"Scared? No." Although it was far from my favorite thing in the world...

"Then what's the problem?" Twilight sounded testy, but there was a familiar undercurrent of concern in her words.

I sighed. "Applejack's grandmother isn't the only one here who seems to have a problem with me. You must've noticed how your neighbors look at me. At best, I'm a curiosity; at worst, a freak. "

"That... yeah, granted," Twilight said abashedly. "But that's their problem, Snake, and it's one they have to get over. They need see you, to know you're on their side. Having you on stage, hearing you talk—"

"They need to see you, Twilight. You're the brains of this outfit. You're the hero here." That was not a role I could fill, no matter what Apple Bloom said. "I told you before that I'm with you on this, and I meant that. But until the fighting actually starts, you want me in the background, out of sight and mind. Not out in the open."

Twilight shook her head. "You know their capabilities better than anyone else," she said, desperately trying to find a good angle. "Guns and tanks, flying machines, doomsday weapons..."

"You have those too, don't you?" I interrupted gently. "Guns and tanks, anyway. And you've seen their arsenal in action. There's not a whole lot that I could tell them that you couldn't, and it's all stuff they can conceptualize. You and your friends got the gist of it without much effort on my part. Hell, so did Zecora."

Twilight sputtered and stammered in search of a rebuttal; finding none, she just slumped, as if the defeat weighed physically upon her. "What'll you do in the meantime?"

I shrugged. "Well, I'm at least as overdue for a wash as you were, so..."

She snickered, the sound netting a half-smile out of me.

"I'll be fine," I insisted, less facetiously. "Come back when it's all finished, let me know how it went, and we'll go from there. Alright?"

"...Alright," said Twilight, at length, reluctantly. With a parting smile, she headed inside the town hall.

It was for the best. Twilight and her friends may have accepted me, may have even liked me. I'd never admit it to them, but the feeling was more than mutual. Barring the occasional, helpful townspony, though, I doubted the rest of them would ever share in the sentiment. They didn't need to see more of me than they already had.

Plus – and mind you, this was not my primary motivation – with Twilight gone, I could smoke on my way back to the library.

Town hall was filled to capacity with ponies. Even the many gallery seats were occupied out of a pressing need for every last inch of real estate, forcing many pegasi to hover above the crowd.

Twilight sat on a stage set up at the far end of the room, alongside her friends. Apple Bloom leaned into Applejack's chest, with the elder Apple's forelegs crossed protectively over her. The others chatted quietly, catching one another up on current events, all while trying desperately not to stare at Rainbow Dash's now-prominent facial scars.

The doctor's hornwork had revitalized Rainbow, repairing the fractures in her leg and her wing. Neither worked at a hundred percent, not yet, but that was to be expected. She wouldn't be pulling any rainbooms in the near future, but she could walk, and she could fly, and that was enough for now. But the scars on her face didn't fade so easily. They weren't so bad on the right side, just three thin lines from the corner of her eye to her jawline. Those gave her a sort of rakish charm, and complimented her natural good looks, in Twilight's opinion, anyway. The one on her left side was just ugly, though – a thick, fat worm with a faint curve, just below her cheek bone.

But Rainbow Dash took it all in good humor – scars were sexy, she said, and they made her look badass. And when Applejack gently cuffed her ear, for swearing in front of Apple Bloom, she took that in stride as well, as her friends joined her in laughing.

But Twilight didn't. The normality of the scene was fleeting, illusory. One glance at Rainbow's scars, or Applejack's bandages, gave it away. She just watched them laugh, smiling, the taste of ashes in her mouth.

The conversations in the room ebbed to a low hum when Mayor Mare took up the podium and spoke. "Welcome, everypony, and thank you for coming out here. I know it's late, and short notice, but we have a very important matter to discuss. No doubt you're all aware of the town's renewed disaster-preparedness campaign; no doubt most of you have participated in it. I'm sure you are all curious as to why."

She paused, a flicker of uncertainty in her eye.

"Twilight Sparkle, if you would be so kind as to explain?"

Twilight looked back at her friends, and their encouraging expressions buoyed her as she trotted to the podium. Mayor Mare stepped away, and Twilight took her place, adjusting the microphone and leaning into it.

"Thank you, Mayor Mare." Twilight lingered on the sight of Cherry Jubilee, seated with the Apples in the front row, before sweeping over the hundreds of other ponies staring back at her

Best keep this succinct.

"Over the last two days, my friends and I have uncovered a plot by a former government official to overthrow Princess Celestia, with the support of a mercenary company calling itself 'Pegasus Wings.' Despite the name, they're actually from a race called 'humans,' and they're armed with weapons and technology far beyond our own. So far, we've managed to stall their efforts, with the help of another human. You may have seen us with him – his name is Solid Snake, and—"

Someone in the audience snickered obnoxiously.

Twilight scowled. "Anyway – also, whoever that was, grow up – you might've also heard about things going awry, in or around town, lately. The fire at the mountain junction, flight restrictions imposed without explanation, problems with our telegraph lines – we think these are all in preparation for a retaliatory attack against Ponyville. Our lines of communication with Canterlot are cut, meaning we can't call for help, and even if we could, it's probable that they'd be dealing with an attack of their own, and couldn't spare reinforcements."

Twilight paused for effect, and for breath, drinking in the sight of so many wide eyes and blanched faces.

She attempted to smile. "Questions so far?"

That was when the expected hysteria began. Shouts and cries and noisy stomping filled the room as hundreds of ponies jockeyed to be heard over one another. Twilight's horn flashed, and a thunderclap silenced everypony present.

"One at a time, please?" she said sweetly. "Yes, Mr. Softshoe?"

An elderly stallion, bald and bearded, waved his cane above his head. "That queer feller, the one who rolled up wit'choo in the whatchamacallitmobile – he's one of them evil hew-mons, right? With the Pegasus Wings?"

Twilight's eye twitched. "He's of the same race, yes. But he's not a member of Pegasus Wings."

"Sure about that?" Softshoe jabbed his cane at Twilight. "You real sure he's on the up-and-up? I mean, he ain't even bothered to show up to account for himself; he sent you out to speak for him. How d'you know you he ain't just playing you?"

"I assure you that Snake is on our side." Twilight's voice strained, as did her patience – this was precisely why she wanted Snake there, to speak for himself! "He has a vested interest in stopping Pegasus Wings, and he's saved my life more than once."

"Mine too!" Apple Bloom chirped. Twilight glanced back to see Applejack give the filly an affectionate noogie.

Softshoe looked grouchily at Apple Bloom and grunted. "All the same, I think it's for the best if we don't give him free reign of the town. Maybe we should lock him up, or put him in chains an' watch him. We can march him with us when we evacuate, keep an eye on him that way. I ain't alone in thinkin' that, am I?"

He wasn't. Ponies nodded, and rumbled their agreement, and Softshoe looked smug and satisfied as he returned to his seat.

The Mayor put an end to the rumbling by coming to the podium and leaning into the microphone. "Let's not lose sight of why we're here, everypony. Twilight has assured me that our... visitor... is an asset, not a liability. I admit, I'm not entirely comfortable with him either, but I trust her judgment. We're not here to cast suspicion on anyone; we're here to brief you, and decide upon a course of action together."

"Mayor Mare is right," said Twilight. She tried to give a grateful smile to the Mayor, but the older mare's face remained all-business.

Time enough for that later.

"Getting back on topic," Twilight continued. "I notice that the town has been partially fortified, that an evacuation plan is in place, and that defensive measures are already being prepared. However, nopony has spoken to me of any organized militia, so... am I correct in assuming that there hasn't been any effort at forming one?"

No one responded.

As I thought. Her stomach knotted. Softshoe had spoken of an evacuation as a given, and nopony had contradicted him. This would be a harder sell than she thought.

"Then, per the terms of the Pax Equestria, I motion that the Ponyville municipal government authorize the creation of a local militia, to defend the town from incursion."

Mayor Mare's eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed, as the room broke again into shouting.

"Second! Second! I second the motion, dagnabbit!" Granny Smith's voice carried over the others as her hoof smacked noisily against the floor, silencing everypony else. "I done lived in this town since I were barely more'n a yearling, an' I'll be cored 'n quartered 'fore I let sum bunch'a crazy gorillas chase me out!"

"Oh, sure, send Granny Smith Apple off to war; that'll send 'em runnin'!" the elderly Softshoe snapped back. "You gonna stand on yer porch an' rattle yer dentures at 'em, y'old fruit bat?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, you yellow-bellied ol' codger!" Granny fired back, turning to shout at him over the crowd. "You ain't too old fer me t'hike up yer tail an' lay a tannin' on them bony cheeks o'yers! I'll whip 'em 'til they're a-glowin' red hot, an' hoist you up a flagpole hind-first!"

Apple Bloom laughed at her grandmother's vitriol.

Softshoe flushed; his retort was swallowed in a chorus of yells. Twilight glanced back at her friends, all of whom looked as lost and helpless as she felt.

"The record will show – the record will show!" Mayor Mare called, repeating herself in a shout. She continued more evenly once the arguments had died down. "The record will show that Twilight Sparkle petitioned to form a militia, as is her right. However, I'd be remiss in not pointing out that our evacuation plan, which Amethyst Star and I developed ourselves, remains a viable alternative."

Twilight could see the effect that the Mayor's words were having on the crowd, canceling out Granny Smith's earnest enthusiasm. Ponies muttered and nodded their agreement, turning to converse among one another.

Bushy-maned Golden Harvest stepped out of the front row and looked up at the podium. "Miss Twilight, I just – I'm sorry, but I'm thinkin' a militia ain't the way to go. We ain't soldiers; we don't got no way to fight off no invasion. What if we try gettin' somepony who can? Maybe we can't send a telegram to Canterlot, but... can't we just walk there, or take that wheelie machine you showed up in?"

"The 'wheelie machine' doesn't have the fuel for a trip like that," said Twilight, relieved at the relatively reasonable question. "And the trip is prohibitively long, on hoof, in the timeframe we're working with. Besides, to do so would tip our cards to the enemy – there's reason to suspect they might be watching us."

Or that someone in town is funneling information to them.

Trenton's deliberate vagueness on that point left her feeling uncertain. She didn't want to reach the point where she started suspecting friends and neighbors, and she didn't want to turn the town on one another based only on suspicion and innuendo. Still, she kept searching the faces in the crowd for some subtle indicator that all was not well...

"But that's all the more reason to evacuate, Twilight," another voice pressed – a pegasus pony with a two-toned, pink and green mane, styled almost identically to Twilight's. "I mean, we did a good job whipping up that cloud cover, but if the bad guys were already watching Ponyville, spying on us? That might not do us as much good as we thought."

Mayor Mare made a sound in the back of her throat. "That's a valid point, Blossomforth. As innovative as the fog bank was, it's not impossible that the enemy could bypass it and report on our defensive strategies."

More nodding heads and resolved expressions. Twilight began to sweat.

"Mayor Mare? Twilight?" This voice belonged to Bon Bon, on the far left of the room. "If I may?"

Twilight met her eyes and nodded.

Bon Bon looked out at the sea of faces. "There is zero guarantee that any invading army wouldn't pursue us if we evacuated the town. And if there are scouts or spies watching us, then they'd be able to report our movements and our numbers as we do. We'd just be delaying an inevitable confrontation, one we'd be even less prepared for. An evacuation would make a militia more necessary, not less, because we'd need a rearguard to cover the rest of the town's retreat."

"She has a point!" Amethyst Star, on the other side of the room, poked her head out from the crowd. "We developed the evacuation plan assuming there'd be some kind of organized resistance, Ms. Mayor."

Twilight seized on their idea and clutched it like a lifeline. "I think what they're saying – thank you, ladies – is that forming a militia and evacuating the town aren't mutually exclusive options. The question is, can we field an effective enough militia to successfully defend the town and cover the evacuation?"

"Talk of a militia is premature; we still need to put it to a vote," Mayor Mare interjected, sliding up to the podium. She covered the microphone with her hoof, and spoke to Twilight in a low voice.

"If you have a case to make for this, then make it now."

Yet again, the room went dead silent. All eyes were on Twilight now. She girded herself, wondering how she could reconcile arguing in favor of a militia, and a battle, whose mere thought made her feel ill.

None of them want it either. We're united on that much, at least. Speak from the heart, Twily.

"I know it sounds... daunting. I know it sounds scary. I understand how you all feel, because I feel the same way at the mere thought of fighting. I don't want a militia; I don't want to fight a war. I want things to be how they were, before any of this ever happened." She paused, biting her lip. "But the stakes are too high for us to just turn and run away. The Ponyville, the Equestria, that we all know and love – that's what we stand to lose through inaction."

The other townsponies, her friends and her neighbors, exchanged looks of uncertainty with one another. Softshoe's face just turned sourer and sourer.

"If we vote to form a militia, then it'll be volunteer only," Twilight went on. "Nopony will think less of you if you choose not to stay and fight. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you. But I promise you this: whether alone, or with you all at my back, I'll stand and fight for Equestria."

A hoof rested on her back; she turned to see Rainbow, with an uncharacteristically gentle look on her face. The others lined up on either side of Twilight, who felt warmth stir within her chest.

Of course. I won't be alone.

"Hey, Twilight," said an uncannily familiar unicorn, with a white coat and pink mane. "If we're really gonna vote on this, then... maybe we ought to know a little bit more about what's going on than what you've given us. Some more specifics about what you've been dealing with. That's a reasonable request, right?"

"I think it is," said Twilight. She exhaled slowly.

"Alright, then. From the top."

Squeezing into a bathtub made for a quadruped less than half my size was a struggle, and washing myself with Twilight's products, a harrowing ordeal. I had no idea if they were safe for human use; for all I knew, there were chemicals in her shampoo that'd make me go bald, or something. But climbing out of the bathtub to look at myself at the mirror, and really studying my reflection, for the first time in what felt like decades? That was a kick in the old gonads.

God only knows why, but Twilight kept a razor, and a pair of shears, under her sink. I used both to clean myself up – trimming my hair, shaving days' worth of stubble off my face and neck. In the end, I looked cleaner, smoother. But there was no masking the care lines and wrinkles on my cheeks, the crows' feet in the corners of my eyes. No hiding the flecks of gray in my hair, the streaks of white in the locks carpeting the floor, the salt and pepper in Twilight's sink, and on the razor blade. I didn't feel like a man as far beyond my years as the man behind the mirror, but there was no hiding from reality, painful though it may have been.

Somewhere along the line, my reflection had become that of a stranger.

The clothes Trenton provided me with were standard issue Pegasus Wings fatigues – navy blue trousers and jacket, with a long-sleeved black undershirt, along with socks, briefs, boots, gloves, a harness, and brassards. I settled on the shirt and the pants, leaving the jacket out for the time being, and ignoring everything else besides the socks and the underwear. I had gloves and boots and a harness already, and the brassards bore the emblems of Pegasus Wings and Zanzibar Land. I refused to wear either into battle.

Twilight had come back from the meeting while I was in the bathroom. She was emerging from the stacks with a pile of rolled-up papers and scrolls balanced on her back as I descended the stairs. At the sound of creaky steps, she turned her head, and whistled in astonishment when she saw me.

"Not bad!" she said. "When you said you were gonna clean up, I wasn't expecting the change to be quite so... dramatic. But I gotta say, I like the new you."

"You were gone for a while. I had to pass the time somehow." I shrugged, taking the last two steps at once. "I moved the locker into your room, too, by the way. Best that we keep it out of sight, if Cherry's gonna keep hanging out here. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, on either count. Though I hope you at least had the decency to clean up after yourself in the bathroom." She narrowed her eyes at me. "Please tell me you cleaned up after yourself."

"I cleaned up after myself."

Twilight's lips pursed. "No, you didn't."

I smiled, wondering in the back of my mind how worn and leathery it made my face look. "How'd it go?"

Twilight looked like she wanted to give me an earful, but she managed to focus on my question. "As I thought, it came down to a vote. And, as I assumed, the vote was pretty close."

"But?"

"...The town voted to form a militia." She looked at me grimly. "We're staying, Snake. We're meeting this war head-on."

Within the hour, we transformed the library into a war room, carrying books off to the stacks to clear space for charts, chairs, and tables. Maps of the town and the countryside, as far out as Canterlot, hung from the walls, hiding the empty bookshelves. Twilight and I went back and forth between them, discussing each in turn, while she marked them up in red pen to reflect the patrols and checkpoints, and the evacuation route. In the middle of the room was a chalkboard which she used for reference purposes – every now and then, she'd dash over to it and jot down her errant thoughts, or notes about military strategy and terminology.

In the bottom-right corner were three numbered entries: Red Sun, Canterbria, and Lord of the Flies, the second underlined twice, the third underlined thrice. I felt a twist of guilt in my gut as I realized I could shed some light on oneof those points for her. As with Macbeth, I'd tell her what I knew... which, granted, wasn't much... but not yet. Not when she was hanging by a thread that grew thinner and more taut with every twist this crisis took.

Ponies came and went as we worked. Twilight's friends, and others I didn't know, made sporadic appearances to report on their business in town. Rarity and Rainbow Dash were out seeking recruits for the militia. Fluttershy was seeing to her menagerie of animals, urging them to find safe haven in one of Ponyville's nearby forests. Only Applejack and Pinkie Pie, and a third mare I hadn't been formally introduced to – one of the group who'd met the Humvee – stayed for longer than a few minutes.

Applejack had come over with more fruit and a bag of coffee, and immediately sequestered herself in the kitchen to prepare something for us all. She'd brought an earth pony named Bon Bon, who'd shown some kind of strategic acumen earlier; Applejack figured that made her a good asset for the planning phase. She helped out in more ways than that, though – when Pinkie came by to report on the cannons' ammo and powder reserves, Bon Bon pulled her into a thorough discussion of her artillery qualifications. This removed the possibility that Pinkie and I would have to interact, endearing Bon Bon to me tremendously.

I was studying a map of the Ponyville area, alone and yawning – the Mayor had swung by, and Twilight had excused herself to talk with her – when Applejack emerged from the kitchen. She balanced a platter with apple slices and some coffee cups on her head, with such poise that the idea of her dropping anything was remote and unfathomable.

Cherry Jubilee was curled up on the stairs, more furniture than pony, and Applejack stopped by her first, offering food and drink and a kind word or two. But Cherry didn't seem to notice, so Applejack left her a mug and some apples, and moved on to Pinkie and Bon Bon. Eventually, she brought what was left to me.

"Need a pick-me-up?" Applejack said.

The scent of cinnamon wafted up from the tray, making my mouth water. I sighed, reaching for the last mug and a generous wedge of apple.

Applejack watched me slurp and chew, chuckling. "Yeah, I had a feelin' y'all would be hungry."

"Understatement," I said around a mouthful of fruit. Swallowing, I added, "Thank you."

"Gonna make me blush, Snake." Applejack dipped her tray like a hat, without sending all its contents spilling over the edge. "I'm just glad I could find some way to help out. All this strategizin' stuff goes over my head. Doubt I'd be much good with any of it – I ain't cut out fer maps 'n charts. Not like some ponies."

She glanced wanly at Bon Bon and Pinkie.

I frowned at her, thoughtful, from behind the rim of my coffee cup. Applejack noticed... somehow... and smiled, rolling her eyes. "Hey, I'm just sayin' it how it is. I'm still gonna be part o'this fight, helpin' out how I can. Whether that means fightin' shoulder-to-shoulder with everypony else, or jus' servin' up coffee 'n fruit, I'm yer gal."

"That's a vital service." I smirked. "I literally would not have eaten anything tonight if it weren't for you."

Applejack's smile faded as Twilight detached herself from the Mayor and trotted back over to rejoin us. "Reminds me of somepony I know," she mused quietly.

I emptied my mug, and turned to greet Twilight as she came into earshot. "Everything alright?"

"Mayor Mare just wanted a progress report. No big deal." Twilight floated a cup of coffee and the last pieces of apple from the platter, without looking at the mare who'd prepared it. "Thanks, Applejack."

Something flickered across Applejack's face for an instant, some show of emotion that didn't stick around long enough for me to parse. She simply doffed the now-empty platter, set it on the floor, and nodded.

Twilight turned to regard the map, sipping thoughtfully and taking small bites from her snack, as Bon Bon broke away from Pinkie Pie to join us.

"After talking extensively with Pinkie," she said, "I've reached two conclusions. One: Pinkie is utterly and completely mad, and two, Pinkie really, really knows her artillery."

The pink pony grinned at us and waved. Her upper lip was stained brown from her coffee, giving her the semblance of a thin, curly mustache.

"Toldja so!" she said cheerfully. "I had to get certified to carry my party cannon, after all."

I stared back at her. "Party... cannon?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, bestest buddy." Pinkie lapped off her coffee mustache, pushed away from her table, and looked expectantly at Twilight. "Can I go now? I don't like leaving the Boom-Boom Brigade alone for too long – they get antsy without me."

Twilight gave a flimsy, joyless approximation of a smile. "By all means, Pinkie."

Pinkie grinned and bounced out the door, whistling a jaunty tune. I stared, dumbfounded, after her.

But I don't know what it sounds like, I thought. That's why I asked.

"All that said, I'm not sold on the cannons' positioning," said Bon Bon, dropping the glasses back over her eyes and looking at Applejack. "Or, rather, their proximity to the Sweet Apple Acres shelter. If the enemy has any brains whatsoever, then they'll make taking out our artillery a priority. That puts the farm, the apple cellar, and anypony inside, in harm's way."

Applejack rubbed the back of her mane sheepishly, her cheeks reddening. "Guess I didn't think o'that. S'pose we ought'a move somethin'."

"The shelter," Bon Bon insisted. "Not the cannons."

Applejack gave me a sidelong look. "Like I was sayin'," she muttered.

Twilight finished her apple and cleared her throat. "You want to take a look at this, Bon Bon? Snake and I were trying to predict the enemy's approach before the Mayor came by. We've ruled out a western approach, since their camps are all east of Ponyville, but with the road through the Everfree cut off, they probably won't be coming from that direction, either. Of course, as I told Snake, an aerial attack would make this whole question moot."

"I think we can rule that out," I said. "Their helicopters are suited for troop and cargo transport – if I were Cain, I'd use them to airlift as many of his men to Canterlot as possible, instead of making them schlep up the mountainside."

Bon Bon stepped over to the map, staring at it closely. "So if they're not coming from the east, the west, or by air, then that leaves either north or south. Hmm..." She nabbed Twilight's pen out of the air with her mouth, shifted it to the corner of her lips, and reared onto her hind legs, pressing her forehooves against the shelf behind the map.

"We're working under the assumption that the enemy's base camp is deep in the Everfree Forest, right?" she said, chomping down on the pen like a cigar. "And, also, that they're going to attack Ponyville and Canterlot simultaneously. In that case..."

Sliding the pen to the middle of her mouth, she traced a long line through the forest, just east of where Twilight had marked the castle. The line stretched far to the north, between a river to the west and a place called Rambling Rock Ridge to the east, and terminated at the base of the lonely mountain where Canterlot perched.

Twilight squinted at the spot where the line ended. "The mountain junction? What about it?"

Bon Bon spat the pen into her hoof and wiped it off on her barrel. "We've been told that it caught fire, and that's why rail travel into Canterlot's closed off. That could well be true. It could also be that the enemy is occupying the junction, using it as a staging area to launch both attacks, to lessen the strain on their supply lines. I've been out there before – there's room enough to house a small army, if one was so inclined."

Comprehension dawned on Twilight. She set her coffee mug on the floor, levitated the pen from Bon Bon's hoof, and traced another line west from the junction. This one followed a prominent road, which forked: north toward Canterlot, and south, directly into Ponyville.

"Oh dear," Twilight whispered.

"To say the least," Bon Bon muttered. "They could try to skirt around the town and hit our flanks, but they would still approach from the north. Probably deploying outriders to screen their approach, too."

Twilight swallowed, capped the pen, and slid it behind her ear. "North it is, then. What else do we know?"

"Not a whole lot," I admitted. "Logic suggests they'll commit most of their forces to Canterlot, but that doesn't tell us exactly what they're throwing our way. But if I had to guess, primarily infantry, with light armored support – an APC, maybe two, to transport troops and help break through hard points."

Twilight glanced at her chalkboard, checking the definition of "APC," something I'd given her earlier. Like tanks, except not, she'd written.

"Think we'll see real tanks?" she asked, perhaps prompted by her own note.

"They don't have tanks, plural – they have a tank." An antiquated T-72, to be precise. "It's possible, but I think they'd want to send it to Canterlot, instead. Their fleet puts an emphasis on speed and mobility – cars and trucks, with the odd armored vehicle. If they only have one tank, then they'll want to put it where it'd be best suited. Say, a siege against a castle. It'd be wasted in Ponyville."

"What about Metal Gear?" Applejack asked. "They could send it after us. Or after Canterlot."

"A REX that's been built to spec could easily make the journey either way, and turn the tide of whatever fight it was in," I said. "But the one they have is a black market mess, built by militants in a cave with a box of scraps. I doubt it could make it through the Everfree."

"Any kind of armor is a threat," Twilight insisted. "We don't have any guaranteed countermeasures for armored vehicles. Even if Metal Gear's sitting the fight out, and they're just sending tanks – or little not-tanks, rather – I don't think our cannons will be a match for their plating."

"Relax," I said. "I've got a plan."

Twilight looked at me skeptically. "Your last plan was incredibly convoluted, and barely worked, recall."

"That was as much your plan as it was mine, recall. This one's much more straightforward." I shuddered inwardly at the memory of the saloon battle. "We use the C-4 Trenton provided to turn the Humvee into an IED – a car bomb – and pack it with as much explosive material as we can spare. We'd need to protect it long enough to get it into position, but the explosion would be sufficient to take out at least one vehicle."

"And if they send more than one?" said Bon Bon.

"Let me worry about that," I said, resting a hand on my hip. "I can handle any armor they send our way with what I have on hand – not easily, but I've managed it before. It's the infantry you need to concern yourself with."

"Saying that doesn't make me any less concerned about the armor," Twilight said, though she definitely looked a little less concerned. "The infantry, on the other hoof, I think we can deal with far more easily. I've been doing some thinking on that point."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "You have a plan?"

"More of an idea that I can see mutating into a plan," Twilight corrected. "Though it's only worth talking about if we can muster enough of a militia to put it into action. If we do, then great – I'll brief you all on it. If we don't..."

She didn't finish the thought, but I knew how she might've. If we didn't have the numbers to hold the town, then the best we could hope to do is fight a delaying action. Probably a doomed one. The smart thing for me to do in that eventuality would be to slip away, pursue Metal Gear, and leave Ponyville to its fate.

But I knew I could never do that. Not after Dodge.

"In the meantime, we need to start coordinating this defense in earnest," Twilight said, the authoritative tones of a leader hiding her uncertainty. "I'm thinking we'll regiment it four ways – earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi, plus Pinkie's cannon crew. I was thinking I'd lead the unicorns, personally, and Rainbow more or less runs the weather team by now, so she'd get the pegasi. For the earth ponies—"

"I know where you're goin' with that, Twi," Applejack interrupted, shaking her head with a humble smile. "And I'm mighty flattered, but I'm gonna have to pass."

"...Actually, um..." Twilight shot a quick, furtive glance at Applejack. "I was gonna ask... Bon Bon."

"...Oh." Applejack's smile stretched into a thin, bony rictus.

Bon Bon lifted her sunglasses to expose a pair of turquoise eyes, widened in shock. "You want me to help you lead?"

"Well... you already kinda have been in a leadership role so far." Twilight laughed weakly. "How about it?"

Bon Bon stammered, looking between Twilight and Applejack. "I... I mean, I could, but... what about Applejack? Shouldn't she...?"

Truth be told, I thought Bon Bon was the better choice. But I'd fully expected Twilight to offer the command to Applejack anyway, and for Applejack to turn it down. Bon Bon would've gotten the job in any eventuality, but Twilight could've at least allowed Applejack to save some face. This was a snub, plain and simple.

And Applejack knew it. The hurt in her eyes was obvious. But she didn't let it get the better of her.

"It's like I was tellin' Snake, sugarcube, I don't got a head fer none o'this," Applejack said to the still-gobsmacked Bon Bon. "But you do. Shoot, I'd follow you – and I'll tan anypony's hide who says they won't."

A self-conscious smile spread across Bon Bon's face. "Well, with an endorsement like that, how can I say no?"

"Heh, yeah. You got this, Bon Bon." Applejack stepped past Twilight to pat Bon Bon's shoulder. Then she shot me a look, one which reminded me powerfully of the one Rainbow Dash had given me, when she was all but dead and begging me to keep Twilight safe.

I nodded back.

Satisfied, Applejack smiled. "Guess I oughta talk with Big Mac 'n Cheerilee 'bout movin' the shelter. We'll find some other place 'fore the town goes kablooey, don't fret."

She turned away, and limped to the door.

"Applejack!" Twilight blurted, taking a step after her friend. "Wait. Please, it's not... it has nothing to do with..."

Applejack paused and craned her neck around to regard Twilight, who immediately stopped stammering and dropped her gaze to the floor. "It don't bother me none, Twi. Really."

"That's not what I..." Twilight's tail swished; her knees shook and knocked nervously. "Please, don't take it personally. I still need you. Okay?"

Applejack stared silently at her. Then, in a soft voice, she said, "Look me in the eye, an' say that."

Twilight's eyes lifted – for a fraction of a second – before she crushed them shut and drooped her head again.

"'S'what I thought." There was no resentment in Applejack's voice. "I'll see y'all later, girls. Snake."

With that, she walked off into the night, pulling the door shut with her tail.

The minutes stretched on as Twilight stared after her, silent and unmoving. When she finally spoke, she sounded like the broken mare from the last night, when she'd dropped all appearances and retreated to her bedroom as a disconsolate mess.

"Rainbow Dash should still be at the town hall with Rarity," she said stoically. "Pass their assignments on to them, Bon Bon. I'm gonna have a look around town, check things out for myself. Maybe help with the evacuation a little bit. We'll meet at the hospital in two hours, alright?"

Bon Bon snapped to it right away, nodding and heading out.

"What about you?" Twilight said to me. "What'll you be doing?"

Guess I didn't fall into any of the regiments she'd laid out. Suited me fine, unless she wanted me in another leadership role. "If it's all the same to you, I'm gonna get started on the Humvee. Rigging it'll take some time; the sooner I do it, the better off we'll be."

Twilight nodded. "Sounds good. Come find me when you're all done."

Then Twilight was gone. Whatever courage she'd plucked after Dodge seemed to be wearing off, as the reality of our situation settled on her. And her friendships were showing signs of strain, too – or at least, her friendship with Applejack. Twilight drew strength from her friends; if things with just one of them fell apart, there's no telling how bad she might crack.

I tried to put it out of my mind, and turned toward the stairs—

Cherry Jubilee was gone.

Her fruit and coffee sat untouched where Applejack had left them, and the door to Twilight's bedroom – with the locker, and the shotgun – was ajar.

"Shit."

I bolted up the stairs and flung the door open – Cherry's head was inside the locker, her saddlebags drawn tight. She pulled out as she heard my approach, and whirled around.

"You wanna step away from there, Cherry," I said calmly.

Her eyes were wide and frantic. "I wasn't trying to—"

"Don't. Just... don't." I raised my hands, placating. "Must've been tough, biding your time, waiting for us to be distracted enough to make a break for it. I respect your patience. But you are not getting that shotgun."

Malice lit in Cherry's eyes. "You have no idea—"

"Don't I? I saw how you were staring at that thing after you shot Chrysalis." I took a carefully measured step forward. "It's not the first time I've seen someone in pain look at their gun that way."

"You have no right to deny me," Cherry hissed. She stomped her hoof. "It's not your decision, you understand me? It's not your decision to make!"

"I don't want you to blow your brains out, Cherry." I said it as calmly, and levelly, as I could.

Cherry froze, and turned her head away from me, her eyes fluttering halfway shut as she spoke haltingly. "That's not what I'm after. I do not... want... to die. I want... to... fight. I do not want—"

Her chest heaved as her breathing grew heavy, and a shudder ran through her. She clenched her teeth; the trembling in her body made them rattle together loudly. "Not... Dodge. Not again. Friends, neighbors. Dead, worse. Never... again."

That was a desire I could identify with, one I could understand, and respect. But I still couldn't let her have that gun.

"I believe you," I said, stepping closer to her. "And if you want to help out, we can find a place for you, some way for you to keep your friends here alive." When I was right in front of her, I knelt, and rested a hand on her withers.

"But not like this. Alright?"

Cherry looked back at me, her green eyes shimmering. Her lips moved, but no words came from them – it looked as though there was something she was trying desperately to say.

Finally, she just nodded, and wiped away her tears. Then, unexpectedly, she rushed into my chest and leaned against me.

"I'm sorry." Cherry sniffed, shutting her eyes.

Caught off guard, I just patted her awkwardly. "It's... alright. Look, wait for me downstairs; I'll walk you over to the hospital when I'm done up here. Maybe someone there can find a place for you."

Cherry squeezed tighter against me, for just a moment, before pulling away and shuffling out of the bedroom. She paused in the doorway. "That box, downstairs. Somethin' real nice in there, I'll bet."

She smiled at me, and her face cleared for an instant, before she left.

I got what I came for, and double-checked to make sure that Cherry's shotgun was inside, counting off the rounds I'd confiscated from her. When I was satisfied, I shut the lid, and leaned my weight against it.

Something still seemed... off. Before, during my rummaging, I glanced only briefly at the C-4. I was mostly preoccupied with the carbine and its add-ons, and only looked at the bombs it to ensure that they weren't armed and ready to blast me to kingdom come. There was enough there to blow the Humvee, no doubt about that; the plan could still go ahead.

It struck me as odd, though, that Trenton would give me that much C-4... but not pack a detonator.

"Ooh, here's a grand notion," said Granny Smith as she trudged through the dense corn maze. Stalks soared high above her head, their tips lost in the fog. "We need an emergency shelter fer all them old folks 'n foals what can't make the trip out to Whitettail Woods. Why not Sweet Apple Acres?"

Granny paused to thump her hoof against the ground, listening carefully with an ear cocked low. Grunting, she found another spot a few paces away, and repeated the process. "Now, do we run it past ol' Granny first? She knows th'farm better'n anypony dead or alive; she could find a good spot to stick yer huddled masses! Naw, let's just empty out the brand new apple cellar, an' shove everypony in there! No better place fer a shelter, right?"

"Yes, Granny, we're all right fools fer not comin' to you sooner," Applejack sighed. The elderly mare's creaky hips and arthritic gait meant that their walk was slow going, but considering her own injuries, Applejack didn't mind so much. Cheerilee was too good-natured and sweet to complain about their pace, but Big Mac's annoyed huffs conveyed his displeasure clearly.

They also had to put up with an endless stream of castigation from Granny, who had perfected castigation to an art form.

"Long as we got that clear," Granny grumbled, ducking under a drooping ear of corn. "Now see here, young'uns, it's time fer a li'l Apple family history. Oh, it must've been sixty years ago – yer great uncle, Braeburn Sr., he had himself the funny notion that he'd start himself a bootleg corn whiskey operation! 'Course, it weren't illegal t'brew 'n sell yer own moonshine – Johnny Law hadn't pruned that branch'a ne'erdowellery – but yer grunkle was always a few shy of a bushel, an' I could never say no t'him..."

Granny thumped her hoof against the ground again – and this time, whatever she heard made her face light up. "Mac, be a dear, come help yer granny with this."

Big Mac stepped forward and leaned down, helping Granny dig away the layers of soil hiding a piece of wood, one stinking of rot and covered in wriggling earthworms. Baffled, Big Mac tossed it aside, revealing a worn, earthen staircase leading underground.

Applejack balked. "What in the— Granny! You seriously tellin' me that you helped Grunkle Braeburn build a still under our cornfield?!"

"Be more accurate t'say we planted a cornfield over a still," Granny corrected, without a lick of concern.

"We got foals runnin' around back here on Nightmare Night, Granny!" Applejack cried, looking aghast at her grandmother.

"Oh, button yer lip; it's never caused problems 'fore, an' it's savin' all yer hides now." Granny wagged her eyebrows. "Really wanna complain?"

Mollified, yet still miffed, Applejack stepped inside, the others following after her. The caverns were dank, and cold, yet spacious, though a sulfury stink hung in the air.

"Certainly roomier than the cellar," said Applejack begrudgingly, trying her best not to breathe through her nose. "An' the cornfield's far enough from the cannons to keep anypony down here outta harm's way. But dang, that's a stench..."

"Is it? Hardly noticed." Granny paused beside Applejack, looking nostalgically around the chamber. "Oh, I ain't been down here since the still 'sploded. Spent that whole week cleanin' out piles o'corn mash 'n broken glass. An' piles of Grunkle Braeburn, too! Me an' him like to crack open a bottle o'cider an' laugh about it, every now 'n then."

Applejack pulled away from the older mare as she inhaled deeply.

"Nothin' quite like the taste of a sweet, sweet memory," Granny sighed.

Cheerilee forced out an awkward laugh. "That's a wonderful story, Granny Smith."

"Want me t'share it with yer class next time yer havin' a family 'preciation day?" Granny grinned gummily.

"...We'll talk about it." Cheerilee sidled up to Big Mac, looking around. "What do you think? Will it work?"

Big Mac looked around, and nodded slowly. "Applejack's right – it's better than the cellar. Room for more food 'n stuff. An' the foals won't be packed together so tight. You an' me, neither."

"Shame." There was just a suggestion of something less than family-friendly in Cheerilee's tone as she smiled knowingly at Big Mac. "I wouldn't have minded that part."

Big Mac blushed, though it was hardly noticeable against his coat. "Well, uh... I don't mind gettin' close if you don't, but—"

"Y'know, I ain't gonna be down here with y'all," Applejack interrupted, scowling. "Which means I'm gonna have to take it on faith that you two won't start canoodlin' in front'a the foals. Please don't give me reason to worry about that."

"Aw, let 'em canoodle," Granny cackled, elbowing Applejack. "How else am I s'posed t'get great grandchildren?"

Applejack rolled her eyes, muttering grumpily to herself as she turned to the stairs.

"Hey." Her brother stampeded after her, cutting her off as she emerged into the cornfield. "What d'you mean, you ain't gonna be down here?"

"I mean what I said. Now move."

Applejack tried to shoulder past him, but Big Mac didn't budge. "Thought you said you weren't gonna be in the fightin'," he growled.

"I said I weren't helpin' to lead the fight. I'm still gonna be in the thick of it. Now move."

This time, she did make it past him. Big Mac was too flummoxed to stop her.

"You ain't serious," he said, following frantically after her. "Yer a limpin' lump o'bruises an' burns, an' you're barely hangin' together. You seriously wanna get kicked around even more?"

"Lemme guess, you want me to hide in there an' canoodle with Cheerilee, 'stead of you, while you do all the fightin'?" Applejack stopped and whirled – or turned, gradually and painfully – to glare at her brother. "Not that the prospect ain't mighty appealing, but—"

"Damn it, take this seriously," Mac snapped. "You done plenty. Let me risk my life out there fer a change, li'l sister."

"Green ain't yer color, big brother," Applejack growled, leaning in close. "I don't got time fer no masculinity conundrums. If yer jealous that the little sister's down there takin' lumps fer Ponyville 'stead o'you, then that ain't my problem."

His eyes widened indignantly. "What kinda brother d'you think I am? I never felt that way 'bout you, not once! I'm proud o'you fer all yer heroics, Applejack – no brother alive's ever been prouder!"

Applejack tossed one of her forelegs in exasperation. "Then what is the big deal?!"

"The big deal is that you almost died last night!" Mac thundered. "You an' Apple Bloom both! An' where was I, huh?! Out cold, under a box, in the barn!"

Applejack felt guilt, icy and sharp, needle its way through her body.

"When I heard from you what happened out in the forest, it was like Ma 'n Pa all over again." Mac's lips shook and his voice quavered, and he looked away. "I never wanted t'feel that way ever again, but yesterday..."

Applejack felt her anger and annoyance drain away. She couldn't be mad, not when she knew exactly how he felt. "Mac..."

"I don't wanna be down there, hidin', with the old folks an' the foals. Wonderin' if yer comin' back at all, feelin' that sickness in the bottom of my stomach." Big Mac looked furiously, tearfully, at her. "I don't want to bury no more of my family!"

"I know how y'feel, believe me. I felt the same, when it was Apple Bloom." Applejack cupped Big Mac's face with a hoof, and he leaned into her touch, shaking. "But I gotta be down there, Mac. The girls need me, an' the town – even if I ain't leadin' 'em, they're gonna be lookin' fer me. They gotta see me in the mix, gotta know I'm with 'em."

Big Mac covered her hoof with his own. "You don't gotta be alone, AJ. You don't need to carry the weight o'the town by yourself."

"I won't be." She bumped their noses together. "I got my girls, Mac."

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. "But not your brother," he said in a strained whisper.

"No. I need you here, Mac. I need somepony I trust lookin' after everypony, an' more'n anypony else, I trust you."

And if things in town went bad, then he needed to live. To carry on, for the farm, for the family, and the sister she'd be leaving behind. She left that part unspoken, but she knew that they were both thinking it, that it was at the front of his mind as he pulled her in close.

"Don't make me bury you, little sister," he sobbed into her charred, chopped-up mane. His hooves wrapped tenderly around her, minding the burns, and the bruises, and her sore, damaged bones. "I love you, y'hear? Don't you dare leave us all alone."

Applejack shut her eyes, and let her brother hold her. Against his size, in his embrace, she felt like a little filly all over again.

Rainbow Dash and Bon Bon stared at Twilight in slightly stunned silence. Around them, in the hospital lobby, ponies rushed about to prep the building for an influx of injured defenders.

Twilight grinned weakly. "So... any feedback?"

"Uh, yeah. A little." Rainbow Dash leaned closer. "Don't get me wrong, Twi, the idea's awesome – awesome enough that it sounds like something I'd come up with. But are you sure you can pull it off? You said the shield you cast in the saloon broke against a swarm of zombies—"

"Golems."

"Whatever," Rainbow sighed. "The point is, do you think you'll be able to cast one that'll stand up to gunfire?"

"And even if it can, that's only half the battle," Bon Bon added. "We're looking at a close quarters melee, if your plan works."

"Which means we can engage them on our terms," Twilight said. "With their guns, they can just sit back and pick away at us from a distance, but if we close the gap, then we deprive them of that advantage. It'll be a mess of a brawl, sure, but we have no chance at range. And the shield will hold, Rainbow. Trust me, both of you – we have enough ponies to pull this off."

In truth, she wasn't sure on that point. Twilight had been hoping for upwards of two hundred ponies, with an even number of representatives across all three of Ponyville's racial demographics. In the end, they'd only been able to scare up sixty earth ponies, ten unicorns, and sixteen pegasi. Not counting noncombatants, the militia numbered only eighty-six.

She couldn't let her disappointment show, though. She had to be strong, to project confidence.

"We'll assemble the militia in front of town hall in one hour for a full briefing. You should both see to your regiments before then. Rainbow, I want you to designate some fliers as messengers, and work out routes between them – we want to make sure we can keep coordinating this defense if things get hectic. I don't want our lines of communication cut off."

"I'll see what I can do," Rainbow said with a facetious salute. "But keep in mind, most of the pegasi in town are either AWOL, evacuating, or doing the non-combatant shtick, like Fluttershy and Bulk. The only pegasus ponies who volunteered to fight came from the weather team, and they've got their hooves full maintaining the fog and working as spotters and look-outs. Which is exactly where we need 'em, given how bad visibility is with the fog. I don't know if we'll have enough for messengers, too."

"Did you say...?" Twilight's ear flicked. "You're missing some of your team?"

"I put Thunderlane and Blossomforth on patrol duty, and didn't realize what a mistake that was until after they vanished. Probably to crawl all over each other," Rainbow added bitterly. "And nopony's seen Cloud Kicker in days."

Blossomforth... she spoke up during the town hall meeting. She was worried about spies...

Twilight's niggling worry must've shown on her face, because Rainbow patted her reassuringly. "Don't freak out on me, egghead. Cloud Kicker's a flake at the best of times; she probably just flew to Cloudsdale for the week without telling anypony. Wouldn't be the first time. And as for Thunder and Blossom, I'll find 'em and chew 'em out. Everything's fine. Okay?"

Twilight, unconvinced, nevertheless nodded, shoving her misgivings deep down for the time being. "See to your ponies, Rainbow."

Rainbow gave Twilight another pat, and swept outside. Twilight turned to head deeper into the hospital, Bon Bon following after her, as nurses and orderlies rushed this way and that.

"You got a second?" Bon Bon lifted her sunglasses and peered closely at Twilight, eyebrows knitting together. "If you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"It's been at least a couple days," Twilight admitted. "But I slept a little on the train to Dodge. I had this dream, something about teacups and garbanzo beans..."

"Sounds refreshing." Bon Bon patted Twilight's back sympathetically. "You're holding up remarkably."

No. I'm not. Applejack would have known better.

"Likewise," said Twilight. "I know you didn't ask for this job, but you're doing pretty well. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you had a talent for this sort of thing. You weren't with the Guard, by chance, were you? Maybe as an officer?"

"Who, me? Nah. Candy mare's all I am, and all I've ever been." Bon Bon laughed, but Twilight could sense her deflecting as she lowered her shades. "Anyway, if you're sure you're okay, then I should probably go. I want to whip at least some discipline into my regiment before the fighting starts."

"Sure." Twilight nodded. "Town hall, in one hour. Don't forget, okay?"

"Aye aye." Bon Bon grinned, and set off down the corridor.

Twilight turned a corner, and stepped into a hallway lined with windows, many of which had been nailed shut. The culprit was Rarity, who was currently pressing a board across a window pane and pounding home a nail with precise swipes of a telekinetically gripped hammer. Beside her was a bucket, presumably full of nails.

"Involving yourself in manual labor, Rarity?" Twilight called as she walked the hall's length. "Things must be more dire than I thought."

"How droll. I'll tell you what I told Fluttershy: I have never been afraid to get my hooves dirty, should the situation necessitate it. It's my way of making a difference." Rarity gave the nail one final thwack and sighed with satisfaction. "There. One more down, and only... however many outward-facing windows are left in the hospital to go."

Twilight looked down at her materials – or lack thereof. "I'm pretty sure you just ran out of wood, Rarity. And you could use a few more nails, too."

"Oh... details." Rarity looked pensively at Twilight. "Are you well, darling?"

"Just fine, Rarity." Twilight liked to think she was getting good at faking smiles, but the fashionista's face twisted sympathetically regardless. What fooled Bon Bon would never work on her closest friends.

"Twilight," said Rarity, stepping away from her window to cup Twilight's chin. "It's just me. You can be honest."

"Rarity, please." Twilight's smile fell, and she brushed Rarity's hoof off her face. "Not right now. Just... just let me pretend, okay?"

If I let myself fall apart, I'm never gonna be able to put myself back together again.

"You don't have to," Rarity murmured. "Let me be there for you. The way you were there for me today."

"You are there for me, though." Twilight gestured at the boarded-over window. "See? You're right where I need you."

Rarity narrowed her eyes. "That's not what I meant, dear."

"...I know." Twilight hugged Rarity, who returned it half-heartedly. "When this is over, we can have ourselves a good cry together, maybe over ice cream. But right now..."

"Fine. Say no more." Rarity stroked a hoof through Twilight's mane. "But know that I shall hold you to your word."

Spike's room was still Spike's room, despite the hospital's hurried preparations, the pooling and rationing of critical supplies, and the planks of wood nailed over his window. He lay in his bed, his lips wrapped around his feeding tube, as though he were a baby again and it were nothing more than a gigantic bottle. On the bedside table was a bouquet of white flowers, and a golden brooch set with a heart-shaped ruby.

Twilight's eyes stung.

Behind her, the doctor who'd treated Spike coughed, and Twilight turned to regard him. He was more drawn and red-eyed than she was, probably in part because he'd performed two complex procedures in the same day, on two of her friends, with little sleep.

"We've moved most of our patients to a single ward at the back of the hospital," the doctor said through a yawn. "Spike, though... we can't move him, not with the feeding tube. So he gets the best room in the house, and all to himself, too. Though I can't guarantee he'll remain alone. If the injuries start piling up, we'll need every inch of space we have."

"Thank you, doctor." She touched his shoulder. "You've really gone above and beyond lately. I won't forget it."

"I don't intend to let you." He left, shutting the door behind him.

Twilight reached out to Spike, tracing her hoof along his cheek, his jaw. After so many years, he still felt like a fragile, porcelain doll, his scales as smooth as the day she'd hatched him.

She thought back to that day wistfully. Princess Celestia had asked if she wanted to hold him, but she was too afraid she'd drop him, and that he'd break into a million pieces. Even after Celestia patiently explained that his scales were harder than every bone in Twilight's body put together, that she was physically incapable of doing him any harm... short of hurting his feelings by refusing to hold him... she couldn't bring herself to put him in danger.

I should never have brought him into the forest with me. No matter how much he pleaded.

"I wish you were here with me, now, Spike," she whispered. "I wish I could talk things out with you. You'd probably say something sarcastic, and unhelpful, that I'd scold you for... and then, when you weren't looking, I'd laugh, like always. I miss your voice. I even miss that sense of humor that makes you such a pain in the butt. I... I just miss you. More than I thought possible, I miss you."

Twilight leaned in close, and kissed Spike softly on the cheek.

"We're going to win this." She slid her hoof into his limp and open hand. "And you are going to survive. And I will never let anything hurt you again.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, or something she imagined... but she swore she felt his fingers close around her hoof.

The town had largely evacuated by the time Twilight emerged from the hospital, and only those participating in the defense of Ponyville remained. Waiting for her outside was Snake, fully dressed and wearing the coat Rarity made for him. The brown fabric was a nice contrast against the dark blue Pegasus Wings uniform.

"Completed the ensemble, I see," said Twilight. "With the shave, the haircut, and now the new outfit, you almost appear respectable."

"I should have a comeback for that," said Snake. "But this coat's too comfortable for me to get annoyed with you. It's like Rarity's robbed me of some essential part of my personality."

Twilight laughed, grateful that she wasn't too far gone for that much. "It really does look good on you, Snake."

"Yeah, I'm not one for overcoats, personally, but this one I could get used to." Snake pulled the coat closed over his chest, and crossed his arms. "I finished wiring up the Humvee, but I'm not keen on driving it into position when it's essentially a bomb on four wheels. Feel like helping?"

"Well, since you asked nicely... for once..." Twilight sighed. "Sure thing, Snake. Just, uh... give me a minute to sit down, okay? I've been on my hooves for hours, and..."

"Say no more. A lot of that going around."

Twilight backed up until she was against the hospital's outer wall, and slid to her bottom, sighing as her hooves relaxed. Snake sat down beside her, a similar noise escaping him.

"What time even is it?" Snake said, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger.

"Last I checked, around five in the morning." Twilight's head tilted slightly in thought. "Probably close to a quarter after by now."

"Quarter after five..." Snake groaned. " I really wish I'd gotten more sleep on the train."

Twilight smirked. "You need a nap?"

"Considering we've been up for more than twenty-four hours now, almost uninterrupted, and I spent a good portion of that driving? Yeah, a nap would be nice." Snake looked at her from the corner of his eye. "What about you; how are you holding up?"

"Everypony keeps asking me that. They never believe me when I say I'm fine." Twilight huffed. "I don't suppose there'd be any point in telling you that I am."

"I can drop it, if you want." Snake's voice rumbled more softly than normal.

"...No. No, I'm sorry." Twilight slumped her shoulders. "So much has happened lately. Even setting aside Dodge, and everything before, we've all been moving around nonstop to get Ponyville ready. And we've just barely gotten started – there's still so much more to do. I'm tired, Snake. I'm so, so tired. I just want to stop, and catch my breath, but I can't. Heck, just sitting here, gabbing with you, is a luxury that I can barely afford."

Snake stayed silent for a moment while Twilight rubbed her eyes. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that I left a present for you in the library?"

She peeked over her hooves at him, blinking.

"The Humvee's stereo – I ripped it out of the dashboard and took it to your place. The music, too." Snake smirked. "Seemed a waste to blow them up with the rest of the car, when you liked them so much."

Twilight, genuinely touched, felt the tips of her ears twitch up. "That's sweet, Snake. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet; you still have to figure out how to get it to work." Snake waved his hand. "Which you damn well better. Ripping it out added an extra hour to the job, and I don't want that time going to waste."

"Oh, yes. Can't have that." Twilight chuckled, and sighed.

Leaning back, she realized she could see sky through a hole in the fog. That was Rainbow Dash's doing – without the constant maintenance of the entire weather team, the fog would naturally drift away and dissipate. To stave that off, Rainbow had decided to concentrate it at the town's perimeter, so she set some ponies to work hollowing it out and shifting the extra clouds over to where they'd be most needed.

It seemed no more than a delaying tactic to Twilight, who wasn't sure how effective the fog would remain in the daytime. At night, the fog could be maintained easily, but daylight would burn it off altogether. And that was a shame; she hated to lose such a grand example of pegasus (and Ponyvillian) ingenuity to the inevitable rising of the sun. Hell, the sight was so shocking and awe-inspiring, it had stunned even Snake into silence before he could...

Twilight blinked and poked Snake sharply in the arm. "Hey. You never answered my question from earlier. I asked what made you come back to fighting after you retired, remember? The fog shut you up before you could get back to me."

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd just forget about that. The discomfort on Snake's face made Twilight's insides squirm. "What does it matter? Why do you want to know?"

"Because..." Twilight wilted, flattening her ears against her head. "Does it honestly matter?"

"It might." Snake's teeth ground, a dull sound that clashed with the ambient noises of the early morning. "Tell you what. I'll tell you, if you answer a question of mine first. Deal?"

Twilight, wary, nodded at him.

"What is going on between you and Applejack?"

Twilight's heart sank. Of course Snake would notice that something was wrong between she and Applejack; she should have expected him to bring it up eventually. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about.

But a deal was a deal.

"Back in the castle, after we split up," Twilight began. "You were gonna go after Metal Gear, and Applejack and I were gonna get Apple Bloom. You remember?"

"I remember the plan going belly up in a hurry."

"Well, we were walking into a trap. As you know." Twilight looked out at the town, recalling in her mind the moments and sensations of that night. She shivered. "There was a guard there, in the dungeon, sleeping. Applejack and I woke him up by accident. He... tried to strangle us."

Twilight touched her throat gently, swallowing hard just to make sure she still could.

"We fought back. He got frustrated, and started shooting, but he couldn't see too well. I thought that he'd gotten Applejack with a lucky shot, and I thought he was gonna come after me. So I reached out blindly – I couldn't really see either – I reached out with my magic, and I took his gun away from him. And I..."

She started to tremble, and clenched her teeth together, willing herself to hold together.

"...You shot him," Snake finished, matter-of-factly.

"No. The gun was empty – he'd fired all his bullets before I could. Applejack killed him. Crushed his skull like it was made of paper."

Mad laughter echoed in her mind, silenced by a sickening crunch and a thud.

"I know what you're probably thinking, Snake. Him or me. Right?" She wanted to close her eyes, but was terrified of what she'd see, what she'd hear and smell. "But it came so easily. I wasn't agonizing over the moral dilemma of taking another life when I had his gun. I was thinking about you. Wondering how it felt for you, when you shot someone. Even that was just in the back of my mind. Actually pulling the trigger? That was automatic. Instinctual."

"Ponies have no killer instinct," Snake muttered. "Or so I'm told."

Twilight saw a wolfish grin and sharp, white teeth in her mind's eye."How do you explain it then? I did it without thinking. If that guy had pulled the trigger one less time, it'd be me with blood on my hooves, not Applejack."

She lost her fight against her own trembling. "I don't have a problem with Applejack, Snake. I have a problem with myself.Every time I look at her, I'm reminded that it was almost me who killed that guard. I'm reminded of the weight of the gun, the feel of the trigger, the reek of the gunpowder, and the sound of the guard's laugh. I'm reminded that, no matter who did the deed... I may as well have killed him myself."

Her vision blurred as tears rolled down her face. "Applejack told me, just before it happened – if she had to kill to save her family, she'd do it and wouldn't feel bad over it. And I wonder, did she mean that? Because if she did, then... then I don't know who she is anymore. And if she didn't mean it, then I have no right feeling sorry for myself, because what she'd be going through... I can't even imagine it. I want to ask her, but every time I look at her, think to myself that I should talk to her..."

"You're right back in the dungeon," Snake said softly.

"Exactly. And that's why I need to know." Twilight huddled her trembling legs closer to her body. "Because when I look at you, I don't see a remorseless killer, or someone fighting someone else's wars for a paycheck. I see a good person, probably fighting for good reasons. And I need to know if they're enough to make the kind of life you live... that violent, chaotic life on the battlefield... worth living."

She felt a hand against the back of her neck, a gentle touch that came as consolation, as she lost herself to silent sobs. She still couldn't let herself fall apart – not now, with so much on the line. But she didn't mind letting her guard down, just a little, around Snake. It wasn't like with Rarity or Bon Bon; she didn't need to prove anything to him. She didn't need to try and pretend that everything was okay.

He gave her time to cry before offering any words of comfort. "It's one thing to say that you can kill without remorse. In the abstract, it makes sense. Applejack may have meant it when she said it, but that doesn't mean it's how she felt after doing it. She probably doesn't feel so different from you right now. The two of you could help each other, if one of you reached out."

"Meaning me, probably. Applejack has a history of bottling up her problems."

Although I'm sure I have no place to criticize...

Twilight, a little more relaxed now that she'd gotten some of her emotion out, leaned closer to Snake with a sigh. "Tell me this – is it ever worth it? Is it ever right, to take a life?"

Snake weighed his answer before giving it. "I'm an old killer, Twilight. I've caused more than my share of bloodshed, for a lot of reasons. And I'll tell you now, not once has it ever been right. There's nothing noble about murder. You can justify it, sure – kill in the name of a good cause – but that doesn't make the act of killing just. Anyone tells you otherwise, they're a psychopath in denial, trying to rationalize it to themselves. Applejack? She's no psychopath. Trust me, I've known plenty in my time."

He stood, towering high over Twilight. In the hospital's lamplight, the shadow he cast stretched longer than his body.

"Now, your town, your friends – they're worth fighting for. I can't tell you if they're worth killing for; you need to answer that question yourself. But if there's any advice I can give you, it's this." Snake reached his hand out to her. "Whatever you do, don't ever let it be okay to take another life."

A smile broke through Twilight's gloom as she put her hoof in Snake's hand and let him pull her up. "You still haven't answered my question."

"An answer for an answer – that was the deal," said Snake. "You never said when I had to give it to you."

Twilight chuckled wetly, sniffed, and pulled her hoof from his grip. "Well, now I have to make it through this fight."

And you do, too.

The pegasi were trying to conserve what fog they had by clumping it up at the town's borders, keeping the countryside out of view. But the hills and peaks, both distant and near, could be seen. And, as we approached the plaza surrounding the town hall, so could the Humvee.

It was the ponies next to it that caught my eye, though. One was Bon Bon; one was Pinkie Pie. One had a bucket of pink paint, and a brush in her mouth, and the other was trying desperately to hammer some common sense through the other's skull.

Try and guess who was who.

"Pinkie!" Twilight cried, alarmed. "What in Equestria do you think you're doing?!"

Pinkie spat the brush into the can and grinned at Twilight, flecks of pink staining her teeth and gums. "Makin' some cosmetic improvements. The first time I saw this thing, I knew right away that I didn't like the look of Not-Luna on the door. I had a little bit of extra time after getting the Boom-Boom Brigade all up to speed, so I figured I'd give this girl a little flair before we sent her on her way!"

She bounced aside, reared onto her hind legs, and made a grandiose gesture at the car door with both her front hooves. The Pegasus Wings sigil had been painted over, in hot pink letters, with the name EXPLODEY MCGEE.

Twilight smacked herself so hard that I swear there was a hoof-shaped welt on her forehead for the rest of my stay in Equestria. "Pinkie Pie, this is a terrible, no good, very bad idea."

"What, you don't like the name?" said Pinkie. "Bon Bon told me you were gonna blow it up, so I thought it might—"

"Your train of thought should've ended at 'we're gonna blow it up," I said sternly. "The last thing you want to do with a car bomb is announce to the enemy that you're using said car as a bomb!"

"So..." Pinkie's ear twitched. "Maybe a different name? I can always paint over it, I guess."

I wished I still had my tranquilizer gun – one shot, just one shot, and I wouldn't have to hear Pinkie talk again for hours.

"Well, alrighty, I have a couple others in mind," Pinkie said brightly, hopping down to all fours again. "How's about—"

Before she could finish, her eyes widened, and a ripple ran through her, from the bottoms of her hooves to the tips of her ears. Her limbs flailed, inflating and deflating at random, as her body flopped up and down against the dirt; her mane and tail puffed up and flattened, and her ears wound tightly around one another in double, triple, quadruple knots.

I almost rushed forward, but Twilight stopped me, shaking her head curtly. "Let her ride it out."

Ride it out, she did – and at the end of her seizure, Pinkie sat on the ground, her head moving in a dizzy circle. "Whooooaaaakie-dokie-lokie... feelin' a little scrombled here..."

I leaned over to Twilight. "The hell did I just watch?"

"Pinkie Sense," said Pinkie, her voice airy and distant. "That's a new one though – a real doozy. But a new kind of doozy. A noozy, you could call it."

"Wonder what it meant," Bon Bon muttered.

Then a pink glow, faint and distant, shone upon the Humvee, upon the entire town. We turned to look at its source: a bright dome that slowly formed around Canterlot, enveloping it from the base of the castle, to the tip of the mountain. Just before it finished, there was an explosion near its top, a pinprick of yellow light.

"Probably not a good sign," I growled.

Twilight's breath caught, and she faltered for just an instant before snapping back into action. "Bon Bon, round up everypony – tell them to meet us out here. We're gonna run through the plan and get into position right away. Pinkie, get back to your post and—"

"Uh-uh." For the first time since I'd met her, Pinkie sounded legitimately worried. "That wasn't it, Twilight. That wasn't the noozy."

"Not the noozy? Not the noozy?!" Twilight paled and pointed toward Canterlot. "If that's not the noozy, then..."

A heavy footstep echoed across the plaza, silencing Twilight before she could finish.

The curtain of haze parted for XMG IRVING-00, limping toward us on legs which were far more stable than its appearance in Fluttershy's yard would have led me to believe. Instinctively, I drew the carbine and set the red-dot sight over its undercarriage, distantly wondering whether a 5.56 round would be any good against it. Had Fluttershy'd been wrong? Had I been wrong?

No, I realized. This wasn't the feral monster from the castle, nor the thoughtful, wounded creature from Fluttershy's yard. This was different from what I'd heretofore seen from IRVING. This was new... and yet familiar all the same.

A cruciform cloud gathered over IRVING's head. Yellow eyes, like burning coals, sparked into life at its top; they narrowed to razor slits, as IRVING emitted a shuddering, bovine groan. The Lord of the Flies had a new puppet, and it was laughing at me.

I squeezed the trigger and held it down. Bullets sparked off IRVING's armor and splattered harmlessly against its legs as it unceasingly mocked my efforts.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Twilight cried out Cherry Jubilee's name; I stopped firing and turned to look at her, to ask her why...

...and a wave of heat and a metallic shriek assaulted me from my right side. In the same instant, a blinding light consumed my vision, as Explodey McGee lived up to its name.

Author's Note

As I write this, it is 30 years to the day since Metal Gear was released for the MSX computer. Fittingly, I've decided to celebrate this auspicious day by posting an overwritten chapter of a My Little Pony crossover where Solid Snake learns lessons about the magic of friendship. You're welcome, Mr. Kojima.

Special thanks to Editor Man, DannyJ, and more regular, mundane thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story. Don't touch that dial, because I have a little more PGS content coming before the end of the month.

Interlude - Night Flight

Luna seethed all the way from Canterlot to the Everfree Forest.

Celestia felt slighted by Luna sneaking around behind her back? Fine. She demanded contrition? Fine. But sticking her in a room full of pompous aristocrats – and Fancy Pants, to be fair – did nothing but waste her time. It was a despicable power play, no doubt concocted out of the same misguided desire to keep Luna safe that informed so much of Celestia's caution, and so many of her decisions.

Those changelings left their mark on you, sister. In more ways than one.

As Celestia predicted, the Grand Galloping Gala planning committee meeting ran well into the wee hours, with no sign of stopping. The committee members squabbled over every trivial matter, from decor to music to dress code, unable to reach consensus on anything. Finally, in desperation, Luna seized Fancy Pants's flask from his coat pocket, downed its contents in a single gulp, and proclaimed herself too drunk to continue with the meeting.

She wasn't, of course, but they didn't need to know that.

The alicorn constitution is truly a thing of wonder.

It was sure to cause quite a scandal, come daybreak. Prince Blueblood couldn't stop snickering, and that odious Spoiled Rich had a look on her face that suggested she was contemplating which tabloid she would speak to first. Luna didn't care. Her dignity and her image meant nothing, compared to the responsibility of safeguarding the realm.

Though I really ought to compensate Fancy Pants for the brandy.

As she flew, she spotted a curious weather system in Ponyville, off in the distance – a thick mass of fog, like a cloud come down from the heavens, enveloping the entire town. The sight of it niggled at Luna. Ponyville was often the site of peculiar happenings, and neither she nor Celestia would fain investigate every single one. But with this human situation afoot, and so close to Ponyville, too...

Concern for Twilight Sparkle nearly made her bank west to investigate, but she marshaled herself before the impulse could overtake her. She'd peek in on Ponyville when her business in the Everfree was concluded. Celestia didn't want to involve Twilight, not yet, and Luna promised to uphold that directive... but there was no harm in just checking, surely.

The castle came into view gradually, a rubble-strewn ruin on a river island deep in the Everfree Forest, situated between two sheer cliffs which plunged down into deep ravines. Luna studied what remained of her erstwhile home, a thousand memories flashing in her mind. Court with Celestia, banquets with aristocrats, gossip with her ladies-in-waiting... the fateful night she succumbed to the nightmare, and the morning that saw her redemption... other memories, more pleasant ones, and other ponies, too...

A warm body curving against her back. Lips and nose kissing and nuzzling behind her ear, making her giggle and sigh...

Luna shook her head and turned away from that recollection, shutting the others behind their doors as well. The ponies she'd made those memories with were dead and gone, a thousand years or more. No good would come of unearthing them.

Bury the past, and leave it buried.

From the air, Luna could see the full scope of the castle's desolation. The western gatehouse had collapsed, and the curtain wall it had been part of was nothing more than scattered stones along a vaguely ovular path. To the east, the curtain still stood, but the yard and keep it encircled had fallen away, swallowed by the earth. All that remained of the castle proper was a portion of the west garden, where the bladed machine sat, and part of the inner curtain that had once guarded the western side of the keep.

And, of course, the towering, ebony ring encircling the pit which housed the Threshold of the Moon. Of all the things to survive...

But that is no surprise. Its foundation is firmer, and runs deeper, than the rest of this old place. Such things do not break easily.

Luna alighted upon the partially intact keep wall and folded her wings, ruffling them to stave off the night's chill. Her previous visit to the castle had been unplanned, and there hadn't been time to do much more than scout the ruins and hurriedly evaluate the situation before other duties demanded her return to Canterlot. Now, though, she could afford to take things slower – take stock of the evidence in greater detail, draw more informed conclusions, and hopefully track the humans back to their other outpost in the Everfree.

She already had a good idea of where that might be. For now, though, she'd begin her investigation in earnest on the castle grounds.

Luna sat upon the wall and leaned her back against a wind-worn merlon, sinking deep into thought. The castle had fallen – literally – after some sort of battle took place, she believed, but such a feat was beyond any army she knew of. Certainly, it was beyond the deer, no matter how much it may have rankled King Aspen to have outsiders pressing upon Thicket's borders.

Beyond any army that I know of... She cast a wary look at the Threshold's wall. But perhaps not beyond humanity. Who knows what means of destruction they may have devised between Discord's time with them and now? Could they have unmade this place themselves?

That prospect chilled her worse than the coldest gust of nighttime air.

But to what end? I am certain there was a battle, one which went against them. If they destroyed the castle themselves, then it must have been an act of desperation. To deny it to an enemy. Or, perhaps, in the hope that the enemy would be caught in its destruction.

Such an act would be suicidal, if the defenders hadn't quit the castle before its demolition. The eastern portcullis was shut, and the west offered no escape with the bridge out. Luna's silver-shod hoof came to rest beneath her chin, shifting as she slowly worked her jaw.

If one follows this line of thought... then it begs the question of whether or not there still is a human threat. Perhaps they all perished in the castle's fall – better to die than to surrender.

That would be consistent with Discord's description of humanity's warrior ways. A barbarous, nihilistic code of honor might compel them to slay themselves along with their enemy, when hope of victory had fled.

Luna scoffed, as much at the thought as at herself for conjuring it. A baseless inference. Think rationally, Luna, think––

From the garden came a roar, and the sound of something striking a metallic surface with great force. "TO HELL WITH YOU, WORTHLESS FLYING PIG! TELL ME, DO THEY MISS YOU AT THE SCRAPYARD?!"

The shout, whose accent reminded Luna of the Stalliongrad tongue, came from the garden. Her ears pricked, and she spun around, pressing her body low to the battlement and peering out from behind her merlon.

The bladed machine was open – a hatch on its side had pulled apart – and Luna's breath caught as she drank in her first glimpse of a real, living human. The visions Discord had presented her with were dark-skinned, with mops of curly black hair over lean faces with sharp features. This one was very different: pale-skinned, almost white, with close-cropped brown hair and a bristly mustache crawling across his top lip. A dark blue jacket covered his upper body, and khaki trousers his legs.

Her muzzle wrinkled. Grotesque as Discord's humans were, they had some kind of intrinsic allure to them. This one was just... rather odd-looking. She supposed that humans came in all colors, shapes, and sizes, the same as all races... but she wouldn't have minded if they all looked the same as the visions.

The human stormed out of the bladed machine, his hands curling and uncurling rapidly as his shoulders heaved with deep, rapid breaths. He whirled, and kicked the machine's hull, sending a clang through the air. Then he leaned his back against the machine, drawing a cigarette and lighter from his pocket.

Luna watched him smoke, for several minutes, trying and failing to put the scene in some sort of larger context. It was all much too surreal for her. Then, from inside the machine, another voice called out – higher, more nasal, and slightly effeminate.

"You okay out there?"

"Da," the human snapped. He frowned, and his mustache frowned with him, as he continued to smoke in silence. Then the other voice called out again.

"...You ready to give it another shot?"

The human didn't answer right away, preferring to take one last long drag from his cigarette. Then he sighed, threw it down, and ground it out with the toe of his boot.

"Da," he said resignedly, and he vanished back inside the machine.

With a hydraulic hiss, the hatch closed, and Luna gazed out upon an empty, lifeless garden once again. She ducked back behind her merlon and sat bolt-upright, her eyes still wide in bemusement.

...What in the world did I just witness?

This added a new dimension to her investigation. Someone had survived whatever confrontation destroyed the castle, and was now trying to activate the bladed machine – or flying pig, which, for all Luna knew, was the machine's proper name. Had they remained on the castle grounds, and weathered its collapse? No, like as not she'd have run into them during her first visit. Did they return to the castle, after the fact, in the hope of salvaging the flying pig? The portcullis was still closed, but the eastern wall could be surmounted with the aid of grapnels or ladders. But she saw no sign of either from the air...

Luna's eye was drawn to the Threshold's wall, and her expression shifted into a thoughtful, suspicious frown.

The ground between the Threshold, and this wall, is still traversable... and this wall's rubble could easily be scaled, allowing passage to the flying pig... could they have passed through the Threshold recently? Within the last day?

That possibility only piled further questions atop the mountain she already had. Were the humans who occupied the castle hostile to Equestria? Were these newcomers allied with them, or opposed?

Bother it all, she wouldn't get the answers she needed sitting about on her rump. Luna unfurled her wings, and prepared to swoop down into the garden.

A sound from the east made her freeze – the sound of wind shifting, as something sliced rapidly through the air. Like wing-beats, they were, but faster. Hummingbird-quick, yet with far greater size and strength, to make such noise. Luna thought of the blades crowning the machine, and felt the blood drain from her face.

The human called it a flying pig for a reason, didn't he?

Luna banished any notion of a careful, methodical search from her mind. Luxuriant blue wings snapped, and she soared east, arcing over the curtain wall and following the old road through the forest. It dipped downward, on a gradual slope. As she flew, she passed the corpses of humans stuck with long, thin arrows, projectiles she recognized as having deerish origin. She ignored them. There would be time to inspect those bodies later.

The forest opened up to a chasm, and a stone bridge wide enough for twenty ponies to walk abreast. The treeline on the other side of the bridge had been cleared away. Stumps, like gravestones, dotted the ground between the bridge and the low wall of blue stone in the distance. Beyond that wall, Luna knew, there had been a place of worship, built to honor a self-styled god, long before her own time. A place where acolytes led their congregation in acts of scourging and sacrifice to sanctify themselves in the eyes of an emperor who demanded no less than absolute devotion. An abbey, they'd called it. In truth, it was a sprawling monument to the ego of an alicorn tyrant, with a west-facing cathedral as its centerpiece.

The ages had not been kind to the abbey, Luna saw, as she landed upon the wall. The complex overlooked by the cathedral was unrecognizable, most of its structures having fallen to rubble. The humans had raised tents in their place, however, forming a city of canvas along the same lines as the original complex, and a few of the original buildings still stood among them. Nestled in the northwestern corner of the abbey were more flying pigs, of a different variety than the one in the castle garden. They were less lean-looking, with no wings, and two sets of blades on a horizontal axis, at their tips and at their tails, as opposed to the smaller, vertical blades on the tail that the first flying pig had.

One of the pigs, the source of the sound that drew Luna to the abbey, hovered overhead. Its blades cut through the air faster than the naked eye could track, kicking up a swirling dust storm beneath it. As Luna watched, another flying pig rose into the sky to meet the first, then another, until all of them were airborne. Each one angled its nose northwest, toward a distant, lonely peak.

She wasn't certain what to be more alarmed by, though – the flying pigs, or the inside of the cathedral. The western facade was gone, exposing the interior to the nighttime air. Metal catwalks and stairs had been raised inside, running along its walls and criss-crossing between them.

Among them all stood a metal dragon, silent and still, gazing out upon the land like a tyrant king.

Luna dropped from the wall and spread her wings. There was no time to check on Ponyville; she needed to get home, to warn Celestia. Surely she could outfly the flying pigs; surely she could get enough of a head start to raise the alarm and mobilize the guard. Then they could meet this threat, might even be able to––

Something pricked Luna in the neck, making her jerk, though more in surprise than in pain. She touched the spot, her hoof coming into contact with something soft poking out of her skin. With a flare of magic, she pulled the offending object free, and held it to eye level.

A tiny, pointed dart, tipped by red feathers, slowly rotated in front of Luna's face. With a sinking feeling, Luna realized what it was, just as another pricked her in her neck.

There was a sudden rush of air to Luna's right, and the almost imperceptible sound of earth and grass shifting beneath feet. Luna kicked off the ground, her wings carrying her backward, as a hand chopped cleanly through the spot where her neck had been an instant before. She landed, unharmed, but her hooves felt shaky beneath her weight, and her legs trembled faintly. Her wings started to droop, and her eyelids felt heavy; she fought to keep both open.

In front of her stood another human... or something humanesque. It wore no clothes, save a bulky vest, shredded and melted, that covered its upper body. Beneath the vest, its skin was blue, darker tones at the middle of its body, lighter shades creeping along its limbs. Its face was a mask of scorched, stained, dented metal, with a cracked glass eye in its center. The fingers of its right hand were held in perfectly straight alignment, like a knife's blade; its left hand held a matte-black object that Luna recognized as some kind of firearm. A pistol – yes, that was the parlance the minotaurs used.

The assailant gripped the top of the pistol and slid it back, ejecting something from its innards, before it clicked back into place.

Luna's magic pulled the second dart from her neck. She dropped it to the ground, and crushed it beneath her rapidly numbing hoof. She tried to speak a word of challenge, but couldn't work her tongue – it felt like a thick, lifeless worm in her mouth. Whatever those darts contained was working its way through her system rapidly, doing in moments what a quarter-empty flask of potent brandy could not.

The human-thing rushed her, a streak of blue, too fast to be seen. Luna lurched away clumsily, barely ducking under another swing at her neck. A jolt of lightning crackled from her horn, striking her enemy in its exposed underarm. She thought she heard a cry of pain, before a third dart stung her in the hollow of her neck.

The first two darts had weakened Luna; the third was all but crippling. Her head felt light, her thoughts grew hazy, and her vision swam with mist and shadows. Even the shape of the human's body was beginning to grow indistinct. But Luna still had the presence of mind to realize that her fight was folly – the human-thing had gotten the drop on her, tilting the odds in its favor from the outset. Luna couldn't waste time fighting a losing battle, not when she needed to escape. Not when Canterlot still needed to be warned.

So Luna spread her wings and beat them furiously, fighting against fatigue to gain height and soaring over the head of the human-thing. Then fingers caught the end of her tail, and Luna despaired. She had the presence of mind to attempt an escape, but not to avoid flying over the head of her assailant.

The human-thing swung Luna's body down like a mace, smashing her against the ground with bone-shattering force. The drugs prevented Luna from feeling the full brunt of the blow – she felt the impact, felt her ribs crunching, but she was too insensate to feel the pain of it. Then, with a shove, she was rolling backward, onto hard stone.

Luna struggled to gather her hooves beneath herself, and wrenched her eyes open. Through the haze, and the darkness, she saw the human-thing, standing on solid ground. Beneath Luna was the bridge, and on either side, the chasm yawned.

"You are not where I thought you'd be," said the human-thing. Its voice of sand and broken glass rang clearly through Luna's stupor. "I had not predicted that you would leave Canterlot, much less that you would turn up here and now. Just what could have brought you so far out at this late juncture?"

Luna couldn't form a reply – and the human-thing seemed to come to a conclusion anyway, as it gazed at the hill behind her.

"...I see. Perhaps that was an error on my part – my curiosity winning out against my common sense. But fortune has resolved the matter to my satisfaction." Its feet padded noiselessly as it strode forward to join Luna on the bridge. "Indeed, had I only known you alicorns were so easy to kill, had I the time to factor it into my simulation, I might have saved myself a great deal of trouble."

Luna lifted her head, but the human-thing slammed its palm into her temple and drove her back into the stone bridge with a gasp.

"I'm tempted to keep you alive," the human-thing said, its voice infuriatingly calm and casual as it pinned Luna's face to the ground. "It may be prudent to interrogate you, to determine the extent to which my plans have been compromised. If you are out here, if you know of our presence, then there is reason to suspect your sister does as well. But the risks outweigh the rewards, and I have taken enough risks today already."

Its hand left her head, only to be replaced by the sole of its foot. There was no pain as it pressed down on Luna's skull – only a pressure, building rapidly.

"Farewell, 'Nightmare Moon.' Your reputation outshines you, I regret to say."

The mention of that discarded title sent a dagger of fury through the younger princess, straight through to a reservoir of emotion that she'd long ago boarded over. She let it spill forth, let it fuel her, bringing her clarity through clouds of confusion.

The pulse of magic she fired off was unfocused, undirected – just a wave of raw energy from her horn whose force resonated deep in her chest and rattled her teeth in her head. It was sufficient to rocket the human-thing away from her, off the bridge, and into the abbey's outermost wall.

It recovered quickly, and glared at Luna as it lifted the pistol again.

Fortune saved Luna from a fourth dart. The pulse of magic had broken the mortar holding the bridge together. Stonework that had survived through the ages gave way, and Luna tumbled with it into the chasm below. Weightless, she fell. Her wings wouldn't work, and her legs obeyed none of her commands.

Ever the treasonous devils, those legs.

The sky was a ribbon of studded purple between two granite walls, falling farther and farther away, until Luna plunged into the water at the ravine's bottom. She felt her head break the surface and her lungs work to suck down gulps of fresh, clear air – all automatic, for her addled mind was very much elsewhere. A roaring hearth, a soft bed, a nuzzle at the back of her ear...

No. No, there's something I should be doing right now. I need to see my sister, I need to tell her... need to warn her...

The nuzzling became more insistent, and Luna smiled.

...But, she thought, as darkness and fog claimed her, surely it can keep for a while.

Author's Note

This is all the PGS I have for you at the end of July. I start a new job next month, and my time will be understandably more limited, but I hope to see you again soon with 17 regardless.

As ever, my thanks to Editor Man for his help, and to my readers for staying with the story.

17. Second Front

"In the distance, machines come to transform Eden, day by day."

As a longtime member of the Royal Guard's night shift, Flash Sentry was well used to rising with the moon, and falling asleep at daybreak. His predilection for late nights served him well after he gained his officer's commission; his rank, and the commensurate increase in salary, came with a command position in the Night Guard's second shift. Most officers would deride such a command as mind-numbingly dull, not to mention uncomfortably chilly.

Generally, Flash didn't mind cold, or monotony. But tonight, his normal duties had been compounded by the Captain dropping a bunch of other work onto his shoulders that not even hewanted to deal with. Some of it was easy: rubber-stamping duty rosters was kind of fun. Less fun was reviewing and revising defense measures with the Princess's menagerie of professors and mages, an old, cobwebby bunch he didn't particularly care for.

Still, if it helped his star rise even more, he wouldn't complain. Taking on extra work so that the Captain could spend the day with his wife wasn't the most conventional way of advancing in rank, but ingratiating himself with Shining Armor certainly couldn't hurt, could it?

Who knows? Flash thought, snapping open his wings and soaring off the wall. I stay on his good side, and maybe he won't mind me asking out that sister of his.

But reflecting on his prospects with the unattainable sister of his commanding officer could wait for bedtime. His shift was almost over; there was just one last bit of business to complete before he could stand relieved. So, he shrugged off thoughts of mares, and circled down to the barracks at the base of the southern watchtower. Sergeant Chiptooth waited for him below, saluting crisply as Flash alighted.

"Anything to report?" Flash fought to keep the tiredness from his voice.

"I'd like to say it was another slow night," said Chiptooth. The leathery-winged thestral was a ten-year veteran of the southern watchtower. Contrary to his name, an epithet he'd been saddled with in his youth, he had impeccable dental health. "But we've got curious happenings out in Ponyville, off in the distance."

"The fog. I've seen it." Flash frowned. "Standing orders are to ignore Ponyville, except in emergencies."

Chiptooth's eyes narrowed. Before Flash's commission, Chiptooth had been wont to remind him that his decade's worth of experience meant he didn't need regulations recited to him. He said so less often now that Flash was his superior, but he still found ways to without saying anything.

Flash stared the sergeant down. "Anything else?"

"Those patrols the Princess ordered, along the southern face of the mountain – they were due back half an hour ago. Bitterfeather's flight, sir. No reason they should be gone so late."

Chiptooth had the right of that. Bitterfeather was a pain in the ass, but he was also organized, punctual, and could take care of himself – as could the ponies who flew with him. If he was overdue...

This last day has been the strangest since I enlisted, Flash thought.

The fog-bank in Ponyville, the Princess's sudden call for increased scrutiny of the mountain and tighter patrols, not to mention Luna's antics in the Royal Garden. Nopony knew what that was about. Something was going on – a second changeling attack, or something just as bad. He hadn't been briefed on anything, meaning the problem was outside of his pay grade, and nothing would be served by asking questions he wasn't supposed to ask.

And yet... he was the duty officer, wasn't he?

For the next half hour, anyway.

"Let's put together a search-and-rescue flight," said Flash. "We'll start with their last known—"

A voice at the top of the turret cried out, startling Flash. "Lieutenant! Sir, you'd better come look at this!"

Flash exchanged a look with Chiptooth, and the two immediately took to the air.

They found a trembling watchpony, his eyes wide. With shaking hooves, he offered Flash a pair of binoculars. "Look south, sir."

Accepting the binoculars, Flash braced his barrel against a merlon, and directed his gaze to the south.

He spotted them immediately: vaguely cylindrical shapes, glinting in the moonlight, topped with whirling blades, their motion too fast to track. Airships, made of metal, with no balloon to lift them, flying in formation and drawing closer the longer he stared.

Flash added this to the list of strange happenings throughout the day, the wheels in his mind turning as he connected the dots. The heightened security, Luna in the garden, the extra patrols...

And they're coming from the southern face of the mountain. Flash swallowed. Where Bitterfeather's patrol went missing.

"Lieutenant?" said the watchpony, in a voice drawn high with fright. "What do you think? What should we—"

"Lad," Chiptooth grunted. "Know your role, and be quiet."

Flash thrust the binoculars into the chest of the watchpony, and turned to Chiptooth. "Wake the Captain – the Princess, too."

"You want me to talk to the Princess?" Chiptooth grunted. "The chain of command—"

"Forget the chain," Flash snapped. "Go directly to the Captain, and to the Princess, then report back here. Looks like we'll all be pulling an extra shift this morning."

A shame – he was quite looking forward to getting some shut-eye.

Chiptooth nodded. "And you, sir? If you'll pardon an old enlisted pony's asking?"

Flash fixed him with a level, authoritative gaze. "I'm going to intercept them."

Something flickered across Chiptooth's face – a look of disapproval, a hint of a frown. But true to form, the old guard obeyed. He saluted, unfurled his wings, and fluttered off into the night.

Flash ordered the watchpony to hold his position until relieved, and barked out commands for the rest of the barracks to assemble outside. They came quickly, in an orderly fashion, sweeping down from the ramparts and out from the barracks to form neat ranks.

"We have a situation," Flash said, pacing along the front row of guardsponies. "Something's approaching Canterlot rapidly – some kind of airships. We're scrambling fliers to intercept them."

He stopped pacing, and looked out at his tiny command.

"I need ten volunteers."

He got thirty. He left with ten, anyway – somepony needed to hold the tower.

Borne by a southerly wind, eleven pegasi soared to meet the airships, collapsable spears pegged to their armor. Flash could hear the sound of something chopping through the wind, a cacophony that threatened to split his head from the inside, growing louder and louder the closer he came to intercepting the airships.

Half a mile out from Canterlot, and high up in the air, Flash ordered his command to a halt, and deploy in formation. Two five-pointed stars spread out directly in the machines' flight path. Flash was in the center, the vertex where the stars' arms met.

Standard procedure for intercepting an unknown flier was to challenge them verbally. These were airships, though – airships with perfectly enclosed hulls, no upper decks, and no one to challenge. He wasn't planning to waste his breath on something that couldn't even hear him. The sight of ten guardsponies, arrayed in the air with weapons drawn, would convey the challenge plainly enough.

"Spears!" he shouted.

The air filled with the clicks of telescoping pieces snapping into position. Flash brandished his own and took a deep breath, sweat beading on his forehead, and running down his skin.

They want to play chicken, he thought, as the airships maintained their course and speed. They want us to break first.

Then the one at the head tilted forward, angling its blades toward the center of the ponies' formation. They weren't playing chicken – they simply didn't care.

"Break!" Flash cried, just before the machines were upon them.

Somehow, his volunteers heard him over the wind, and scattered in all directions. The pegasus on his left wasn't fast enough. A horrible ripping sound cut his yelp short as the whirling blades passed through him. The shredded remains of a pegasus whose name Flash failed to recall fell to the earth far below.

The guardsponies floated raggedly, with no semblance of formation, staring agog at the slowly dissipating mist that had once been their friend.

Flash's stomach heaved. He swallowed the urge to vomit, and flew past his fractured command.

"On me, everypony!" He soared after the machines, pride swelling in his chest as he heard wings beating behind him. "Break and engage at will!"

Flash came upon the rearmost airship, his front hooves curled tightly around his spear. With a roar, he thrust against the ship's metal skin. His spearpoint glanced off with a shower of sparks; another thrust yielded identical results. A look around told him that his volunteers had similar luck with their own targets.

They weren't hurting the ships, and they certainly weren't slowing them down. Hell, the pegasi were barely keeping pace with them, and they were all drawing dangerously close to Canterlot. Procedure called for the captain to cast a barrier spell as soon as possible, but either Chip hadn't reached Shining Armor yet, or the Captain was still charging and casting the spell.

Either way, they needed to buy him more time. Flash searched along his ship's hull for some kind of weakness, something obvious to exploit.

Then he found it: A gap in some of the side plating, a chink in the armor, near the machine's front – not very wide, but good enough for him to lodge the tip of his spear between the plates. And with enough leverage...

Flash smiled grimly and shot forward, scraping his spear across the machine's hull until it found that groove in the armor. He wedged his spearpoint in, braced his weight against the weapon's shaft, and pulled down, beating his wings furiously. Maybe he couldn't hope to hurt the ship, but he could at least drag it out of the air.

Another spear slammed into the wedge as one of his escorts added his weight to Flash's, then another grabbed the skids hanging on the airship's underside. They grunted, and pulled; Flash felt the weight of the ship shift toward him. He grinned, and tried to shout orders to the rest of his wing, but his words were lost over the thundering noise of the airship's blades.

Then another sound joined the cacophonous, rippling gale – a sharp rattle, like a firecracker. Plates on the sides of the other ships had swung open, revealing their interiors, and from inside, lights flickered in split-second bursts. The airships swatted Flash's volunteers through the sky, like a great hoof passing through a swarm of bothersome flies. They plummeted to the ground, perforated and bloody.

Then his spear suddenly slipped free of the hull, and Flash looked up to see a panel along its side sliding open. The lodgepoint for his spear was no chink in the armor, but the crack of a door. Someone was waiting behind it.

Flash had seen guns in museums before – he'd even seen armed griffon soldiers toting rifles. This was different from anything he'd ever seen. It was larger, built differently, and, in some ineffable way, scarier. And its point was level with his forehead.

There wasn't enough time to dodge, to snap his wings and maneuver away. All he could do was smile as a memory played through his mind, and regret panged in his heart.

Killjoy. I should have danced with you that night.

Before the first shots were fired within the walls of Canterlot, before dawn even broke on the city, an explosion ripped through Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns.

For decades, the campus had seen Equestria's best and brightest magical talents ascend to the echelons of the nation's most gifted mages. The lecturers, the headmistress, even the administrative staff, were talented, battle-hardened spellcasters. The changelings had tested them most recently, bloodied the youngest in their number, but the oldest remembered the invasion of the Nightmare Forces that precipitated the school's foundation. They weren't merely educators. They were one of the city's most vital lines of defense.

Then a bomb detonated in the faculty dormitories.

Windows shattered from the force of the blast, throwing razor shrapnel into the yard. Flammable chemicals and potions in nearby store-rooms ignited, and the explosion became a conflagration that threatened to swallow the entire building. Sirens wailed, and the fire brigade scrambled, escorted by a platoon of the Royal Guard, and armed with high-pressure hoses and rainclouds. They met a stampede of foals, students boarded at the school, dutifully shepherded out by the upperclassponies.

Firefighters and guardsponies marched into the school in search of anyone left behind. The confused rabble that had just escaped was left to gawk at the vicious glow shining through the windows, at the plume of smoke billowing high, obscuring stars and moon alike, at the upper floors of the eastern wing that sagged and threatened to pancake on top of one another.

Canterlot woke that morning to fire and screams, and a roiling storm of hysteria.

And into that storm, Pegasus Wings plunged.

Five Chinooks swept into the city, high above its gold-tipped spires and gleaming white walls. Ignoring the castle and its garrison entirely, the Chinooks broke formation, and spread out around the city limits. They lowered, until they hovered no higher than the tallest tower of the Canterlot skyline, just as Shining Armor cast his shield spell.

The sixth helicopter lagged behind its sisters, having been dragged out of position by the valiant folly of the late Lieutenant Flash Sentry. Yet it soared at top speed toward the city, intent on beating the dome of pink light slowly encircling Canterlot from the bottom up. The margin for error shrank with every beat of the pilot's heart, and when it became clear that he wouldn't make it into Canterlot before the shield finished ascending, he tried to bank away.

Instead, the Chinook collided with the shield. A brilliant flower of yellow and orange bloomed as debris and flash-cooked flesh rained outside the city walls. Both sides had traded fire and blood before the battle could begin in earnest.

The other five Chinooks aimed to tilt the body count in their favor again.

Door-gunners rained automatic fire upon the sleeping city. Heavy ammunition and rocket-propelled grenades ripped through limestone walls and columns, blasting them into fine, chalky powder. Bullets riddled houses and businesses, homes and hotels, choking streets with dusty debris in minutes, a thesis for the battle to follow.

The gunfire halted long enough for the Chinooks' passengers to disembark. Ropes dangled from the choppers' doors, and one by one, Pegasus Wings infantry descended upon the city. Where the door-gunners ignored individual ponies, save those in guard armor, these soldiers made no distinctions. They stormed into buildings, guns ablaze, or fired wildly in the rubble-strewn streets, whooping, hollering, and gunning down anypony unfortunate enough to land in their sights.

Sirens blared, and fires burned, as chaos engulfed the capital of Equestria.

Shining Armor galloped through the castle's halls, throwing open the doors to Princess Celestia's private chambers without pausing to knock. She was on her balcony, staring out at the city – at the smoldering school and the airships that blazed hot death into the city streets.

Yet the castle remained untouched. The enemy clearly possessed the means to take it, but instead, they directed their attention elsewhere. Why?

He cleared his mind as he snapped to attention behind his princess. She regarded him impassively, barely turning her head to glance at him, before staring out at the city again.

"Report, Captain."

"The enemy appeared over the city less than twenty minutes ago," said Shining Armor. "I was woken by a guardspony under Lieutenant Flash Sentry's command and—"

"Skip the preamble, Captain," Princess Celestia said curtly. "Tell me their strength and disposition."

Shining Armor swallowed – the Princess was usually far more meticulous than this.

"There are at least a hundred of them on the ground. They're using some kind of firearms – larger, more powerful, and with an incredible rate of fire. Their airships have armor too strong for our weapons or spells to penetrate, and their guns tear through our armor easily. I've never seen anything like them before – they're completely out of this world."

Celestia bowed her head just slightly, as though caving to an invisible burden. "I saw an explosion against the shield, just as it was going up."

"Yes, your highness. One of the airships was out of formation with the rest. It got caught in the shield, and was destroyed. Word is that Flash... that Lieutenant Sentry and his crew were responsible for that." He hesitated. "He and his entire wing... they were... that is to say, Sergeant Chiptooth holds the southern barracks."

Flash. That fool, that valiant fool. So brash, so brazen, so eager to get himself noticed. Eager enough to break the chain of command and fly out on what little authority he had, to challenge an enemy none of them knew about. It was a good death, a noble death, and a stupid, needless, pointless waste of life—

"Shining Armor. You're starting to hyperventilate."

The Princess's voice cut through Shining. He stopped to collect himself, practicing a breathing technique his wife had taught him early in their courtship. In, and out, slowly, pushing the anxiety away with a sweep of his hoof. "My apologies, your highness."

"No amount of training will ever prepare you for this kind of loss, my dear," said Princess Celestia, gently. In a harder voice, she continued. "The enemy's disposition?"

Shining Armor took one last slow breath to push the thoughts of Flash's death away.

"Five platoons on foot, spread throughout the city, each one covered from the air. But except for the bomb that went off in the school, their choice of targets has been bizarre: places like Restaurant Row, or Firefly Plaza, the stadium grounds and the surrounding tenements. Hell, I heard a report of soldiers storming the Hotel Horseshoe and shooting up the Old Redoubt, just before I got here. I'd expect them to target outposts, or infrastructure, but it's just random death and destruction without any pattern."

The Princess's ears pricked. She lifted her head and tore her gaze away from the view of the city, staring down at Shining Armor with an epiphanic expression. "Random death and destruction is the pattern, Captain."

Shining tilted his head quizzically. "Highness, I don't follow."

"Canterlot has no shortage of obvious prizes for an invading force. My school, the guard academy, the castle itself. In the event of an attack, we'd naturally move to secure those first and foremost. That's the reason for these random acts of violence – they're trying to draw the Guard away from more strategically significant locations, leaving them vulnerable to attack. I'd wager this isn't even the main force, either – that's still waiting in reserve, ready to strike once the board's set."

Shining blinked, somewhat in surprise. "Begging your pardon, Princess, but... how can you be—"

"I'm no stranger to war. And I'm not wrong." She looked out upon the city again, the glows from the shield and the fires throwing harsh light upon her face. "Still, diversion or no, we cannot abandon the ponies in those districts to fate."

"Agreed. Cadance and I took the liberty of establishing a perimeter around the train depot. A safe zone – we're trying to create a corridor in the city for the townsponies to retreat there. If it comes down to it, Cadance can lead an evacuation through the train tunnels." Shining bit his lip. "Your majesty... I'd be remiss in not pointing out that..."

His hesitation made the Princess turn toward him. "Speak freely, Captain."

Shining drew himself up. "We don't have sufficient numbers to fortify the depot, reinforce those districts, and hold the city. Most of the faculty in the magic school are dead, injured, or unaccounted for, and with the Expeditionary Force still in the frontier..."

He trailed off when he saw the Princess's wings droop.

Killjoy's five hundred ponies represented a significant portion of the Guard's total strength. Without them, Shining couldn't guarantee that the city's defenses could hold against even a conventional siege. He'd told the Princess as much when she first ordered him to muster the expedition.

The Princess perked quickly. "We do have the forces necessary to reinforce those positions and still hold Canterlot, Captain. The castle garrison stands at two hundred. Deploy them to the city at once."

Shining balked. "The entire garrison? Princess, forgive me, but... we'd be leaving the castle defenseless! The vaults, the treasury, the armory, the Elements of Harmony—"

"Vaults can be refilled, money reissued, weapons reforged, and no power short of Discord could ever breach the Elements' sanctum. We will lose the castle if we try to hold it against this enemy, and I'd sooner take the battle to the enemy than entomb myself in here."

She spoke with such conviction that Shining Armor wanted immediately to believe her. But she'd overlooked a crucial point. "If we empty the castle, then there won't be anypony to protect you."

The Princess smiled wryly. "Then I suppose I'll just have to join you out there, won't I?"

The significance of her words took a moment to break upon him. "Your highness—"

"I am not some pusillanimous noble, Captain. I have no intention of standing idly while my subjects fight outside these walls. I will live, or die, with Canterlot." Princess Celestia seemed to radiate with light, her coat aglow. "But I'll need time to prepare for battle, and that's time that we cannot waste holding the castle garrison in reserve. They must sortie, now. I assure you, I will be quite safe without their protection."

Shining Armor leaned forward, drawn toward her like a moth. "What are you planning?"

"You'll learn soon enough. For now, your orders are to divide the castle garrison, and deploy them to the districts currently under siege. The rest of the Guard is to hold their positions for as long as possible against the enemy's main thrust, and retreat to the train depot when the defenses are no longer tenable. Evacuate as many civilians as can be saved through the train tunnels, and tell Cadance to make for Fort Baltimare. She'll know what to do from there."

That meant activating war protocols, and undoing the Pax. Only Equestria's ruler could do that. Was this merely a contingency, or did the Princess assume the city was already lost – and herself, and Princess Luna, with it?

Sensing his concern, Princess Celestia sighed. "I haven't given up, Captain, appearances to the contrary. In battle, one must consider all possible outcomes, and defeat is not just possible, but probable. Everything we're doing is a rearguard action; if we lose today, then we must ensure that we win tomorrow. Remember that."

A thousand concerns flew through Shining's mind. He voiced the one most important to him. "Will I see you again?"

She gave him another wry smile. And when Shining Armor realized that was all he was going to get from her, he reluctantly saluted.

"I have one last question, Captain, before you're dismissed." Worry flickered across the Princess's countenance. "My sister. Has there been any sign of her?"

At length, Shining replied – and with an answer he knew would only serve to hurt her. "No, Your Highness."

All traces of emotion vanished from Celestia's face. She gazed out from her balcony again.

"Then you are dismissed. Guard well the city, Shining Armor. You've honored me with your service."

The Princess extended a wingtip to caress his cheek, and Shining shivered at her gentle touch.

"And I'm proud to have called you a member of my family."

Canterlot gleamed in morning sunlight, tinted pink from the shield encircling the mountain's peak. Awash in Celestia's bounty, the Royal Guard at the front gate made an imposing sight. The sun glittered on the gold-inlaid quivers of the archers on the ramparts, on the speartips of the pike wall in the bailey below, on the wrought-iron bolts and frames of the ballistae and catapults behind them. They formed a shining fist of blades and mail, swords and spears and arrows, tightly clenched and drawn to strike anyone who tried to breach the city.

The city, having already been breached, crumbled behind them.

The guardsponies charged with the gate's defense held their positions as the day crawled on, the steady ascent of the sun accompanied by the unceasing cadence of the Chinooks' mounted machine guns. Blaring sirens drowned out the townsponies' frightened shrieks and screams as the castle garrison fought, frantically evacuating anypony caught in the crossfire. Across the city, they threw themselves against Pegasus Wings, coaxing out frightened ponies hiding in their businesses and residences, and directing everypony they could toward the train tunnels.

Nopony at the gate abandoned their posts to join the fighting. Though every second was agony to them, they held their positions, and waited for the blow the Princess foresaw.

Their patience paid off by mid-morning.

A cry went up from the watchtowers framing the main gate as something crawled up the mountain path. Archers drew and nocked their arrows. Ballistae and catapults swiveled into position, ready to fire through the semipermeable shield. A rank of pegasi took to the air in formation, deploying their collapsable spears. They hovered, just over the heads of the unicorn archers, poised to sortie and harass the invaders.

The APCs appeared first, ten in all, rolling in single file up the mountain path. A few hundred meters from the walls, they stopped and spread out in a semicircle. The two on the ends mounted rocket launchers; they fired salvos that exploded against the shield protecting Canterlot. The shield glowed brightly where struck, but withstood the barrage with little strain. The eight APCs in the line's center, equipped with heavy cannons, held their fire.

Rattled, but unharmed, the Guard responded with a volley of their own. Catapults swung and ballistae twanged; the shield rippled like the surface of water as boulders and spears passed through en masse, but the fusillade landed well short of the APCs. The archers, their arrows enhanced by unicorn magic, had more luck; their volley arced higher and farther, only to rebound off the APCs' armor.

As the armored vehicles soaked up the guardsponies' ineffectual attacks, a convoy of twenty covered trucks, troop transports and cargo vehicles, arrived from the mountain path and lined up behind the APCs. Five more, flatbeds with black tarps stretched tight over their loads, assembled in a rank behind the transports. Their brakes hissed, and they waited.

A brief, tense stalemate followed. The Guard, knowing they were ill-equipped to damage the Pegasus Wings armor, ceased fire. The APCs' guns remained silent, and no soldiers emerged from their cabins, or from the trucks. A light wind whispered through the pass, rippling the flatbeds' tarps.

Then another flatbed appeared on the mountain pass. This one had its cargo exposed: A bident fit for a giant, its skin a patchwork of metals, crudely assembled from whatever materials were available. A rat's nest of wires and cables connected the fork to massive batteries strapped to the side of the bed, and coiled into the truck's cabin through its back window. Arcs of lightning danced between the prongs, blue webs that flickered and crackled.

On this jury-rigged Frankenstein's monster of a railgun, an officer with an obscure sense of literary irony had painted the name "GROND" in blood-red letters.

The truck parked on the road, behind its fellows, in the center of the semicircle that the other vehicles formed. Hydraulics hissed, andthe truck bed reclined until the railgun stood at a forty-five degree angle, leveled at the shield. The batteries whined to life with a low, bass note that pounded and throbbed in the guardsponies' ears. The lightning on the bident's prongs grew brighter, more intense, more chaotic; the bass note rose to a terrible, shrieking crescendo.

On the wall, the officer on duty shouted a desperate order. A line of spear-wielding pegasi sallied through the barrier in a desperate charge toward the railgun. They met a crossfire of bullets and explosive shells as the APCs's guns finally came to life. The unicorn archers, despairing at their comrades' swift end, fired at will.

The APCs shrugged off the arrows.

And Grond, unmolested, fired.

A blinding flash forced the guardsponies to shield their eyes; a piercing note, like metal rending, forced them to clutch their ears. Shining Armor's shield shattered like glass, and shards of pink light rained onto the yard below, winking into nothingness on contact.

As the Guard recoiled, blinded, deafened, and frightened, the flatbeds' cargo stirred. Their coverings bulged and strained; the ropes securing them in place tightened, then snapped. The breeze caught the tarps, and carried them off the mountain, exposing their cargo to the mountain air.

Trenton had not merely secured one XMG-IRVING unit for Pegasus Wings. He had brought the entire line of twenty-four prototypes. And now, for the first time since arriving in Equestria, the remaining twenty-three stretched their legs, reared to full height, and bellowed. In unison, they leaped from the trucks that had carried them up the mountainside, and sprinted toward Canterlot, trampling through a field of blood and bodies.

Most leaped over the walls. Their powerful legs carried them past Canterlot's battlements in a single bound; they landed in the yard and surrounded the pike wall that waited at the gate. Others scaled the walls, digging their clawed toes deep into the stonework to drag themselves up.

The first to reach the rampart hooked its toes over two merlons, and raised its head until it came nose-to-nose with a unicorn. She'd been shielding her face with an armored foreleg as she recovered from the railgun's blast, and managed to open her eyes enough to glimpse the machine standing in front of her.

The IRVING nickered. Something inside its chassis clicked.

The unicorn's scream ended abruptly as a stream of napalm swallowed her.

Swiveling its head left, the IRVING turned its flamethrower onto the other archers. To its right, another IRVING reached the rampart, and sent jets of fire along its length. Together, they cleared the wall of its defenders, and filled the air with the stink of burning flesh and fur. More scaled the watchtowers; manipulator cables wrapped around guardsponies necks, strangling them, snapping their bones, and tossing them like rag dolls over the walls.

In the yard, the IRVING waded through the pike wall at will. Three-toed feet pulverized heads and bodies, and claws rent through plate and mail like tissue paper. The Guards, still half-blind and deaf, fought back feebly. Spear thrusts glanced off the machines' plating and tough, leathery hide. One enterprising sergeant, an earth pony, managed to lodge his own spear in an IRVING's thigh, only for the machine's manipulator cord to tug it out and skewer him.

As the guardsponies died at their feet, the IRVING turned their flamethrowers on the siege engines. Catapults and ballistae burned like torches, their ammunition glowing red-hot from the intensity of the flames. Clouds of smoke choked the ponies still standing, while ashes, caught in the breeze, fluttered like summer snowfall.

The call to retreat came from half a dozen ponies; with no clear chain of command in place, nopony thought to question from whom their orders should come. In a bedraggled, disorderly rout, the remnants of the companies stationed at Canterlot's main gate – anypony still on their hooves, anypony who could escape – stampeded toward the train station.

In the yard and along the walls, among the corpses of the fallen and aglow in the light from the fires they'd spread, the victorious IRVING turned their heads skyward, and howled.

The gate at Canterlot's outer wall had no portcullis, only a pair of doors carved from the same marble as the rest of the walls. A painted relief of the sun at its zenith, held aloft by an ornate carving of Princess Celestia, greeted any and all visitors to the city.

A salvo obliterated the gate, and its relief, and its alicorn carving, reducing the whole thing to a loosely hanging mass of blackened stone. What remained shattered when one of the vehicles ploughed through at full speed, knocking the gate off its hinges and scattering it among the rubble and corpses.

The APC drove through smoldering fires, ran over the pulped bodies of the wall's defenders, past the IRVING that had slaughtered them, and finally screeched to a halt. The rest of the vehicles followed – the armor first, then the covered trucks. The flatbeds that had carried the IRVING platoon sat abandoned outside the city gate.

The APCs formed a ring with the trucks in the center. Their turrets swiveled, scanning the city, as their back hatches opened, and soldiers deployed between the armored vehicles. More troops, armed to the teeth with rifles and machine guns and RPGs, emerged from the covered trucks, and took up positions among the other troops.

By human standards, this assemblage of outdated vehicles and infantry with archaic assault rifles, would be a meager rabble. To a city protected by spears and bows and catapults, they were a steel-plated juggernaut.

Surrounded by his men on all sides, Macbeth finally emerged. He'd been riding in the APC that had first crashed through the gate, explicitly demanding the privilege of battering through the marble visage of Celestia, and now strutted down the vehicle's ramp with his head held high. His face lit up when he saw the destruction he'd brought to Canterlot; he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose, and released a long, slow sigh of contentment.

Then he looked over his shoulder, and called into the APC's cabin.

"Lieutenant! Come out here and take a breath. You know what that smell is?"

Lieutenant Delacroix joined him on the ramp, an MRS carbine hanging from her shoulder. She wore a headset that she constantly fiddled with, pausing only to punch commands into a keyboard mounted on her left arm.

"Napalm, sir?" she said distractedly.

"No, no." Then Macbeth thought about it, and shrugged. "Well, yes, I suppose, but that's not exactly what I was referring to. It's victory, Lieutenant. It's progress – change."

Delacroix stopped pressing buttons, frowned, and took a cursory look around the yard. "Just smells like napalm to me. Sir."

"Of course. Humans – no sense for the dramatic." Macbeth scoffed, and looked again at the pile of corpses the IRVING had left behind. "So, this is what passes for siege defense in Equestria these days."

He spat off the side of the ramp.

"You see their folly too, don't you, Lieutenant?" Anger seethed in Macbeth's voice. "A battery of cannons, here, along the wall, could have held us at bay, even with our technological advantage. Equestrian tanks could never rival our armor, but if they'd sortied instead of those pegasi, they could have disabled the rail gun, forced us to batter down the shield with cannons and grenades, and given their infantry a chance at an orderly retreat."

He paused for Delacroix to respond. She didn't.

Annoyed, Macbeth coughed, and raised his voice. "Instead, Celestia's finest thought to meet our advance with archaic toys. Did they think their valor, their sheer gall, would save them? Surely, the survivors realize now how wrong they were. The rest will learn, too, soon enough. When the ponies of Canterlot see our armor rolling through their streets, our war machines paving the roads with corpses, they'll know that the future has come to..."

Macbeth turned to look at Delacroix as his speech reached a climax, and found her back to him.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, am I boring you?"

"I'm trying to raise Commander Cain, sir." Delacroix tapped her mic experimentally, and held her headphones with her right hand. "Repeat, Birnam Wood has come to Dunsinane. Respond."

Seconds passed as she waited. When no answer came, she let her hand rest on her carbine's barrel.

Macbeth grinned, baring his mouth of rotten teeth. "Should I start from the top?"

Ignoring him, Delacroix shook her head. "I've been checking in since we left the mountain junction, but he hasn't responded once. And I can't raise Captain Smart in Ponyville, either."

"Your radios have always been somewhat unreliable, haven't they?" said Macbeth.

"Sure. But I can get through to the choppers, and to Dr. Rokubungi at the junction." Delacroix stroked her chin. "Any problems Smart and the Commander are having must be on their end."

Macbeth's hooves clanged on the APC's ramp as he trotted back toward Delacroix. "Paper Mongoose's silence is hardly unexpected."

Delacroix raised an eyebrow. "And the commander?"

To that, Macbeth only offered an oily smile. He patted Delacroix on the hip, failing to notice her cringing away from him.

"We've our own job, Lieutenant. Let's leave the others to theirs."

"With all due respect, I don't need to be told to do my job. This is my command, not yours. Sir." Delacroix nudged past him, striding down the ramp, and onto the charred surface of the yard, typing into her mounted keyboard with quick strokes.

The IRVING deployed in response to her order. Grunting like cattle, they leaped from the blackened battlements, abandoned the piles of dead guardsponies, and dispersed throughout the city, traversing the streets and scaling buildings in great leaps and bounds

Four remained, standing like sentinels as Delacroix addressed the soldiers.

"Alright, let's review. First, the rocket launchers'll be here on standby. Think before calling in a strike, though; we only have so many rockets. Second, check your fire – if it isn't wearing armor, and it isn't coming right at you, don't pull the trigger. We don't have enough ammo for a rampage. Third, and I cannot stress this enough, stay out of the lizards' way. Don't get underneath them if you can help it. They have a blind spot between their legs. We clear?"

Two hundred voices chorused back, "Ma'am!"

Delacroix nodded, satisfied. "That's that. Let's wrap this up."

The APCs' engines revved, and they peeled away. Three went straight ahead, following the road that led to Canterlot Castle. Four others picked four different directions, to rearm and reinforce the companies that had deployed in the initial heliborne assault. Loose, staggered columns of infantry trailed after each, leaving a token force to defend the artillery.

Delacroix and Macbeth remained with an escort of eight soldiers, four IRVING, and one APC. They watched the company move out, the client regarding his retinue smugly.

"Speech was a little dry, if you ask me," he said. "You should read Shakespeare, draw some inspiration."

Declaroix ignored the comment. "Sir, I'd be remiss in pointing out that this plan will fail if I can't get in touch with the Commander. If the Princess calls our bluff—"

"Trenton prepared us for that eventuality." Macbeth indicated the blood-spattered machines with a grandiose sweep of his hoof. "They will obey my commands, won't they?"

"Units 01 through 04 will react to verbal orders, yes. You tell them to kick the Princess to death, they'll do it, or die trying." Delacroix fiddled with her radio again. "I'd feel better if it didn't come to that. As I understand it, just one of them had trouble with six ponies."

"And an unusually gifted human, don't forget. I'd feel better if we could wring more than one shot out of that marvelous cannon that brought down the shield." Macbeth cast a lingering look toward the broken gate. "Blasting the top off Canterlot Castle in the middle of negotiations would be worth it for the look on Celestia's face alone."

"We only had one non-nuclear round, and it's a miracle we even got that off without the railgun exploding." Delacroix snorted. "We'd better hope we don't need a second shot. I can't guarantee that we can break through another shield with conventional munitions, and still have enough ammo to win."

Macbeth shook his head. "They saw what good their shields are against our firepower; for all they know, we can take them down at will. And the shield spell is always taxing on the caster. I think we've seen the last of that little trick."

Delacroix chewed her lip. "I hope you're right. For all our sakes."

"Have I yet to be wrong about anything?" Macbeth chuckled. "Now, Lieutenant. Won't you let me take you on a tour through my hometown? It's been years, but I believe I still know my way around."

Delacroix grumbled, and shook her head. She beckoned for her escort to fall in, and they assembled, four troops ahead of the APC, and four behind. Macbeth and Delacroix were in the center, behind the armor, and flanked by the remaining IRVING.

"No peace in our time, right?" she said grimly. "Let's move."

Slowly, they advanced down the boulevard that led to Canterlot Castle. As the city around them burned, Macbeth breathed deep the smell of victory, and held his head high, hamming it up as the avenging prodigal.

Swathed in layers of clothing, and heavily burdened – by Trenton's sword and his own submachine gun, by the crude vest he'd thrown together and hidden under his cloak, by the detonator that hung in his pocket like a rock – Alistair Cain sweated through his dress blues. He stood on the catwalk inside the ruined cathedral, a Cuban cigar clenched between his teeth, and stared through the crumbled western wall at the Castle of the Two Sisters in the distance. A gentle wind rippled the tails of his heavy overcoat.

Beside him, REX's jaw hung open, its cockpit exposed and waiting.

He held a photograph of a girl in a blue dress, creased and folded to hide part of the image. Every pull Cain took from the cigar lit the photo with a dull, orange glow, and every puff of smoke obscured the girl's face in a thick, gray haze.

Cain slowly, tenderly, traced his thumb over the girl's smiling face.

Footsteps from the ground below echoed up to REX's gantry, and clanged on the metal stairs. Cain unfolded the creased photo, and fixed his gaze on the image of the boy he'd been trying to hide. He puffed his cigar, pulled it from his mouth, and pressed its smoldering tip against the boy's face, watching with satisfaction as he burned away.

"Commander."

Static filled Trenton's voice – more static than usual. Cain judged that he was standing at the far end of the catwalk, just by the stairs. He heard no more footfalls – not yet, anyway.

Cain bit down on his cigar again and savored another long drag. His fist closed around the still-smoldering photo, crushing it in his palm and singing his skin. Then he opened his hand, and let it fall through the hole in the cathedral's western wall, to the abbey's cobblestones.

"You're back." Smoke thickened Cain's voice. "Figured you would be."

"I cannot say the same for you." Trenton's feet clanged on the catwalk's metal, stiff and even, as he walked closer to Cain. "Who commands in Canterlot?"

"Delacroix. Choppers should be getting close to Canterlot right about now. Me? I wanted to stay behind, catch up with you a bit. You have a lot you need to answer for."

"I would be more than happy to account for my actions, Commander, once this operation is complete. We are on a timetable, and Metal Gear requires a pilot."

"On the contrary, we have all the time in the world to talk." Cain chewed the end of his cigar. "Did you kill my XO?"

"I've already explained the circumstances of Captain Case's disappearance."

"Yes, of course. Timberwolves got him, and his platoon. Convenient." Cain snorted. "Should have asked the kid to verify that story when we had the chance."

"That man killed the fireteam. Timberwolves killed Captain Case. I had no part in any of it."

"You didn't say a word about 'that man' when you told us about the patrol. But you must've known he was here before any of us did. Working with those ponies." Cain puffed out a thick cloud of smoke. "Did you smuggle him into Equestria before we deployed in force, or after?"

"I had no knowledge of—"

"You knew, and what's more, you colluded with him. You stopped me from killing him when I had him dead to rights, stole company property, and smuggled it to him when you knew we had no way of stopping you." Cain shifted the cigar to one corner of his mouth, and spat from the other. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Trenton's voice made a whirring sound that Cain had never heard from him before. "You sound paranoid, Commander. Delusional. Have you been losing sleep? Perhaps you should not be operating heavy machinery."

"Well, you did steal my bike. I had to replace it with something. Why not Metal Gear?" Cain finally turned to face Trenton – burdened as he was, he moved gracelessly.

His first glimpse of Trenton came as a shock. Grime and smoke streaked his exoskeleton, and his head bore a sizable dent. He wore a pristine vest over it – the only part of him not shredded, stained, or otherwise damaged. There'd been a spare in his locker, Cain recalled.

"I took your motorcycle, and you took my sword," said Trenton, stepping forward. "I'll consider it an even exchange if you return Metal Gear to me."

Cain took one last drag from his cigar, then flung it over the edge of the catwalk. Wordlessly, he unslung his MP-7, and leveled it at Trenton.

The light in Trenton's eye sparked and flickered.

"Really, Commander? I'm glad we're not bothering with pretenses anymore, but come to your senses. If I want to take that machine from you, do you truly believe there is anything you could do to stop me?"

"Probably not. Then again, I don't need to. Nobody is taking Metal Gear anywhere." Cain took a slow, deep breath. "I formatted the onboard computer."

"Indeed?"

"That's right. This thing can't fight anymore, can't even move. Defense systems, the onboard sensor suite, the entire operating system – everything is gone." Cain smiled thinly. "Including the launch angle and trajectory for Manehattan."

"This is retaliation, is it?" Trenton kept his voice carefully modulated, betrayed nothing. "If so, it's poorly planned. Your men need the nuclear missile to bluff Princess Celestia. Without a credible threat, they face a losing battle."

"You're wrong. They might take some licks, but they'll pull through. Macbeth will get his kingdom, and the troops... well, they've been itching for some pillage and plunder for a while now. Everyone gets what they want." Cain licked his lips. "Everyone but you, that is."

"And what about you?" Trenton purred. "You've sabotaged your own assurance of victory for a chance at checking my grand betrayal. Is that what you want, Commander?"

"It's not about what I want. It's not even about you betraying me. This is bigger than just you and I. This is about a debt you owe."

"A debt that I owe?"

"To MSF. To everyone who died on Mother Base. Everyone you betrayed."

Static hissed in Trenton's voice. "You are delusional."

"No. If anything, I'm seeing clearer than I have in a long, long time." Cain took a cautious step forward. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. You remember the day that Paz died? The first time, I mean – the day you let her hijack ZEKE."

Trenton tried to say something, but his voice caught, and Cain delighted in thinking that he'd finally caught the ninja off guard.

"I'm only bringing it up for context; that's not the point of the story." Cain took another slow, steady step. "I left MSF right before the end – days before Cipher hit Mother Base. And I never told anyone this, but it's because of what happened that day. Hearing everything Paz said, about us, about her mission, watching her fall into the Carribean... I didn't have it in me to stay anymore."

"So that's why you returned to Britain," said Trenton. "I hadn't wondered."

"Never thought much about me, did you?" Cain took a deep breath. "Well, I thought about you. And I thought about her. For more than half my life, not a day's gone by that I haven't thought of that girl, plunging into the Carribean, washing up in Cuba... and of you, Chico. Her runt in shining armor, rushing off to save her in the dead of night."

"Come to the point, Commander," said Trenton, unmoved. "Much as I cherish our talks, I have no time to reminisce with you."

Cain smiled tightly. Silently, he reached into his breast pocket, and drew out the old, battered Walkman.

Once more, he'd caught Trenton off guard. His eye flashed, his gaze fixed on the Walkman, as Cain raised it in the air.

"Seeing this come out of your locker brought back a lot of memories for me. You must feel the same way. Must be why you still have it." Cain gave the Walkman a little shake. "You know, I always thought Paz was the one who ratted us out to Cipher – her and Emmerich, both. And all that time in Zanzibar Land, the Boss never breathed a word about the night we lost Mother Base. So, you show up out of the blue with a job for me, saying it was Paz, what am I gonna do but believe you? Anyone who'd disagree is long dead. And dead men tell no tales."

His thumb mashed the PLAY button, and swallowed a lump in his throat.

"But, as it happens, angels do."

A girl spoke, her thin, plaintive voice masked by layers of white noise, and almost illegible through the Walkman's ancient speakers.

"...Chico. I am borrowing your recorder. Hope you do not mind. I know it hurts right now. But it will all be over soon. Just thinking that helps keep the pain away."

The tape fizzled and crackled; the voice vanished, subsumed by white noise. It cut, in and out, with the sounds of a lash against bare flesh, a woman's anguished screams, and an incongruously cheerful song underscoring it all.

Cain's thumb shifted to the REWIND button; when he released it, a boy's brittle voice took up where Paz left off.

"...Out at sea... Staff of three hundred... but usually there's..."

The tape was like Trenton's voice, choked with static and thick.

"ZEKE," the boy whispered, soft and so broken. "Metal Gear..."

A man replied, deep and smooth. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Cain crushed the STOP button, his face placid, his knuckles white around the Walkman. Trenton stood, rock-steady and silent.

Opening his hand, Cain let the Walkman fall. Then, bracing himself, he squeezed his MP-7's trigger.

Trenton vaulted over the railing, a split-second ahead of Cain, and dropped into the cathedral below. Cain's bullets tore harmlessly into the far wall, punching holes into the ancient stonework.

Cain swore, and ran down the catwalk, to the spot where Trenton had jumped. Slowly, carefully, he swept his weapon across the cathedral floor, his eyes on his sights, his finger on the trigger, his heart hammering under his layers of clothing.

From behind came a rush of air, and a metallic thud.

Cain whirled, firing off a burst, but the back of Trenton's fist crashed into the submachinegun's barrel and knocked the weapon from his hands and over the rail. Then Trenton swung the same fist in toward Cain's face.

Cain caught him by the wrist, but the force of the attack dropped him to his knees. Clenching his teeth and gripping Trenton, he drew the sword on his back and thrust upward, stabbing through Trenton's vest and exoskeleton like butter.

Trenton stiffened, and Cain allowed himself a moment's satisfaction at hurting him.

His sense of victory curdled to horror when Trenton grabbed the sword's blade, wrenched the weapon from Cain's hand, and impaled himself to the hilt. He showed no reaction, no sign of pain.

Then he caught Cain by the throat, spun, and threw him down the catwalk.

Cain slammed into the railing at the far end, the metal bars bending from the force of impact. Breathless and pained, Cain struggled to his feet, as Trenton pulled the sword free of his belly. without flinching.

Cain blinked, and in the moment that his eyes were closed, a length of cold steel pierced his gut, and emerged from his back. His eyes bulged open, wide, and he drank in the sight of Trenton's face, inches away from his own..

Through the haze of pain, the sharp, cold agony filling his body, Cain reached into his coat pocket, and closed his fingers around the detonator.

"Fry, you son of a—"

His curse died on his lips, cut off by a shrill, agonized scream. Trenton grabbed his hand, pulled it from his pocket, and wrenched his arm until his wrist snapped and his elbow popped free of its joint. Cain's fingers went limp; the detonator clattered to the ground, and rolled to Trenton's feet.

"You didn't truly believe that such a puerile trick would work, did you? I could see the C-4 under your coat from the ground floor."

Trenton kicked the detonator off the railing, and ripped the sword free. Blood spurted from the wound, spattering his once-pristine vest.

Cain bit back a second cry of pain as his legs buckled, and he dropped to the catwalk. He sat with his back against the railing, helpless, breathing shallowly. Cain tensed as Trenton reached toward him, and relaxed when all he did was pull the sword's sheath from his back.

"I feel that I should mention something," Trenton declared. "Formatting Metal Gear's onboard computer is not the decisive blow you thought it would be. I can restore its operating system from a back-up stored in my nanomachines. A tedious process, to be sure. But little more than an inconvenience."

Trenton wiped the sword's blade off in the crook of his arm, staining himself with a mixture of red and white blood, and slammed it back into its sheath.

"So, you may die knowing that you've accomplished nothing." His voicebox clicked. "An apt ending to your career."

The insult struck Cain like a second sword in his gut. He struggled to straighten himself against the bent, crooked railing, coughed through the blood rising in his esophagus, and glared at Trenton through his dimming vision.

"What's your game here, huh?" he managed to cough out. You fire that thing, Macbeth takes over Equestria, and you take over the army? You think my men'll just ignore what you've done here today?"

He filled his mouth with as much blood as he could, and spat the whole wad at Trenton's foot.

The ninja regarded him bemusedly.

"A starving dog is loyal to nothing but its next meal," he said. "It matters not who feeds them."

"You'll never understand," Cain snapped. "My men have a cause. A reason to fight. A reason they're loyal to. You can kill me if you want, kill my officers, too. But the troops won't fight for you, or for Macbeth. They'll see you dead."

"Why? For what? You, and your legacy of failure?"

"I built this company from nothing."

"No. Big Boss built Zanzibar Land. You scraped the rotting meat from its bones, and called it an army." Trenton's head tilted. "You're more deluded than Macbeth."

Cain snarled, and tried to lunge for Trenton. Pain forced him back down; he cringed, clutching his wound and moaning, as a fresh gout of blood spurted at Trenton's feet.

"Don't you preach to me like you knew what Big Boss fought for," Cain gasped. "Don't even mention his name. You betrayed him, just like everyone else you ever fought for. The Sandinistas. MSF. Me! That's your legacy! You're a lifelong coward, and a turncoat!"

"I have betrayed nobody, and nothing," said Trenton calmly. "But you? You have betrayed what youfought for. Big Bossknew that men need a cause in order to make war, and he also knew he had no cause to give them. So he made war, itself, the cause, and gave his men purpose. And they loved him for it. What did you give yours, again? Ah, yes."

He squatted in front of Cain, and leaned in close.

"You gave them a brand – the glorious name of Pegasus Wings – and made sure they were more loyal to the promise of a payday than anything else. Small wonder you're dying here, alone." He bowed, and shook, his head. "But it doesn't matter. You are wrong about my purpose, as you have been wrong about so much else."

"Then tell me the truth," said Cain. "Be honest with me, and tell me what you really want."

"To create the world he envisioned. If not quite the way he envisioned it."

Trenton stood, and swept his sword toward Metal Gear, tracing the length of the missile module.

"I could not have obtained and transported this weapon here without you and your meager resources. And I could not have recruited you without Macbeth to act as a client. You brought Metal Gear this far, and I thank you. But you were never anything more than a means to an end, one piece in a larger game. And now, it's time for you to leave the board."

Unable to think of a rebuttal – and quite certain that anything he said would sound as pathetic as he looked – Cain could only choke out a laugh, one thick with blood and smoke.

Somehow, he found the strength for one final insult.

"I always fucking hated you, Chico."

Trenton stared at Cain for a long, silent moment. Then he stepped forward, took him by the collar, and hoisted him into the air, sending fresh agony through Cain's body. This time, he couldn't resist the urge to scream in pain.

The ninja waited for the scream to ebb before speaking.

"I am not Chico."

The pain abruptly vanished. Cain felt numb, lifeless, the hole in his belly forgotten.

"Ricardo Valenciano Libre died in the Carribean, another victim of Cipher's massacre," Trenton continued, perfectly polite and poised. "I never fought for the Sandinistas, or the Militaires Sans Frontiers. And so, I never betrayed either."

"An imposter...?" Cain swallowed another mouthful of blood. "Why?!"

"Because it served my purpose. I needed you, Commander. No soldier of fortune would ever have taken on a mission like this one without the looming threat of bankruptcy, nor would anyone else have believed Equestria to be anything more than a fable. You knew better, though, didn’t you, 'Swordfish?'"

He dangled Cain off the edge of the catwalk.

"Even that wouldn't have been enough for you to cast your lot with Macbeth's, to gamble everything you built. But if a comrade from MSF, even someone you hated, someone like Chico, presented you with that offer? Well. You'd do anything to relive your glory days. And I could play no other role as well as him. Certainly not well enough to fool you."

Cain looked over his shoulder, at the abbey grounds stretching out behind him. In Trenton's grip, he felt weightless, untethered, free.

"You were right about one thing, though," said Trenton. "Chico did betray the Militaires Sans Frontiers. Under duress, if that makes any difference to you. I suspect it doesn't."

Rolling his eyes toward Trenton, Cain spat his last words like a curse.

"Who the hell are you?"

Trenton pressed his face against Cain's, and lowered his voice to a hiss.

"My name is Pacifica Ocean."

Trenton drew his arm back, and hurled Cain through the shattered western wall.

Far in the distance, a fiery flower bloomed upon the pink shell enveloping Canterlot Castle.

Author's Note

This chapter has been sitting in my Google Drive, in a more or less completed state, since last September. I hadn't had the time (or energy) to make the final necessary revisions to it until recently, and I decided to push it out on the Fourth.

Celebrate America's birthday with a story based on a piece of media that heavily criticizes America's role as the dominant superpower in the world.

Special thanks to Soup Boy for editing. See you back here in another three years.

Prologue - David's Memoirs

"A legend is nothing but fiction. Someone tells it, someone else remembers, everyone passes it on.”

Some of you reading this are probably asking yourselves why I'm bothering to write it in the first place. Truth is, I'd love nothing more than to live out my retirement in the relative comfort that suburban America provides, and to forget all about my past.

But I can't do that. My war may be over, but I still have a job to do. I have to see this age off, to leave behind my story so that future generations will remember me. The real me, free of the hyperbolic legends that have sprung up about me, free of the pariah caricature that the Patriots and their proxies drew of me. The true story of my life needs to be told, the whole truth, and nothing but.

To have come to this point in my memoir, you've no doubt read a lot of unbelievable claptrap. You've read unbelievable stories, the stuff of fantasy and science fiction. Stories with people like Psycho Mantis, Vulcan Raven, or Vamp, whose supernatural abilities defied the laws of reality, or heroes whose bodies and souls were the playthings of an ancient conspiracy with no regard for personal freedom or self-determination. Through it all, there's one common thread: It all sounds unbelievable as sin.

I wouldn't blame you for discounting the words in this memoir. It'd be easy enough to dismiss everything I say as the demented ramblings of a senile coot. My doctor tells me that I'm pushing eighty, after all. For all I know, I really am nothing more than an old fool who long ago lost his grip on reality. But if you've kept reading through everything I've written so far, then you must see some sense in what it is I'm saying. That, or your suspension of disbelief is the stuff of legends. So I want to thank you, first of all, for sticking with me so long. And I beg your pardon in advance for taxing that trust to the utmost with what it is I'm about to tell you.

Because while my exploits may be almost common knowledge by now, thanks to the internet finally living up to the ideal of free information exchange, there's one story that I've always kept close to my chest. One mission I've never shared with anybody, at least outside of those who took part in it. It's almost embarrassing to write about, given the subject matter, which is why I've kept it close to the chest for this long. But it's got to come out sooner or later. And I'm not getting any younger.

It was in the wake of the Manhattan Incident that the book of my life began to draw to a close. Events that came to a head in 2014, when the Patriots were deposed from their centuries-long reign over the world, had their foundations laid in 2009, on a chilly April morning, the day before the 220th anniversary of George Washington's inauguration as the first President of the United States. What began as an act of kidnapping by a terrorist faction became one of the greatest tragedies in New York's history. By the next morning, the President and his predecessor were both dead, along with thousands of innocents, and Manhattan Island looked like God had driven his snowplow through it.

What happened that day had long-reaching consequences, a sort of domino effect upon the rest of the world, and the United Nations had its hands full playing damage control. Entire countries fell into chaos as America withdrew within its borders to lick its wounds. Nations that relied upon an American military presence to act as deterrence suddenly found themselves defenseless. The global situation grew increasingly unstable – all according to plan, of course, as the Patriots steered events their way, shaped the world in their own image.

And as war closed in around those nations who lost their American military backing, they began to realize the futility and the costliness of maintaining their own standing armies. It's here that the War Economy of the 2010s has its roots. Private military contractors grew in demand; private armies, without loyalty or ideology, began fighting broad-scale proxy wars on behalf of entire nations, driving their economic development and lining their own pockets with blood money. By the end of the year 2009, what would evolve into the War Economy had started to take hold of the entire world – all because of what transpired on that fateful April day.

It's important that you understand the framework of the War Economy that was responsible for the rise of the PMCs, because the story I'm about to tell concerns one PMC in particular. You probably had never heard of Pegasus Wings before now, and that's okay; they were nothing special. Numbered no larger than three hundred and fifty men at their peak, many of which were culled from the ranks of deserters, war criminals and the dishonorably discharged. Though considerably less professional than the PMCs that ran in the final days of the War Economy, they nevertheless raked in a fair amount of income from their deployments. Never made the kind of waves that the companies under Liquid's banner did though. At least, nowhere on Earth.

What you DID probably hear about was that report released in early 2010 that warned of the rising availability of black market nuclear materials. That was probably one of the last instances of information being freely distributed among the masses, before the Patriots seized total control of the digital flow of information. Well, Pegasus Wings was responsible for that, at least in part. By the middle of 2010, you see, they were able to secure for themselves a decommissioned Soviet nuclear missile.

Now, by this point, the SOP system didn't yet have complete control over every single gun in the world (that was a far more gradual process than the growth of the War Economy), but the Patriots did have a death grip over the world's stock of WMDs, and they were rushing to take control of what they didn't already own. That Soviet missile was one of the only ones of its kind left: a naked nuke, unfettered by nanocontrol.

You should also know by now that the specs for Metal Gear REX – the nuclear-equipped walking death mobile that I destroyed on Shadow Moses Island in 2005 – had been on the black market for years by the time of the Manhattan Incident. And while years of anti-Metal Gear weapons development had, by that point, reduced the strategic importance of Metal Gear considerably, having one in your arsenal pretty much ensured that nobody but the ballsiest of nations would ever give you grief. Even if you didn't actually have a nuclear stockpile, owning a Metal Gear acted as an effective bluff and countermeasure, as long as you had a good enough poker face to convince the rest of the world that you had something for it to fire.

So it came to pass that a nuclear weapon fell into the hands – or, more fittingly, for reasons that will become apparent later, the hooves – of Pegasus Wings. And, to make an already bad situation that much worse, so too did a black market cookie-cutter copy of Metal Gear REX.

If you've read this far, then you should be pretty familiar with my stance on nuclear proliferation, and on Metal Gear in general. But to reiterate both succinctly, I've dedicated my life to making sure they both die out. So when our contact in the Navy, a young Lieutenant Commander whose name I've conveniently forgotten in my old age, passed word to our group, Philanthropy, about Pegasus Wings' exciting new toy, there wasn't much else that Otacon and I could do but set out for another mission.

Pegasus Wings had set up shop in a remote part of the Pacific Ocean. Our connections secured for us a landing spot at an old World War II-era airstrip that wasn't far from their island. Parachuting onto the island directly wasn't an option. Forgetting for now that dropping down onto a strip of land that small from the height that we'd need to be at to avoid detection was like throwing a dart at a bull's-eye the size of a barnacle, I'd probably be shot to death hours before I even hit the ground. Flying in via helicopter wasn't an option either, for similar reasons. What self-respecting mercenary army wouldn't have a handy stockpile of anti-air munitions on hand? No, I had to keep a low profile, and that meant aquatic insertion, my least favorite, yet most frequent, method of infiltration.

I slapped on a pair of fins and some scuba gear and made for the island. It wasn't so far out from the airstrip – we could see it from our landing site, even – so it didn't take me long to reach it. An hour and some change, if I remember right. I emerged from the ocean to find a dock that featured an industrial sized crane, dangling a long steel wire tipped with a hook the size of a sedan over a tanker berthed in the harbor. On the side of the tanker was an emblem of two blue, feathered wings, spread wide with their tips arcing upward like a grin. Between them was the face of a horned, midnight blue warhorse, with vacant black eyes and a doleful expression on a face that shouldn't have been capable of emotional expression.

You're not stupid, I hope, so you probably gathered that it was the emblem of Pegasus Wings.

Searching the ship seemed as reasonable a starting place as any, so I boarded and had myself a look around. It was easy enough to find my way about the place; the ship was the same class as the U.S.S. Discovery, the tanker that I'd infiltrated almost three years prior, and the layout was close to identical. It was markedly better furnished, however, stocked from bow to stern with high-tech electronic equipment and weaponry. The bridge looked like something out of Star Trek, very much unlike the spartan, computer-operated bridge of the Discovery. Plush chairs sat in front of complex, glowing consoles, and a gentle, humming pulse ran through the room. Lining the upper decks were gun emplacements, point-defense batteries, and missile racks; the ship was a floating fortress, armed to the teeth and fully capable of doling out as well as soaking up punishment. But more to the point, and most importantly, the ship was completely deserted. I searched that ship from one end to the other, and didn't encounter a single soul.

I contacted Otacon to inform him of my findings. “Maybe the ship itself is the Pegasus Wings HQ,” he postulated. “Speaking from experience, a mobile command base would definitely have its advantages.”

I thought about the cargo plane that I'd spent so much of the last few years aboard, the safe haven that had protected Otacon and I as we became wanted men, and couldn't help but agree. “But then, what about the island base?” I asked. “Some kind of supply depot, maybe? Even then, that still wouldn't explain the crew's whereabouts. You'd think that, even with most of the crew on dry land, they'd spare a handful of people to guard the ship.”

Otacon didn't have an answer for me, so I signed off and continued my exploration. I made my way down into the hold, following the familiar path through the mess hall (somewhat more lavishly furnished than the one aboard the tanker that lay dead in New York harbor) down to the engine room, and wove through the criss-crossing, dimly lit corridors that took me into the deep recesses of the ship.

The first few areas of the hold were completely empty, save for some empty wooden crates that lay tipped over, spilling packing peanuts, Styrofoam, and not much else. Whatever was being stored there had been moved some time ago. A film of dust coated most surfaces, and much of the remaining metal equipment – scattered crowbars here and there, a forlorn forklift in a distant corner – had begun to rust from disuse. Blame the salty air.

The last section of the hold was the same kind of cavernous room where I had discovered Metal Gear RAY in the bowels of the Discovery. But, to my mild disappointment, there was nothing there this time, save the same service walks and gantries that lined the walls of the Discovery's hold.

Again, I contacted Otacon. “There was definitely a Metal Gear aboard this ship,” I told him, “but it looks like it's been moved out already. That explains the heavy lifting equipment out on the dock.”

“The only place it could possibly be now is the island,” Otacon told me. “It must be the assembly point and staging area for Metal Gear. And if they've evacuated the ship completely, then it could be that they're planning to ditch it and fortify the island.”

My stomach churned unpleasantly at the idea of another mercenary nation being founded on a remote island. This whole “Outer Heaven” business had been in vogue for far too long. Closing the link with Otacon, I made my way back out of the hold and off of the ship. I sped down the dock, determined to put an end to this new mercenary rebellion before it could begin in earnest.

The gate that led into the island proper was left cracked open. I found that more than a little perplexing. The only weapon I had on me was my modified M9 Beretta, and tranquilizers wouldn't be much use in a firefight, but I held it like a lifeline as I stole into the base, keeping it level and ready to fire at a moment's notice.

But the island base, too, was empty, and a massive contrast to the well-maintained and modern ship that sat vacant and forlorn in the harbor. This place reeked of obsolescence. There weren't any obvious indicators as to its age, but from the level of decay and the look of its equipment, I pegged it at around the 1970s at the latest. Otacon suggested that it and the airstrip that we had landed on used to be parts of the same facility.

The base's layout was simple: A barracks on the far left side, a rectangular hangar in the middle of the base, and a larger, circular, domed structure. Inside the barracks, there wasn't much besides rusted bunks standing row on row and a mess hall that stank of long-expired food. I did find a rusted Mosin-Nagant bolt-action rifle on a moldy old mattress. The relic caught my eye immediately, and I tried cycling it on the slim chance that there was still a round loaded. I wasn't altogether surprised to find that the action was rusted solid, but I was a little disappointed.

Leaving the barracks, I checked out the smaller, rectangular hangar. Not much in there; some rusted old trucks with moth-eaten furniture inside the cabins. I didn't recognize the model off the top of my head, but they looked as old as the facility itself, and each of them was stamped on the doors and hoods with a faded white star, a symbol that I recognized as the old American Army logo. That struck me as particularly unusual; there wasn't enough space on the island to justify the presence of one truck, let alone several. And why were there American trucks in the same base as a Russian rifle?

I left the hangar and took one last look around the place, but there wasn't much to see that I hadn't already seen. Steeling my nerves and once again gripping my Beretta, I made for the domed structure. There was a wide gate, like the entrance to a garage, and beside it a door. I gripped the door's handle, took a deep breath, and tentatively nudged it open.

The door to the hangar had groaned something awful when I'd opened it. Those hinges hadn't been oiled in who knows how long. But this one opened smoothly, with nary a sound. I noted the difference and stepped into the room, my gun held at the ready. Yet even in the darkness of this hangar, I could tell that it, too, was devoid of human life. There were no sounds besides my footsteps as I edged into the building; no telltale smells of sweat or cologne – or flatulence, if you'll believe it – that always gave away human presence. I was quite alone.

I was well past exasperated by this point. It isn't that I minded the lack of enemy soldiers to shoot and sneak past, but I was hoping to find something besides a worthless gun, Styrofoam and rancid odor on this mission. Pegasus Wings had a presence here; the ship was evidence enough of that, but what that presence was, I couldn't determine. Three hundred and fifty soldiers had vanished, taking with them a Metal Gear and a nuclear missile. Part of me felt like giving up, going back to the Nomad and getting some goddamn dinner, but I couldn't just let a malignant mercenary army remain in possession of a nuclear delivery system, so I resolved to keep searching.

My hand groped along the near wall, searching for a switch to provide the hangar with some illumination. I found it at last, taking it in my hand and pulling it down. It resisted, only slightly, but complied in the end. There was a spark from the switch, the sound of electric equipment stirring and coming to life, and suddenly, the hangar was bathed in fluorescent white light.

I don't find myself at a loss for words often (in fact, it's been said that I talk too much, for too long) so try and understand just how flabbergasting the sight before me was. I'll try to convey it with words, but whether it's my memory dulling with time, or that room being too wondrous for words to do justice by, I don't think I'll be able to do it right.

For starters, it was huge. I don't think the exterior of the building really captured just how big it was going to be on the inside. The place was enormous and shaped like a sports stadium. It was a single room, circular in shape. And every surface in the room was chrome. Everything, every panel, every instrument, the very walls themselves, reflected the fluorescent light from the ceiling. It was like being inside a lightbulb.

The instruments themselves – how to put this? I hate to bring up Star Trek again, but those are the best terms I can describe it in. You know the way that forward-thinking sci-fi tries to cast a certain futuristic look and feel onto everything? Trouble is, they're always trying to envision that future in present-day terms. It's hard to capture the look and feel of the far-flung future when you're constrained by the limitations of contemporary times, so everything winds up having this weird, sort of archaic feel to it. It's meant to look futuristic, but you can tell that it isn't.

Well, that's the way that the equipment in that room looked: like old equipment dressed up to look futuristic. The interior layout winded and spiraled downward. The whole thing reminded me of the seating in a football stadium, the way the consoles were arranged in the circular pattern, tapering down to a wide pit. I was standing close to a ramp that led from the entrance I'd come through to the bottom. It was wide, wide enough to comfortably accommodate one of those trucks that I'd found in the hangar. I guess they were used to run supplies up from the bottom of this room to the outside world. Or the other way around. Whichever.

As much as the scale of the place hit me, the quality of its maintenance was what really made it stand out from the rusted-out carcass that was the base. This place was so unlike that; it had a life to it, a pulse. I couldn't help but wonder what it could possibly have been built for.

Well, actually, it was three things that stuck out. The scale. The quality of its maintenance. And the big honking arch in the center of the pit at the bottom of the room.

Otacon rang me, said that he'd been keeping up on the visual data transmitted from my nanomachines. To say he was excited would be a gross understatement. I couldn't recall him ever being so animated, especially in the wake of his sister's death in Manhattan not so long ago. “Can you believe it?” he asked me, almost giddy. “It's like the Guardian of Forever! Think it'll take you back in time if you walk through it?”

I didn't have the slightest idea as to what he was talking about. I've had a lot of time on my hands during my retirement, and this place gets cable, so I've since been able to educate myself on classic Star Trek. Actually, it's a funny story. Hearing “Guardian of Forever” on an episode brought me back to the memory of that day, reminded me of that mission I'd gone on. It's what prompted me to write this chapter, incidentally.

Where was I? Oh, right. Otacon. He wanted to know everything about that room, demanded that I bring back some sort of sensitive equipment for him to study. “Scientific curiosity,” he called it.

“Otacon,” I said to him tentatively, not wanting to burst his bubble too maliciously, “is that the same scientific curiosity that pushed you to develop REX?”

He got quiet, responding a few moments later with a mollified “touché ,” and signed off before I could apologize. I sighed to myself, pressing a palm to my forehead and squeezing my thumb and index fingers against my temples. I felt bad for hurting him like that – who wouldn't kick themselves after inventing a world-ending machine like REX? – but that man needed a spine in the worst way. Figured I'd bring him a shiny piece of metal and call it an apology gift.

Putting aside Otacon's oversensitivity for another time, I walked down the ramp and holstered my Beretta; there wasn't any point in keeping it out. This place was as lifeless as the rest of the island, empty, and eerily sterile. Every step I took echoed loudly, reverberating off of the chrome walls; my every footfall came back to me as the stomping of a colossus.

I looked down as I walked, noting silently the black, rubbery tire tracks running down the length of the ramp. “There's one hypothesis confirmed,” I said to the empty room. When I came at last to the pit at the bottom, I stared up at the arch which towered above me.

This entire island was one of contradictions – the modern wonders of the tanker berthed outside, the hollow, derelict military barracks, the science fiction look and feel of this... whatever the hell this room was, and even the arch itself. So completely unlike anything else on the island. The military base may have been old; this thing was ancient. Like something out of a National Geographic article about ancient Egypt, or Rome, or some other dead civilization.

It was bigger up close than it had looked from the top of the room, more than big enough enough to accommodate the trucks in the hangar next door. It's funny; I could tell just by looking at it that it was old, but age didn't cause the thing to lose any luster. It was beautiful, exquisitely and ornately carved with inlaid patterns that I didn't recognize or understand, at least at the time. But even without comprehending, I couldn't stop staring.

At the pinnacle of the arch was the bust of a unicorn, resplendently white in the room's fluorescence. It stared down at me with shimmering eyes, an expression of serenity adorning its long face. I didn't realize that a horse's face could express something as abstract as serenity, but I guess that shows what an ignorant bastard I am.

It was the centerpiece of the room. Possibly of the base itself. I got the distinct impression that this building was built around the arch, that the arch was the sole reason for this base's existence. There was a sacredness about the place that was just starting to creep onto me. It felt holy. Consecrated. Like a monument to some ancient faith or creed that nobody alive could now remember. Suddenly, I felt compelled to touch the arch, to feel it. To make that ancient history come alive just by feeling it against my hand.

But the buzzing of the Codec interrupted me before I could do something as stupidly sentimental as that, and I shook off the feeling. Otacon's voice still sounded droopy, but he was definitely intrigued by what it was we were seeing. “This room is important,” he told me, “though how, I don't exactly know. But we know that Pegasus Wings came here, and we know that they brought a Metal Gear. It's a small island. There aren't many places for them to have stashed it.”

I looked at the ground on a whim, and noticed something peculiar. The tire tracks ran from the end of the ramp, down the center of the arch. But they didn't come out of the other side.

Well. That was telling. "Otacon," I said. “This archway... there're tire tracks that run right to its opening, but that don't run out the other side. I think whatever goes through here... comes out someplace else.” I allowed myself to press a hand against its frame. To my surprise, it felt warm, almost hot, to the touch. "That shouldn't be possible. Should it?"

"Site-to-site transportation of matter? I mean, we have been referencing Star Trek pretty liberally so far."

"Try to think outside the realm of science fiction, Otacon," I sighed.

"Well... I wanna say no, but it's hard to argue with the evidence, isn't it? Teleportation's something we've seen before. Maybe this is just the same thing on a macro scale."

I chewed that over. Psycho Mantis had that kind of ability, vanishing and reappearing on the other side of the room without so much as a telltale puff of brimstone. But transporting an entire army from one place to who the hell knows? That was a whole league apart from him. Now, the question was, who would have the resources to put together something like that, to build a machine that violated all the laws of physics, that could be exploited for military purposes? Some podunk, small-time private army? No, someone else had to have bankrolled this.

Not too difficult to guess who, I hope. I doubted they were involved with Pegasus Wings and their activities, but a facility with technology of this caliber could only have come from the Patriots. But the island didn't look like it was home to any kind of active presence; nothing outside of the dome facility was being maintained. Maybe this was some project the Patriots had been working on, but abandoned. Maybe Pegasus Wings found it and got it working again. But how did that fit together with the Metal Gear, with the nuke?

“Snake...” Otacon's voice was hesitant. I could predict what it was he was about to say, and I could guess why he held it back. “Do you think that they took Metal Gear through that teleporter?”

“It sounds incredibly stupid,” I said. “Naturally, that's probably exactly what happened." I snorted, wondering why and how shit like this fell into my lap time and time again. "You know what this means, of course."

Otacon hesitated to answer. So I went ahead and supplied the words that he was so afraid of saying. “I have to follow them, Otacon. I need to see where they've taken Metal Gear.”

He tried to protest, but his heart wasn't exactly in it. He had to have come to the same conclusion that I did. We couldn't very easily let a Metal Gear remain in the hands of potential terrorists. No way we could justify that, after spending four years breaching the sovereignty of recognized nations to destroy their Metal Gears. I knew damn well that whatever damage that Metal Gear caused, whatever blood it spilled, would be as much on my hands for my inaction as it would be on Otacon's for inventing it, if I walked away.

Otacon finally agreed with my assessment. There was more equipment arranged around the arch, control panels that glowed dimly, and padded, rotating chairs that faced away from their stations. He directed me to one of them, talked me through the process of starting the machine up. I'm not sure how he knew what to do to get it to work. Sure, he was always good with computers, but these were archaic machines from another era, hooked up to an ancient portal that would take me God knows where. Figured he'd have a little bit of trouble with them, but he talked me through the process like it was nothing. Maybe it was my nanomachines again, relaying information to him, or some other damn thing. I don't know; my skillset doesn't include the intricacies of computer science.

But he got that computer to work, and as it hummed to life, the glow on the monitor readout intensified. The fluorescent light dimmed, and in the dead center of the arch, floating in midair, the tiniest ball of yellow light appeared. I watched it, mesmerized, as it grew in size, very quickly filling the massive frame of the arch. The fluorescent light winked out altogether as the light shone radiantly from every inch of the portal's maw.

It's funny. That unicorn bust that I was looking at before, the one that looked so white and beautiful and inviting—it was the one thing in the room that didn't reflect the yellow light from the portal. If anything, it darkened, shriveled, and turned a sinister ebony. The look of serenity twisted into a grim scowl, and finally extended into a mocking sneer.

And I? I stared back defiantly, refusing to be cowed by a shaped piece of rock.

“Snake,” said Otacon timidly as I stared into the sea of gold. “Did you ever see Stargate?”

“See, now that's a reference I can understand.” I replied. I stared deep into the portal, trying to discern something – a recognizable shape, some hint of what lay in store for me beyond – to no avail. “I saw it in theaters, actually. The guy at the ticket booth said I looked like Kurt Russel. Why?"

“Suffice to say, it's more than a little relevant right now,” said Otacon, forcing some cheer into his voice.

No kidding, I thought. “I could be out of contact for a while. If I'm not back in seventy-two hours, I'm not coming back at all. Take off and find help. Find Jack. Come in after me, and finish whatever I've started. We can't let this one get away, Otacon.”

“I'll come for you, Snake,” said Otacon. There was a hardness in his voice, a resoluteness that I wish he'd carry himself with more often. It was, and still is, very becoming. “But you make sure that I don't have to. Don't make me lose you the way I lost Emma.”

I couldn't help but smile sadly at the company he was putting me in. “Hold the fort, Hal,” I said quietly.

Filling my lungs with what could have turned out to be my final breath of Earth air—or my last breath of air, period—I stepped into the brightness, letting it swallow me, engulf me in its shining heat.

And then I was gone.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/7

-Adjusted formatting
-Fixed punctuation errors
-Minor changes to lines of narration and dialogue
-Additional dialogue between Snake and Otacon added

Interlude - Schoolfilly's Whimsy

A little purple filly sits among other little fillies in a spacious lecture hall, studiously jotting down notes in a spiral-bound notebook as the instructor gives her lecture. She stops to read what she has written.

"Garish garbanzoknuckle terrify formaldehyde scandal scandal copulation."

Her tongue pokes out the corner of her mouth as she underlines "terrify formaldehyde" twice. That would be on the test.

Professor Inkwell paces at the front of the hall, a chunk of chalk sticking like a cigarette from her mouth. "And of course," she says, "we've all been asked the question, at least once, by our well-meaning pegasus and earth pony friends and neighbors: 'How do you do it? How does magic work?'" She chuckles. "What can one even say in response to such a question?"

"It's magic!" calls a cerulean filly seated somewhere to the little purple filly's left. She tosses her head to shake a lock of silver mane from her face. "I don't gotta explain nothin'!"

The room erupts in laughter. Professor Inkwell looks unimpressed. "You could," she says at length, "and that might be an acceptable answer to some, Ms. Lulamoon. But all that does is reinforce the misconception that magic is a force beyond the comprehension of anypony born without the ability to tap into it."

"Durn lickity," whispers Diamond Tiara, seated to her right. She speaks using Big McIntosh's voice.

"On the contrary, magic is an observable phenomenon," continues Professor Inkwell. "Not a mystical force that defies comprehension, but something that can studied and classified, practiced and applied. How is that different from say – chemistry? From physics? Geology, or botany, or biology, or volcanology? Obviously, magic has its differences, its unique qualities, its intricacies... but when examined with an open mind, magic ceases to be a mystery. You come to understand that magic..."

The professor uses her hoof to scrawl out a sentence on the board in bright white chalk: "I may as well have killed him myself." The little purple filly copies it in her notebook, and underlines it three times instead of two.

"...You come to understand that magic is a science," Inkwell finishes, turning back to the face the class – empty now, except for the little purple filly. "The science of imagination. In using it, your only limits are the ones you place on your own creativity. Picture a great black expanse, stretching out forever in all directions – the infinite canvas of reality. Magic lets you fill that canvas. Picture it filling with light, and life, and laughter, and see what you create. Picture it blank, and dark, and silent, and quash your creation..."

The little purple filly feels hooves resting on her withers. Inkwell's voice whispers in her ear.

"...and then create anew."

A little purple filly rests on a cushion in the Princess's study, her legs folded beneath her and a book about parasites open in front of her. The book is written in Cantoneighse. The little purple filly cannot read Cantoneighse. She finds the book fascinating.

"Did you enjoy Professor Inkwell's lecture?" Princess Celestia asks, offering the little purple filly a saucer and a teacup. She accepts it, sips at her tea. It tastes like chamomile and honey and sunlight. She suddenly wants to cry.

"Uh-huh," says the little purple filly. "Only..."

"Only what?" asks the Princess. She shines so brightly that the little purple filly has to shield her eyes with a hoof. Outside, the sky is red and raw and the towers and spires of Canterlot are silhouettes against it.

"It's all that stuff she was talking about. Science and imagination?" says the little purple filly. She sips her tea again. It tastes like peppermint and mother's milk and love.

The Princess laughs a laugh like the beating of a hummingbird's wings. "Professor Inkwell is a fine instructor," she says, "but sometimes she forgets that her students aren't all as learned as she is. Her lectures can go over ponies' heads."

"No no – I understood what she was saying," says the little purple filly. "But I don't know... Talking about magic like it's science just makes it seem so much less..."

"Magical?"

"I guess so."

"Well, your professor is absolutely right about one thing," says the Princess. "Magic is an observable force; it can be quantified and classified and applied. In that regard, the study and use of magic can be seen as scientific."

The little purple filly scoots closer to her mentor.

"But magic... how do I put this..." The Princess taps her hoof against her chin, her face screwed up in concentration. "Magic is different from the other sciences, because magic itself is unique, and it follows its own laws – similar to the ones that govern the physical world, but with differences as well. It even has its own laws that are intrinsic to it. When you cast a spell to, say, put a mustache on Smarty Pants..."

The little purple filly giggles sheepishly.

The Princess winks at her. "You're not just making a mustache appear out of nothing. You're tapping into and manipulating a powerful energy that exists in and around all ponies everywhere. The power that gives and sustains life, that Equestria – and indeed, the rest of the world – is built upon. And that force so defies classification and quantification and study that thinking of it as science will only get you so far." She smiles gently at the little purple filly. "So, in a way, you're both right. Magic is science, and at the same time, it's something more. Something... transcendental."

The little purple filly frowns. "I think I'm a little lost now."

The Princess sighs. Her smile turns melancholy. "I promise, my student, that you'll understand someday." The little purple filly shuts the book she's reading and looks at the back cover with its six embossed gemstones of six different colors. She sips from her tea again. It tastes like ash and salt and sorrow.

A little purple filly gallops through a hedge maze, cold and frightened and sleepy and hungry. She's been searching for the way out for hours. At every corner, at every turn, she's greeted by statues – a draconequus with its head tossed back joyously, a timberwolf with its legs broken and its tongue lolling from its mouth, a metal monster on slender black legs with a snake-shaped scar on its face. All of them are laughing.

She turns and veers and gallops and trots and canters and sprints and staggers and walks and doesn't stop moving until she hears the Princess's voice coming from behind one of the hedges. She sounds angry; she sounds quiet. The little purple filly can just barely make out the words that the Princess is saying. "You're speculating. You have no evidence. You're asking me to take action based entirely on conjecture."

"I seldom bring you more than conjecture," says a voice in response – one she doesn't recognize, smooth and bass and spoken from deep within the chest. "And seldom am I wrong."

"These are innocent ponies—"

"These are known associates. Collaborators. Ponies who are in regular contact with him. You and I both know he's planning to make his move. It's just a matter of time – months, maybe years. We won't know how close he is, nor will we know what it is, unless you take action now."

"I can't just..." The Princess sighs with frustration. "Detain somepony without explanation."

"You're the Princess. Of course you can."

The Princess says nothing in response to that.

"If you must have a pretense, then drumming one up shouldn't be difficult. Do what you must to ease your conscience, if the promise of saving lives isn't enough for you."

"Don't you dare patronize me," the Princess hisses. "The law presumes innocence until guilt is proven, and I am the law. I will not deny somepony their right to due process because of something they might do."

The little purple filly creeps closer to the voices. She peeks her head around the hedge and sees the Princess – pure and white and resplendent in her regalia, her mane and tail shimmering and streaming behind her.

And then she sees what the Princess is talking to.

The little purple filly stifles a scream and turns and gallops away, veering left, and right, and left, and right, and moving deeper and deeper into the maze with every hoofstep. She'll be lost forever; she'll never find her way out, but that's okay, because it will never find her either.

Then she comes to a dead end. A statue of Nightmare Moon with an empty bag of candy over her horn looms high above her. The little purple filly flings herself to the ground and covers her head with her hooves, whimpering and shivering and wishing somepony would whisk her away – her brother, her mother, her foalsitter, her teacher...

"Twilight Sparkle?" The voice of the Princess is gentle as the evening breeze and soothing as chamomile tea. "What are you doing out here so late?"

The little purple filly shakes her head. "Have to hide," she gasps, "or the monster—"

"Monster?" The Princess chuckles lovingly. "My little pony, there's no such thing as monsters." The little purple filly feels a downy wing stroke her cheek, and suddenly, the fear melts away. She feels warmth. She feels comfort. She feels safe. "This is just a dream. This is all just a dream."

"Just a dream," the little purple filly mumbles. Her eyes droop shut. "Just a dream."

"And soon you'll wake up, and it'll be like none of this ever happened." The little purple filly feels weightless for a moment, before settling down upon the Princess's back. "Hush now, quiet now..." The lullaby grows distant; the world slips away. "It's time to lay your sleepy head..."

A little purple filly walks through a dungeon. Wooden doors line the walls beside her – cells, each one holding somepony she knows. Her mother and father, Luna and Celestia, Shining Armor and Cadance, Applebloom and Zecora. They stare at her as she strides past them, their eyes wide and doleful, and they whisper pleas, entreaties to stop and free them.

At the end of the hall is a door broken off of its hinges. The body of Trenton lies inside, with one leg twisted at an unnatural angle and his head caved in. His skull is made of sparks and wires and plastic. A mouth made of silicone and copper is twisted into an eternal rictus. Directly behind him, Spike dangles from the ceiling by his wrists, held up by chains that look like ropes that look like serpents. His head is tucked against his chest. He isn't breathing.

The little purple filly hears footsteps beside her. Someone holds a gun in front of her face, offering it to her. "I didn't kill him," she whispers as she takes it with her magic.

"You may as well have," says Snake.

The little purple filly gulps. She steps into the cell and points the gun at her the body lying broken on the floor – now Applejack, now Rarity, now Pinkie Pie, now Fluttershy, now Rainbow Dash, now Rainbow Dash, now Rainbow Dash...

She laughs and laughs and laughs at the little purple filly. "Do it!" she snaps.

A hand touches her withers – it's cold and gentle and makes her shudder. There is nothing for you here, whispers a kind but unfamiliar voice in her mind.

"Do it!" Applejack cries out in ecstasy. Raucous, mocking laughter echoes down the hall, her friends and her family and the Princesses all at once.

Let it go.

"Do it!" her friends shriek all at once in a terrible choral harmony.

Don't come back.

The little purple filly screams and squeezes the trigger.

Twilight woke with a jolt and smacked her head into the window she was leaning against. "Gyaow!" She rubbed the sore spot on her head and groaned. A dream, she thought. I was dreaming. She tried to recall the details, but they were already fading away.

It wasn't a good dream, though. From the way her heart jackhammered in her chest and the cold sweat on her brow, she could tell that much.

Her breath had fogged up the window as she slept. She rubbed the condensation away and peeked out the window. Tall green grass and rolling hills sped by as the train rumbled toward Dodge. They were quite a distance from Ponyville, but the red earth and rocky topography of the frontier were still a ways away.

The air in the train car was thick and smoky. Twilight coughed and glanced down the car to where her travel companion sat with his back braced against the wall. His head was inclined in her direction; his sharp blue-gray eyes fixed curiously upon her. An ashy nub of a cigarette dangled between two fingers.

Twilight frowned at him. "It's rude to stare."

Snake's eyes narrowed, and he turned away.

Twilight gently leaned her head against the window again. Her heart had begun to settle down, and the pain in her head where she'd struck the window was ebbing. All a dream, she told herself. Everything's fine. Everything's going to be fine.

She shut her eyes tightly and willed herself to fall asleep again.

Everything's going to be just fine.

Author's Note

Edited as of 7/19/16

-Fixed punctuation
-Changed Snake's eye color (could have sworn they were green, but then I looked at MGS4, and...)

Original Author's Note:

Written in an hour and a half as a companion to the upcoming chapter, of which I currently have a completed rough draft in its first round of revision.

If this excites you, then don't worry. I'll find a way to disappoint.