Beatrix Belladonna in B.A.B.S. : A Cyberpunk Adventure

Flicks sounded when Babs Seed dealt the next round of cards. Seated at the table with Rainbow Dash and Sunset Shimmer, she chewed on her smoky cigarette, where behind and above them was mounted a television turned low tuned to some random channel. A bit of background noise to keep them company while they idly passed time.

“Ugh, this is boring,” whined Dash. “You sure we can't do strip poker or something, Boss?”

“Can't risk it. We have to be ready to move,” Babs interjected, keeping the mindset of every mission might be their last. The Werewolves could attack at any time, assuming Spike was true to his word.

“Oh, I know! We could play for credits," Sunset offered.

That got Dash to ease up and smile challengingly. "Now we're talkin'! Time to win me a wing upgrade," she boasted, slapping down her credit chip.

“Or me some new books,” deadpanned Sunset, having constantly insisted she add to her 'outdated' collection of physical media whenever possible.

"A better arsenal would do me good," Babs shrugged. "Call me old fashioned, but I'd prefer to stick with what I know."

Dash said, "Alright, Ladies. Let's-"

"Wait, hold on!" Babs interrupted, her ears flicking up at the new sound coming from the news broadcast. They turned and watched a riot play out across the monitor—fires, and bodies in the town streets.

A massive hologram of Lady Ewe, the virtual cult leader several people worshiped in the hope of salvation, projected from the crowd. Police squads sent to repress the resistors.

The building itself shook under an explosion and scattered their cards. “About time,” snorted Babs, rising from her seat. “Asses in gear, bitches. Time we make our stand! Here's hopin' we don't end up on the wrong side for once in our miserable lives.”

There was a limit to what they could do unarmed, but Spike promised a helicopter would arrive to supply them. Their best warrior under the circumstances was Flutterbitch, who, of course, had slipped away when they needed her most, as usual.

The attackers were close. She could hear the faint sound of gunfire outside, more explosions, screams, and shudders under the impact. The team readied themselves to spring into action. The metal door that sealed them in creaked and bent.

Babs balled up a fist, ready to bust skulls if necessary, uncertain who awaited them on the other side.

“Whoa, relax babe,” came the lazy voice of Tree Hugger. “It's just us.”

Flutterbitch's face was drawn in a snarl, her muscles taut and covered in veins, her entire body thrown into the task at hand when she ripped away from the door and tossed it aside with a thud. “Serves Spike right for underestimating me,” she panted.

Hugs swayed unsteadily on her feet, eyes barely open. “Nice job, Babe! With a little more blood, who knows what else you could do!” She was quite pale, twin bite marks visible on her half-exposed cleavage, her blood filling her lover with bestial vigor.

“Look, we can't afford to stick around. Troops are going to crawling all over the building,” explained Shy, unfurling her wings lined with an outstretched membrane.

“Then lead the way,” said Babs, infuriated over how Flutterbitch was their only viable option.

Smoke poured through the halls. Sprinklers spat water with a hiss, and the lights were dimmed, alarms now blaring all over. They proceeded slowly, heard the stomp of boots elsewhere, passed a few shot and charred bodies that were haphazardly strewn about.

For B.A.B.S., it was merely another war. A game they always played to win.

*****

“Whoa, what the-?!" The entire room shook from the force outside, causing Beatrix to cling onto her work in the hope nothing fell over and broke. Once it was secure, she rushed up to shake Trixie's slumbering form. "Hey, c'mon, mom, wake up! We're under attack!" she urged as the building quaked under another series of explosions.

Chemicals from Varys' device spilled over, their fluid staining the steel table and steam hissing. The robotic scientist begrudgingly locked his work back into his briefcase, salvaging what wasn't lost.

"Mmnnngh.... Hmmn.... W-wha?" groaned Trixie, stretching her tired limbs before another shockwave shook her fully awake with a yelp. She quickly dressed in a duplicate of her old costume, matching her daughter's leotard, cape, gloves, and boots. “Well, how are we supposed to get out of here? We're not warriors!”

"Yeah, without our magic, there's not much we can do for protection," Beatrix lamented.

“An easy solution,” Varys stated before digging into his coat pocket and pulling up a tiny vial before tossing it to Trixie, who stumbled forward to catch it. "A drink of this should help boost your magical prowess to more substantial levels."

Trixie's eyes lit up over the small glass vial. “You mean this can allow us to perform magic again?!”

"Now, hold on!" Beatrix cut in, snatching the bottle from her mother, who pouted profusely. She examined the contents before casting a suspicious glare to the masked doctor. "Just how are we supposed to trust what's in this vial? For all we know, you could be lying, and this will mutate us for some crazy experiment!"

"Is this really the time to quarrel over mistrust?" Varys asked with a tilt of his head. "Need I remind you that the President demanded your cooperation. To do anything that would risk your health and stability would be unfavorable."

"That's not very reassuring," Beatrix sneered, struggling with one hand to keep her mother from retaking the bottle.

"Then allow me to earn your reassurance by guaranteeing your safety. Admittedly, I haven't had much time to properly test that formula. But surely, the reward of replenishing your lost magic is worth a try instead of leaving here unarmed."

"W-well, sure, but--HEY!" Trixie finally swiped the vial back into her hands, glaring at her daughter while uncorking the top.

"Oh, quit being so stubborn! This is our only real shot, and Trixie is not about to head out there and die powerless!"

"Trixie, wait!" But before she could stop her, the blue mare gulped the bubbly slime down to the last drop. Beatrix watched in frustration over how reckless her mother was. Sure, she couldn't really blame her, as magic was her entire identity.

But to willingly take a supposed formula from such a strange and sketchy character like Varys? Surely, some red flags had to be raised! Who knows what the drink was made from, let alone what the mechanical plague doctor was planning.

She pensively chewed her lower lip as Trixie finished drinking, wiping away her mouth. "Ugh! So sour," she grumbled, her face scrunched up while holding her belly, feeling the warmth settle in. After a moment passed, she looked at her hands before frowning. “Nothing's happening,” she started complaining before blue sparkling light ignited around her palms, her aura surfacing. "Huh!? O-ohhhhohohoho~!! Yes!" The blue mare laughed giddily, striking a pose and firing off a simple spell. "Once again, the world can be awestruck by the Great and Powerful Trrrrrixie~!"

Beatrix stared with astonishment. “It-it really worked?!” Sure, she was happy that her mother had her magic back, but the witch remained hesitant, uncertain whether there would be side-effects.

As much as she wanted to reclaim any power she could, she wavered between doubts. The room quaked again as the sound of firearms echoed from above.

“They're close,” Varys noted, picking up different sonic frequencies with the tech underneath his armor-like coat. “We have to move now, girl. I suggest you stand behind us as we make our way through."

“W-wait, No! You have another vial, don't you? If so, give it to me," she demanded. Even with her doubts about Varys, she refused to let others fight for her.

The masked doctor nodded, fishing another vial from his coat pocket and handing it to her. She accepted the innocuous bottle, aware there was no going back once she ingested the liquid.

Was the risk worth the reward, in the name of replenishing her magic?

It took another explosion going off outside for her to make her choice. She uncapped the top and swallowed the contents.

“Wait,” called a familiar, amplified voice from outside the door. “It's Sunset.”

“Sunset Shimmer?” Beatrix wasn't certain how everyone in B.A.B.S. felt about her, but at least she hadn't given her the cold shoulder ever since their fallout. “Everyone, stand back!” A hiss sounded, a blade of plasma pierced the wall, and metal melted, and steam as the saber cut its way in. The door was pushed over, thudded, and Sunset carefully strode inside.

“Beatrix! Thank goodness I found you. Everyone talked it over, and Babs has agreed to aid you and...uh!?” She cut herself short upon gazing at Varys, raising her sword. “Who the hell is this? Are you working for President Spike?!"

“Temporarily," the doctor confirmed, no change in tone or alarm having a plasma weapon aimed at his face. "I only wish to continue my work in hopes it will restore this decaying planet."

Sunset scoffed at his statement but lowered her weapon. “Beatrix, Trixie, we gotta get going! Now!"

"But where to?" Beatrix asked. "I thought this entire building was on lockdown."

“The Werewolves have a helicopter waiting to pick us up on the roof. They're currently engaged with the President's forces. Believe me, he won't hesitate to sacrifice any of us, including whoever you are...” Something was off about Varys, Sunset could tell. She was tempted to touch him, peer into his mind, and figure out what mindset he held.

But she wasn't sure if her magic would work against his armored exterior. Maybe there wasn't even a brain in there at all, and this was some hyper-advanced A.I. given a body to work with. Whatever the reason, Sunset did not want this creepy scientist anywhere near the operation, especially if he was an employee of Spike's.

"Sorry, but there's no room for you with us," Sunset lied. "Our mission was to ensure the safety of Beatrix and her mother."

"Understood," Varys nodded. “I have my own way out of here, though I'm positive our paths will cross once more, Beatrix. I look forward to the progress you've made for President Spike's...'request.'" Beatrix didn't give him a response.

“Oh, thank you so much! Now we can slip by unmolested thanks to my illusionary spells,” boasted Trixie, wiggling her fingers.

Curtains of miasma washed around them and flowed down the corridors. They sparkled like stardust, woven so that anyone with her remained unaffected, but those around her would have their perceptions twisted and leave them trapped in a maze that looped back around.

Beatrix whistled, impressed by the display. But her head rose in alarm upon looking around to find Varys missing. He had somehow left without anyone noticing.

Aware they couldn't waste more time, she quickly scooped up what supplies she could carry, and she trailed after her mother and Sunset, who was ready to cut down anyone that crossed their path. They headed out and began to ascend the stairs.

*****

Safe within his office, President Spike watched the pandemonium play out across a series of monitors. His mouth curled, hands clasped behind him, lights playing across his tall and lean form. He'd summoned his secretaries to play with, unwilling to risk losing them. Part of him wanted to deny he had grown attached to these false replicas, but his ego and desperation got the better of him, not that he would admit it.

His ear twitched at someone skulking through the shadows. “Ahh, Varys! I didn't hear you come in.”

The mechanized plague doctor stepped forth from behind. His piercing metallic red eyes looked over the three mare dolls, almost leering at them. "Forgive my sudden appearance. I was not aware you would be...busy once again."

"Yes, well, my time is precious as it is. What is it you want?"

"I've come to report a threat rising from underneath you—the one they call Lady Oona Ewe."

"That mystical goat lady? Ha! That's just a myth. A fable told by drug addicts to justify their abuse, to slander my name for making Equestria a better place."

"Oh, I can assure you, President. She is very much real. In fact, she's at the bottom floor as we speak, rising towards the top."

"Wait. What?"

"And more importantly, she carries the soul of Rarity with her. I suspect she's trying to find Beatrix Belladonna."

“What?! Why wasn't I informed about this before?"

"As I've said, you've been busy. It's hard to reach you with your attention so needlessly occupied."

"GRRRAAAUGH!!" He snarled, slamming his fist into the table, his form expanding in size slightly. Steam fumed from his nostrils while glaring down at the apathetic scientist. "Let's get one thing straight, cyborg! This is my company! My building! Nothing happens here with me knowing about it, do you hear me?!"

"Affirmative."

"Especially if it concerns reviving Rarity! I must have her soul! Without it, she'll be nothing but an empty shell!” He stared despondently on Rarity's sensuous marionette, outwardly perfect in the sleek white dress that made her sculped shape appear naked. Even surrounded by the beautiful Coco Pommel and Sassy Saddles, her radiance managed to stand out.

"Remain calm," Varys assured. "You will reclaim what was lost to you. Oona may be a skilled adversary, but I know her very well. And I know her weakness. Leave everything to me, and all your problems and enemies will be eradicated."

"That's what I like to hear," he sighed, his hand squeezing at the synthetic Coco's plush rump barely contained by her dress, causing a moaning sound out of her lips. "What's the status of the biomechanical mutagen?"

A digitalized chuckle emanated from behind the doctor's beaked mask. "I make great progress on perfecting my formula. The results speak for themselves," he proclaimed, commanding one screen to flip to a news broadcast. In it, a report went into detail about a new virus spreading from suburban areas. The camera caught on tape a screaming stallion, wires, screws, and metal plates growing out from his skin. Electricity flowed from his eye sockets and mouth before the infected spotted the cameraman, rushing towards him while crying out for help. Spike felt his shoulders tense upon seeing more bystanders grow out mechanical arms, bones, and parts.

"It looks highly unstable!"

"For now," Varys insisted. "I still need time to calculate the mistakes so that there's a chemically balanced body holding both organic and technological tissue. But rest assured, President Spike. When my formula is complete, you will have the necessary components to transform your body and reach your untapped power as the Dragon Lord, from which your foundries are named. Only this time, you will maintain full control of your body without the risk of going berserk."

The promise of a new body he could maintain made Spike lick his lips. “Yes.... It's been so long since I tried using that power. Only for.... Mmnh.” A solitary tear rolled down his face, recalling the last time he tried to wield his true power. It made him go feral, blinded by innate desire and hunger that cost the lives of Rarity, Coco, and Sassy. Their dying screams still haunted his memories. And all who learned of his terrible secret were immediately silenced.

Swearing to never lose control again, he became a pioneer who threw himself into the study of technology to exclude magic for Equestria to be reborn into the iron utopia it was today. He became obsessed with the idea of crafting not just a body strong enough to maintain his draconic instincts, but to resurrect the mares he ate to redeem himself. An obsession Varys fed in pursuit of Equestria's next stage of evolution, supplying the resources and knowledge to make it all happen. He trembled, nauseous, barely able to look at his secretaries for a moment.

"Are you sure there isn't some other method we haven't trie-"

“There is no other method,” reminded Varys. “You do not have the time to fool around. As we speak, all your foes look to destroy all that you've built. See for yourself.” He pointed to the monitors that showed Werewolves' approach by chopper and vans, the Flower Children outside worshiping a false virtual idol of Lady Ewe, rioters, sympathizers, and looters who his private army struggled to suppress due to sheer numbers.

Worse still, it was clear B.A.B.S. had finally turned on Spike, just as he suspected they would.

Spike's slit eyes glowed in the darkness. “Those ungrateful bastards! They will never understand how much I've sacrificed to save Equestria! How dare they look to undo all my hard work!"

“You must establish order. And that can only be achieved through my knowledge and technology. And with my mutagen, we can unleash your full potential. When they see the true shape of the Dragon Lord, none will dare defy you.” Varys took to the side of his desk, holding out his hand. "I'd like to request access to your...special laboratory. I plan to make full use of it to ensure Lady Ewe does not interfere with our plans."

The dragon snorted before handing him the security key. "Very well. Take it and go. Dispose of this 'Lady Ewe' and anyone else who gets in my way. As long as I can hold the real Rarity in my arms again, everyone else can rot for all I care," he snarled, balling his fist as anger began to consume him.

The Vice Lord nodded as he departed from the room to seek out the Dream Shepard.

Everything would all go according to plan.

*****

Clutching his bloodied side, Spike stumbled from a half-shredded car he'd commandeered. He'd taken so many bullets and a few stray lasers in his lycanthrope shape he'd been forced to revert, some of his wounds still fresh. He'd sloppily patched them up with his torn, bloodied shirt, hissed and groaned, trying to make his way to the rendezvous point.

Unfortunately, many of the roads were blocked, traffic was piled up, and he was in no condition for another fight. Instead, he climbed atop his chewed up ride, pulled out a pair of binoculars, and watched the bedlam from relative safety.

His crew hit the building from all sides. The Werewolves gambled everything on this one moment. A decisive blow that would either cripple their enemy, even if he had to sacrifice himself and every man he had in the process. Otherwise, all the sacrifices they had made up to this point would be rendered meaningless, and he couldn't bear to live with that!

“What the-?” The top of the structure shook. Not under more explosions, but inwardly, crumbling within amidst gray smoke.

A wide pair of leathery, membrane-lined wings unfurled from the sides in clouds of dust, the scaled purple body that housed them following, roaring and breathing out plumes of ethereal fire that swallowed up a couple of choppers that strayed too close.

The dragon's primal howl split the skies. The gunfire that erupted from chain guns bounced uselessly off polished armored scales. Crouching atop the ruins, perched on all fours with his claws, he swished his spaded tail and hurled into the air.

“No way,” murmured Spike, who watched his counterpart claim his true shape. “Guess I'm not the only one that can shift?”

Panicking, President Spike's own men turned on him in a free-for-all. The drake lashed out blindly, snapped, clawed, and loosed more infernos that broiled in his puffed-up soft underbelly, shrieking and seemingly aimless in his Apocalyptic rampage.

“Damn it.”

For all the leader of the Werewolves knew, most of his new allies were dead. But he couldn't let that stop him now.