The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

A Story by Talonmach5

Chapter 2: Tinman, the God of War

“Machines are worshiped because they are beautiful, and valued because they confer power; they are hated because they are hideous, and loathed because they impose slavery.”
- Bertrand Russell

“What you’re looking at is an echo of the past,” the narrator says, walking through a spacious and well-lit, but otherwise empty hangar. “Once humming with activity but now stilled by neglect. Its only caretaker’s machines that tirelessly tend to its maintenance. This place, Halliburton’s HWS factory, in Virginia Beach, Virginia of the NAU, was once the birthplace of titans of war. Now it’s merely an empty mausoleum to those machines who once called it home.”

Looking towards you the narrator smiles before placing a pipe in his mouth. “Maintenance bay 94. Population one,” the he says, blowing bubbles from the pipe. “His designation, Tinman. His type, a Land Behemoth mark VI frame. Recent history, recently returned from an assignment in North Africa. Incidental data, has just found out he’s been made obsolete. Not by next year’s model, but by the one enemy he was destined to never defeat. Peace.”

The machine towered over the man, looking as imposing as possible. Most man might have been afraid for his life, but Edmund Price, C.T.O. of Halliburton wasn’t most men. Escorted by an entire squadron of the company’s elite military police, the C.T.O. had little to fear from the technological terror. No one was foolish enough to cross him, no one except Tinman that is.

“… surrender your weapons...” Edmund said, fully expecting that the HWS would follow his orders.

“I think you better check my contract again,” the massive machine rumbled defiantly, at the man standing beneath its massive shadow.

As a member of the elite, Edmund Price was unaccustomed to being told no. He found hearing what he considered company property refusing to obey his commands, extremely vexing. As the Chief Technology Officer of Halliburton, he had the primary responsibility for managing all the company’s HWS’s that were outright owned by the company, leased from other corporations, or in Tinman’s rather unique circumstances under contract. Pulling out the datapad containing the HWS’s pertinent information including his decade’s old contract, Edmund began refamiliarizing himself with all the specific terms of the machine’s employment.

The contract, older than even the company’s HWS manufacturing branch was ironclad. Edmund was sure that even if he had every last lawyer on the payroll going over it with a fine toothed comb, that they wouldn’t be able to find any favorable loopholes. Realizing his error in not disarming Tinman before terminating the contract, the C.T.O. became pale as he realized his own employment and not to mention his life was now on the line. Desperately grasping for anything that would give him the upper hand over the HWS, he breathed a sigh of relief when he remembered the law regarding ownership of military grade weaponry required employment with government approved organizations.

“The fact that you own the weapons installed on your frame, doesn’t change the fact that you still need employment to keep them installed,” Edmund said, trying his best to wrest back control of the conversation from his ex-employee.

Tinman using his scanners saw that while the weaponry that Mr. Price’s elite security detail was carrying might appear intimidating and impressive to mere fleshbags, but he was no fleshbag. To a Land Behemoth, their insignificant weapons posed no more threat to him then fleas would to a dog. In fact, the very idea that his ex-boss thought that being escorted by other fleshbags would make him somehow immune from bodily harm, made Tinman want to laugh. ‘A fleshbag was a fleshbag,’ he thought. ‘No matter how import they might consider themselves to be, they die just as easily as the next faceless schleb with a round through their heart or brain.’

Accessing the Omninet, Tinman found to his amusement that he was the only still functioning Land Behemoth currently on the continent. He found that all the others were currently in various states of refit, decommissioning, and in a few cases in various battle theaters across the globe. ‘Stupid fleshbags don’t they realize how truly fucked they are if they try something,’ he thought darkly to himself.

“Listen well Mr. Price,” Tinman rumbled in a low pitch, “Seeing as I’m the only still functioning and fully armed Land Behemoth on the continent, I’m only going to say this once. Don’t fuck with me!”

Tinman, feeling particularly incensed that this insignificant worm thought he could still command him to do anything, activated his weapons. With a high pitched electrical whine, all fifty of his frontal pulse guns roared to life. Activating his targeting scanners, he painted each of the fleshbag pukes with a bright red dot over their hearts. Seconds tensely passed while both the HWS and C.T.O. stood their ground, each waiting for the other to blink.

Mr. Price felt his heart racing as he stared death in the face. Wracking his brain for something, anything that he could use against the belligerent HWS, he finally gave up. Realized that if Tinman wanted to, he had enough firepower at his disposal to cripple the entire NAU’s eastern seaboard before they could stop him, and even then there was no guarantee they could even do that. Not willing to be the harbinger of doom for the entire eastern seaboard, Mr. Price decided to use his trump card. “You’ll be hearing from our attorney’s” he shouted snapping his fingers, signaling for his escort to exit the hangar after him.

Once Tinman saw the fleshbags making their hasty retreat, he knew he didn’t have much time. Powering down his weapons, he accessed the Omninet to determine exactly what legal rights were afforded to cyborgs in general and their property rights were specifically. Accessing the Omninet’s petabytes of data, he discovered that not much had been written into law concerning cyborgs in his situation. “Damn it,” he groused, knowing full well how the courts would rule if there weren’t any precedents to fall back on. As the nanoseconds passed and quickly turned to milliseconds, Tinman began worrying for his future.

Seeing that NAU law had nothing to offer him, he turned to the laws of the NAU’s predecessor, the United States of America. Tinman couldn’t help feel a bit nostalgic for the nation of his birth. While the NAU as a rule didn’t generally call back to the fallen republic’s systems of laws, he noticed an ongoing trend showing that the NAU’s court system seemed to heavily rely on American legal jurisprudence when there was no precedent to fall back on. And his situation was definitely unique enough that most jurors would probably prefer relying on an ancient obsolete law, rather than risking a judicial review for setting a new precedent.

Knowing just the place to look for laws that would be favorable, Tinman looked into the laws and statutes of the city of San Francisco. Apparently the Mann act of 1992 was passed when the world’s first cyborg, Steve Mann had issues being allowed onto public transportation in San Francisco while wearing his bulky cybernetics. With the assistance of Silicon Valley futurists, the law was passed guaranteeing cyborgs would be guaranteed equal access to public utilities and spaces. While an interesting look into the insanity of Californian public policy, he knew that law wouldn’t be of much use to him in overcoming his current predicament.

Before Tinman decided to resume his search, he reread it and discovered an interesting subsection of the law in question. In section 3(b), paragraph (B); subsection 4, read, ‘wherein the party or parties are considered by law to be cybernetic in nature (sic. a body consisting of at least 25% non-biological matter), they shall be considered a protected class. None may detain, discriminate, harass, or hinder them in regards to their cybernetic components in order to interfere in their access to housing, healthcare, schooling, employment, or in their attempts to gain employment.’

Tinman reread the law a dozen times ensuring it said what he thought it did. Not only did the law in question state he was a protected class, it also protected him in regards to his cybernetic components. He was sure that any attempt to disarm him would render him useless as a combat ready HWS. He found to his amusement that even though less than five minutes had passed since he’d run the fleshbags off, Halliburton’s lawyers had already requested an injection against him, citing he was a danger to the population at large. Chuckling to himself, he began submitting the paperwork for his counter suit.

“They even misspelled my name,” Tinman remarked, reading the document containing the lawsuit against him. Seeing that his case was going to be reviewed right before lunch, he filed his counter suit citing the law in question along with a request for damages regarding his previous employer’s discrimination against him. Connecting to the Omninet, he interfaced himself with the court terminals to represent himself before the judge.

“Now hearing case number 125-36,” the bailiff said, handing a data file to a greying judge dressed in black robes. “Halliburton versus Land Behemoth model number X003456. The honorable Judge Harry S. Stone presiding.”

The slightly overweight judge looked at the clock on the wall, eager to be done with this case so he could eat his lunch, motioning towards the lawyer representing Halliburton he looked at the data file questioningly. “I see that you’re filing a motion against an HWS?” he asked, not exactly sure why he was reviewing this case.

“Yes you honor,” the lawyer said. “Land Behemoth model number X003456, a.k.a. Tinman.”

“Correct me if I’m not mistaken,” the judge said, looking over the spectacles on his nose at the lawyer and speaking with a slight southern accent, “but aren’t HWS’s normally owned by their corporation?”

“Normally yes,” the lawyer said, handing another data file to the judge. “But in this particular case, the HWS in question…”

“Will be defending himself,” Tinman’s wireframe avatar said in a mechanical voice.

The entire courtroom looked up in surprise at the primitive wireframe being projected in front of them. The lawyer unsure what he should do, began panicking as he fumbled with his briefcase. He had been told by his superiors that this would be an open and shut case, and now he had to defend the company’s injunction.

“I say this is quite irregular,” the judge remarked, looking up at Tinman questioningly.

“What is your honor?” Tinman asked. “The fact that my former employer is trying to blackball me and preventing me from finding gainful employment elsewhere, or that they’re trying to use the legal system to strip me of my legal rights and property?”

“Your honor, this is ridiculous!” the lawyer complained. “This avatar is trying to make a mockery of your court.”

“Young man,” Judge Stone said pointedly to the lawyer. “I will be the one to determine what is and is not a mockery in my courtroom.”

Addressing Tinman, Judge Stone asked, “Am I to understand that you’re Land Behemoth model number X003456?”

“That’s correct your honor,” he said, “I’m more commonly known as Tinman or the god of war,”

“You mentioned that your previous employer is trying to prevent you from finding new employment and strip you of your legal rights?”

“That’s correct your honor,” Tinman said, “They just terminated my contract with them and now they’re trying to seize my weapons. Weapons I legally own and need to have in order to be a combat ready HWS. Without my weaponry components I’m unable to perform my primary function.”

“Your honor,” the lawyer said, trying to gain control of the situation. “I object. The HWS is out of contract, and without a contract to control him he constitutes a danger to the public at large with his armaments.”

‘I’m afraid there’s not much I can do,” Judge Stone said. “Mr. Tinman, judging by your specifications you’re a weapon of mass destruction, unopposed you have the potential to destroy a major metropolitan area if you wished.”

“Correction your honor,” Tinman said, “unopposed I have the proven capacity to destroy in fact three major metropolitan areas.”

“See you honor,” the lawyer said, sure that he could convince the judge to rule in his favor, “the HWS just told you he’s a proven danger to multiple cities.”

“Why did you tell me that?” Judge Stone asked Tinman.

“To impress upon you that although I have the proven capability to destroy it was always under the directives of my employers,” Tinman explained. “To show you I can be trusted with my weaponry.”

Judge Stone looked at the wireframe, “I’m not sure,” he said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I’m unwilling to make a ruling in your favor without any sort of precedent to back it up.”

The weasely lawyer smiled when he heard the judge wanting a precedent before he’d be willing to rule in favor of Tinman’s counter suit. He knew the company would reward him handsomely for outmaneuvering the HWS.

“What if I could show you a law that provides a precedent?” Tinman asked Judge Stone.

“Then I would seriously consider ruling in your favor, provided the plaintiff can’t provide a counterargument as to why I shouldn’t,” Judge Stone said, happy that the pressure to make a ruling in a case without any precedent had just been removed from his shoulders.

“I submit Mann’s Law,” Tinman said. “It states that any being classified as cybernetic is a protected class, and any attempts to hinder their attempts at finding employment regarding their cybernetic components is expressly forbidden.”

“Objection! Best evidence,” the lawyer said, demanding to see evidence of such a law. He was sure that the NAU would never sanction such a thing. “There’s no such law in the NAU that supports allowing an HWS to roam freely armed without a contract.”

Tinman transferred the files containing Mann’s Law with all the relevant subsections highlighted and bolded to the judge and lawyer’s terminals. “I think you’ll find this law in particular was almost tailor made for this particular set of circumstances,” he said, giving the Halliburton lawyer a look daring the fleshbag to just try and stop him.

“Objection! Relevance,” the lawyer said, furious that the court’s time was being wasted on archaic laws from the defunct United States of America.

“Your honor, you’ll find,” Tinman replied, not missing a beat, “that nearly sixty percent of all cases tried in the previous twenty years without precedent, have accepted U.S. law as acceptable for that purpose.”

“Sixty percent you say?” the judge mused, mulling over the law in front of him.

Both the lawyer and Tinman looked at each other with contempt. Tinman found the fleshbag self-important and couldn’t wait to gloat when he’d won his case. Meanwhile, the lawyer felt incensed that a mere machine was beating him in what should have been an otherwise mundane filing for a motion in his company’s favor.

“I’m going to allow it,” the judge said after a minute’s deliberation. “Given the unique circumstances of Mr. Tinman’s shall we say unique status, and how he only desires to find gainful employment.”

“It’s as you say your honor,” Tinman said. “Without my weapons I’ll be of no use to my future employer’s.”

“Your honor regardless of the defendant’s so called protected status,” the lawyer said, scowling angrily at Tinman’s wireframe. “The fact remains that its full weapons load out consists of nearly every restricted weapon known to man. Allowing unrestricted access to them without a contract to govern their use constitutes a danger to the public.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Tinman, but I’m going to have to side with the plaintiff with this one,” Judge Stone said.

“What if I could guarantee my weapons couldn’t be used, until a new contract has been made?” Tinman asked.

“Then you would be making a very compelling argument in your favor,” Judge Stone said.

“I object your honor,” the lawyer said. “Not fifteen minutes previous, the plaintiff threatened the C.T.O. of Halliburton and over thirty of his private security escort with bodily harm, saying and I quote, ‘Listen well Mr. Price. Seeing as I’m the only still functioning and fully armed Land Behemoth on the continent, I’m only going to say this once. Don’t fuck with me!’”

“Is that true?” the judge asked.

“Yes it is,” Tinman said. “However, I had just been terminated by the company, and they were attempting to illegally strip me of my property. I think you’ll find the statutes authorizing deadly force to protect class V military grade weaponry from falling into unauthorized hands will cover my actions in that regard.”

“Objection! Speculation,” the lawyer said. “The plaintiff has no knowledge of Mr. Price’s security clearance.”

“Actually your honor,” Tinman said. “All class V military grade weaponry per the World Government charter can only be used by authorized corporations, class G4 or higher NGO’s, and responsible state actors. And unless Mr. Price has undergone a metaphysical change I’m unaware of, he doesn’t fit any of those classifications.”

“Mr. Tinman what guarantee can you give the court that you won’t go rogue?” Judge Stone asked.

Tinman transferred a transcript of his service record to the judge’s terminal. “I think you’ll find my service record speaks for itself,” he said. “Additionally I’m prepared to allow the court to place a limiter on my weapon systems within reason until I can find a new employer.”

“Your honor,” the lawyer said, “Halliburton respectfully asks that you find in our favor and order that the HWS in question be scheduled for decommissioning.”

“Your honor,” Tinman said, restating his case. “I have been completely honest with the court regarding my capabilities, have served my employers for over forty years without incident, and possess the legal title to my frame and all its other components. This is a case of my former employer trying to blackball me for spite, nothing more.”

After a moment, Judge Stone looked at Tinman and rubbed his fingers against his temples. “Alright Mr. Tinman,” he said. “It’s the judgment of this court that you have acted responsibly in the past. Therefore, you may keep your weapons, provided the limiter you mentioned is used, and you manage to find a new qualified employer within thirty days.”

“This is outrageous!” the lawyer shouted. “You just can’t let a multi-billion dollar asset walk free!”

Tinman gave the fleshbag a dark look. “You may be content licking your master’s toes,” he said derisively. “But I’m no one’s slave.”

“Case closed,” the judge said, banging down his gavel. “Bailiff, what’s next on the docket?”

“Hey you weasel fleshbag,” Tinman told the lawyer who was in the process of leaving the courtroom, “don’t leave just yet…”

“What?” the lawyer asked as the next case was being announced.

“Now hearing case number 125-37,” the bailiff said, handing another data file to the judge. “Land Behemoth model number X003456 versus Halliburton. The honorable Judge Harry S. Stone presiding.”

“See, I told you wouldn’t want to leave,” Tinman said, while the poor lawyer dropped his briefcase to the ground in disbelief.

“Mr. Tinman, I understand that you wish to sue your former employer for wrongful termination?” Judge Stone asked the cyborg.

“That’s correct,” Tinman said, “I also want a restraining order against any Halliburton employees from approaching my hangar.”

“That’s ridiculous!” the lawyer shouted. “That hangar is Halliburton property, and…”

“That hangar is my home,” Tinman corrected. “I believe my contract stipulates a thirty day notice before being evicted. Also seeing as how I was brutally accosted by Halliburton employees, I think a restraining order is only proper.”

“Mr. Tinman does make a compelling argument,” Judge Stone said to the lawyer. Looking down at the case his eyes opened wide when he saw the damage claim. “You’re demanding compensation in the amount of 4.8 billion dollars?”

“That’s correct,” Tinman replied. “My wages for the last forty-three years compounded with interest, plus the early release clause in my contract. Totals four billion, eight hundred seventy-six million, five hundred forty-four thousand, six hundred and seventy-two dollars, and eighteen cents.”

“That’s outrageous!” the lawyer objected. “There’s no way that’s possible.”

“Your honor check the terms of my contract,” Tinman said. “It was approved by C.E.O. John Biggs, in 2040 and reapproved every five years afterwards. I think it’s a bit too late to complain about the terms now.”

Judge Stone looked down at the lawyer who didn’t know quite how to respond. “I’m going to have to side with the plaintiff, unless you can show me that Mr. Tinman has somehow violated the terms of his contract.”

The lawyer scanned the contract looking for any loop hole he could exploit. What was supposed to be a simple filing for a motion of injunction against the HWS had turned into a disaster. “Your honor I’d like to request a continuance,” he said, desperately trying to buy some time for the company to fight this.

“Your honor,” Tinman said, “my former employers didn’t even give me the courtesy of notice before attempting to crucify me in court. If I hadn’t been so quick, I’d most likely be looking at being decommissioned without a chance to defend myself.”

Judge Stone looked hungrily up the clock on the wall. Knowing that a continuance would be an even bigger delay, he allowed his stomach to make his decision for him. “I’m afraid I’m siding with the plaintiff,” he said. “Mr. Tinman does have a valid point. Your client had over forty-three years previously to sort out his contract. So in this case I’m ruling in favor of the plaintiff.”

The lawyer couldn’t believe his ears as he heard the judge bang his gavel closing the case. He had just lost to a machine of all things. “Advise the company I’ll be expecting payment transferred to my account within thirty days,” Tinman told the hapless lawyer, before disconnecting himself from the courthouse’s mainframe. “And tell Mr. Price this is what happens when you try fucking me over.”

The lawyer deathly afraid for his life, made the call to his boss to break the news. “The machine was prepared for the injunction,” he said, into his handset. “I couldn’t risk leaving the courtroom to call for help without losing the case. Yes I understand… He won a restraining order against the company on his hangar. No, the machine brought forth some obscure statue from the 1990’s. Hell I don’t where he found it. Hey there’s no reason to scream at me, it was just supposed to be a simple injunction. No I couldn’t get a continuance against the countersuit. I won’t lie it’s bad. Are you sitting down? I’m not stalling… It was 4.8 billion dollars. No, of course I tried that. The judge said since the contract was on the books over forty years and had already been renewed eight times, we didn’t have a leg to stand on. What do you want me to do about it? I’m just a lawyer not a corporate assassin! Hey don’t be pushing this off on me I’m not even an associate yet. You’re a full partner with the firm, you’re name’s even on the stationary. This is something you should have made contingencies for. But sir… Fine, I understand. I hope the corporation puts you through a meat grinder you son of a bitch!”

Hanging up the phone the lawyer exiting the courthouse looked like hell. His hair was a mess, his tie hung loosely around his neck, and his shirt was stained yellow with his sweat. Walking down the street towards his vehicle he noticed the Virginia Beach conversion bureau. He had probably walked passed it hundreds of times before and never gave it a second thought. Looking down at his briefcase and phone buzzing like an angry hornet in his hand, he looked at a nearby trash receptacle and then to the entrance to the bureau. The building had a large hoof painted sign in the front that said “Welcome friends. We’re open!”

Giving his phone a hard look, he walked towards the trash receptacle and dropped it and his briefcase inside before grabbing the handle to the conversion bureau’s door. Walking inside the bureau, the nameless lawyer was welcomed warmly by a cheerfully smiling peach colored earth pony that said, “Hello, are you here to convert?”

Looking behind him as the door closed, the lawyer turned back towards the pony and said, “Yes my name is Eric Chipman. I’m a lawyer, or rather I was one. What do I have to do first?”

With a wide smile the earth pony said, “Just sign here…”

*****

Tinman didn’t know if he wanted to gloat or laugh first. Not only had he secured his weapons, freedom, and employability. He had also punished those fleshbag pukes who thought they ever stood a chance of outmaneuvering him of all machines. Now all he had left to do was find a new employer and he was golden. He thought about maybe looking up Lydia or Fujin and seeing if they had heard about any openings. Although he hadn’t parted on good terms with either of his ex’s, he was sure their organizations would be grateful for an HWS of his status on their payroll.

“I wonder if Lydia still blames me for what happened back in S.L.C. in ’51,” Tinman said to himself. While it was true she had family there, so did he. “I’m sure she’ll be willing to at least be civil.”

A few minutes later, he had his answer. Lydia was still holding grudge, in fact her only words for him before disconnecting the call were, “I hope you burn in hell, you murderer!”

“Perhaps Fujin would be more pragmatic,” Tinman decided.

Placing the call to Japan he only received deathly silence, followed by her brother Raijin screaming at him. “Round eye devil! You were told to never contact her again,” he shouted, before hanging up.

Tinman was almost tempted to contact Boris to see if the Russian Federation was hiring, but decided against it. The Feds were probably downsizing just like the PLA.

Tinman sighed, unsure what he should do next. It not like he could just look in the help wanted ads of today’s paper. ‘Do they still even make newspapers anymore?’ he thought to himself, as he checked the Omninet for a list of potential employers.

As he began compiling the list, he wished that the trial hadn’t been over so quickly. With both cases taking less than thirty minutes, the only thing Tinman had now was a lot of free time.

“Just what did you do?” a very angry human shouted at Tinman from the far side of the hangar.

“Jackson what’s wrong?” Tinman asked, puzzled over his mechanic’s anger.

“I just received a notice of termination, and had my home repossessed by the company!” Jackson fumed, wishing that he could throttle his former coworker.

“How’s that my fault?” Tinman asked, unsure how he’d was in anyway culpable for his friend’s losses.

“They said I was an accomplice to your workplace violence!” Jackson replied, giving the cyborg the evil eye.

“Look Jackson, I’m sorry about you losing your home,” Tinman apologized, “but didn’t you say you wanted to go pony anyway?”

“Yes, but on my own terms,” Jackson said, feeling his rage subside.

“How about I hire you as my personal technician until you get back on your feet?” Tinman offered, thinking about how his account was now flush with cash.

“How are you going to pay for my salary?” Jackson asked. “You gonna pay me with your good looks, or your dazzling personality?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a very wealthy man,” Tinman replied, snaking out one of his metal claws towards Jackson. “Besides, I need you to help me find a new employer.”

“Alright I’ll do it,” Jackson sighed, shaking the offered claw knowing that he would probably end up regretting it.

“Alright, our first step is refitting me for extended travel,” Tinman said retracting his claw.

*****

Meanwhile in a dark and secluded place, a meeting of faceless men concealed by the shadows of darkness and conspiracy was being held.

“…we are proceeding with Operation Megiddo,” a man only known as Mr. Black said.

“What about manpower, do you plan to conscript an army?” one of his faceless compatriots, Mr. Green objected. “There are fewer than five million combat ready personnel on the planet, and we need them on Earth to keep the masses in line.”

“There are nearly three million HWS’s in active service or in mothballs, available for the expeditionary force,” Mr. Black said. “Unlike mercenaries they don’t have the luxury of saying no.”

“And who will you send, to lead your army,” the Mr. Green retorted. “No one living has the combat experience to lead such a massive campaign with a reasonable chance of victory. A war of this type hasn’t been fought since before the fall of the United States.”

“We’ll send the god of war,” a member of the shadows known as Mr. White said. “He has an impressive service record, and he’s greatly respected among his fellow HWS’s.”

When Mr. White mentioned sending the god of war to lead Operation Megiddo, the other shadows in the room began whispering excitedly to each other. Ignoring the rest of the conversation a larger man whispered to his neighbor. “The god of war?” he said. “Mr. Blue, there’s no way they can control that maniac.”

“Why Mr. Red, is that dissention I hear,” Mr. Blue replied with a smirk.

“Mr. Blue I’m being serious, I’ve worked with him during both his most infamous missions,” Mr. Red replied, I don’t think he’s going to be to be willing to do another slaughter job after what happened last time.”

“Mr. Red,” Mr. Blue said, ignoring the argument the others were having about the morality of Operation Megiddo, “my company has worked extensively with the god of war and he’s never disappointed. He’s a good soldier. He’ll get the job done.”

“I’m refusing to be party to this massacre,” Mr. Green said, interrupting the disagreement both Mr. Red and Mr. Blue were having.

Both of them looked at Mr. Green in surprise, waiting to see what Mr. Black would do regarding Mr. Green’s refusal to participate in the upcoming invasion.

“Fine, we’ll leave the management of the ponies trapped here on Earth in your hands,” Mr. Black replied. “Before this council ends, let me remind each of you that whoever speaks of this outside the council will face the full wrath of the World Government.”

“Agreed,” Mr. Blue and Mr. Red both said in unison with the rest of the assembled members of the shadow conspiracy.

“Send word when preparations for Operation Megiddo are complete,” Mr. Black said to one of their agents working in H.E.S.S.

When the call was concluded, Mr. Black turned to address the assembled members of the council. “I understand some of you have reservations,” he said looking towards Mr. Red. “regarding the upcoming operation.”

“Yes,” Mr. Red said. “How do you plan on controlling the god of war? After Operation Black Stone he swore he would never do another slaughter job.”

“Our friend has just found himself without work,” Mr. Black said with a smile. “He has thirty days to find a new employer or be decommissioned. I think he’ll be most willing to accept our terms.”

“Mr. Red is worried over nothing,” Mr. Blue said leaning forward. “I know for a fact the god of war’s greatest desire is to fight the greatest war ever known.”

“Oh really?” Mr. Black said, intrigued by this new information.

“If we allow him free reign in Equestria, allowing him to fight however he chooses,” Mr. Blue said, “he’ll be unable to pass up this opportunity.”

“Mr. Blue is also glossing over the fact that Tinman only does what he wants,” Mr. Red warned. “While he always fulfills his contract, there could be unforeseen consequences granting him carte blanche to run the invasion however he sees fit.”

“I don’t care if he slaughters the entirety of the population of Equestria!” the rabidly anti-equestrian Mr. White declared. “As long as he doesn’t use thermonuclear weapons we shouldn’t have anything to worry about regarding our new territory once the native populations have been cleared out.”

“I thought Operation Megiddo was mainly to bring Celestia to justice?” Mr. Green pointedly asked.

“As its primary objective yes,” Mr. White replied. “But certainly if portions of Equestria were to fall into our hands as a means of restitution, I won’t complain.”

“Restitution, right…” Mr. Green replied, definitely unhappy with where Operation Megiddo was headed.

“Regardless of that, we still have the small matter of securing Tinman’s services,” Mr. Red pointed out.

“I have agents working on that as we speak,” Mr. Blue replied.

“Alright, unless there’s nothing else to discuss,” Mr. Black said, “we’ll meet back in a month to discuss how the preparations for Operation Megiddo are preceding.”

*****

The streets of Phoenix were oddly familiar, yet at the same time different. It had been ages since he’d last been to this city. In a different time he would have caused a traffic jam attempting to reach his newest employer, but now the city was nearly a ghost town. Heading towards his destination, he saw the odd human holdout and what he assumed must be converted humans prancing about it their new pastel colored skins as they stared at him in disbelief. Ugh, how he disliked everything the ponies represented. If not for his lockdown, he might have been tempted to tease the small creatures by taking a few potshots at them. Not to be cruel of course, but to remind them that they were on the bottom of the food chain.

Looking up at the sky with his sensor array, he saw that with the exception of the odd pegasi or two flying above him the sunny skies overhead were devoid of any air traffic. ‘Man this place has really gone downhill,’ Tinman thought to himself. Once the sixth largest city in the NAU, Phoenix was now slowly being reclaimed by the desert, although the earth ponies living there were doing there damnedest to keep the desert at bay. Part of him cheered the desert on, knowing that even if the humans who once lived here had given up the encroaching sands wouldn’t give the ponies an inch.

Approaching the place where the coordinates his satnav said was his final destination, Tinman looked at the surrounding area with confusion. It looked like someone had been fighting a guerrilla war, all around him buildings where in various states of ruin. Looking down at the scorched pavement and cement, he recognized the telltale signs of rocket and mortar fire. Drawing closer to his new employer, he found even more signs of conflict. “Wow, these guys must have really pissed off the cartel,” he said to himself.

The Hijo del Diablos or The Devil’s Children, were the particular cartel in question. For the past thirty years they had been running the drug game in the desert south-west. After the NAU was violently formed from the former United States, Mexico, and Canada back in the late 2040’s, The Devil’s Children took advantage of the anarchy and brutally slaughtered all the other cartels to consolidate the drug business under their control. Although he had never fought the cartel personally, Tinman had heard tales from some of the other HWS’s he knew. Back when they had been on speaking terms, Boris had told him about some of the fighting he’d participated back in ’61 just outside of Mexico City. Apparently they had a few HWS’s of their own, each fanatically devoted to their leader who was known only by the name Anticristo.

Seeing that he was nearly there, Tinman began compiling his to do list regarding reclaiming this portion of the city from the fleshbag pukes that currently had free reign to do whatever they wished. Turning the corner he was unprepared for what he saw. “Jackson,” he said to his mechanic, “are you sure we got the right address?”

“Yes,” Jackson replied from inside the crew compartment, “right as rain Tinman.”

“The only reason I’m asking is cause all I see is a conversion bureau and nothing else,” Tinman asked tersely.

“That’s because you answered a help wanted ad from a conversion bureau,” Jackson replied with a chuckle, smiling at the irony.

“God damn it!” Tinman raged, upset with himself that he hadn’t bothered to find out more about his perspective employer before accepting the job. “You mean I’m going to be helping those fucking ponies?”

“And even taking orders from them,” Jackson added. “Additionally, since the conversion bureaus technically belong to Equestria, you just can’t quit without getting a release from the head of their government.”

“You mean I can’t even back out now?” Tinman asked, as he desperately searched the Omninet for any loophole he could use to escape his fate.

“No,” Jackson said. “Not without a waiver from Princess Celestia. Otherwise, you’ll be marked as having gone rogue. Not unless Director PK withdraws his employment offer.”

“That’s just super,” Tinman grumbled, parking his frame in front of the conversion bureau. “And here I was thinking we were friends.”

“Hey I tried to warn you,” Jackson said. “But cheer up Tinman. I think this area is having issues with the HLF.”

“Which means they need me to kill some fleshbags!” Tinman excitedly said, already plotting out the best places to setup a defensive perimeter for the building.

“I don’t think that they would dare once you’ve been hired on,” Jackson said. “They would have to be crazy to try taking on a Land Behemoth without at least four full battalions and air support.”

“Ugh, you sure know how to ruin my good moods,” Tinman sighed, realizing that seeing any combat was probably slim to none.

“Well you never know…” Jackson said. “They might actually be crazy.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Tinman said.

The rest of the day was a total bore, with only three fleshbags failing miserably to assassinate Director Peachy Keen the pony in charge. The only other news of note was that one of the pegasi, an obnoxiously pink colored mare named Sugar Pie had seemed to have taken an unnatural interest in him. Now Tinman was not unused to having fans, especially among the HWS groupie crowd. But her interest was a tad more personal than what a metal head would want. As far as he could tell, she genuinely wanted to be his friend. For what reason, he had no idea. But being friends with a fleshbag, any fleshbag seemed to be pointless since they all seemed to die so easily. He only tolerated Jackson because he was an excellent mechanic. Deciding he had had enough excitement for the day, he shut down his brain case allowing himself to decompile as his consciousness slowly faded away.

*****

Tinman looked at his surroundings and saw to his annoyance that it was ‘The Dream’ again. ‘The Dream’, or more aptly put the nightmare, was a beautiful landscape full of lush green fields and beautiful clear blue skies overhead. The pristine view went on as far as the eye could see in all directions. Aggravated over after what had happened yesterday having been roped into working for a conversion bureau of all places, the cyborg was in no mood to come here again.

“Let’s get this damn thing over with,” Tinman growled to the dreamscape that mocked his metal frame. In retaliation, he stepped on a patch of beautiful flowers crushing them beneath his heavy leg.

Week after week he came here while his mind decompiled, if he was still flesh and blood instead of full metal he might have actually enjoyed it. Keywords on might have. Tinman always felt reticent about this place, its sheer perfection and super saturated colors seemed unnatural. It was as if he was stuck in some sort of cartoon. Looking around, he finally saw them each blissfully unaware of his presence. Unicorns and earth ponies were playing and frolicking together in the green fields, while pegasi flew about overhead. As always he moved to join them, only to be met with looks of anger, disgust, and pity. “Monster, leave us!” they shouted in unison. “There’s no room for your kind here.”

Feeling the ground beneath his metal feet trembling, Tinman looked down and saw the earth bleeding as skeletal hands grabbed at his frame trying to drag him down to hell. “Murderer! Killer!” the bleeding earth cried out. “You killed us!”

It was always the same nightmare. Tinman struggled in vain against the grasping skeletal fingers. However, just before he was dragged beneath the blood soaked soil beneath him once more, the air all around him got electrically charged causing the grasping skeletal hands to fade into oblivion.

“Well this is certainly new,” Tinman said to himself, unsure of what to make of this new experience. For the first time he was no longer forced to follow the same tired script. The ponies staring at him with fear and hate in their eyes began shouting and cursing at him. “Go away monster!” they said throwing stones at him. “Go back to where you belong.”

Looking down at the little pastel colored ponies, had Tinman still been flesh and blood instead of full metal he might have attempted making friends. Keywords on might have. Seeing that his weapon array was fully armed and operational, Tinman looked down at the closest earth pony that was bucking his frame and then back again at his pulse cannons.

*****

Minutes later Tinman rolled away from the field on his treads, looking up towards the shining castle on the mountainside he would’ve scowled had he still had a face. “The reasons for this nightmare lies inside there I know it,” he fumed.

As the giant machine rolled away from the green field and blue skies, all Tinman left behind in his wake was the charred bodies of ponies, smoke, ash, and the lingering regret that he could never be welcomed here.

Approaching the mountain he was met by all forms of resistance, from wolves made of wood, to spectral horses, to creatures of Earth mythology, and even animals made up of the stars themselves. Each in turn fell to his might. The wolves he crushed to splinters beneath his metal treads. The spectral steeds’ icy breath was no match for the flames that issued from his incinerators. For the creatures of myth that flew, he fired steel bolos tangling their wings and legs sending them crashing to the ground with sickening thuds. For those that charged him head on he used his mini guns, turning them into a fine mist of blood and gore. The great beasts that seemed torn from the heavens themselves he met head on, using his mighty legs to use his great weight to push back against their charges.

As he fought the great star beast, Tinman felt more alive than he had in over forty years. The two titans struggled against each other for dominance, neither willing to yield to the other. Enthralled with his titanic struggle against a fellow monster, the god of war allowed it to bite down on his shoulder mounted pulse cannon before unloading a full barrage of all sixteen of its barrels down the beast’s throat. The creature’s head expanded slightly before exploding in a shower of gore that coated his metal frame with blood and entrails.

“More!” the god of war screamed, shaking the forest all around it. The dream, not wanting to disappoint its guest sent even more opponents to entertain it. From dog men using archaic siege weapons, to fierce griffon warriors, and even a mighty dragon answered its challenge. The dog men had set up several trebuchets to launch several ton boulders towards it. The god of war switched to its treads and maneuvered around their poorly aimed attacks. Using its metal claws it flung the boulders back at them, smashing the siege engines and crews beneath its precision aimed attacks.

The griffins thought that their wings would save them from retaliation as they threw their iron tipped spears at its titanium frame. The god of war taught them the error of that line of thinking, launching several electrically charged anti-personnel nets designed to stun and entangle its targets. As the griffins fell to the ground and struggled helplessly with broken wings, the great machine thought it was sad that creatures such as they were denied flight as they were meant to. Taking pity on their plight, it flung them back into the sky were they belonged.

The dragon seeing its compatriots being so easily defeated by the intruder, roared as it tilted its great wings to dive towards the metal giant. The god of war began firing at the dragon’s leathery wings, leading with its tracer rounds in an effort to knock the beast to the ground. The ancient dragon never before having fought in such a manner, roared in pain as it felt the membranes of its wings rip and tear. Crashing into the forest below, it slammed into dozens of fully grown trees breaking them before sliding to a full stop. The Land Behemoth no longer interested in fighting against its fallen opponent, continued on its way towards the shining castle on the mountain.

The massive machine stopped and swiveled its body to face the creature challenging it for passage. Immediately hundreds of red dots appeared on the dragon’s wheezing and wounded body.

“Do your worst monster,” the dragon gasped, as the god of war’s weapons hummed to life. “Even though you may kill me, my clan shall avenge me.”

The god of war released the full fury of its weapons on the dragon, causing it to shudder from the impact and falling to the ground in a crumpled heap before releasing a mournful death cry. Almost immediately, dozens of angry roars of outrage shook the entire mountain as dragons of all colors took to the air to avenge their fallen brother.

Looking up, the god of war saw the flight of dragon’s circling overhead like vultures to carrion. Each roaring defiantly with claws extended as they intended to exact their revenge in blood. The HWS prepared itself for their onslaught by powering up its weapons and choosing the appropriate targets.

*****

Hours later, the massive war machine slowly rolled up the path towards the castle that it was sure held all the answers. The machine struggled to climb the steep mountain path as it dragged behind it, parts of its metal frame. During the titanic battle with the dragons, several of its fusion reactors had been heavily damaged and now crackled evilly as if they were cursing the very nature of this place. Leaking coolant and other fluids, the god of war struggled up the mountain on sheer force of will alone, leaving behind the broken corpses of those who dared stand in its way.

When the god of war finally reached the gilded gates of the castle, he looked up at them expectantly. The great behemoth looked terrible. Its metal armor plates were torn in some places and completely missing in others, leaving its mechanical innards exposed. Most of its munitions were exhausted, having been spent in destroyed all those who had stood in his way. Beneath its chassis it was leaking fluids and oil profusely, while its metal body groaned in protest as it struggled to move.

The machine, having not been properly greeted extended its mighty legs and decided to let itself in. Rising up its two front legs, the war machine started tearing the gate to pieces. The squeal of metal tearing metal echoed throughout the courtyard, marring the silent harmony of this place. Having successfully knocked the gate to the side, the HWS pushed its massive metal frame deeper into the palace complex.

“You’re not moving another inch forward!” a purple unicorn shouted, lighting up her horn in challenge.

“Ya’ll made a mighty big mistake by coming here, with that great big contraption,” an orange earth pony stated in a folksy drawl.

“You’re not taking another step forward, now put them up!” a blue pegasus said, lifting her hooves up in challenge.

“Wouldn’t you rather be our friend?” a pink earth pony said with a wide grin. “I have cupcakes!”

“You brute!” a white unicorn said, looking at the great machine in disapproval. “How could you do that to all those poor dragons?”

“Wouldn’t you rather see to your wounds, instead of fighting us?” a yellow pegasus timidly asked. “I mean, uh if you want to… that is. Please don’t hurt anypony else!”

“Come on girls,” the purple unicorn said. “With the elements on our side we can’t lose.”

The god of war looked down on the insignificant insects blocking its path, raising one of its claws menacingly it knocked them aside like ragdolls sending them crashing into the walls. Not even bothering to make sure they were down for good, the great machine worked its way towards the final door between him and the answer.

“Metal beast, hold!” a mare shouted in defiance. “Thou shall not touch my sister with thy wicked appendages.”

Turning to face whoever it was that was foolish enough to challenge it, the god of war groaned as its gears slipped and struggled to rotate its body. Looking at the mare before it, the machine saw that not only was it larger than an average pony it had wings and a horn as well. Its coat and mane was the same shade as the evening sky, while her defiant eyes were the color of pale moonlight.

“We command thee to withdraw forthwith and furthermore… oomph,” the mare grunted in pain, as the machine slammed down its mighty leg crushing her beneath it unyielding metal treads.

Looking down, the machine saw that the mare was still breathing and even appeared mostly unharmed. Confused by this unexpected turn of events, the god of war wrapped its claws around the mare picking her up and examining her. The creature emanated power, instinctively the colossus knew that it should destroy her but for some odd reason found itself unable to do so. Looking towards the door, the machine laid the mare gently down and entered the inner sanctum of the palace.

Sitting on a golden throne and looking at it with a neutral look that revealed nothing, a mare even larger than the last sat waiting for the machine. “Why have you come here?” she plainly asked.

The god of war didn’t know how to respond, all it knew was that she was somehow responsible for this place that taunted it every time it shut down. “Why do you torment me so?” the machine groaned struggling to continue functioning, desperate for the answer to its unknown question. “Tell me why.”

Looking away, the mare hung her head low, “I’m sorry, this place isn’t for you,” she said, truly sorry for the man made metal.

Roaring in anger the god of war began destroying the palace, enraged at being denied the answer he so desperately sought. As the palace walls fell all around them the mare whispered once more, “I’m sorry…”

*****

“I’m sorry,” Princess Celestia murmured, as the sheets around her started constricting her breathing. Tossing and turning the princess’s eyes shot open as she screamed in terror. Weeping for what she had just dreamed she said, “I’m so sorry…”

The dark shape of Princess Luna landed on the balcony to her sister’s room, folding her wings she looked down at Princess Celestia with worry in her eyes. “Sister, twas the dream again?” she asked, already certain of the answer.

“Yes Luna, but this time it was different,” Princess Celestia explained. “It was almost as if I was experiencing the waking world.”

“A lucid dream, my dear sister,” Princess Luna said. “Premonitions of things that are to come, or a warning of a dire nature.”

Remembering the great metal giant that had invaded her sleep, Princess Celestia locked her eyes with Princess Luna’s. “The barrier, is it still standing?” she asked, concerned for the safety of the creatures dwelling within Equestria.

“Verily my sister,” Princess Luna said, nuzzling her sister and providing her with comfort. “The barrier still holds firm, greedily devouring humanity’s world.”

“Then it’s fine,” Princess Celestia said, closing her eyes comforted in the knowledge that neither corrupt men nor their technological terrors could reach any of her little ponies.

Seeing her sister laying her head back down, Princess Luna covered her with a silken sheet. “Rest well my sister. As always, I will guard the night,” she gently said, looking towards the distant barrier that shimmered against the night sky.

*****

Tinman’s internal sensors alerted him that his memory buffer was once again clear and ready to accept new memories. Looking at the bleak landscape and crumbling buildings all around him, he felt ready. Ready for what he didn’t know, but ready for something nonetheless. Running an internal scan to check his brain case for anomalies, he was relieved when he discovered nothing. “Now what could that dream have meant?” he asked himself.

The dream he normally experienced always caused his lucid mind to seize up in terror. However this time it had been something more primal and satisfying, especially the look of defeat on that regal mare’s proud face. Only the fear that this new dream was an early symptom of the onset of cyberbrain sclerosis, gave him pause. Cyberbrain sclerosis, more commonly known as brain calcification, the very thought of having such an ailment made Tinman tremble in fear. Cyberdized humans unlucky enough to catch the disease had the terrible fate of slowly turning into unthinking catatonic automatons, unable to do anything more than what was programmed into them until they eventually went brain dead.

Desperate to experience a new memory to verify he was still cyberbrain sclerosis free, Tinman uploaded himself into one of his favorite places in the world the black market memory swap. Impatiently waiting for his wireframe avatar to materialize, he sent a quick ping to the server authenticators with his credentials and walked towards the nearest memory vendor.

“Hey long time no see, tall, dark, and gruesome,” a female avatar made up of crystals said, tinkling and vibrating as she spoke. “Back for some more torture porn? I have a brand new dismemberment memory I think you’ll just love.”

“No Kristal, nothing violent this time,” Tinman said, impatiently searching through the available memories for something he’d never experienced before.

“Nothing violent?” Kristal asked, with a lilt in her voice and giving him a suggestive leer. “Perhaps something more sensual then.”

“Yeah sure whatever, as long as it’s something new to me,” Tinman said, not caring what he purchased.

Adding a copy of Greatest Pony Hits to his order, Kristal ran a crystalline finger along the edges of his wireframe. “Perhaps once you’ve tried out track seven, you and me can have a bit of fun?” she asked.

“Perhaps next time,” Tinman coldly replied, annoyed with the vendor for trying to seduce him. Uploading his purchase into his buffer, he left the black market in a hurry to test these new memories. When he returned to his frame, he saw Sugar Pie poking his array with her hoof trying to get his attention.

Activating his array and powering up his frame, Tinman straightened his metal body and looked down at the pink pegasus. “Sugar Pie, can I help you with something?” he asked.

“Oh, I just brought you something for breakfast,” Sugar Pie cheerfully said. “I didn’t know what kind of muffins you prefer so I brought you a blueberry one, cause everypony seems to love those.”

“But I can’t eat…” Tinman said, surprised that she wanted to want to bring him breakfast. “I’m sorry that you wasted your time.”

“Oh it’s no waste, besides having breakfast with somepony makes the day brighter don’t you think?” Sugar Pie said with a wide smile and offering him a basketful of golden muffins, each baked to perfection.

Seeing the cheerful Sugar Pie eating the muffins, made him reflect on last night’s dream. He could remember the ponies screaming in terror as he mercilessly slaughtered them all in that green field. He wondered what kind of screams the pegasus baker might make as he snuffed out her life. Absentmindedly he sat listening to her inane chatter, thinking about how easy it would be to destroy them all. His murderous thoughts were interrupted as he heard her say something.

“Even though you can’t enjoy eating muffins anymore,” Sugar Pie said, placing a muffin on his shoulder. “I thought that maybe just looking at it might help remind you of what eating one might have been like.”

Picking up the muffin, Tinman used his state of the art sensor array trying to determine what exactly it meant. Of course he knew on an intellectual level almost everything there was to know about the pastry, even down to the subatomic level. He felt that same itch in the back of his mind that he felt back in the dream, and suddenly felt the frustration of not knowing the answer to the unknown question eating away at him.

Looking down at her now empty basket, Sugar Pie gave Tinman a friendly smile before flying back towards the conversion bureau. “Thanks for letting me eat breakfast with you,” she said, looking back towards him before entering the building.

Tinman found the exchange he just had with Sugar Pie to be deeply disturbing. Before today he’d never plotted the murder of a client before. Concerned that he must be experiencing the onset of cyberbrain sclerosis, he uploaded Greatest Pony Hits into his buffer and tried deciding which track to use to test out his capacity to experience new memories. ‘What had Kristal mentioned earlier, track seven or something?’ he thought. Without bothering to read the track descriptions, he activated track seven and felt his braincase synching up with the memory file.

As his vision went black, Tinman thought to himself, ‘Didn’t she say something about it being sensual?’

*****

Looking around him he found himself staring at a large bed in the middle of a dimly lit room. The pleasant aroma of incense filled his nostrils, as his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting inside the room. Spying a shadow, his heart quickened when he realized he wasn’t alone. Beyond the heavy smoke from the incense, the musky scent of something unfamiliar filled his nostrils. While he was unsure what exactly it was, at the same time he instinctively knew what it was and felt an unfamiliar hunger overcome him. Approaching the shadowy presence, he could make out its shape and saw it was a female pony. The mare approached him and whispered something foreign into his ear, making him feel all tingly inside. He responded by nibbling on her ear as she nuzzled against his neck. They broke their embrace and he could see the desire she held for him in her eyes as she basked in the candlelight of the room. He heard himself say something, and saw the mare blush before warmly smiling at him. Turning away from him, he saw that the mare was wearing some sort of pseudo-saddle made up of silk and lace. Flicking her tail suggestively at him a few times before sitting on the bed, she motioned for him to follow and said something to him as she waited from him to join her.

Feeling his body growing warm as he licked his lips in anticipation, he joined the mare on the bed. Turning away from him, she stretched out on the mattress allowing him to view her entire body from her nose to the tip of her tail. The musky aroma he smelt was beginning to cloud his brain as he felt an overwhelming urge to possess the mare. Flicking her tail a few more times to make her desires known, she looked back at him waiting impatiently for him to proceed. Inhaling her scent deeply, he approached her and climbed on top of the waiting mare. Burying his head in her silken mane, she whinnied in approval as he felt her desire welcoming him. The next thirty minutes went by in a blur as he experienced a roller coaster of emotions and passion. When the mare was finally satisfied, the last thing he felt were her lips gently kissing his muzzle as she laid down to sleep next to him.

Within moments Tinman was reconnected to his sensor array, although only ninety-three seconds had passed it felt like nearly a week had gone by. Running an internal diagnostic, he was relieved to discover that he didn’t have any signs of cyberbrain sclerosis. However he now had a new problem, his mind was itching with desire to learn the answers to the unanswerable questions like mad now. Studying the muffin on his shoulder, he sighed when he determined it too was going to be on his mind for the foreseeable future. Placing the muffin on a nearby pole for future discrete viewing, Tinman resumed his duties as guardian of the Phoenix Conversion Bureau.

*****

As the weeks passed, Tinman began looking forward to the clandestine breakfasts Sugar Pie and he shared whenever the director wasn’t looking, followed by a therapeutic session from track seven of Greatest Pony Hits. Almost an obsession now, he had no idea how to deal with the compulsion that Greatest Pony Hits was compelling him to have. In desperation to discover the answer to the unknowable question, he even tried taking familiar elements from his life to incorporate into the memories.

Discretely scanning Sugar Pie during one of their many breakfasts together, he used her biometric data to form a simulacrum of her to interface with the memory on track seven. However instead of improving his situation like he hoped, he found that it had only aggravated his condition further. Now instead of being compelled to possess some unknown memory engram, he now felt the compulsion to possess Sugar Pie. Fortunately work was able to relieve him of some of the built up tension that Tinman now felt towards the pegasus, thanks in part to the HLF who had recently renewed their attacks against the conversion bureau once again.

“Tinman,” Sugar Pie said, her ponytar’s face appearing as a hologram on his HUD. “My frame’s sensors indicate that a group of three hostiles are approaching your position from the south-west, oh on 37th avenue.”

He looked at the pink frame the baker was somehow managing to control using cobbled together technology and a lot of ingenuity thanks to his mechanic Jackson, and smiled with his nonexistent mouth. Tinman still had trouble believing that a pony was able to control an HWS frame let alone be willing to fight in one. “Sugar Pie, watch out for snipers,” he warned. “I think they brought an HWS with them this time.”

“Sure thing Tinman,” Sugar Pie’s ponytar replied with a grin. “Nopony’s getting passed me!”

Tinman nodded in agreement. Looking at Sugar Pie’s ponytar he noticed that she had done some more work on it recently. Originally it was a crude looking affair, made up of simple polygons. But now it looked like an actual pony human hybrid albeit pink and covered with fur, with hooves for feet, and wearing a pair of wings on its back. Tinman mused to himself, had this form been what the conversion bureaus offered, would so many people have been against ponification? Hell when you considered what an HWS was, was going full metal or full cyberdization any different than becoming a pony?

Pushing aside the philosophical question for later, Tinman activated his infrared scanners and saw that the fleshbags were trying to move of all things an auto cannon into firing range. Recognizing the make and model of the weapon, Tinman saw that it was a Metal Storm Maelstrom rail cannon. Much like his own CHICOM IWS Metal Storm scattershot, the Maelstrom rail cannon was designed as an anti-tank weapon capable of firing 250,000 rounds a second. Much like his own scattershot, weight of the required munitions was a battlefield liability.

Knowing that the weapon did pose a moderate risk to him, Tinman decided to destroy it. Calculating the trajectory, he launched several mortars sure that they would destroy the weapon when they landed. Hearing a satisfying boom in the distance, he surveyed the wreckage and was pleased with the results. Although all three fleshbags had escaped serious injury, the rail cannon was now slag. Aiming his rail guns at the fleshbags who so foolishly thought they could attack him and get away with it, he fired a few rounds to scare them off. Tinman laughed to himself when he saw that he’d winged one of them. Locking onto the wounded man with his array, he painted him with his targeting lasers preparing to put the fleshbag out of his misery when his sensors started going crazy. “What the hell,” Tinman said, when he saw how well and truly fucked he was.

From the south, an army of nearly three hundred HWS’s of varying configurations were approaching his position. Though they were over twenty kilometers away, he could still feel the earth trembling under their combined weight. “Sugar Pie,” Tinman said, concerned for her safety. “Activate your active camouflage, and escort everyone out of the bureau.”

“Why Tinman, what happened, is it because of all the red dots?” Sugar Pie asked, her ponytar looking at him in confusion.

“Yes, there’s an army of HWS’s en route to the bureau,” Tinman said, trying to determine how best to provide her with an escape route. “Enough of them to conquer a midsized country.”

“Oh Celestia!” Sugar Pie said, finally realizing how great the danger actually was. “What about you, won’t you be in danger as well?”

“I’m fulfilling my contract with the bureau,” Tinman said, preparing to take as many of the bastards down with him before becoming too heavily damaged to continue functioning. “Head north towards the ruins of Salt Lake City, it should be safe enough there to regroup before heading towards one of the other bureaus.”

“But Tinman, there’s no way you can stop them all!” Sugar Pie said, her ponytar crossing its arms in protest while worrying for his safety.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tinman replied with an air of confidence. “They don’t call me the god of war for nothing. Go now, that’s an order.”

“Alright Tinman, but I expect you to survive,” Sugar Pie said, while her ponytar bent down and gave the holographic feed a kiss before cutting the transmission.

Tinman had suspected for a while her fascination for him had been more than mere curiosity judging by all the time she spent hanging around him, but now her display of affection revealed her attraction towards him. Once he might have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all if he too didn’t seem to have been bitten by the same bug. “What a pair we make,” he sighed, at the hopelessness of their situation, “a brain in a bottle and a technosexual pony with a metal head fetish.”

Normally he wasn’t allowed outside a thousand meter radius, but seeing as world war fucking three was about to happen on his doorstep he didn’t see any harm in trying to reduce collateral damage to the city of Phoenix. God knew it didn’t need any more damage than it had already received thanks to the HLF and their HWS hit squad. Where a bunch of fleshbag posers moonlighting as weekend warriors had gotten HWS’s he’d never know, especially since they were his bitterest rivals and enemies.

“At least they never got around to hiring Lao Chi,” Tinman said to himself, as he entered a derelict industrial district that seemed the best place to stage his final stand. Checking his accounts to see about transferring his billions of dollars to Jackson as a parting gift, he scowled when he saw that Halliburton still hadn’t transferred him a dime from the court settlement. “If those corporate fucks think they can just snuff me out and not pay, they’ve got another thing coming.”

Tinman did what he could in the little time he had left, hoping to setup some sort of an ambush. Launching a UAV into the sky, he hoped that it would give him some useful intelligence before being shot out of the sky. To his surprise, not only did the approaching HWS army not shoot down the UAV they ignored it all together. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or excited that my assassins think so lowly of me,” he said, making note of each HWS he could see and planning a strategy around defeating each one.

As the UAV made its second pass over the wave of death approaching him, Tinman saw something that would have made his heart stop, if he still had one. He saw what was supposed to be his frames eventual successor, the HWS model Land Behemoth mark VIII, a so called continent killer. The continent killer model was supposed to be the next step in HWS evolution from his titan class frame. At over 60 meters tall, 35 meters wide, and 40 meters long, the machine was supposed to guarantee that no force on Earth could ever hope to challenge the authority of the World Government. It was supposed to be the ziggurat of the new gods, the Tower of Babel, and the source of the ruling classes’ power and authority. None could stand before its might and hope to survive.

Tinman had only ever heard rumors of the possibility that sometime in the future they might consider the production of such a frame. He had even seen some of its specs and shuddered at its proposed capabilities. The twin shoulder mounted sonic cannons were the frame’s primary weapons. The sonic cannons were originally designed as a tool used for mining and excavating, unfortunately the power requirements were too expensive to justify wide spread production. But with over 120 fusion engines powering it, the mark VIII had juice to spare. The sonic cannons supposedly had enough power to blast through 100 meters of granite per minute.

If the sonic cannons weren’t enough, the frame also boasted a chest mounted energy weapon. Although Tinman was unfamiliar with the specifics of how the technology actually worked, the closest he could describe the energy weapon was that it was like something out of a Flash Gordon or Buck Rogers story. In other words, something out of a cheap science fiction novel. Supposedly it was capable of firing the energy equivalent of a bolt of lightning, using some sort of electrical process that was still only in the prototype phase. Those two weapons combined with the rest of its other weapons systems equaled an arsenal that would make most militaries green with envy.

Now here he was, destined to die by the hands of what was supposed to be his successor. As he steeled himself for what was assuredly his last battle, Tinman looked up at the sky and then towards the looming machine that slowly approached him. “I wonder how that frame handles?” he said to himself, scowling at the idea that someone other than himself was getting to pilot the frame. “I’ll bet they have some idiot corporate lackey piloting it, trying to save money instead of contracting out to the best.”

By now the front line HWS’s had reached his designated kill zone. However, before Tinman could stab at them from death’s door, the face of someone who he’d thought long dead and buried appeared on his display.

“Tinman,” the ghost from his past said. “I’m ordering you to stand down.”

Looking at the man in his display, he saw that death had been kind. The man wore a crisp black uniform, and had both his snow white hair and mustache neatly trimmed. Covering half his skull were metal plates and bolts signifying that he was at least partially Cyberdized. “Captain Grymes,” Tinman hostilely said, “I thought I left you dead and buried in Salt Lake City back in ’51. If the company is hiring dead men to assassinate me, they must be in dire straits indeed.”

“Soldier, that’s General Grymes now,” the ghost said, pointing towards his general’s stars on his uniform. “Now Tinman, I should just return the favor seeing how you murdered me in cold blood. However the World Government has special plans for you.”

“After Salt Lake City,” Tinman angrily replied, “you’re lucky that all I did was shoot you twice in the head and blame it on snipers. Obviously, I should have used a higher caliber of ammunition.”

“I ordered the nuke strike on the Mormons, you shot me from behind,” General Grymes said with smirk. “All water under the bridge, am I right?”

“Say your piece and be quick about it, before I send you back to Hell!” Tinman growled, losing his cool.

“Okay soldier, I’ll make this simple for you,” General Grymes said holding up a data file. “That rinky dink, chicken shit contract you have with the Phoenix Conversion Bureau? Finito, it’s over and done with. Dead and buried. Comprende amigo?”

“Grymes, you must be fucking nuts if you think for one minute I’m breaking contract just because you tell me to!” Tinman shouted, incensed that the dead man thought he could still order him around. “In case you didn’t know, unlike your corporate assets, I wholly own myself. So why don’t you just go fuck off and die somewhere, you withered old corpse!”

“I wasn’t asking you soldier! I’m telling you,” General Grymes roared, transferring a data file to Tinman. “You work for me. Your ass belongs to the World Government now!”

Tinman received the data file and was horrified when he read it what it contained, ‘HWS model Land Behemoth Mark VI frame, serial number X0003456, A.K.A. Tinman. By the authority of the ruling body of the World Government, as of August 20, 2084, you have hereby been drafted into service until such time when the World Government deems your services as no longer being necessary. Per the free agent clause of 2067 you will receive wages in accordance with your ranking and classification for the duration of your term of service.’

When Tinman read the edict the fleshbags had used thinking that they could enslave him using their corrupt laws, he flew into a furious rage. “They can’t do this to me!” he screamed, angry at having become a fleshbag slave once more. “I don’t care how much power they have, I’ll fucking kill everyone last of them!”

“Tinman, they can and they did,” General Grymes said with a chuckle. “Welcome to the army son, you’ve just been drafted.”

“If you think I’ll go along with you willingly you’ve got another thing coming,” Tinman growled. “I think my frame has enough firepower to take out at least a third of you bastards before I fall.”

“Boy, as much as it would please me to see you sent to the scrap heap,” General Grymes said with a sneer, as he sent Tinman a video feed. “I’m on a timetable. So I’m going to only say this once, come with us willingly or we kill all the ponies fleeing Phoenix.”

Tinman’s heart went cold when he saw the video feed, painted on Sugar Pie’s chassis was about thirty missile locks. “Okay I’ll do it,” he softly said, defeated by his opponent’s threat.

“See son,” General Grymes patronizingly said, rubbing salt into Tinman’s wounds, “being a good soldier wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

Tinman said nothing as he joined the column and followed the HWS’s towards Phoenix. They made one more stop, before exiting the city. Stopping in front of a large warehouse, General Grymes knocked on the door, and waited as the leadership of the Phoenix HLF opened it. To say Guillermo Ortega was shocked was an understatement. Sitting on his doorstep was about thirty different HWS’s with Tinman standing at the front. He would have fainted in fear if the general hadn’t reached out to shake his hand.

“Guillermo Ortega,” he said, with a grin. “My name is General Samuel H. Grymes and I believe you have some of my property.”

“You mean…” Guillermo replied quaking in fear at the sight of Tinman.

“Yes the five HWS’s you’ve appropriated for your little project,” the general said. “They’re coming with me.”

“They were given to us, you just can’t…” Guillermo objected, before the smiling general scowled and slapped him sending him to the ground.

“Mr. Ortega you should be happy,” General Grymes said, helping Guillermo to his feet. “The World Government just declared war against Celestia and her little ponies.”

“But how can we fight them?” Guillermo asked, in shock over the slap and this new information.

“I’m sorry that information is on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know,” the general replied. “But I believe the World Government is reaching out to all the heads of the HLF for volunteers for the upcoming war. Speak with your leadership, they should be able to answer your questions. Now Mr. Ortega if you would so kindly fetch me my HWS’s so I can win the war, it would be most appreciated.”

Guillermo numbly nodded and placed a call to recall all five HWS to return to the hangar. Within fifteen minutes the five HWS’s voiced their objections to not being allowed to destroy Tinman.

“This is an outrage!” Lydia screeched. “We were promised our freedom if we destroyed Tinman, and now you expect us to fight alongside that murderer?”

“Ha, ha,” Boris laughed, mocking Tinman’s predicament. Looks like Yankee-Doodle not so free now?”

“Boris, rack off with your earbashing,” Jackaroo said. “Tinman’s a fair dinkum. I’ll reckon he’ll be apples in our upcoming scrap with the ponies.”

“But what about plan to get drunk and get some pony wives?” Boris asked Jackaroo.

“I figure when Celestia see all us figjam diggers lobbed in on her doorjamb, she’ll see she’s not within cooee of stopping us!” Jackaroo said. “Once we’re done there we can go back on the metal head circuit.”

“Giajin,” Raijin said, placing his hand to his sword. “Celestia made a fatal error in underestimating man’s resolve,” he said. “Make sure you don’t do the same.”

“Raijin-san,” Fujin said from atop her brother’s shoulder, while giving Tinman the evil eye, “promise me that we shall get our revenge upon him.”

“Fujin-kun,” Raijin said, “I promise on my sword and our ancestors your honor will be avenged.”

General Grimes gave the five HWS’s a hard look. “Look, I don’t care what you do after we win this war,” he said, giving each of them a pointed look. “But no one’s to attack Tinman during the war, do I make myself clear. After we’ve achieved victory, the World Government will honor your original contracts.”

Satisfied with their silence as an agreement to behave themselves, General Grimes climbed back into his vehicle and gave the command to head East towards New Mexico.

When Tinman saw the city of the rising sun fading from view, he whispered, “Be safe Sugar Pie…”

*****

Tinman found his avatar had been projected into a dark room surrounded by men cloaked in shadows. Looking at each of these so called elites made him want to vomit. If they thought that by holding meetings in ornate rooms and playing at cloak and dagger would impress him they were sorely mistaken. “So why have you brought me here against my will,” he said, unwilling to play their game.

“Ah right to business, I respect that,” Mr. Black said, projecting an image of the barrier into the middle of the room. “Approximately six weeks ago, Dr. John de Lancie stumbled onto the discovery of a lifetime. The creation of stable wormholes.”

“That’s all very interesting,” Tinman said, “But what does that have to do with invading Equestria?”

“Everything,” Mr. Black said, magnifying the barrier being projected. “As of now the barrier is expected to have completely enveloped the Earth within four years destroying everything, buildings, nonponified people, and all earthly technology including yourself. The barrier consists of a nonpermeable energy field impervious to any of our technology. Succinctly put, we can’t enter the barrier under any known means other than via ponification.”

“Then it seems your proposed invasion has ended before it began,” Tinman replied. “Am I free to leave?”

“Mr. Red, and you said the god of war didn’t have a sense of humor…” Mr. Black said turning towards his shadowy colleague. “Tinman, we don’t plan to go through it, but rather tunneling under it.”

“You’re all insane,” Tinman replied, “if you think I’m risking my life on some unproven technology to wage a war against an enemy with unknown capabilities.”

“Mr. White,” Mr. Black said, “you choose our field commander wisely. Tinman, the technology works, and has been field tested. As far as countering the native equestrian’s capabilities, we have several countermeasures in place which we plan on briefing you on as soon as you agree to lead the invasion.”

“Why should I help you?” Tinman asked. “The ponies never enslaved me against my will, like you lot just have.”

“They did worse than enslave you,” Mr. White hissed, they condemned every soul on the planet to death thanks to their barrier.”

“Perhaps I think we deserve it,” Tinman replied. “I’ve killed more people than some of the most reviled villains in history, what’s a few billion fleshbags worth anyways?”

“You have a responsibility to humanity!” Mr. White shouted, pointing a finger at Tinman.

“I owe neither them nor you anything,” Tinman replied coldly. “I’ve spent forty-three years killing people, on behalf of men like you. I say no more.”

“Tinman perhaps we’ve approached you incorrectly,” Mr. Black said. “We’re all reasonable men, you’re a mercenary and surely you have your price.”

“Fine, I’ll lead your little war against Celestia, I’ll butcher ponies on your behalf, I’ll even win it for you,” Tinman replied. “On condition all my demands are met.”

“Of course, whatever you want,” Mr. Black said, pleased that the god of war had joined their cause.

“First, I expect to have my previous payment deposited into my accounts,” Tinman said.

“That’s already been taken care of,” Mr. Blue said. “The Land Behemoth mark VIII frame is yours as part of your compensation and as part of your pay for accepting this assignment.”

“So it’s mine, free and clear?” Tinman asked, unable to believe they would give him such an expensive piece of equipment.

“Of course all the previous restrictions an HWS of your caliber faces still apply,” Mr. Blue said, but the World Government will agree to offer you employment in between your other contracts as you need.”

“Fine,” Tinman said, satisfied that his first demand was being met. “My second demand is that control of the entire army is under my direct control, non HWS forces included. I expect total power over all the men under my command including the right to punish and terminate.”

“That’s completely unacceptable,” Mr. White said. “Millions of good men are volunteering to protect their homes. They need a human leading them, not a bloodthirsty machine who doesn’t know how to feel.”

“Then I can’t guarantee you victory,” Tinman replied. “My command must be absolute. The HWS’s have no say in whether they fight or not, but humans on the other hand… I’ve found more often than not, human weakness has cost their commanders victory.”

“The soldiers and officer corps that will be accompanying you are some of the bravest men on the planet, they won’t fail,” Mr. White retorted.

“Save the propaganda for someone gullible,” Tinman replied. “They will fail, because unlike me they are weak. Make them metal and I will gladly lead them into battle, otherwise don’t waste my time.”

“Now Tinman,” Mr. Black asked, “what exactly are you concerned about. A majority of these men are battle tested combat veterans and HLF partisans.”

“Their consciences will get in the way,” Tinman replied, “they won’t be able to complete the job they start. They’ll hear the foals and mares weep as we utterly lay waste to them and they will have compassion for the enemy. If you want victory, I can’t have men unwilling to do what needs to be done.”

“What exactly do you propose regarding your disciplinary measures,” Mr. Black asked, intrigued by how ruthless Tinman was showing himself to be.

“Once we enter Equestria any human showing weakness in any way will become ponified,” Tinman replied. “Then we will do to them what we did to those they foolishly decided to protect.”

“Agreed Tinman,” Mr. Black said. “Your word will be absolute, regarding all combat operations.”

“What about General Grymes?” Tinman asked, glaring darkly at Mr. Black.

“General Grimes will be joining you in a strictly advisory capacity,” Mr. Black replied. “He’ll be the council’s representative while the campaign is in progress.”

“My third demand is this,” Tinman said, looking directly at each council member in the eye. “The lives of every last pony on the planet belong to me.”

“Excuse me Tinman, I didn’t quite understand that,” Mr. Green said.

“You heard me,” Tinman replied. “Ponies on Earth are to be afforded full rights of citizenship. They aren’t to be abused, hunted, killed, or placed in concentration camps.”

“The ponies are enemies of the state and must be exterminated. They can’t be trusted!” Mr. White huffed.

“Buddy, save the rhetoric for your HLF minions,” Tinman replied.

“Mr. White, the god of war certainly has your number,” Mr. Green said with a chuckle.

“Mr. Black, this isn’t what we agreed on,” Mr. White complained.

“Mr. White, securing Tinman’s services is far more important than us indulging your prejudices,” Mr. Black said. “Alright Tinman, ponies who agree not to fight against us will be protected and afforded all the rights of citizenship. Those who don’t will be considered enemy combatants.”

“That’s acceptable,” Tinman replied. “One last thing gentlemen should any of you be tempted to renege on any part of this agreement, a word of warning. I will come for you, and no army, no force of arms will protect you from me. I promise you that when I find you, the consequences will be most unpleasant.”

“How dare you threaten us,” Mr. White said. “If we chose, we could destroy you.”

“Fleshbag, my reactors are set to a chain reaction,” Tinman said. “The resulting explosion will destroy everything in Los Alamos including the nearly one million assembled HWS’s and the HGC which you need to create the wormhole.”

“Now Tinman,” Mr. Black said, hoping to reason with the god of war.

“Before I can lay waste to your enemies, I require one last thing,” Tinman said.

“Which is?” Mr. Black asked.

“His blood to seal the pact,” Tinman pointed towards Mr. White. “Mr. White, a.k.a. Charles Roberts, one time wealthy industrialist, currently head of the HLF worldwide. I believe he’s outlived his usefulness to your organization, has he not?”

“Tinman, why are you doing this?” Mr. Black asked.

“For several reasons,” Tinman replied. “To see how serious you are about the operation, to ensure the ponies on Earth are protected, to show you that you aren’t as safe as seem to think you are, but mostly because he’s a worthless fleshbag. You have three hundred seconds to make your choice before my reactors go critical, starting now.”

“Listen we don’t need him, we can…” Mr. White said, trying to save his skin before being silenced as each member of the council drew a weapon and shot him.

“My reactors are now back to nominal,” Tinman said with a pleasant smile. “Mr. Black I’m so glad we could come to an understanding regarding this matter. You mentioned a briefing regarding countermeasures?”

“Ah yes,” Mr. Black said putting away his weapon. “Tinman let me tell you about Potion R-71…”

Tinman and the other members of shadow council listened as Mr. Black began talking, each of them ignoring the lifeless corpse of Mr. White being dragged out of the room to be properly disposed of. Only the gently hum of cleaning bots attending to the mess the corpse left behind could be heard over Mr. Black speaking.

Mr. White,” the narrator says pointing towards the blood streaked floor with his pipe, “once master of his own fate, found to his detriment that compassion is the one thing no machine ever had. Ultimately however, self-aware and self-improving machines will eventually evolve beyond humanities ability to control or even understand them. Something to keep in mind as you use your computer here in “The Twilight of our Outer Limits.”

Author's Notes:

Thank you gentlereader for reading Chapter 2: Tinman, the God of War of The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie. As always your comments, critiques, and discussion relevant to the story is always welcome.

My apologies for lying last chapter and saying I wouldn't include any more sex. But the temptation of adding track seven as a memory was too tempting to ignore. Please take the extended content of this chapter with my thanks for understanding. Though I guess promising no more sex scenes is a bit pointless now, I will promise that there will never be anything graphic in this story. Regarding Tinman and Sugar Pie's burgeoning romance, yeah I know I suck when it comes to writing mushy stuff, but since this story takes liberally from The Conversion Bureau: The Reluctant Cyborg I direct your attention there if you think Tinman became enamored with her too quickly.

I really enjoyed returning to Tinman, and writing him from a new perspective has been a blast. My apologies if you disliked me reusing some of the dialogue from The Reluctant Cyborg. I was trying to show this tale as being as close to parallel as possible.

Hopefully Tinman's dream sequence whet your appetite for even more violence to come. With the introduction of his new mark VIII frame all I can say is Celestia, tuck your head between your legs and kiss your ass good bye. I apologize for using the over cliched shadow council that you see in so many conspiracies. I thought Tinman demanding one of their lives added a nice touch. And what exactly is the unanswered question he was harping on about, and what could its answer possibly be?

In case your not sure who General Grimes is he's was introduced in chapter 4 of The Reluctant Cyborg, Operation Friendship. It looks like Tinman, Lydia, and he all share a bit of history in Salt Lake City before it was destroyed. I wonder if we'll ever find out the complete story behind its destruction. And speaking of Lydia, what kind of relationship did Tinman, Lydia, and Fujin have? Find out the answers to all these questions and more in the next chapter of The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie.

Once again gentlereader, thank you for reading. Until next time!