Perfect Tempo strode hand in hand with Ghost towards the facility's front gate. The ramshackle wall of sandbags, shipping containers, and scrap metal was mostly in ruins. Its defenders and those who manned the barricade were also either dead, dying, or in custody, their numbers lowered to only a few holdouts.

Thevetat and Harvest Moon dealt with these final few groups, while Platinum and her minion waited at the entrance. Behind them, all marched the clean-up crew, the human soldiers under Perfect Tempo’s command. Already these auxiliaries were working to clear the mines, tag and bag the dead, and generally scrape any evidence of what had occurred. They had much to do, but none in their number complained, moving hastily about their work, knowing full well the need to get things done as quickly as possible.

A finger pressed to Perfect Tempo’s ear keyed him into the command channel, allowing him to hear the flood of reports coming in. Operational security was holding, some hikers had been turned away, and some of Foxtrot’s reinforcements had been detained after a successful ambush. Locals were being distracted, a cover story about a dangerous toxic build-up was in the works, and no overhead traffic had been spotted.

Further, it seemed as though Sunset’s squad was on the attack, and had already begun to make headway on their mission. Containment squads were on standby, and a complete perimeter had just been established. Everything seemed to be going exactly as planned, though there was one line that struck him as slightly odd.

“Agent seventy-three is reporting an increase in chatter at the Lancaster Fields military base,” remarked the stiff, professional tone of the operator. “He has been unable to pin down the exact reason for the sudden spike in activity as the channels are outside of his classification range.”

“Are there any signs they are mobilizing?” Asked another voice, one Perfect Tempo recognized as another of the high-ranking members of his organization. “Troop movements, helicopter fueling, etc?”

“Not that he's been able to tell but he thinks that in Foxtrot’s desperation, he may have contacted the military higher-ups using his old connections,” replied the operator.

“Speculation will assist no one,” Perfect Tempo interrupted. “Get someone who can scry to remote view the base. I don't think Foxtrot would sink to such a level even given his state of mind, but we are dealing with a lot of unknowns here and I do not wish to be caught unaware.”

“Y-yes sir. Right away sir,” replied the operator.

A tap of his finger killed the line for the moment, allowing Perfect Tempo to refocus himself on the battlefield before him. The struggle for the walls was already over, but within the compound waited many more enemies eager to take their shot. Around him slowly formed the remains of his core group, the exiles that he called his oldest friends.

“You are worried,” Platinum stated simply.

“The Lancaster Fields military base is abnormally active,” Perfect Tempo replied.

“And?” Harvest Tempo offered.

Perfect Tempo sighed. “And I wish to end this debacle with Foxtrot quickly. His mental decline is unpleasant to witness.”

“No shit,” Thevetat stated. “First he was going to be your replacement for when we launched our attack on Celestia and now he’s gonna end up getting put down like a rabid dog.”

“That is a brutish manner of putting it but you are not wrong,” Platinum added.

“Oop likes like they are getting ready for a counterattack,” Thevetat exclaimed. “We should probably cut the chit-chat.”

“I-” Perfect Tempo paused, and extended his arms forward just as a distant boom shook the earth.

A massive tank shell hurtled at the group, though none save for Perfect Tempo moved, the man somehow managing to deflect the attack. A subtle twisting of his wrists and the bending of his arms redirected the projectile and sent it arcing off into the forest where it exploded harmlessly. Even Perfect Tempo’s suit was somehow undamaged, only smoking slightly as he stood there, a frown growing on his face.

“How irritating,” Perfect Tempo muttered.

Before anyone had a chance to say a word, the ever-implacable man surged forward, his eyes glinting with the ill-seen light of anger. Ahead of him were arranged the mustered forces intent on reclaiming the walls numbering around fifty or so. Mostly rank-and-file soldiers, light assault vehicles, and two soviet era heavy tanks rumbled towards them.

The soldiers took cover behind forgotten blocks of granite, various small buildings abandoned when the quarry had been left to rot, or rusting vehicles left behind by their owners. Perfect Tempo had no such cover, but he needed none, sprinting towards them with a speed far beyond human. As he moved only did his feet become a blur but so to did his hands, fingers plucking bullets out of the air as if they weren't moving at all.

Leaping over cover, Perfect Tempo threw the collected rounds with the force of a cannon shot, cutting down the small squad sheltered behind the pile of stone. No sooner had they been taken care of had Perfect Tempo leaped back into action, making a beeline for the nearest tank. Around him moved his closest allies, the menagerie of strange otherworldly creatures charging into battle using their unique abilities.

Though it gave Perfect Tempo a bit of pride to see them working so well together, he didn't glance their way for long. The barrel of the tank turned towards him, and within the vehicle itself he heard the telltale clunk of a shell being loaded. There was a second where Perfect Tempo knew he could have dodged or leaped out of the way but instead, he welcomed it.

The boom of the shell met his ears a second before the enormous projectile met his outstretched hands. In an instant Perfect Tempo became a flowing river of motion, diverting the attack around him while spinning with it. Before finally turning all the way around and throwing his arms out and allowing the shell’s momentum to carry it right back at the tank that had fired it.

The confused gunner barely had the time to contemplate what had happened before the armor-piercing round struck his tank. Hitting between the main body of the vehicle and the turret, their crew stood no chance at all and perished in the resulting fiery explosion. A split second later the ammo cooked off and a large eruption sent the entire turret high into the air alongside a flurry of shrapnel.

Perfect Tempo didn't slow for a moment, continuing to dash towards the nearest foes. These were located within a small outbuilding that had likely been an office. The repeated flash of automatic weapons fire could be seen from the structure’s windows, lighting up the area. A glance at his surroundings confirmed that he was the closest of his group, and so he shifted, aiming himself at the small group.

He cleared the distance in mere seconds, during which the panicked squad attempted to shoot him. Though they fired and aimed well, Perfect Tempo was fast, and utilizing the relatively limited fields of fire to leave him few rounds to dodge. Not like he couldn't avoid the attacks of all of them, but he knew from experience that he should always minimize risk even when it didn't seem necessary.

A kick blew the door off the hinges, and Perfect Tempo spun on the first soldier to find that they weren't even well-equipped. Given only an army surplus flak jacket, an old m16 model that hadn't been used since World War Two, and only two extra magazines he was in rough shape. The others present were in a similar state, the wide-eyed and terrified men and women looking up at him with panic in their eyes.

“How disappointing,” Perfect Tempo muttered.

“Shoot him, shoot-” was all the first man was able to utter before being struck in the chest hard enough to send him flying into the wall.

Perfect Tempo weaved around the incoming fire in such a way to ensure there was little chance they accidentally shot their downed companion. Jumping over a table, Perfect Tempo struck the woman before him in a double-fisted punch that landed square in her bread basket. A snap kick sent the side arm-wielding ally that came to his defense, sending him through an open window and out of the building entirely.

“I don't want to die like this,” exclaimed the last desperate combatant, gun hovering a few inches from the side of his head.

Perfect Tempo leaped towards him just as the weapon went off.

“You will not perish this day,” Perfect Tempo interrupted, the man holding the still-steaming bullet between his gloved fingers.

“I… but you…” stuttered the human.

“You’re friends yet live. Merely surrender to my forces and you will be treated well,” Perfect Tempo replied, tossing the spent round over his shoulder. “Unless of course, you still wish to fight.”

“No-no, no!” Yelled the man.

He then tossed his sidearm to the ground and raised his arms over his head.

“Good. Now do what you can for your companions. Their injuries are not life-threatening but you could make them more comfortable,” Perfect Tempo ordered.

“Y-yes sir,” murmured the soldier.

Perfect Tempo spared the terrified man a single glance, noting that he barely looked old enough to drink before shaking his head and departing.

“Hardly even seems sporting,” murmured the exiled Equestrian.

Jogging back out into the quarry he could see that the noose was closing around his enemy. The raised section of the qaurry that housed the main administration building spilled out a constant stream of soldiers. What few armored vehicles rolled down from above while gun emplacements opened up from the high ground, spraying a hail of bullets down on the attackers.

Meanwhile, his friends made up the bulk of the attacking force, soaking up the hits for the troops spilling in through the blasted gate. The humans under his command took positions as far from the fighting as possible, separating into small squads of only two to three. These snipers would require another few minutes to fully set up but one was already aiding Thevetat, covering his rear as he ripped the tore through a tank with his bare hands.

Perfect Tempo’s initial impulse was to lead his men upwards, towards the remaining buildings and fire positions. Yet a glance down into the quarry itself stopped that urge and drew his attention. There at the bottom stood a familiar man alongside two dozen or so soldiers and a few other white-robed scientists working on some kind of array.

It looked like a trap, heck it even smelled like a trap, but Perfect Tempo was confident. His people were winning, his army advancing and his foes were falling steadily, brushed aside by superior firepower. Even if Foxtrot had some kind of ace in the hole, or backup plan of some kind, it didn't seem like it would matter.

“Main squad, head into the quarry proper,” Perfect Tempo ordered finger to his ear. “Auxiliaries, continue encirclement and maintain your distance.”

Perfect Tempo didn't wait for the chorus of agreement he knew was coming to meet his ear. He tapped the line closed, and began running towards the downward slope which led into the quarry. The rest of his squad fell in around him, finishing whatever fight they had started before meeting him along the way.

Ghost was the first to arrive, the woman gliding in next to her partner as if skating across the ground. Her ice minions had been greatly reduced in number, with only thirty or so of the constructs remaining. These final inanimate soldiers were interspersed amongst the battlefield, while a majority were moving up the ramp towards the main holdout of enemies.

Platinum, still resting upon the shoulder of her undead minion rejoined the cadre halfway to the ramp. Her recently revived zombie soldiers were rapidly joining Ghost’s shock troops in their assault upward, drawing fire away from them. The necromancer was uninjured, though her hulking undead abomination had taken numerous hits and even lost the bottom half of an arm. That didn't seem to bother him though, as he continued to carry his weapon in a single hand, firing at his distant foes with a heavy chugging sound.

Thevetat and Harvest Moon were the last to meet them, the pair falling in on either flank. Both sported nicks, bruises, and very minor injuries, though it was only Thevetat who seemed annoyed. Harvest Moon meanwhile, wore a rare smirk on his usually unexpressive face.

“Don't pout my friend,” Harvest Moon called. “You were only three behind me.”

“It is still a failure,” Thevetat growled back.

“How about a double or nothing then? Whoever gets the last hit on Foxtrot wins,” Harvest Moon offered.

Perfect Tempo was tempted to stop them, to put an end to the little contest but the levity was pleasant. His foul mood lessened somewhat, and he continued to run down the sloping road leading to the bottom of the hill. Alongside him the others spread out, maintaining a similar speed as they marched next to their leader.

“Fine,” Thevetat finally replied. “But if neither of us get it we both lose.”

“Deal,” Harvest Moon exclaimed. “May the best man win.”

“Feh,” Platinum muttered. “Children.”

“If you want in on their bet, you need only ask,” Ghost prodded.

Platinum grumbled under her breath even while she wore the smallest of smiles on her face.

The group descended down into the quarry at a light jog, unhurried but not wasting time. While most of his cadre was focusing on the fight awaiting them below, Perfect Tempo was glancing up.

An order must have been given for the gun emplacements attached to the lip of the quarry not to aim down. Instead, they faced the ramp or out into the wider compound, none daring to fire upon Perfect Tempo and his small group. He wasn't sure if it was sheer practicality, or if they had truly grasped the uselessness of shooting at them but Perfect Tempo didn't care.

“You’ve strayed from your path,” called the familiar voice of Foxtrot. “But after I kill you I will turn the organization back to its true purpose.”

“And what would that purpose be? Killing teenagers and terrorizing school children?” Thevetat spat back, the dragon’s neck muscles bulging angrily.

“That was… regrettable,” Foxtrot muttered.

The man paused and gripped his head, nearly knocking the mirrored sunglasses he always wore. For a moment Perfect Tempo could have sworn he saw a swirling rainbow light spilling from Foxtrot’s eyes. Then it was gone, the man pushing his glasses back up his face and glancing towards the descending form of Perfect Tempo.

“A regrettable necessity but you said it yourself. These magical anomalies must be contained, and if necessary destroyed,” Foxtrot exclaimed. “You’ve seen firsthand the corrupting influence they have on the world. They are not to be treated lightly.”

“They are children, and furthermore the infectious magic has been expunged from them,” Perfect Tempo shouted.

“You’re the only infectious one left at this point,” Harvest Moon declared.

“I… You will not distract me from this,” Foxtrot retorted. “This is your last chance Perfect. Surrender the organization to me, and walk away. I promise this feud will end with that last act.”

“You are right about something. The feud will end,” Ghost stated simply.

Perfect Tempo stepped out onto the bottom level of the quarry. The space was very open, the area devoid of cover, and clocking in at nearly the size of a football field. At the midway point waited Foxtrot and his soldiers who numbered at an even twelve.

“I thought there were… No matter,” Perfect Tempo muttered to himself.

The soldiers were split into two groups of six, with one wearing heavier armor, and sporting large backpacks while the other had slim bodysuits and both a pistol as well as a sword. Perfect Tempo could sense that the group had magic on them but that was all he could tell. Something nearby was radiating such powerful energy that his usually acute senses couldn't pick up anything in specific.

“I take it you have not taken me up on my offer,” Foxtrot shouted. “A shame, I had hoped that-”

“Shut the hell up, you bastard,” Thevetat interrupted, peeling off a section of the Stoney ground and throwing it at Foxtrot.

The man didn't move, though one of his underlings did, with a more heavily armored woman stepping forward. Her backpack came alight and her body bulged obscenely as it doubled in mass in a split second. In the time it took for the stone to travel the distance, the soldier had become nearly three times as tall as she had been a moment earlier. Catching the nearly one-ton rock, she tossed it aside where it hit the ground with enough force to send shock waves through the quarry.

“Mainlining that much strength formula will kill them, you know that right?” Perfect Tempo half asked half stated, his lips curled into a disappointed snarl.

“They are ready to die for the cause. As am I,” Foxtrot retorted.

The man retrieved a large pistol sporting three large coils and unleashed a blast of concentrated electricity at Perfect Tempo. The shot went wide, with the well-dressed former pony weaving around it and breaking into a sprint. His friends did the same, matching their commander's pace while across from them, their foes did the same.

While the larger of the soldiers grew in size, the smaller ones began to glow, their eyes bleeding a crackling blue energy. Only Foxtrot did not become altered in any way, the man striding slower than his minions, pistol firing off shot after shot of lightning. The beams slashed across the opening, but found no weaknesses to exploit, either being deflected or dodged by Perfect Tempo and his companions.

Then, just as they were about to clash, a trio of canisters were shot down from on high, landing amidst Perfect Tempo and his group. Isolated by a plume of dark smoke, the last thing Perfect Tempo saw was the glowing eyes of three people charging at him.

Trusting that his friends could take care of themselves, Perfect Tempo came to an abrupt stop, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The smoke didn't bother him, and neither did the flurry of strikes that leaped out at him a moment later.

A powerful sweeping kick was leaped over, before he jerked his head to the right, avoiding a near point-blank pistol round. A stab to his leg found only air, with the well-dressed man side-stepping before lashing out in a blind, backward kick. The thud of foot meeting flesh confirmed the successful strike, but Perfect Tempo didn't celebrate the attack.

He could tell that three opponents were attacking him, two that were larger, and one that was fast. The larger of his foes attempted to approach him from either side, their heavy footfalls alerting Perfect Tempo to their presence. They didn't even get into position before Perfect Tempo slid between the legs, striking his attacker in the side of the knee with enough force to make a loud snapping noise.

Perfect Tempo leaped back into a stand and within the same movement, lashed out with his fist, intent on striking the large man in the base of the skull. The blow never landed, however, as a bolt of electricity forced him back at the last possible second, breaking off the attack. But Perfect Tempo maintained his ever-flowing momentum, weaving around the bolt before jumping into the air and kicking the large man in the face.

As his first enemy flew off into the smoke, dead before he hit the ground, Perfect Tempo used the impact to launch into a backflip, avoiding another pistol round. When Perfect Tempo hit the ground, he fell all the way down and lashed out with a sweep of his legs. The large, magically enhanced woman tripped over the limb, hitting the ground hard enough to create a smoke-dispersing shockwave.

Perfect Tempo charged forward, only to suddenly throw his torso backward, avoiding the sweep of a blade. The moment the weapon passed over him, his top half snapped forward, and Perfect Tempo brought his knee into the face of the large man rising from the ground. The impact was brutal, but the spinning roundhouse kick to the side of the head was even worse, shattering his helmet as well as his skull.

Landing in a roll, Perfect Tempo avoided the flurry of stabs and swipes launched his way before jumping several feet into the air and spreading his legs. A split second later a bolt of electricity shot under him, missing Perfect Tempo by millimeters and his remaining opponent by inches. The speedy soldier unloaded his pistol into the still airborne Perfect Tempo, confident that he couldn't dodge this.

Yet even without his feet on the ground, Perfect Tempo twisted deftly out of the way, dodging the bullets by the smallest of possible margins. When he landed once more, his arms lashed out, catching the thrusting blade, and pulling it out of his attacker’s hands. Then, before even the magically enhanced soldier had a chance to blink, the sword was returned to him pointed edge first.

He gurgled and grasped at his throat, but it was too late, the sword had nearly decapitated him and he had only a second or two left of life.

“You were… adequate,” Perfect Tempo remarked.

He then ducked into another dodge, avoiding a lightning strike fired his way by a cursing Foxtrot. Perfect Tempo turned towards the man and noted that the smoke had already begun to clear. A glance confirmed that his friends were still alive, though the same could not be said of the individuals who had attacked them.

Thevetat had taken a few hits in the process but the thick-skinned dragon was unhurt. Harvest Moon’s foes were the only ones left alive, though both were unconscious and sporting several broken bones. Those that had come up against Ghost were either frozen solid or bisected by a burst of magical ice. Those that Platinum had slain were still standing, though that was only due to the green necromantic energy spilling from their eyes.

“Give up,” Perfect Tempo stated, stepping forward. “You have nothing left.”

“I have enough to slay you,” Foxtrot retorted bitterly, tapping his ear. “Skip the rest of the start-up and activate the final failsafe.”

“What do you think it is? I got five bucks on it being a nuke,” Thevetat exclaimed.

“That would be unpleasant,” Harvest Moon retorted.

“Nah, it's gotta be something stupid like a weather control device,” Platinum offered.

“No it must be rock related,” Ghost countered. “Why else would he align himself with that old stallion?”

“A fair guess love,” Perfect Tempo agreed.

The earth shook violently, while overhead the sounds of a helicopter blade could be heard. As the world trembled, and rocks tumbled loose of their mooring, Foxtrot retrieved a device from his belt pocket.

“Good luck, Tempo,” Foxtrot growled, hovering his hand over the box of wires and blinking lights. “You are going to need it.”

“Not so fast you slimy fuck,” spat Thevetat as he heaved another hunk of stone at the man.

Once again Foxtrot avoided the attack at the last second, disappearing in a bright blue flash. Despite the earth shaking violently, Perfect Tempo could spot a second identical flash from further up. He also had a clear view of Foxtrot as the man tossed aside the spent device and began to stumble towards his remaining men.

“Fuck he got away again,” Thevetat growled.

“Worry not. Perfect has a plan. Or at least, I assume that's what that expression means,” Harvest Moon added.

“Sunset has finished her mission and is on her way topside. She will take care of Foxtrot,” Perfect Tempo stated. “We must take out Foxtrot’s Final Failsafe.”

“What even is… oh,” Thevetat muttered.

The dragon looked up to find that a good section of the upper quarry wall had begun to split apart to reveal an enormous humanoid creature made solely of stone. Though huge, it wasn't able to pull itself fully from the earth, leaving it as little more than two arms, a torso, and a head.

“Ready yourselves,” Perfect Tempo stated, rolling up his sleeves. “This is far from over.”

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