Manehattan's Lone Guardian

Chapters

A DOSage of Bad Medicine
Off the Deep End
Role Reversal
Like the Summer Sunshine
Heart of the Theater
Music and the Moon
Alexandrite
Crumbling Castle
Wake-Up Call
Giant Steps Are What You Take
Griffon the Benefit of a Doubt
Bull Session
The Head Games of a Foreigner
A Sunny and Gray Day
A Limitless Chest Of Tales
Putting the "Logy" in Psychology
The Reploid Nobody Knows
Letters With A Side of Mocha
Making the Most of Oneself
The Definition of Terror - Part 1
The Definition of Terror - Part 2
Bald Bull Needs Not Apply
A Running Gag Continues
Fairy Vs. Ghost
Winding Down
Priorities
Intro Stage: Warming Up
Sabotages Tin
Trifecta - Part Two
Trifecta - Part Three
Metallium
Canning the Criminality
1st Anniversary Chapter: One Possibility Out Of Many
Glintlock - Part One
Glintlock - Part Two
Glintlock - Part Three
Statuette - Part One
Statuette - Part Two
Rest and Reconcilation
All Alone in the Moonlight
Approaching a Crossroads, Unaware
Off Your Marks, Get Set, G_o_
Neither Created Nor Destroyed
The New Deep Sea Squadron Takes Shape
Curveball on the Outside Corner
Shine Aqua Illusion
2nd Anniversary Chapter: What If...
Overused Specter-centric Pun
The Calmest Waters Often Hide the Deepest Depths - Part One
The Calmest Waters Often Hide the Deepest Depths - Part Two
Diluted
Gray's Analogy
Buggin'
Calico, Fiver, and a Side of Vignettes - Day One
The Morale of the Story - Day Two
Day Three, Part One: Sky High
Day Three, Part Three: Illudere
Day Three, Part Four: Aftermath
Rejuvenated Vow
As Time Goes By
It's Only A Model (sssh)
Which Hazel?
Once More Into the Breach
Calico Driftwood
Bushwhacker - Part One
Bushwhacker - Part Two
Bushwhacker - Part Three
3rd Anniversary Chapter: Illudere's Canon-ade
Bastion and Iron Gates - Part One: Wooden Palisade
Bastion and Iron Gates - Part Two: Norman Keep
Luna, Won't You Cry For Me?
Ominous
The Sixth Dimension
Equestria's Destiny - Part One
Equestria's Destiny - Part Two
Caramel's Guide to Pedestal Breaking
From Omega to Alpha
A Chore In Itself
Thank You, Miss Exposition
Prismatic
Trifecta - Part One
Thank You, Miss Exposition - Part 2
Day Three, Part Two: Everybody Look What's Going Down
Bastion and Iron Gates - Part Three: Royal Castle

A DOSage of Bad Medicine

It had taken a little bit for Ebony to calm down from the experience, helped in no small part by her mother's patience and her not needing to go outside where that thing was to pick up what she'd thrown. She was flummoxed as to how her flyswatter and bandoleer had ended up outside the apartment door so quickly, and she was confused as to why whoever had left them there would run away instead of greeting her like anypony else would in that situation.

Her first thought was that a speedy pegasus had seen what happened and braved that monstrosity to return them to her, but she dismissed it in short order. Aside from her mother there were only two pegasi who lived in the building, and not only were they not particularly quick, but both of them would be out working at this time and probably wouldn't return early for anything short of the feather flu. The second was that her mother was playing a practical joke on her, but that too was thrown out the window. Her mother might be the playful sort, but she wasn't mean.

It was when both hypotheses were rejected that her mother dropped a bombshell... or in her case, a spray can under too much pressure.

"Wait, wait, wait, what?"

"Volume, dear. Volume."

"Oh, heh. Sorry. But seriously, it was moving on its own? You saw it?"

"Didn't I just say that I did?"

That confused Ebony more than anything. She might have been ferociously creeped out by mannequins--with that fear being a secondary reason behind her refusal to consider any sort of modeling career--but she retained enough common sense to know that they were entirely immobile, and could not move without outside help. She shivered as a mental image of a mannequin charging at her crossed her mind. "I c-can't say I'm on board with that idea..."

"It's not going to be coming after you. Don't you worry," her mother told her gently, giving her a quick hug. "Last I saw it, it was resting in a small shelter down in the alley." She let go and turned aside, rubbing her chin with a hoof. "I wonder if it knows that it can't stay there for long. Mortar & Son are supposed to be back in a few days to pick up their supplies."

Ebony gave her mom a weird look. "Why would it 'know' anything?" she asked. "It's not alive." Under her breath, she added: "Thank Celestia for that..."

A smile. "Just entertaining a flight of fancy. I've always wanted to see new and interesting creatures."

"If by 'new and interesting' you mean 'scary enough for a Royal Guard contingent'..." Ebony muttered. "But seriously, you need to stop jumping to conclusions like that. There's no way something like that could be called 'alive'."

Her mother sat down on the living room rug and gestured for Ebony to do the same. "If you think that, then you'll want to be settled in for this. Let me give you a pop quiz, Ebony. Of the fifty-two apartments in this building, how many of them are occupied?"

Being a social pony, Ebony had once made it her goal to become acquainted with all of the building's occupants. She knew the answer by heart. "Thirty. It used to be thirty-one before old Oak Stake had his heart attack last season."

The pegasus nodded, wincing at that reminder. She'd always liked that thestral, as he'd had no shortage of horror stories to tell. "And of those thirty... not counting ours would make that twenty-nine... how many of them are typically unoccupied during the afternoon for any reason?"

It took Ebony almost a full minute for her to proceed through the entire list. "All but two. One's recovering from hip surgery, and the other's a day sleeper. Everypony else is out working."

"Two for two so far, dear. Let's make it three for three: with the rest of the family elsewhere visiting your aunt, and no one who would know where we live being nearby at the time, who do you think it was that returned your things?"

Ebony started to say something, but her mouth froze in mid-motion. She looked off in the direction of the alley, one eye trembling, then back at her mother. "...You're kidding. The m-mannequin left them at the door?"

"Saw it happen with my own eyes." The pegasus gestured at them meaningfully. "And since you woke me up by screaming your fear of it right in its face, that would explain why it decided to flee afterward: to keep from scaring you half to death. Call it what you want, but I call it 'considerate'. If that's not a sign of being alive, then what is?"

Ebony recoiled at her mother's stern tone. She knew she got like that if she wanted to spell something out without sugarcoating it. "If it's a-alive, then why does it look... look like that?" she protested.

"I don't know," her mother admitted, voice softening back to normal. "I've met a few bipeds in my life, but nopony that looked like this."

A blink... "It's bipedal?"

...which was responded to with a nod. "It stood tall and straight on two legs. I think if it tried to jump too high in the hall, it could've gotten its head stuck in the ceiling." She waited for Ebony to stop snickering before continuing. "It was wearing clothing, too. Some sort of white bodysuit with boots, a jeweled helmet, and light armor. I didn't see a tail, and I don't know if it has a mane or not." She held up a hoof to forestall another protest. "And before you ask me how I know it was a bodysuit and not something like fiberglass, it was marred with damage front and back. I didn't need to get up close to know that it wasn't in good shape. What did it, I don't know."

Ebony's grin had extra "cha" added to it. "Is it wrong for me to be envious of your eyes, mom?"

The pegasus shrugged dismissively as she sat up. "We all get tunnel vision sometimes. Don't worry about it, dear."

Wasn't quite what I meant, but whatever. Eebon followed suit as she looked in the general direction of the alley indecisively. Proper manners would dictate that she go down to there, apologize to that thing for her outburst and thank it for returning her things, but the mental image of an abomination wasn't so easily shoved aside. Another shiver, this time one that went straight to her bones. "All the same, Mom, I think I'd j-just have another freakout if I went back there. The s-sooner it leaves, the better."

Her mother smiled. "I understand completely. Would it be alright if I thanked it on your behalf, though? It's only polite."

If Eebon's mom had been anypony else, the mare would have been worried for her safety. As things stood... "Sure. That would be great."

A quick nuzzle later, the pegasus was out the nearest window, her wings beating silently.

I feel ridiculous. Someone of my storied history and capabilities without a home of her own, hiding out in a box like a vagrant?

Privately, I used to think the same thing about Zero. The legendary Reploid from a century past was reduced to fighting for a pitiful rebel band that would've been erased several times over without his intervention. The difference is that at least he had the freedom to move about as he pleased: I've seen camera footage of him returning to areas he completed mission objectives in for the sake of collecting Cyber-Elves that he missed on his first visit. Me? I don't even have freedom of my own anymore. I have to wait until dark if I want to keep others from seeing me.

And there are few things I hate more than being covered with dust and dirt. I'd wanted to get that dealt with after Omega was destroyed, but being sent here put a temporary kabosh on that plan. Water and ice are my friends, and they help me relax. Grime does not.

To save energy, I put most of my functions in sleep mode and place my auto-repair at its lowest setting. Inexperienced Reploids would probably keep that system going at all times, but it still draws on the body's supply of Energen, a.k.a. E-crystals. I'd rather be damaged and active than whole and deactivated, and it's not going to be entirely useful without a capsule to accelerate the process anyway.

I leave just enough of my systems and processes alone to stare idly at the shelter's interior and think about what I've seen in the short time since I woke up on that rooftop, because there are already a few things I don't understand. The first one is the big one: ponies being able to speak human languages. That by itself is physically impossible, as their vocal structure does not allow for it... but those two advertising ponies were quite clearly talking to each other in a spoken tongue, even if I couldn't hear most of it. Too, that young one's scream was in an accent that would not have been out of place in Neo Arcadia.

If I wasn't so dead-set on getting back home, I'd find a library and see if I could discover just how ponies got to be in charge of the planet. And since I'm nothing resembling a bookworm, that should provide an idea of how curious I find all of this to be.

The other thing isn't as high up on the priority list, but still odd all the same. When I was hit with that flyswatter, there was a thick green glowing outline around it that my scanners didn't recognize. When I recovered it, the outline was gone.

Maybe ponies here have a way of controlling objects remotely? Since their hooves lack any sort of digits with which to grasp objects, it would make at least some sense. If it turns out that they are cyborgs, that would mean their tech base is higher than first impressions would indicate, which theoretically means that their sciences are far enough along to allow research into interdimensional travel... but shouldn't that mean that the real estate in this city would look much fancier? Or is the race as a whole just into these old-fashioned aesthetics?

Either my mind's a bit loopy due to Omega, it's obvious that I was not built to be an interior decorator, or both. I'll let those viewing my memories make the call.

I sigh quietly. It's a long way until dusk. My kingdom for someone to talk to so that I wouldn't have to keep talking to myself...

"Hi there, Miss Mannequin," a feminine, dry, and mildly raspy voice speaks into the empty air as an unexpected weight settles onto my legs just in front of my feet. Oval-shaped yellow eyes stare into mine. "How's tricks?"

I leap halfway up the building---or at least I would if I hadn't shut off my limbs! "GYAH! What in---?! Who are you? How did you get in here?" Was that my voice? That shriek's not appropriate for a warrior!

"So you can talk," the voice says, not answering my question. "Good to know. You are aware that if you need a place to stay, there are plenty of unoccupied rooms here, right?"

I take a few moments to calm myself down before speaking. "I'm not an idiot, pony. That would require money, and I don't have any. On me or otherwise. Unless you'd be willing to take me in?"

The voice rejects that offer firmly. "You scare my daughter just by existing. I'm not going to subject her to your presence if she doesn't want it."

Something about this doesn't make sense, and it's not me speaking to a pony and expecting a response. "And you're not scared of me, why?"

The voice actually laughs at this. "I'm a horror aficionado, Miss Mannequin. I've seen, read, or heard about a lot of strange stuff across my life. Personal experiences, stage plays, books, you name it. Being able to talk to you is making my heart race with excitement. Kind of hard to scare someone with an off-kilter fear factor!"

"...So I'm a monster from some cheap production," I grouse, glaring... at what, even I don't know. "Nice to know that my place in life is secure."

"You're saying that whoever built you was trying to make you approachable?" the voice asked. "Because I have to say that it would have the opposite effect. The entire city would be on edge in your presence, even if you didn't do anything to antagonize them. Not because it's any fault of yours, but because of how we're wired as a whole. Unless we're at least passingly familiar with a given species, we'd be perpetually walking on eggshells." The eyes stared down sheepishly. "Though I would like to clarify that the reason my daughter panicked is because of her phobia and not because of any biological fear, so..."

"I gathered that much," I reply curtly. I'm not approachable? I don't know how to feel about that. "So did you come down here just to shoot the breeze? I have had a stressful day, and I would like to get some rest before I move on."

The eyes regarded something outside the shelter before their source spoke to me. "Want to talk about it?"

I don't trust the pony just yet, particularly not after she'd scared me as a greeting. I told her as much.

"Fair enough," she answered. "I'll get to the real reason I'm here, then." Her tone of voice became much kinder. "My child wanted me to say 'thank you' for returning her belongings. And I wanted to say 'thank you' for being mindful of her fears when you did. That was very appreciated."

That was worthy of a smile. I think it's the gentlest one I've offered in years. "Glad to have done it. You're welcome."

There's a bit of pressure around my leg just below the knee, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. The eyes began to move away towards the alley, and I finally recognize their source as the pegasus I'd seen earlier---

"Hold on a second," I spoke, the pony stopping before she left the shelter. "Something I've been curious about since that flyswatter hit me. I'd seen an outline around it when it landed, but when I picked it up the outline was gone. Do you know what that's about?"

The pony shrugged, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that seems like she was incredulous. I'm not an expert on equine expressions. "Not seeing the big deal. It was just magic. My daughter's a unicorn. I thought you knew that already."

...

Magic... she's being completely... how the... that can't... WHAT THE ACTUAL---

The pegasus watched wide-eyed as the mannequin's face contorted a bit in thought. She jerked away as its eyes shot open and mouth hung open wide, its visage one of pure shock...

...just before it sagged, abruptly falling asleep with a high-pitched groan.

"Um, hello?" the concerned pegasus inquired, nudging it a few times. "You okay?" She waved a hoof in front of its face. "Um... Sapphire Shores is here, and she wants to give you an all-expenses-paid pass to the city's best hotel?"

No response. She might as well have been talking to an actual doll for all the progress she was making. "Huh. I didn't think it would take it that badly. Weird. Guess it really did have a long day." She shrugged. "I'll check back later and see if its woken up by then. Maybe then I can get some actual answers on what it is..." A happy smile. But for now, it's a nice day and I feel like spending it with one of my favorite children. Wonder if Ebony feels up to having an early dinner at the park?

And so it was that Gray Ghost--a name prospective criminals once dreaded during her tenure with the Manehattan Royal Police--happily flew back into the building to collect her foal, content in the knowledge that the "mannequin" was never going to be a true threat to her family and home... and knowing full well what she was to do if she was proven wrong.

Mortar was on a roll today. He and his son Pestle had been called upon for five different repair jobs during the day, and they'd finished them all in record time and with little fuss. He credited it to decent weather and being well-rested for once, allowing him to focus on the tasks at hand without being distracted. It was a far cry from how he felt just after the Summer Sun Celebration, the most recent event of its line having been hosted in Manehattan this year. That had been tiring.

The grass green Earth Pony with the tan-gray mane and tail had been working for decades, his darker-toned son joining him of his own initiative when he reached adulthood. Home repair and remodeling weren't easy occupations, but they were ones he'd always had a knack for, and the fact that they paid well was just a bonus. As the years went by and increasingly newer renovations had come to light in different fields, he'd come to the conclusion that knowing how to fix them if they broke was a good call on his part. As such he'd taken a few different courses at local schools over the years just to make sure that he knew what he was doing.

Something else he'd learned during his career was how to optimize his time spent working. If one assignment was close to another and he already had everything he needed to get started, then it would make more sense to move on to that one instead of making the trip back to his office first. So as he and his son hitched themselves up to their work-cart after finishing their fifth assignment, he took note of the familiar street they were on and turned slightly to face him. "We aren't more than a few blocks from the Hyacinth Apartments. Think anypony will complain if we stopped by to pick up our supplies early?"

"They would probably thank us for it," Pestle noted wryly. The both of them checked to make sure no one was in their path before they started on down the road at a decent clip. "We were a bit too careless just leaving them scattered around. Rolled up like that, the tarp's a real tripping hazard. I wouldn't blame them if they just chucked the thing into the dumpster themselves."

"In my defense I'd wanted to get everything done before we got ripped away from work," Mortar retorted in jest. "Your mother was insistent that we ate out at Macro's Pasta sometime, and I know better than to test her patience."

Pestle snorted to hide his smile. "That's no real excuse for disregarding common sense, Dad."

"I know, I know. Just have to remember to be a bit more careful next time..."

Mortar & Son trotted on, not knowing of the unintentional tribulation that awaited them in that alley.

Author's Note

The name "Mortar & Son" was actually taken from a Detroit-area business called "Father & Son" that I used to hear TV jingles for during the 1990s. I want to say they specialized in home repairs and the like, but it's been more than fourteen years since I last saw the ads for it, so don't quote me on that. "No job too big, no job too small. We're Father & Son, we do it all!" ...Yeah, I miss Michigan.

While typing out the meeting between Leviathan and Gray, I almost misspelled 'money' as 'monkey'. That gave me an amusing mental image of Leviathan handing a monkey to the building superintendent, followed by Bucky Katt from Get Fuzzy showing up and the situation getting entirely out of hand. My mind goes weird places when I'm tired, though strangely that's when I do my best work. :pinkiecrazy:

I don't actually think Leviathan's brain runs on MS-DOS. That was done entirely because I thought it was amusing and nothing more, so whatever error messages she was receiving before she crashed probably said something else entirely. :twilightsmile: Speaking of, those screenshots were created with the aid of DOSBox and Paint.Net.

(As a side note I grew up around DOS, so while I'm not an expert in its use, I know enough to get by.)

"Human Error - Think Again and Think Fast!" was based on a sound clip we had in 1994-95 that was put together using quotes from 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Maltese Falcon. Or at least I want to say it was "2001". I could be wrong on that--I wasn't paying attention when my dad downloaded the clip.

Those of you who follow the Batman mythos now know who I named Ebony's mother after. I'll shed a bit of light on her in my next Character Profile, whenever that is.

Macro's Pasta is named after the "Marco's Pizza" chain based up in Ohio. They used to have this one pizza I really liked as a kid called the Pepperoni Melt... aaaand I'm going to stop it right there before I start rambling.

I got this chapter done a little sooner than I expected, so I figured I'd go ahead and get it posted. I'll be taking a break from writing for a few days to focus on my videos, but I'll be getting back to the story soon enough. Ciao mein, and until then. >^_^<

Next Estimated Chapter Deadline: September 8th, 2021

Off the Deep End

Reboot completed. Defragmentation and diagnostics are in progress. Please do not run any other programs until the procedures are finished, or experience hindered physical ability for the duration. Thought processes active at 12% power. Baseline audio set active at 4% power.

Defragmentation 52% complete.

Well. That happened.

Magic, it...

Wow. I can't even try to think comprehensibly about it without feeling rattled. I just straight-up crashed. Better ease back a little.

It makes sense, in a weird mind-bending sort of way. Since time immemorial, civilization has used 'magic' as a catch-all term for anything that they feel lacks a scientific explanation. Even now, centuries after the advent of advanced robotics, stories about magical lands and creatures are still used to entertain human children and distract them from the terrible state that Earth is in.

But that pegasus's tone of voice implied that she was completely serious. She firmly believed that me getting hit in the face was due to 'magic'. I don't know if I'm ready to accept it as fact or not, seeing as how doing so would mean both that my hypothesis that they were cyborgs was incorrect, and that their tech base is as low as I was beginning to fear it was after all.

And if struggling to understand that 'magic' truly exists did this to my memory, then I am not eager to discover what full knowledge of its workings would do to my CPU.

On the other hand: assuming that it is real, that would mean that the residents here see it as a way of life, that it comes as naturally to them as breathing. Magic may as well be technology to them; inversely, something like one of Harpuia's energy blades would blow their minds just as easily as a flyswatter blew mine away. There are a couple avenues here that are worth exploring if the worst comes to pass.

But the trick is making sure that it doesn't. My goals have not changed: come nightfall, I absolutely must find a home base of sorts, suitable repair tools... and barring a cache of Energen spontaneously appearing somewhere, something I can use as a substitute fuel source. I'm starting to get a bit hungry.

For now, I'm immobile until my internal hardware finishes its work. The average combat reploid, be they Mutos or human-esque like myself, has at least twenty petabytes of storage space built-in and separated into anywhere from a hundred to a thousand partitions. This is necessary to accommodate our exclusive operating systems and subroutines, along with our assorted abilities and the precise programming required to execute them. That's without considering all the memories, experiences and knowledge that we would accumulate across our entire lives, plus the intricacies of our personalities.

And even processors as powerful as mine or my fellow Guardians' will take a little while when faced with something of that size.

My internal clock is switched off, so I'm unsure of what time it currently is. All of my external senses are disabled except for my hearing, and even that's limited to my immediate vicinity. There's no point to opening my eyes right now due to me not seeing anything yet, so I have to trust that I'm still in the shelter and that I haven't fallen out far enough to be visible from the sky. I'm hoping that no one wanders into the alley in the meantime.

...And if those voices that I'm hearing are proof of anything, it's that I really need to quit while I'm ahead.

Two of them, both male. If I'm any judge, one's a young adult and the other is on the verge of middle-age. I'll try to see if there's anything I can do to push my hearing back towards normal.

Baseline audio set active at 7% power. Further adjustments not recommended at the present time.

Sigh... That's going to have to do. Now then, let's hear what they're up to.

"...feels strange, Dad. Were the crates always arranged like that?"

"No, I had them all over here. Don't think they'd need to put them like this to get to the dumpster..."

"Weird. Maybe it's a case of OCD or something? You know, somepony just wants them set up a specific way?"

"Dunno. I'm not a doctor. Let's just get these loaded up. Pestle, could you grab that tarp?"

Oh, no. Please don't, please don't---

The tarp's rustling, dropping my hopes into the depths of the ocean. Sure enough, a moment later...

"Sweet mother of Celestia! Dad, you've got to see this!"

"...Well. You don't see something like this everyday. What in the world is this?"

'Sweet mother of Celestia'? Wonder exactly who it is they're referring to...

"I don't know. Looks a lot like a Timberwolf used it as a chew toy."

"Rather thoroughly. Take a look right here. Whatever did this ripped a gash right through a sheet of steel."

That's actually a ceratanium frame beneath my synthskin. Only the best for a "child" of X. ...Buuut, I'm not in a position to argue semantics.

"Looks weathered. It's been through a lot."

"Ain't that the truth. There's enough damage here that you can see inside of it."

Oh, sure. Announce it to everyone, why don't you? ...Well, they're still being reasonably quiet, so it's not like they're announcing it to everyone, but... again, semantics. It's not enough to have dust and dirt in my systems, but to have complete strangers finding out about it?

Defragmentation 72% complete.

Okay, okay, come on, hurry it up...

"Huh... not very discernible, but what I can see isn't making much sense."

"Wonder who'd make something like this, and why..."

"Some kind of arts and crafts project that went overboard, maybe?"

"Or it could be a prop for a stage show. Maybe someone here tried to donate this to that new horror theater that opened up, and it didn't work out. Take a look around the edge of this gash, Pestle."

"If that's meant to be a bloodstain, it's a pretty good facsimile, Dad. I almost thought it was real." A few sniffs. "Smells a bit funny, though."

Okay, two things. One, I have to wonder why the coolant we use closely resembles blood. At the very least, the auto-repair was able to seal the ruptured lines before X sent us after Omega, so I'm not a total mess. Two... horror theater? They think I'm a monster? Okay, I get that I'd be frightening to these ponies, but that's just insulting...

...wait a tic. My diagnostics just finished. Time to get a full picture of what I have going for me.

Current Power Output: 6% of capacity. Will not reach higher than 35% in current state. Please utilize your repair crew or capsule to regain full functionality.

Energen Levels: 26%. WARNING: Solar backup heavily damaged and unusable. Do not let Energen Levels drop below 5%, or risk long-term shutdown.

Structural Integrity: 62%. Ceratanium frame and synthskin have sustained widespread damage. Please utilize your repair crew or capsule to regain full functionality.

Auto-Repair Systems: 87%. Currently set to 1%.

Armor Integrity: 92%. Cursory damage to helmet and boots will not affect performance.

Motor Control: 73%. Debris in system are affecting speed, agility, and full range of movement. May become a liability if self is submerged in water. Please remove promptly.

Dash Thrusters: 100%. Systems nominal.

Coolant Levels: 83%. Please replenish at your earliest convenience.

Combat Capabilities: 40% overall. Please avoid combat if possible.

Ice Manipulation: 29%. Main system undamaged. Low efficiency due to self's subpar functionality.

Frost Javelin: 98%. Cursory damage will not affect usage. Systems nominal.

Armed Phenomenon: 0%. Offline due to low Energen levels, structural integrity, and power output.

Recommended Course of Action: Get repaired IMMEDIATELY.

...

Defragmentation 76% complete.

Makes sense to me. Our first fight with Omega ended poorly, and while I didn't take much more damage prior to my vaporization, continuing to fight in that condition didn't help at all. This should help me formulate a decent plan of action, provided that these two don't try anything funny---

"Think we should cover it with the tarp for the trip back?"

"Good idea, Pestle. Probably would unnerve anyone who doesn't have the full story." A quiet grunt. "Hn. Not quite as heavy as I was expecting."

Wha...! He's carrying me! Okay, I call foul! I did not ask for this!

...

Wait... he's carrying me? I wouldn't call myself 'bulky' by any stretch, but I'm no lightweight either. If that pegasus is any indication, these ponies aren't that much higher than my waist. Are they all that strong, or is this just a special case?

Fah. Distractions! Doesn't change anything, I'm still being manhandled like a box of rations! ...Ponyhandled? ...GRAAGH!

Yes, I know that technically they're not "threats", and this is probably far from being the pathetic world I called home, but it's the principle of the matter! One of X's Guardians and one of the world's best fighters is not supposed to be lugged around like trash!

Except... if my efforts to get home don't pan out, then... I'm not technically one of the Guardians anymore, am I?

Wow, Leviathan. Bottle that feeling and market it as a cure for drunkenness. Alcoholics the world over will love you.

I can hear the tarp rustle some more, and a very slight 'clunk' as the back of my helmet hits something. Guessing they've loaded me onto whatever they use for transportation, with the crates I used beside me. The sounds aren't metallic, more like...

"Got everything?"

"Sure do, Dad. Let's go."

...wooden. That's the sound of wood rolling against a paved road. Two ponies are towing what amounts to a cart, and they have the gall to think of this as 'transportation'. This is not raising my opinion of this world at all: it was obsolete before robotics kicked into high gear. Even a motor vehicle straight out of the 20th century would have been preferable... though if they're anything like the newer ones that I saw in Neo Arcadia's junkyards once, I suppose getting my seat to accommodate my helmet's fins would be a hassle.

Defragmentation 84% complete.

Yes, and it's not moving fast enough. I'd love more than anything to actually see what's happening, but if I tried activating my eyes while the defrag's in process, anything I'd see would be a full second behind what was actually happening. That's certainly not optimal.

...Optical?...

Shut up, girl. If you have time for bad jokes, you have time to figure a way out of this situation.

"So where to, Dad? Back to the office?"

"Let's swing by that horror theater first and speak to the management, see if somepony tried to bring this in. If they did and it was rejected, we'll keep it on hoof until we can get it donated to some art museum or other. Tout it as a work by 'An Unknown Artist', or something."

Some minor confusion. "I'm still wondering what you'd even call it."

"Not a clue, Pestle."

The ponies have fallen silent as they travel, leaving me with my thoughts. Living the rest of my existence as some sort of prop to scare others? That's an undignified end if there ever was one. Sorry, but I'm going to have to disappoint all of you.

Defragmentation 91% complete.

It's at this point that the younger of the ponies wonders something that I didn't get. "Huh. I wasn't aware that we were supposed to get any rain today. Dad, I don't suppose you heard anything about the weather schedule?"

"Blue Streak told me this morning that there was a storm in the works, but everything he said indicated that it wasn't until tomorrow." An irritated grunt, which I imagine is a few steps up from an annoyed grunt. "Wouldn't be the first time that the Manehattan weather team dropped the ball."

"How far are we from the theater?"

"Let's see... we're at 15th Street now. I can see it a few blocks down. We've got plenty of time before the clouds reach us."

'Weather team'? Are they talking about meteorologists? Or is it something similar to the weather control stations back at Neo Arcadia?

On a related note, what is the ecosystem like here? I wasn't paying a lot of attention, so I didn't see more than one or two trees poking out above the rooftops when I first arrived---...ugh, 12% is not enough for this deep a subject. I just know that if the environment is in ruins like it is back home, I'm going to have words for whatever idiots botched it up.

Again, assuming I'm stuck here.

The sounds of the cart's movements stop altogether, and I can hear the ponies leave it behind for the moment and walk through a door. Now's as good a time as any to leave... but that blasted defrag is still going. Trying to do that now while my senses are dulled would mean any number of things going terribly, horribly wrong.

But as soon as it finishes, I'm gone. No questions asked.

Defragmentation 97% complete.

"EEEEEEEEE!"

Okay, 7% volume was much too high for that. What is going on in there?

Mortar and Pestle winced at the noise that exited the proprietor's mouth. When they had gone in to inquire of the owner whether or not somepony had wanted to turn over something of the doll's description, they hadn't expected "crazed joy" to be her reaction.

"Burning Salamandra" was a fitting stage name for her. Her greeting to the two in the well-lit front lobby was calm and friendly, as if they were visiting a doctor's office instead of a theater dedicated to all things frightening. But when allowed to delve into her area of expertise, her passion for the arts blazed for all to see. It was very unsettling, and it caused her flaming-theater-mask Cutie Mark to pulse against her dull purple coat.

Both ponies regarded each other for a moment before returning to Salamandra. "So... is that a no?" Pestle asked.

"Are you kidding me?!" Salamandra all but shrieked. She pranced in place as she talked, a beaming grin stretching across her face. "I think I'd know if somepony had tried to donate something as beautiful as what you're describing! Coming up with something new to add to my repertoire almost as soon as 'The Lantern Named Jack' finishes its run?! That's a new record! Oh, I knew today was going to be a good day!"

Mortar shrugged minutely. "We'd planned on taking it to an art museum if you'd turned it down, but as long as you're happy about it, we might as well give it to you. We've got it sitting in our cart out front if you want to see it and judge for yourself."

"Do I?!" Salamandra settled down just enough to make sure the bracelets she wore around her front legs weren't going to slide off. "Got to make myself look presentable...!" She ran her hooves through her mane, making it look significantly more unkempt before clipping a black bow to the back of it. "There we go. Much better! Let's go, gentlecolts, let's go!"

...

"I'm telling you, Dad," Pestle muttered quietly. "All the ponies in this city are crazy."

"Think I'm starting to agree with you on that," Mortar quietly answered as they led the crazy unicorn out the door. "Though that little village outside of Canterlot gives this place a serious run for its money."

Not looking too promising. I just heard that door open, and there's a third set of hooves joining the two that went in. I'm making a guess right now that it's the building's owner wanting to check me out. I wish she didn't, but it's not looking like I have a choice.

Defragmentation 100% complete. View full report? (N)

There, finally. Thank you! My eyes open---

---just as the tarp is yanked off of me by one of the cart's drivers, filling my eyes with an influx of light. From none of it to all of it---! "KYAAA!"

Each pony present has different reactions to hearing me shriek. The two that had brought me here shout as I block off my vision; the younger one's tone is fully alarmed, while the elder's is more 'greatly surprised' than truly afraid. They are the ones that the pegasus had warned me about when she was talking about her species' biological reactions towards the unknown.

The third... is giggling. "Eeheeheeheehee~! You didn't tell me that it was capable of moving!" she declares. As my eyes start to adjust, she scrambles alongside the cart and rears up on her hind legs to get an up-close investigation. "So detailed! It looks so lifelike! This is a work of art!"

Her enthusiasm is off-putting. Never in my life have I heard anyone so genuinely happy. Not even Fefnir got like this whenever he got himself fired up over fighting Zero. I push away one of her hooves when it starts getting too investigative. "Don't touch the merchandise," I tell her sternly, blinking. I summon the Frost Javelin and hold it down at an angle, keeping her out of touching range while I get to my feet. "I don't have time to be caught up in whatever you want, so---"

"And speaking! A walking talking doll with its own weapon! Even better!" the pony squeals. A turquoise glow manifests around its horn, and a similar glow of the same color forms around me... just like the one I'd seen that young unicorn use on that flyswatter. I grimace, anticipating another shutdown, but this time my CPU simply refuses to rationalize what I'd seen and decides 'don't question it'. Of course, it's not like getting yanked over the side of the cart and deposited on the sidewalk is much more dignifying. "There aren't any wires controlling it anywhere, and I'm not seeing any magic at work! Fascinating!"

My eyes flick off to the side. The display is starting to attract a few passers-by, and I know before long there is going to be a crowd. The two ponies who'd transported me are keeping a safe distance from us both, which is probably for the best. "Stop. Touching. My face," I warn, pushing the pony back and reassuming a more vertical position. "I'm not joking, unicorn."

"Awww, why not? That sorry state you're in is adorable," the unicorn whines adorably... which is itself disturbing, because comparing her to that gray pegasus lets me determine that she is a full-grown adult. "I could definitely see you as a prop in my next stageplay."

No. "This 'sorry state' is because I was involved in something that endangered my life," I bite out, perhaps a bit more viciously than I'd intended. "Do not push me any further."

The pony tilts her head slightly. "You're certainly the most complex doll I've ever seen in my life," she speaks, not really paying attention to what I'd just said. Her smile, which had wavered when I'd pushed her away from my face, has returned in force. "What sort of pony would just throw something like you away, especially when you're ready-made for the theater? The design, the emotion! I absolutely must have you for my collection!"

No! "I said I'm not going in there!" I state emphatically, pointing the Javelin down at the pony and backing away a few steps while glaring at it. Some mysterious force is making my limbs quiver slightly. ...Is this what fear feels like? "I am not some thing to be seen as entertainment. I have my own existence, with my own thoughts and feelings. If you're going to take me, then you'll have to reduce me to pieces first!"

The unicorn's face lights up at that. Apparently, that is the wrong thing to say to someone who specializes in horror. "Now you're speaking my language!" she crows. She leaps at me in an arc that takes her over the Javelin and straight at my probably-surprised face. "Come to Sally!"

NO!

She's aiming to either tackle me or hug me, and neither is very appealing. With my bluff called, there's only one correct response to this: run. I dismiss the Javelin back to storage, duck beneath the unicorn as she flies over my head, and take off in the direction she had just jumped from, pushing myself and my dash thrusters as fast as my compromised motor controls will allow. I don't care about staying hidden anymore. I just want this crazy pony away from me.

Behind me, I hear 'Sally's' voice echoing in all directions almost as soon as she lands. "Come one, come all, horror fans and fiends! We've got a runner!" she calls as her hooves began beating down the sidewalk towards me.

Somewhere in the background, thunder rumbles. Closer still, the street rumbles as a handful of those ponies who'd been watching nearby decide to heed Sally's cry and gallop after me.

Apparently, this is my life now. Joy of joys...

...

"Dad?"

"Yes, Pestle?"

The younger pony's voice teetered on the edge of anxiety from what he had just seen. "I would like it very much if we went home right now and hope that we never see that thing again," he requested, eyes still wide.

Whether he was talking about the suddenly alive not-a-doll or the nightmare enthusiast was a question for the ages, but either way the father had no argument for that. The two of them quickly hitched themselves to their cart and took off for their office like windigos were nipping at their fetlocks.

Ebony and Gray were in the middle of enjoying BLTs and lemonade at the park---with the 'B' standing for 'begonia'---when they both twitched for different reasons. The former looked back at the thundercloud she could see being gathered in the distance, whereas the latter stared in a different direction entirely. "You hear that?" Ebony inquired.

"Yes," Gray answered, her voice having a strange tone. "It's a cry of horror and despair that speaks to the heart."

Ebony rolled her eyes. The filly had swapped her bandoleer for a pink "Momma's Filly" T-shirt, seeing no need to chase after bugs in their native environment. "Melodramatic much, Mom?"

"And yet it's appropriate for the situation at hoof." Gray blinked as she brought herself back to reality. "Though I think we were talking about entirely different things. Did you hear anypony say anything about rain today?"

"No, I didn't."

An irritated sigh. "Leave it to the weather team to ruin a completely nice day... come on, Ebony. Let's go home. If we're fast, we can get back before it starts storming." And maybe I can convince that mannequin to shelter indoors when we get back.

With nothing else to say, Gray tossed her cup into a recycling bin and raced off, toting her sandwich in her mouth. Ebony, choosing to carry her food with her magic instead, pushed herself to keep up as they sought to beat the weather. Just another one of these times where you can't tell what's going to happen next... she thought wryly, wondering what the remaining hours of the day had in store for them.

Author's Note

To those of you who've written fiction for this site before, how many of you took a while to get used to using terms like 'anypony' instead of 'anyone'? Just curious. Hopefully I didn't miss anything in this chapter.

The "Blue Streak" pegasus that Mortar was talking about was named after the Blue Streak rollercoaster at Cedar Point, Ohio. And before anyone asks: no, I've never actually been on it. Far as coasters go, my nerves never let me handle anything worse than the Gemini when I was still in a position to visit the place.

For those that have played the Zero games, has anyone noticed that a few of the Guardians apparently summon their weapons out of nowhere when they need them and make them disappear when they don't? This is especially telling in Fefnir's case, since he's only wielding one of his Knuckle Busters in his official artwork and it's big enough that it can't really be hidden on his person, and yet he pulls out a second one for his harder-hitting attacks. In Leviathan's case, her weapon turns white and disappears when she's defeated in her boss fights when it wouldn't have been too hard to have her holding it in her 'defeated' sprite.

...Though now that I think about, the same could be said for the Armed Phenomenons. Just where does all of that go when they're not using them? Ah, hammerspace. Don't you love it? :unsuresweetie:

Since I began I've been estimating 7-10 days in-between chapters, but I'm going to have to bump it up to 14 days for now. I'm due for a hospital visit in the near future, but I don't know yet when it's going to be (and the anesthetic they use leaves me a bit loopy the rest of the day). Between that and the prep, I don't know how well I'll be able to focus on my writing during that time, so... just to be safe. :applejackunsure:

Estimated Chapter Deadline: September 17th, 2021

--EDITED 1/14/2022: Corrected an error that was pointed out to me. Thank you.
--EDITED 11/6/2022: Made some minor grammatical changes, mostly making the narrative look more first-person than third-person.

Role Reversal

The storm front spanned most of the western sky, but Ebony and Gray returned to the Hyacinth Apartments ahead of the approaching rain. They halted outside the front door for a few moments to catch their breath. "I'm too out of shape," Gray groused around her dinner, panting a little, "if I'm letting a little jog wind me like that..."

"Aren't you the one who's always telling me not to eat while I talk?" Ebony reminded her, recovering from their run first. "And that was hardly a 'little' jog."

Gray obligingly took the sandwich out of her mouth. "Sorry... just lamenting my lost youth."

Ebony snorted softly. "'Lost youth' my Cutie Mark." She took a quick bite from her own meal before continuing, smiling playfully. "You don't look any older than that Countess what's-her-name. Seriously, Mom, what's your secret?"

"If I knew, I'd make a mint. Could you hold on to this for a moment?" Gray answered, gesturing for Ebony to carry her BLT in her magic. "I have to warn that mannequin of the incoming storm. I don't think that tarp's going to be enough to protect it from rain damage."

Ebony shivered violently enough to make her teeth chatter for a moment, but obligingly claimed her mom's meal as the pegasus ducked into the alley. She took a sip from her lemonade to calm herself down---

"Nightmare Moon's sweet sorry keister!"

---and almost spilled her drink across her face when an angry shout escaped the alley a moment later. "Um, Mom?" she called out tentatively, ears folded to the sides. "Language?"

Gray flew back out of the alley, looking anything but apologetic for that burst of pony profanity. "Mortar & Son were here ahead of time," she said, lips set in a frown as she landed. "The alley's empty. Nothing left in there but the dumpster, and nothing in there but the trash."

Ebony shivered again, this time at the thought of the mannequin being on the loose. "But... that would mean..."

"That the mannequin's out and about somewhere, yes," Gray finished for her, looking up and down the street as if hoping to spot it somewhere. "Assuming that it woke up while they were on their way back to their office, or..." Her eyes widened, a thought crossing her mind that Ebony wasn't privy to. "...On second thought, I have a hunch as to where it is. Remember that 'cry of horror and despair' I mentioned at the park?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"The Pyre's off in the direction I was looking." Gray turned her head off that way for the sake of illustration. "Sally's special talent lets her lure in like-minded ponies with the promise of fright, summoning them as easily as her puppets. Her latest performance ended its run pretty recently, and there's no way she could have come up with an entirely new show so soon, unless..."

Unless she has the mannequin, Ebony finished mentally, whimpering softly. "You're sure it's t-there?" she asked nervously. "Maybe the remodelers just took it back to their office without r-realizing it?"

Gray rejected that line of thought outright. "They're not blind, Ebony. Or stupid. They would have known something was strange about it immediately." She unfurled her wings, letting the apartment key that was concealed in one of them fall out; Ebony grabbed it with her magic before it hit the ground. "I'm going to see if I can run damage control. Go upstairs and stay there until I get back. Might want to keep a few towels handy, because there's no way I'll be back before it starts raining." She took flight, arrowing upwards.

"Mom, wait!" Ebony called after her. "What about your dinner?"

"Just put it in the fridge! I'll finish it when I get back!" Gray's reply dwindled in volume as she arced over the top of the building, not slowing down.

For a few moments, Ebony looked worriedly up at the place where her mother had vanished from view before shaking her head. "You really give new meaning to 'winging it', mom," she said as she entered the building, food in tow. I just hope that you don't get it in your head to bring it back here. I've already had one close call today. I don't need another.

So this is what it must have been like from the Resistance's point of view. I can't say I approve.

These ponies are persistent, especially that crazy unicorn that's leading the chase. The first chance she got, she tried to snare my foot with a tendril that wasn't there a few seconds before. A quick dash let me evade it, but then I had to make some fairly fancy acrobatics to avoid a series of flying lunges by the group's lone pegasus. I thought they were supposed to be afraid of the unknown? They sure aren't acting like it. If anything, it feels like they're making a game out of this.

Most likely that unicorn's work, even if I don't understand how she's doing it.

Counting "Sally" and the pegasus, I have ten ponies in pursuit. There are countless others all along the streets and looking out from the storefronts; some of them are gaping at the chase, not understanding what is going on, and most of the rest are either scared or getting that way. There's going to be a lot of panicking once that storm behind me catches up, I figure.

I risk a quick look behind me, deciding to make an attempt at calling off the chase. "Will you stop this already, please? I'm going to end up dying at this rate, so if I could live to see tomorrow, that would be great!"

One of the ponies seemed a bit disconcerted at this, slowing from a gallop to a trot, and finally to a walk. The rest of the group are undaunted, ignoring my pleas entirely as they leave him behind.

Energen Levels: 24%.

Grimacing at my general lack of success, I refocus on the path ahead. There aren't too many escape routes I can take, and even those I can use would still leave me to get accosted by that pegasus. Fighting back against them isn't an option: I might have been responsible for retiring numerous Reploids innocent and otherwise, but if I turned my Javelin on flesh-and-blood citizens who haven't done anything wrong, then I really would be considered a Maverick. While I can keep up this chase for a while, it's still an energy drain I can't afford.

And I refuse to contemplate trying to vanish into the sewers. Sorry, just... no.

But there isn't anything that keeps me from making this chase as fruitless as possible for my pursuers...

Summoning my weapon back to my hand and ignoring several gasps from the viewing audience, I channel a bit of power into it and tap the sidewalk with it in passing. A layer of ice rapidly forms across the ground, expanding for about two meters in all directions before coming to a stop.

As I correctly guess, none of my ground-bound chasers see that coming. "Sally" slips and skids on the ice, stumbling as she reaches the undisturbed pavement. She recovers and prepares to lash out with another tendril, but yelps as most of the other ponies collide into her and bowl her over, unable to recover their footing in time. The ball of equines crash into a lamppost, which brings their chase to a halt.

This maneuver handily reduces the number of pursuers to the pegasus alone. It's quick... definitely not Harpuia or Aztec Falcon quick, but fast and evasive all the same. One hundred miles per hour is nothing to scoff at, though happily my reflexes are still up to par in defending myself from its charges; to give Zero something resembling a good fight, they'd have to be. I try to avoid taking any direct hits from the pegasus, though: ceratanium frame or not, damage is still damage, and I don't want to make mine worse.

Shadows are encroaching on my field of view. A flash of light and a roar of thunder shake the air, and I can hear rain hitting everything close by in that direction. With the storm having arrived, the bulk of the onlookers decide to play it safe and retreat indoors. That still leaves a few of them out on the streets, and they're looking decidedly hostile. Best not make any moves towards them if I want them to stay out of this.

Normally I'd welcome an influx of rain, but as I was warned earlier, I still have substantial dust, dirt and debris clogging up space within my frame. Some of it was accumulated while I was sitting uselessly awaiting repairs that would never come, with more of it from the charge towards the abandoned lab that Zero was fighting Omega in. To say nothing of the lab itself. That place was a cesspool. Getting that stuff wet won't be doing my reflexes and mobility any favors, given the added weight.

The lightning, on the other hand... that might prove to be beneficial to me. I leap at the nearest building---a grocery store, if I'm any judge---with the intent of wall-jumping my way to new heights.

"Where are you going, dolly? Leaving so soon?"

I should have expected that "Sally" would have been too stubborn to quit just because of a little bit of ice. Another tendril has just coiled around my arm, yanking me off-balance in mid-air, and a split second's recognition lets me see that she's removed herself from the pile of ponies without issue. The pesky pegasus takes the cue and drives one of its hooves towards my gut; I place the Frost Javelin's shaft in its way just in time, but there is still enough force to smash me into the ground.

That strike wasn't anywhere near as damaging as what I've had to put up with in Neo Arcadia, but enough of them will add up over time. I flip back to my feet almost immediately---

"Whoa, dear!"

---and make another attempt at wall-jumping up the grocery store, this time dragging "Sally" along for the ride. I don't want her within range of what I intend to do, so as I scale the building I swing the Javelin one-handed through the tendril, severing and dissipating it. Magic, because of course. Don't think about it, just go.

I wince as the freed unicorn lands on her tailbone with a screechy "Yi!", but I can't spare the time and energy for any sympathy. As a smattering of rain drops begins pelting my helmet, the pegasus gets in close and directs strikes against my limbs to try and keep me from making any progress up the building. Foolish in most situations; had I been openly hostile, it wouldn't have lasted long. Pretty sure that the pegasus is taking full advantage of the fact that I'm trying not to be antagonistic.

Energen Levels: 23%.

It's not doing my patience any good, though, and I can see the other ponies finally recover from their collision and barrel on down toward me. It's mind-boggling; do they not care that they're in the middle of a storm? And just how durable are they to shrug off their crash? "Go..." I drop to the ground---coincidentally ducking beneath another swing from the pegasus---and stab the Frost Javelin straight down. "...AWAY!"

The Javelin plants itself in the sidewalk, blasting out a wave of iced-over dirt and cement in all directions. I see the ponies dodge by leaping over the attack as one, but at least it got them to back away at what I'd just done. "Sally", who is closer still, has the reflexes to smack away one particularly large fragment with one of those tendrils. The few bystanders in the attack's range have the foresight to get out of it before it can reach them.

But in my frustration, I'd forgotten about the pegasus. A single wingbeat takes it out of range of my attack, and I look up just in time to see it pivot in mid-air and deliver both of its back hooves to my face... "postage due", I think the expression is. The impact makes me stumble against one of the store's windows, cracking the glass with my helmet. Okay, that actually stung.

The pegasus hisses in what is likely mild pain and shakes one of its back hooves a little. I can hear those watching murmuring to themselves, but I'm ignoring them right now. "What kind of freaky thing are you? That felt like I was trying to buck through solid steel!"

"I don't see why I should tell you anything," I answer coldly as I dismiss the Javelin, one hand against my temple where the hooves had struck. I glance back behind me through the window, then face the ponies again. Was something trying to get my attention in that store? My HUD seems to think so, but first things first. "I've been trying to get you all to back off since this chase began. You haven't listened to a thing I've said, so why should I expect you to be willing to listen now?"

"GOTCHA NOW!" 'Sally' crows, taking another flying leap at my face.

Case in point! I cross my arms in front of my face to block, and as I do so I register the turquoise glow that surrounds my arms from the elbows forward...

"...?!"

And now I'm confronted with the reality that magic is a very dangerous thing to have. Both my arms have been forced down just far enough away from my face to prevent me from defending myself, much to my astonishment, and the unicorn's enthusiastic bound is met with zero resistance.

Kyahaha... 'Zero?' 'Resistance?' ... get it?

Self, just quit that already! It wasn't funny the first time!

...Anyway, if I hadn't braced myself before attempting to block, I'm certain I would have fallen over just now. These ponies are lighter than the average human to be sure, but momentum's quite the thing sometimes. And they're pretty strong, too: 'Sally's' legs are wrapped around my neck and torso, and they're taking some work to disentangle without physically harming her.

And I really wish that she would stop nuzzling my face. She's acting way too friendly towards what she thinks is a living work of art. I might have a high opinion of my appearance, but even I know that this is just wrong. "You ever hear of something called personal space?"

"Oh, sure," 'Sally' cheerfully answered. "I just don't feel that it applies here."

Energen Levels: 22%.

What. "Why? Because I'm not really 'alive', just some sort of puppet or doll? Because I'm obviously not having real thoughts and feelings?" I'm trying again to extricate the unicorn, using both my hands and forearms to pry her legs off of me... and now I have a pony holding on tight to my left arm like a monkey. Lovely. "You and I have different definitions of the term 'sentient'!" I turn to those that are just standing out in the rain like idiots, watching this all happen. "A little help here? This isn't a live performance!"

"And get near her? Or you?" one of the ponies answers, both too afraid to help but too curious to run. "As if! She's off her rocker, and Celestia knows what you are!"

There's that name again... "And I don't suppose you have any bright ideas?" I ask the pegasus who is still hovering close by. I had to close one eye to keep 'Sally's' mane from interfering with my optics.

"I got involved in this because I wanted to help her catch you," is said pegasus' reply. Odd; he actually seems a bit sheepish compared to his prior behavior. "Don't ask me why. It just seemed like a good idea at the ti---" He looks up, his eyes widening. "Take cover!"

As he shouts his warning and tears off across the street, with those nearest to us joining him, my systems are detecting all the pertinent warning signs. Prior to refocusing on combat, I'd worked with Harpuia---who would later become the Guardians' master of the skies---to help reclaim land for humans to live in. As such, while I can't harness any of it myself, I'm very familiar with the danger represented by high winds, heavy rain, and lightning. If the residents here are capable of predicting the precise location of where the next bolt is going to strike, something that we have yet to do back home, then that is as clear a sign as any that I have to act promptly.

And that means dislodging "Sally" from my arm through sheer force, or risk her becoming a casualty of high voltage. I channel every bit of strength I can afford to spare and throw my arm out to the side with a yell. The unicorn is flung away to my left with an indignant cry, and for a split second my peripheral vision spots a shadow moving to intercept.

I shut my eyes to protect my optics just before the world temporarily turns a bright blue-white.

Gray Ghost had caught up with the mannequin just in time to see Salamandra attach herself to the thing's face. Keeping a few other ponies between it and herself out of habit, she watched as...

I never did get its name, did I? Assuming it has one. ...Maybe I'll just call it 'Model Citizen' until I can learn what it is? That would be a nice dose of irony.

...'Model Citizen' struggled to remove the enthusiastic facehugger without hurting her. Another point in its favor, Gray mused as she let her eyes wander, taking in the damage that was done to the street while keeping one ear trained on the mannequin's 'discussion'. Most of a block away, a circular ice patch was in the middle of dissolving. Closer to the grocery store, a chunk of the sidewalk was straight-up scattered around the street in a multitude of pieces, each one glimmering with that same frozen sheen. Its first instinct when it comes to protecting itself isn't to hurt ponies. None of those close by look hurt---

"Take cover!" the pegasus who'd been talking to Model Citizen blurted out, catching Gray's attention just before he flew off towards the gathering. The earth ponies who were on the far side of the street rushed to obey.

Gray had wanted to be part of the city's Royal Police when she was growing up, not weather control, but she liked to think that those with an affinity for it knew what they were doing. And if what little she'd seen of Model Citizen fit any sort of pattern---

Sure enough, the mannequin forcibly flung Salamandra away from her across the road. Gray quickly calculated the trajectory, noticed the total lack of anything that would soften the theater owner's landing, and without any further thought she acted. As silently as her namesake, she shot forward and snagged her out of the air, delivering her to safety---

Two point three seconds after the order to take cover was made, a brilliant and particularly spectacular lightning bolt lanced down from the storm clouds above, striking Model Citizen directly. Those who were able to squeezed their eyes shut and jammed their hooves in their ears, the light and sound a consequence of being this close to ground zero.

It took a few seconds for those present to recover from the unexpected assault. Gray deposited a shivering Salamandra on the sidewalk under an awning and turned to see what happened to the mannequin, expecting to see it blasted apart from the lightning strike.

What she saw instead was Model Citizen still standing in the pose it had assumed when it had flung Salamandra aside, paying the rain sliding down off its form no mind. There was a sound akin to electrical crackling, but that faded to nothing after a couple moments more. There was absolutely no sign of damage beyond a black speck on its helmet where the lightning had struck, and even that gradually disappeared as the rain washed it away. There wasn't even a scorch mark, or any sign of the intense heat that lightning gave off. One by one, jaws dropped open until not a single one remained closed.

The mannequin stood up straight and brought one of its hands before its face, flexing its fingers as a pleased smile graced its lips. She brought the hand back to rest at her side before surveying both sides of the gathering. "Getting inside," Gray heard Model Citizen say in an appropriately dry tone, "would be a wise idea." Another lightning flash, this one off in the distance, punctuated her words.

This time the on-lookers obeyed, those who had nothing to do with the chase making tracks for home or otherwise seeking shelter. Most of those who had evidently joined in chasing after her did the same, apparently deciding that enough was enough. By the time everyone who was going to leave had done so, only four were left: Gray and the mannequin themselves, a visibly shaken Salamandra, and an ashamed-looking earth pony who was just now arriving at the scene.

Model Citizen folded its arms. "That goes for the rest of you, too," it... she stated in a tone that made it clear that she was not merely suggesting that they leave.

The earth pony regarded the ground for a second before getting his nerves about him. "Actually, Miss... Mrs.?..." he said with a tone of mild confusion.

The mannequin snorted quietly. Gray got the impression that she was imitating the sound instead of utilizing her nose, which made sense: still life didn't need to breathe. "'Miss' is fine. I've obviously never married."

The stallion chuckled at this before the situation settled back in. His speech was rife with hesitance. "I was wondering, Miss... if you could clarify what you said back there? You know, about dying?"

"'Dying'?" Gray mouthed, puzzled and just the slightest bit worried.

Model Citizen started to say something at this, but her hand went to her chin as she paused to think it over. Gray had just began to think about how pony-like a gesture that was when a reply was finally made. "Let's take care of that indoors. I can't imagine that being out in the storm like this is comfortable for any of you."

"Never mind us," Salamandra protested loud enough to be heard over the rain, her tone not as enthusiastic as Gray was used to hearing from her. "What about you?"

The mannequin's grin was easily compared to one Ebony once had when she received straight A's in school; it was wide enough that it could be seen from across the street. "'Sally'," she told the horror fanatic with a voice full of pride, "I was made for water." She turned and walked towards the grocery store's entrance, motioning for them to follow her. Gray was no expert in how bipeds walked, but it almost looked like she was strutting.

This show of arrogance vanished entirely as she approached the door, gestured at it... and smacked into it without so much as touching the handle. She stumbled back, looking for all the world like a confused puppy as she rubbed her nose. "Someone help me open this, please?"

Beat.

"...I take it back," Salamandra deadpanned, eyes half-closed. "I don't want it for the theater anymore."

"Yeah, I think the No Takebacks Accord has an allowance for this," Gray told her in the same tone. "And if there isn't one, we'll make one. Come on, let's go."

As she galloped across the street with Salamandra close behind, Gray's curiosity was at its peak. Ice manipulation? Lightning immunity? Completely out of the loop with concepts as basic as magic and door handles?

There was a story behind all of that, and she was going to hear it.

Author's Note

The music for this chapter is Disco Dan's "Hot Pursuit in the Lost City of Wily", for those that didn't click the link.

That door's not an automatic, Leviathan. This isn't the future. :derpyderp1:

What Gray and Ebony call a "fridge" would more accurately be called an "icebox" by today's terminology, something that was common at the start of the 20th century. Considering the anachronism stew that is Equestria, I felt it wouldn't be too out of place.

Physically speaking, Leviathan's actually rather strong. One of her attacks in the Zero games involves her trying to smack you with her Javelin if you get too close, and if it hits it sends you halfway across the screen. With the caveat that all the fights with her take place underwater, with everything that entails, you can imagine how much strength that would require.

The elemental triangle present in those games is a bit funny. You'd expect her to take increased damage from electricity and lightning, but nope; having an ice affinity, Leviathan's instead weak to fire. Electrical attacks? She's straight up immune. Don't ask me how any of that makes sense, because again: underwater boss battles. And you'd think that she'd become susceptible to it the more damage she took from other sources, but nope. Video game logic, y'all! :rainbowhuh:

Of course, Equestria logic is no less weird, but eh... details. It's as I like to say: when in doubt, slam the oven door and join the party. :pinkiesmile:

I probably could have gone on longer with this, but I would like to keep chapters between 3-5K if possible. The conversation that will ensue between the four of them would push it over the limit, and I'd prefer not to do that unless there's a good reason for it.

Still haven't heard anything yet from the doctor's office about when my appointment's supposed to be, so I'm sticking to the two-weeks-per-chapter schedule for now.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: September 27, 2021

Like the Summer Sunshine

That was embarrassing.

After that showy display of my defensive capabilities paired with a simple boast about my aquatic nature, I'm brought back down to earth by a basic door. I can only imagine what's going through these ponies' heads after that little debacle.

I can't even say it was anything but my fault. Few, if any, in Neo Arcadia are foolish enough to believe that doors have always opened either automatically or with a button press. The problem lies with the fact that how people passed between rooms centuries ago is a mystery. As with so many things in the world, the wars of ages past have erased libraries, museums, and archives alike. Knowledge of anything that existed before robots gained sentience, of dozens upon hundreds of things that the world once took for granted, is long gone.

And here I was, acting like a know-it-all and assuming that the door was going to open just because I was right in front of it. Master X must be spinning in Cyberspace right now.

Doorknobs... so basic in design, and yet so ingenius. Just turn it to the left or right, and it undoes a latch that keeps the door from swinging open. At that point it's just a matter of pushing or pulling on it depending on how the hinges are set. I shouldn't be so fascinated by this when I have much bigger things to worry about, but I can't help myself. I'm getting a glimpse of the distant past! Human or reploid, how many people back home can say that with a straight face?

Maybe when I get home, I can set one of these up to prank Harpuia. I respect him for his combat prowess and commitment towards keeping Neo Arcadia's humans safe, but the pretty boy really needs to develop a sense of humor. There's nothing wrong with smiling and laughing now and then, is there?

...Well, I guess there is if you're being laughed at instead of with. The workings of these doors is common knowledge to these ponies, and neither of these three that I'm with seem to know what to make of my lapse in judgement. One of those that are working the... um... "Miss pegasus, what were those things they were working with up front?"

"Cash registers. Why? You're confused about them too, right?"

Stop looking at me like that. When literally everyone has a card and a scanner for purchasing goods and services, what use do you have for coins and storage devices thereof?

Back on topic, one of those ponies working the registers had been watching the confrontation out the window. I can think of no other logical explanation for why he'd started laughing when I'd walked into the door. On the plus side, they're not going to see me as a threat if I keep doing things like that. On the other hand, I'd feel much better if I wasn't turning myself into a source of mockery and humiliation.

So to summarize what we'd been doing, the pegasus I'd spoken to in that alley showed me how to open the door, and the four of us entered the store... sopping wet. In my case it was no big deal, but the other three were getting water all over the floor and making a mess (the pegasus looked like she was about to shake, but the others stopped her in time). The store manager quickly pointed us to a back room where we wouldn't get in anyone's way and cause a disturbance, and the ponies were allowed to dry off and warm up.

There were some customers in the store, primarily young-to-middle-aged adults, and they were wary of me almost immediately. Strangely, when they saw who was escorting me, they gave the pegasus a respectful look and left us alone as we walked towards the back. It's mostly due to mild curiosity since she seemed more quirky than authoritative, but I have to wonder if she's in any position of power in this city and I just got her on her day off.

Assuming they have days off here. Keeping humanity safe from Mavericks was a full-time job for me.

Current Power Output: 35% of capacity. Will not reach higher than 35% in current state.

Motor Control: 68%. Water-saturated debris in system are effecting speed, agility, and full range of movement. Please remove promptly.

Energen Levels: 20%. Danger: estimate five hours before shutdown.

While the ponies were getting dried off, I did a quick scan of my systems to see how the lightning strike had effected them. As expected, it had been far more beneficial than harmful: power is flowing through my body more efficiently now, though until my generators are fully repaired they won't be able to operate at their maximum. It's starting to look more and more like I'm going to have to rely on my auto-repair systems to keep myself going, given what I've seen of the ponies' tech base from this shop alone.

As expected, the rain that seeped past my damaged frame sank into the grime within, adding a little extra weight... not much, but enough to throw off my timing to an extent. I have an idea as to how to deal with this, but it's going to have to wait until I'm positive that I have the ponies' approval. As much as I hate hate hate having that stuff stuck inside me, removing it isn't something that I can do without help.

My Energen levels are much more worrying. The warning I received told me that I have less time to resolve this issue than I'd first estimated. There's an object of interest that my HUD's been trying to point out to me since before the lightning, so I might---and I can't emphasize that word enough---be able to lengthen my operational lifespan, but again that's contingent on getting the ponies' approval. If it's something that's sold right here at the store, then I'm going to have to hope that they're willing to buy it for me.

'Sally' and the third pony, the latter not possessing wings or a horn, were satisfied with the state of their coats and discarded the towels they were using, sitting up straight. The pegasus decided instead to rest on her stomach, wrapped up in a towel a size too large for her with only her muzzle and face visible. There's a subroutine somewhere that's trying to get me to squeal about how cute that is, requiring me to squash it with all the force it deserves. "Well, then," I say, bringing myself down to eye level with them and sitting on the floor cross-legged. "If we're going to officially introduce ourselves, let's get it out of the way now. I don't have much time."

The three of them are looking at each other, trying to will each other into speaking up first. The male of the group is the first to fold, and he speaks up with a sigh and a shrug. "Name's Turkey Bowl. I make my living as a member of the Equestria Bowling League. I... guess it's nice to meet you, in light of the circumstances."

...And he just said all of that with a completely straight face. I'll take that at face value for now, but still... 'Turkey Bowl'? "How about you?" I inquire of the crazy unicorn.

"The masses call me Flaming Salamandra! Head of horror, master of marionettes, and president of peril!" she declares bombastically, almost blowing out my hearing. Thankfully she retains enough sense to dial it down for the rest of her introduction. "But you can call me Drama Heart. No hard feelings?"

"Gray Ghost," the pegasus greets me with a humble smile. "Just a housewife and proud mother of four."

You showed up out of nowhere, scared me half to death, and your speed would impress Harpuia. If you're just a housewife, then I'm just a factory model. "I see... and 'Equestria'?" I ask Turkey Bowl.

"You don't even know what Equestria is?" the pony asks, incredulous.

"I'm an outsider. Assume I've never heard the term before," I tell him, "because I haven't."

"Just how 'outside' are we talking here?" Drama Heart asks. "Griffonstone? Yakyakistan? Saddle Arabia? Abyssinia?"

"Ditto for those places, wherever they are."

The ponies are starting to look disconcerted. "How long have you been alive," Gray wonders, "that you don't know things that most ponies would find incredibly basic?"

"In its defense, I've never heard of Abyssinia either," Turkey Bowl states. "Sounds made-up."

"I can assure you, Abyssinia is very much real," Drama Heart corrects him. "Take a housecat, make it talk and stand on two legs, and have it taller than the average pony. That's what an Abyssinian looks like. Mind you, I only know this because I've seen artists' renderings of them, but all the same their homeland exists."

I decide to cut in before the discussion spirals out of control. "But to answer the sneaky cat's question, I've been in operation at least thirty years. I can't give you the exact date I was activated. My memories of that day are spotty at best, and when you're doing effectively the same things day after day for years, time passes quickly."

"And those things would be...?" Gray asks as the other two frown.

"Helping to clean the world's waters, making land devastated by years of war liveable again, and---eventually---protecting those that live on it from the depredations of criminals and terrorists," I tell them bluntly.

I don't need perfect vision to tell that this is confusing them. "Wh... why would you need to do those things?" Turkey Bowl wonders, concerned. "If the rest of the world were that bad, shouldn't we have heard at least something about it?"

I take a quick second to think of a reply before turning my lips into a chilling smile. "Nice choice of words there. 'The world'. That implies that yours is the only one out there."

Credit to these ponies: they're not idiots. Drama Heart's expression in particular is especially gobsmacked. "You... you're an alien?"

I consider the question for a bit before shrugging and giving them the abridged version of my journey here. "You're not too far off the mark. I was trying to protect an..." I frown as I consider the right word to describe Zero. No, not the term 'murder-crush', I don't care how accurate that is. More like... there we go. "...an ally from a violent explosion. Everything I saw and knew turned white." My eyes flick towards Gray. "When I'd gotten all my senses about me, I was on a rooftop next to yours."

"...Tartarus," Gray whispers, eyes wide. A curse of some kind, I'm guessing. "You're no mannequin or doll. Just who or what are you?"

I sigh, or at least do a good job of effecting it. "People will do anything to distract themselves from their problems. In an age where the situation could be both a hundred times worse and a thousand times better, there are still stories floating around. You probably know the type: someone gets snatched from his/her home and dropped in a land far away, and they have to either shape up or ship out before it's too late."

Both Gray and Heart nod at this, though I don't acknowledge them out loud. "That's effectively what has happened to me. This land of Equestria is as completely alien to me as I am to any of you. If I can't find some way to return home then I'll have to adapt to its environs for the long haul, but... my time and options are running out as I speak. The pick-me-up I got from that lightning strike isn't going to last forever, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm getting desperate."

I shift positions so that I'm kneeling instead of sitting, my head bowed towards the floor with my eyes closed. It's a bit condescending, but I don't care right now: this needs appropriate gravitas. "Permit me the dignity of an introduction, little ponies. I am a Reploid, a living machine of metal and coolant instead of flesh and blood. My name is Fairy Leviathan, one of Neo Arcadia's Four Guardians and commander of the Deep Sea Squadron, and I will gladly accept your help if you have any to offer."

Total silence. "...Though I will answer to just 'Fairy' if you think 'Leviathan' is too off-putting," I quip, opening one eye to scan the ponies' expressions.

The room's quiet for a bit longer. "...I woke up this morning to prepare for a bowling tournament," Turkey Bowl utters, stunned. "I did not expect this."

"I was going to brainstorm new ideas, maybe do some upkeep on my stage," Drama Heart added in the same tone.

"I was just going to sleep," Gray says happily. I'm not getting why she looks cheerful so quickly after she'd wondered who I was. I know, she said she doesn't scare easily, but still.

The others ignore her pleased proclamation, with Turkey Bowl being the one to speak what was on his mind. "So... you said something about a squadron. You're in your military?"

I shrug. "Essentially, but my rank's not going to mean anything here, so don't concern yourself with it. Far as I know, I'm the only one of us here."

"Whew. Good." His voice is filled with relief. "I was worried that there were more of you here, running around and making trouble for everypony. The last thing we need around here is a little chaos."

'Everypony'? I choose to stay quiet at that. My own questions can wait.

Drama Heart's recovered and getting up close again. I flinch when she does, because I seriously don't like the idea of her nuzzling me again. She stops shy of touching me, though, seeming more intent on my wounds. "These look completely messed up. I thought this was blood when I first saw it, but you said this was... coolant?" I nod as she continues talking. "These gashes and dents along your side here... what in Equestria caused them? ... Well, not Equestria but that Neo place, any... ugh." She throws up her hooves, exasparated. "You know what I mean!"

I wave off her blunder, readjusting from kneeling to sitting. "I hope you're settled in, because this might be hard to digest. A few weeks ago, my fellow Guardians and I were investigating a spaceship that crashed far outside the city limits..."

Twelve minutes after I started, the ponies are looking as if they were told the story of a lifetime. I'd explained everything that happened from my perspective, barring unneeded details: the first encounter with Omega and subsequent thrashing, being left alone with Fefnir in some room without either of us receiving any repairs, the unexpected meeting with Phantom and the true X while on the edge of unconsciousness, reuniting with Harpuia, and the explosion that enveloped us at the abandoned laboratory. I topped it off with my brief experience at what Gray called the Hyacinth Apartments.

"...so the unicorn screamed 'Mannequin' right in my face, threw her stuff at me, and took off for home." I nod in satisfaction and fold my arms. "Everything since, you already know."

The silence this time was deafening. And I mean that seriously. You're not supposed to hear silence, since it's the lack of noise by definition. It was so quiet that things I would normally tune out, such as the extraordinarily soft humming of my CPU, my auto-repair function and the circulation of coolant throughout my body, were registering as several decibels to my metaphorical ears. It's the first time that I've ever experienced this phenomenon to its fullest extent.

Gray finally breaks the silence with an awkward smile and just as ungainly words. "Heh... now I don't feel so bad about not buying the latest issue of 'Power Ponies' for Ebony. Your story more than makes up for it."

"You believe me, then?" I ask, hiding my hopefulness.

Gray and Drama Heart both nod slowly, probably because they're still having trouble swallowing this but haven't seen anything that would call things into question. "There's still one thing, Fairy," Turkey Bowl says, on the other hand. "You never explained what you meant when you said you were dying."

Finally hitting the more important topics. Good. "There's a specific crystal type back home called 'Energen'," I tell him, deciding to keep quiet about its role in Neo Arcadia's energy crisis. "It's basically food for Reploids. Just a handful of it completely refills my internal stores plus extra, keeping me going for close to a month before I'd need to eat more. On the flip side, if I go too long without having any, then there's nothing to keep my power generators or auto-repair system working. Everything would shut down, and..." My hand tightens a little. "...Unless someone was willing and able to jump-start my systems by placing the crystals manually, I'd be just as subject to the ravages of time as everything else. No better than scrap."

All three ponies' ears droop as one, which didn't strike me as a good sign even before any of them spoke. "I've never heard of anything called that," Drama Heart sadly confirms.

Gray's pity was palpable. "You can't eat anything else?"

"Don't get me wrong. I can safely eat and process foods that most would consider 'normal'," I hastily clarify. "They wouldn't do me any good, though. We don't have the means of gaining nutrients and energy from food like you can." A slight head shake. "And I was built without a sense of taste anyway, so I wouldn't be able to enjoy them even if I could benefit from them."

The implications of this would have brought down the mood in most situations. Happily, Gray's next words provide a bit of levity. "You really have no idea what you're missing."

I chuckle in response. "No doubt. There's still something a bit promising, though. My HUD... acronym, short for Heads-Up Display," I elaborate just to preempt any confusion, "has been telling me that there's something of note in the store that might serve as a temporary fix. I realize I'm asking a lot, but if it's something that can be purchased, would I be able to talk one of you into buying it for me?"

The two females look a bit pensive. I didn't know what Drama Heart's story was, but I imagine Gray probably wouldn't be too eager to spend money. If that was a low-rent apartment she lived in, she probably didn't earn a whole lot as it was. In contrast, Turkey Bowl was much less hesitant. "I got a nice prize from today's tournament, so I have some bits to spare. If it's not too expensive, sure."

I give the... stallion, I want to say?... a closer look. I've been preoccupied enough with my thoughts and explanations that I haven't paid much attention to his appearance. His tail is short and red, and his mane is next to nonexistent; I'm guessing that it was transplanted to his chin, judging by that beard he is sporting. His coat is a light brown, and I belatedly recall that he'd had a gray jacket over it, but it was soaked through by the rain and consequently left to dry next to a vent. "You're sure?" I tell him. "It doesn't look you were carrying anything on you. None of you do."

"I was in a hurry, and I'd forgotten my saddlebags," Gray grumbles good-naturedly. "Sue me."

"Left mine back at the theater," Drama Heart added. She's smirking now, and I don't like that look. "I was going after what I thought was a prize, and I don't mean the monetary kind."

"I always keep a few bits close by in case I need to buy a snack after a game," Turkey Bowl said, turning away to get his jacket. Now that I had a proper viewing angle, I could tell that like the others, he had a branding of his own: some sort of navy blue and turquoise sphere with a bird's head superimposed over it. What's with those things? "Not completely dry yet, but it'll have to do. Ready to look for this temporary fix of yours, Fairy?"

I get to my feet, which is all the answer they need.

When we returned to the store proper, there were still ponies going about their business. A few of those I saw when we entered were still busy shopping, and upon acknowledging us decided to ignore my presence. Briefly I wondered how long it would take for them to trust me enough for me to forego any escort, but I dismissed that thought. Getting home is my highest priority; being considered trustworthy would be nice, but I don't see the need to put in serious effort towards that end. It's not like I'll be seeing them again once I return home.

A glance out the windows tells me that it's still raining. I'm not hearing any thunder, so I guess the lightning decided to call it a day. For their sake, I won't argue.

As things stand, I'm 'zeroing' in on where my HUD pointed out the item of interest was located. Each aisle is clearly labeled as to its contents, but it's moot due to me not understanding a single thing written. Just because these Equestrians share a spoken language with some of those in Neo Arcadia, that doesn't mean that the written one matches up.

Gray's rattling off what's in each aisle as we walk through the store. "...Aisle Ten, pet supplies. Aisle Nine, toiletries and mane care products. Aisle Eight, basic office supplies. Aisle Seven, bread, hay and baked goods. Aisle Six, juices and soft drinks. Aisle Five, candy---"

"Hold it," I interrupt, stopping in my tracks at Aisle Five. "What I'm looking for is in this aisle."

Drama Heart snorts quietly. "You're sure you're not just a foal crafting an elaborate excuse to munch on something sugary?"

"I think I'd know if I was a quadruped," I retort in jest as I start down the aisle, the others following me. "And I've never had a gram of sugar in my life."

"Again," Gray states. I don't get how they're able to make their smiles audible. Just how many physical impossibilities are these ponies made of? "You have no idea what you're missing."

I scan the shelves to narrow down where the item I'm looking for is located. "Is sugar a major part of a pony's diet?"

"It's right up there alongside fruits and vegetables," Turkey Bowl explains. "We can safely eat meat too, but that tends to be more of an acquired taste, it doesn't have much nutritional value for us, and it has little flavor. Definitely not our first choice, so what little meat sold here is usually bought by griffons."

I might not know much about equines back home, but what little I do know points to them needing to be herbivores for the sake of their health. I was under the impression they couldn't eat meat at all. Not all things stay true between universes, apparently. And griffons...? Something to put a peg on for later.

Back to business: the item I'm searching for has been found. It's a bright yellow and orange bag with its text printed in an... explosive font, and is the only one of its kind on the shelf. In sharp contrast, every other product in this aisle numbers anywhere from five to fourteen. Quietly frustrated that I can't read it, I pick it up and show it to the ponies. "Mind telling me what this is supposed to be, please?"

Drama Heart's eyes are nearly the size of her entire head, which is saying something in light of how big they were before. "It's the holy grail of sugarholics everywhere," she breathes. "This is your 'fix'?"

Gray isn't as enthused as she reads what's on the front of the bag. "'Heartbreakers' fruit candy. An explosion of flavor in your mouth!' Fah. There are five servings in this bag, and each one alone contains twice the recommended daily dose of sugar. I feel sick just thinking about having one of these."

"You're sure this is what you're looking for?" Turkey Bowl asks doubtfully. "The way you were describing that 'Energen' stuff, it sounded like you were talking about some kind of mineral ore. That's the sort of thing you'd probably find at a jeweler's or other specialty shop, not a bog-standard grocery store."

"I can't claim to understand it either, you three," I said, no less unsure, "but my HUD's not lying and I can't afford to be picky right now. If this works out, I should be out of the danger zone. If not..." I close my eyes for a few seconds, miming an exhale before I start towards the checkouts. "Let's just get this paid for. I'm starting to feel tired."

The clerk who accepts Turkey Bowl's money is the same one who was laughing when I smacked my face on the doors. When he sees me towering over him he almost stumbles over himself trying to apologize, thinking I would be upset at him for it, but I wave off his attempts and let my new compatriots get down to the business of consumerism.

The 'business' of consumerism? Nice choice of words there, Leviathan.

After being given the candy shortly thereafter, I tear open the bag, withdraw one of the 'Heartbreakers' and raise it up towards my eyes for a closer look. It doesn't look anything like Energen, never mind the compressed E-Crystals I was used to: it's spherical, a bright green in color, and actually made a light clacking sound when I tapped it with a fingertip. As I'm being fed information on its makeup, I actually wonder if my scanners are actively misleading me. Why is this candy being singled out? Yes, it's too sugary even by these ponies' apparent standards, but that can hardly be the only reason. There's something strange about this. What is it about this package that makes my systems recognize it as a possible source of Energen?

Well, no choice but to take the plunge. I toss the Heartbreaker into my mouth as my associates--plus a cautious customer who was about to leave but became curious--look on. The candy resists for a split second before it's crushed between my teeth. I'm feeling a slight twinge telling me never do that again before it---

...

Strange. Why am I on eye level with the ponies again? I'm positive that I was standing... "Wha... what just happened?"

"Fairy, are you alright?" a frantic Drama Heart exclaims, her face rushing forward to occupy my vision. "You went cross-eyed and just fell over!"

Huh... that would explain the slight ache in my lower back. "...I did?" I think I surprised myself with the genuine astonishment in my voice. I look at the bag held tightly in my hand, feeling a little bit dazzled at what just one of the candies did. A quick scan tells me that there are another forty of them contained within, give or take.

"Did it work?" Gray, who is just as anxious as the theater owner, wants to know. Turkey Bowl doesn't say anything, but his visage is asking the same thing as they are.

I know I've probably met my quota for using this word today, but this makes absolutely zero sense. In the space of just a few hours, my personal universe has been overturned. Everything I know doesn't fit the standard mold anymore. This world is an enigma wrapped in a mystery at the core of a puzzle garnishing a quandary.

But no matter how ridiculous it is, neither the energy surge I'm feeling nor the meter flashing in the corner of my HUD are lying. As I'm escorted to a bench next to the exit to get my bearings, I'm forced to acknowledge that my systems haven't misled me after all.

I sit down on the bench and flash a relieved--and thankful--smile at those watching. "It worked."

Energen Levels: 18% --> 22%

Author's Note

The MMZ timeline is a bit iffy as to how long the Guardians were in operation. All I can really figure out is that they were created well after the Elf Wars ended, but prior to Ciel creating Copy X. For Leviathan's age, I just made a wild guess and let in-universe monotony do the rest.

That sandwich in "A Bird in the Hoof" has always bugged me. :unsuresweetie:

The "Heartbreakers" candy seen in this chapter is meant to be the in-universe equivalent of Gobstoppers dialed up to eleven.

If any of you can figure out what the chapter's title is a reference to, I'll be very surprised. :duck:

Estimated Chapter Deadline: October 4th, 2021

Heart of the Theater

With the rain still coming down, none of the ponies having umbrellas with them and refusing to get soaked again, the group had no choice but to wait out the weather inside the store. To all appearances that was fine with Leviathan, who was contenting herself with--to quote a term Gray's foals liked to use--"nomming" the Heartbreakers as they waited. Every now and then she'd twitch and close her eyes momentarily, but she reassured the group that it was just her body processing the newfound energy it was receiving.

At least now she knew better than to try and bite down on the blasted things right away. Never thought I'd see the day when somepony was stupid enough to try eating a jawbreaker like that. She's clearly intelligent, but she's also incredibly ignorant of a lot of things. Did they not have doors where she came from, or is there something that I'm missing?

Turkey Bowl was speaking to an aged earth pony who had taken an interest in the proceedings, filling her in on what the deal was with Leviathan. Gray had the feeling she knew her from somewhere, but couldn't quite place the face or the cutie mark. She dismissed it from her mind for now, instead refocusing on something Drama Heart was telling her. "...still having trouble comprehending this. I mean... ugh, this was more than I bargained for! I'd expected horror but wound up with sci-fi!"

"No reason why it couldn't be both," Gray suggested. "I've read 'Millions Umbra' before. It was a pretty solid mix."

"Which story was that now, and why haven't I read it yet?"

"It has to do with this robot stallion who was so obsessed with the works of assorted horror authors that it snapped and decided to reenact their works using live ponies as the victims." She smiled, momentarily lost in the throes of nostalgia. "That was the book that got me interested in the genre to start with, actually. Give it a read when you get the chance."

Drama began pacing back and forth. "Maybe another time," she declined as she went. "Gray, I really hate myself sometimes, you know that?"

"And what brought this on?" Gray wondered.

"What brought this on?" Drama whirled, getting in close and placing her hooves on the pegasus' shoulders. "Were you not paying attention to any of this? I almost got myself killed over a case of mistaken identity! I was going all nutso on someone that I thought lacked true thoughts and feelings, and completely ignored everything that said otherwise! I was so intent on claiming her for my collection that I let my tunnel vision lock itself in place!"

"So, are you going somewhere with this?" Gray asked, unphased. "This isn't the first time you've indulged in monomania. And would you calm down? You're making a bit of a scene here."

"But Gray---!"

"'But Gray' nothing," she interrupted the theater owner, placing a hoof over Drama's lips. "As my partner in the Royal Police used to tell me, take a chill pill. Get your act together and calm down. I can hear you just fine."

Drama took a deep breath, removing her hooves from Gray and backing off a step. "Sorry, I just... Gray, I almost got struck by lightning that I shouldn't have been anywhere near. You saw it happen: she had to throw me out of the way. I really shouldn't have made her do that. What if she hadn't been immune to lightning? She would've thrown her life away just for my own selfishness. That's... that's not sitting right with me."

Gray, who hadn't yet been able to do anything to get her mane in order after it had dried off, shoved an errant lock out of her eyes. "And it's a good thing that you realized that, but if you'd learned your lesson the last time this happened, you wouldn't need to keep experiencing these guilt trips."

Leviathan swallowed another Heartbreaker, jerking ever so slightly. "Not to encourage her behavior," she said, "but if she hadn't forced me to run, my hopes for survival would have been that much bleaker. If you don't mind a suggestion? Cut her a bit of slack."

"That's what I'm doing," Gray replied without facing her directly. "Any other time, I'd be assailing her with words not fit for public conversation. I'm only staying calm because everything's working out so far."

"Well, if she's really that dead-set on wanting forgiveness..." Leviathan started to say, waiting until Drama was watching her before continuing, "...then we can talk things over back at her theater after I'm finished with these. There's something I might need a unicorn's..." She grimaced. "...magic to help me deal with before I can buckle down and get myself repaired."

"Wait, at the theater?" Drama asked. "Why there?"

"Because there are only two places in this city that I'm familiar with, and one of them's home to a..." Leviathan glanced at Gray. "...Help me out here. Is there a specific term for a young female pony?"

"Filly."

"Thank you." The 'Reploid' turned her eyes back to Drama. "A filly with a phobia."

"Ooh, right," Drama muttered, wincing. "Loudest scream I've heard in my life, and it wasn't the 'good' kind of scream either."

"I told you that dangling that plaster-cast goblin in her face was a bad idea," Gray snarked. "Though in your defense, you didn't know her well at the time."

"All the same, that was still boneheaded of me. I keep forgetting that not everypony's into the surreal and scary."

"Water under the bridge, Sally. Water under the bridge. And Fairy?" Gray turned towards the Reploid close by. "Technically, Ebony's not a filly anymore. She's old enough under Equestrian law that she can be called a 'mare' by now."

"Whichever." Another Heartbreaker disappears. "Though personally, I don't think 'mare with a phobia' is quite as... does 'catchy' work for this?"

The pegasus shrugged. "Probably not, but that's just semantics. Anyway, I noticed you were frowning when we were walking past the aisles. Why was that?"

A hint of disgust crossed Leviathan's face. Gray chose to think that it wasn't due to how much of the package she had gone through by now. "I realized that our spoken languages are the same, but our written languages aren't. I couldn't understand a single thing the signs were saying."

"Something else that's going to have to be worked out..." Drama's ears turned towards the windows, followed closely by the rest of her head: the inclement weather was dying down. "Rain's finally letting up. Looks like as good a time as any. We can talk about the language thing after we're done later."

Turkey Bowl approached them, having finished his conversation with the other customer. "Sounds like the situation's well in hoof now, so I'm going to go home. Nothing else is really keeping me around, so..."

"Take care then, Mr. Bowl," Drama said with a slightly smug smile, the expression more in line with her stage persona. "I expect to see you when the theater re-opens for business, whenever that may be."

A short laugh. "Count on it!"

Gray stretched a little as Turkey Bowl walked past her out the door. "I might as well head out too. I want to get things cleared up with Mortar & Son before Ebony starts wondering what's taking me so long. See you later, Sally." She turned to trot towards the exit---

"The towel stays where it belongs, you hobo!" the store's manager shouted in the distance. "Put that back!"

"Oops," Gray muttered with a blush, doing a 180 and hurrying towards the back. "Forgot that I was still wearing it."

...

"Assuming that she's a friend of yours," Leviathan commented dryly as she stood up, "is that behavior normal for her?"

"I don't know if there are any cats where you're from, but some like to joke that she wasn't born a pony," Drama Heart replied, a mild dusting of affection in her voice. She pulled open the door with her magic and led her newfound acquaintance outside. "She's funny that way. Come on. Let's go."

...

Behind them, a middle-aged earth pony stared at the spot where the group had just been, adjusting her glasses and rubbing her chin as she pondered what Turkey Bowl had just told her.

Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve Bank: 19% full. Estimate minimum of 70 hours until replenishment of main supply is required, accounting for self-repair.

Oh, this is much better. As the humans say, a full stomach sure feels good.

I finished off the entire bag just a few moments ago while en route to Drama Heart's theater. I was going to toss the empty bag in a bin set up alongside the road, but my patron suggested that I hold on to it. "I saw that look on your face in there," she'd said. "You're obviously wondering what's in those things that's able to keep you fed, am I right? The manufacturer's address is on the bag. Save it, and once your grasp of the written word's satisfactory, you can write to them and find out."

Something I can do as a 'side mission' of sorts, but that can wait until later. Right now, I'm in a much better mood than I was in when I first arrived here.

...Has it really been only a few hours at most? It feels like it's been longer.

Now that my Energen levels are topped off, I can put my auto-repair to better use. I'm setting it to work on itself for now so that it can operate at full strength later; better 100% than the 87% that my earlier diagnostics gave me. After my business with Drama is done, I can move on to my power generators, ceratanium frame and synthskin, and backup solar extractor in that order. Mending everything else will go much more smoothly once those are fixed. I suspect it will take a week and a half, two weeks at most before I'm back at peak efficiency.

Oh, it would certainly go several times faster if I had, say, a capsule that I could hook myself to and rest in, but that's a total no-go. As one human I worked with once liked to say, it's better to see how you can get the most mileage out of the cards you're dealt than it is to complain about the unfairness of your opponent's hand. And I'm not going to let life itself get one up on me if I have anything to say about it, so auto-repair it is.

...Now I'm starting to wish that I had a deck in storage---focus, Leviathan, FOCUS.

Ahem...

The cart that brought me to the theater was gone by the time the two of us got back... no real surprise there. I can't blame those two for not wanting to be involved. I consider for a second as to whether or not to find some way to apologize to them later for scaring them before placing it at the back of my mind.

A grin blossoms on my guide's face. "Welcome to Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears!" Drama announces full blast before abruptly dialing down the volume, having caught my wince before she got any farther. "My theater, my pride and joy, and most importantly my home."

I look up at the theater. It's a three-story building by the ponies' standards, though closer to two and a half by mine. If Drama's initial ostentatious behavior was a sign of anything, though, the ceilings in this one are likely to be considerably higher than those at Gray's apartment. Easily enough to comfortably accommodate someone of my height. There's a message on the marquee overhead, but my illiteracy isn't helping me any here. That's probably a "Closed" sign in the window, I'm guessing...?

There's a faint click from the door, interrupting my observations. "Follow me," Drama says as she enters, magically keeping the door held open for me. It stays open long enough for me to follow her, after which it shuts and locks.

There are a few lights on in the lobby, but not enough to provide a full load of details, and because of that most of the room is shrouded in shadows. At the very least, I can tell that the room's in an L-shape...? Wait, scratch that: it's a C-shape. There's a hallway just past a counter and some sort of strange machine... and guarding the passage is a stool with a maroon-stained, iron-masked pony skeleton on it, a sign clutched between its hooves. I scowl at this. Charming.

I probably could just use my alternate vision mode if I want to, but it was designed for seeing in the deepest parts of the ocean. I'd just as soon save it for its intended use, so I'm not seeing a point to misusing it just to fulfill idle curiosity. If I want to examine the room badly enough, I'll just ask Drama to turn on the lights.

Closer to where we are is a pair of doors with plates of pony silhouettes nailed to them, most likely restrooms. Drama leads me past them to a third door that's well out of the way. "The hall up to my residence is through here," she explains as she unlocks it and leads me through, a few translucent globes lighting up on their own just inside. "Careful on the steps."

It doesn't take long to see what she means. The stairs are clearly intended for pony usage and none other, and my first attempt at traversing them normally results in me stumbling and almost face-planting. I'm not sure what annoys me the most: the steps being this narrow, or my boots' heels actually being a liability for once. There's a railing, but it's at a height I can't comfortably reach without stooping down. In addition, the ceiling in this hall is too low for me to consider any wall jumping. So much for 'high' hopes.

Not seeing an alternative, I sigh and turn to face the wall. Going up sideways like this awkward, but since there's just enough space for my feet this way, at least I'm not making myself look foolish by clawing my way up the steps on all fours. As it is, this is something that's staying off my record when I return home. Fefnir must never learn of this.

Drama giggles softly when she sees me ascend this way. "If it helps, I don't like these stairs much either. The problem is that I can't fix that without remodeling this part of the building, and I'm still working my way through a mortgage as it is."

"What drove you to buy this place, then?" I ask as I reach the top.

"I had a good thing going in Baltimare," Drama answers, leading me to another stairway past a bend in the hallway. "But I felt I could accumulate a larger fanbase here in Manehattan, so I moved. This building's far outside the theater district, but it was the only one I could find that suited my needs. I have enough after mortgage payments for daily living, keeping everything in working order and paying my part-timer..." She shakes her head. "...and not enough for any serious work."

Another sideways trip. "Hm. Plus side, you're still happy with your circumstances..."

Drama giggles again at this, doing some sort of weird dance as she waits for me to reach her. "But of course! Horrifying those who have a high tolerance for fright brings me joy! The screams, the beating hearts, the applause, the relieved smiles, the sincere compliments for a job well done... I just can't get enough!"

Her enthusiasm would probably be infectious if I didn't find it so unnerving. I can name one or two Mutos Reploids with a similar mindset, and it's just as intimidating coming from her as it is from them. I suppose I should count myself fortunate that she chose to go into entertainment instead of joining any sort of military force.

A few feet further on is another door, which Drama also unlocks to let me through. Well, here goes... something. Let's see if she lives up to her words.

Drama Heart never received much company, let alone talking machines from another world, so she usually didn't do much cleaning beyond a bit of dusting. As such, her living room was on the messy side: a rug kicked off-center, a couch cushion leaning against the wall, bread crumbs from a midnight snack scattered about, a doily in desperate need of washing...

Self-consciously, she moved the rug back to its proper place before gesturing at the discarded cushion. Leviathan got the hint, dropping it in the middle of the floor and sitting on it while Drama claimed the couch's remaining seat. "So, Fairy. I'm not against the idea of me making amends, but what do you need the help of a unicorn for?"

"I told you at the store about the negligence exercised regarding my maintenance, and the confrontation at that cesspool of a lab," Leviathan told her, tapping one of her knees as she spoke. "The wounds from my first skirmish against Omega were never treated, and as a result there's substantial dust and grime in my frame." She frowned. "Aside from me hating being dirty on principle, the extra weight and interference is not doing my motor control any favors." She slowly tightened her hand into a fist, then opened it again. "If I can remove all the debris, that would make my movements feel less strenuous and go a long way towards helping me recover."

"What about the frame itself, though?" Drama asked, concerned. "Wouldn't you need someone to fix that, too? If it was left alone, all of that grime would just re-accumulate over time."

Leviathan's helmet was blocking her eyebrows from view, depriving Drama of some context, but she told herself that the Reploid's smile was meant to be reassuring. "It isn't a problem. My body has a built-in auto-repair system that draws on raw materials from my Energen supply. Given enough time, it can restore me to full functionality from that alone. I doubt it's too different from a pony's ability to heal from injuries." Her smile disappeared. "There's one thing I need to make sure of, first."

"What's that?"

"I want to be able to say that I trust you to do this, Drama. The problem is that what you've done so far doesn't put you in a very good light. Thinking of me as a prize of some kind, chasing me for several blocks and trying to capture me, manhandling me like I'm someone's docile pet..." Leviathan grimaced. "I'm still having a little trouble believing that you pulled a one-eighty just because I threw you out of the way of some lightning. How am I supposed to know that you won't just turn around and start treating me as one of your props?"

Judging a book by its cover. Was that deliberate, or...? The unicorn's eyes narrowed. "I realize I'm close-minded at times. I'll be the first to admit that," Drama informed her, her voice the most serious it had been that day. Her tail twitched as she failed to suppress her agitation at Leviathan's complaint. "But I'm not so short-sighted as to think that you didn't know exactly what you were doing when you threw me. Only someone with a working brain and a working heart would rescue a fanatic, and one they'd just met at that, from certain death."

"Nice to know that you are admitting it," Leviathan said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"I don't want you thinking that I'm ungrateful or anything. If we never meet again after today, I don't want the bad example I almost set to be your only memory of me." Drama climbed down off the couch and brought herself below eye level. Anxiously, she pressed her front hooves together and hoped with all her heart that she passed whatever test the Reploid was having her take. "Let me do this for you, please. Okay?"

I'm not going to lie and say that I'm fully convinced. It might just be a by-product of me being built and raised in an unforgiving world, but I haven't lasted as long as I did by being too trusting.

And therein lies the problem: these two worlds are not the same. I'm not dealing with stalwart warriors, blood-crazed maniacs, or sociopathic soldiers anymore. These are common civilians that are simply taking life one day at a time. Not everyone is going to have an ulterior motive for the things they do. Not everything is going to have multiple layers of secrecy on top of it: sometimes, things really are that simple and to the point, just like a razor. That's not to say that no one here has closets packed to the ceiling with skeletons (a poor choice of words, I know), but so far everybody I've met has worn their heart on their metaphorical sleeves.

Here's hoping it stays that way.

I don't want to delay this any more than I have to, and if I rejected Drama's plea I'd have to waste time trying to find another unicorn who can treat me. Old instincts are hard to break, but maybe just this once... "Alright. Just so long as you're willing to follow my instructions to the letter, you understand?" I told her sternly. "I'm serious. I don't want to repair additional damage just because you thought deviating was a good idea."

Wow. I've heard of smiles lighting up a room, but this one could have brightened a street on a sunny day. She's doing that strange little dance again, too. "Thank you, Fairy! Thank you thank you thank you!" Drama whirled and galloped out of the room, almost knocking over a coat rack in her haste. "Let me get my cleaning supplies! Where's my dust rags? Buckets? Magnifying glass? Everything?!"

I'm not sure I quite got through to her. She's a little too enthusiastic about this. I realize that I can probably be called a hypocrite for this in light of my obsession, but I don't care. Drama Heart's just plain nuts.

But in this case, that might be a good thing.

Said unicorn returns a few minutes later just as I'd finished removing my boots, carrying an assortment of items in her magic. Most of them are recognizable cleaning items, including a bucket full of soapy water, but there are also a few odds and ends that I can't figure out. "What's that right there?" I ask, pointing at a large black disc with a label in the center.

In response, Drama directs my attention to a boxy device at the side of the room. I'd seen it when I first entered, but there were more pressing matters to deal with. Curiously, I watch as with a touch of her magic, a tiny green bulb on the side lights up. A see-through lid on the top opens, allowing her to place the disc in the center. A tiny needle is placed along the disc's edge...

The soft pulling of strings catches my hearing as a melody floats through the room. My head slowly turns towards my patron, my mouth trying to say something but my voice not cooperating. I can feel one of my eyebrows twitching inside my helmet.

"What?" Drama tilts her head, her smile halfway towards befuddled. "You don't expect me to carry out a menial task without my music, do you?"

"Erh. Let's just get to work," I let myself groan as I begin detaching my arm guards. Why, why, why won't this day just ever-loving end already? And why, in the name of everything X stands for, is she singing along? Is she seriously intending to do this while she works?

...

That's it. I give up. I mentally throw my hands in the air and decide that my time is better spent directing this loony unicorn. This day can hardly get any worse for me, so I might as well do what I agreed to do and hope that the fallout doesn't drag me down in flames. "Alright. First off, take a look at this seam here. You'll need that magnifying glass to see it, so..."

Author's Note

A slightly earlier update. I had it just about finished, so I thought "why not?".

The music used in this chapter includes a nice remastering of "A Fleeting Respite", from the soundtrack of Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow, and Camille Saint-Saëns' Danse Macabre, Op. 40.

If you thought Leviathan was confused at the end of the chapter, just wait until she sees somepony actually break into song. >^_^<

The local hospital finally got a hold of me to schedule that appointment I was talking about, so I adjusted my update schedule to account for that.

Estimated Chapter Update: October 6th, 2021

(10/23/2021: Edited the author's notes to account for a fairly [almost misspelled that as 'fairy', go figure] typo. That's supposed to be 2021, not 2011.)

Music and the Moon

"Fell in love again, what am I gonna tell my friends?..."

After returning to her apartment and stashing the leftover food in the family icebox---no matter how much her parents liked to call it a refrigerator---Ebony had been indecisive about what to do while she waited for her mother to come home. Many of her usual activities were curtailed in light of two factors: the storm outside, and the fact that she was temporarily grounded from leaving the building without her mother's say-so while the rest of the family was out of town visiting Aunt Harshwhinny. Not for the first time, she regretted embarrassing her best friend at her graduation party by taste-testing the cake before it was meant to be cut.

Good friends were becoming increasingly difficult to find, especially in Manehattan, so she resolved to visit her at the earliest opportunity and apologize in person.

After a few minutes of watching the rain out the window, Ebony had finally just shrugged, grabbed a few decks of cards and set about playing a solitaire variation that one of her siblings had showed her how to play once. After the first game, she'd decided some background music was in order and placed Sapphire Shores' most recent album on the family's record player. Catchy as the songs were, it didn't take long for her to start humming along, and she scarcely even noticed the rain letting up.

"...it just happened... you walked in my door, now I don't want to be alone no more---"

A loud 'thud' made Ebony jump and startled her into dropping her cards. She turned towards the source of the noise, snorting a little in irritation when she realized it was exactly who she thought it was. "For crying out loud, Mom!" she shouted at the closed window and the slightly dazed pegasus past it, even as she used her magic to unlock it and let her in. "The front door exists for a reason!"

"---I've done it, told you how I feel, I just hope this time that our love is real---"

...

"...So, yes. In summary," Gray finished explaining as she held a cold washcloth to her forehead, "apparently what we both thought was a mannequin or doll turned out to be an alien robot from another world with thoughts and feelings like ours. Oh, and Heartbreakers candy acts as her source of nourishment. Because reasons."

Ebony tilted her head slightly, worried. "Shouldn't you go see the doctor?"

"I didn't hit my head that hard, Ebony," Gray told her, cross. "I'm not concussed."

Ebony cringed at the tone. "Sorry, sorry. Just... it's difficult to believe, you know?"

Her mother sighed, chiding herself for taking that tone. "Don't worry about it, dear. Anyway, I paid a quick visit to Mortar & Son after I left the store to let them know what the deal was. They had just as hard a time believing it as you did, but I don't think they're going to stir up a fuss over it." She looked out the window in the general direction of the theater. "I can't say the same for anypony who were eyewitnesses to the chase. I'm guessing there's going to be a journalist or five from the Manehattan Minutes showing up at Sally's door in the next few days... or a Royal Police officer. Either or."

Ebony shivered, the newfound knowledge that there was a genuine alien in their midst--and a robot on top of that--doing nothing to slake her fear. "Still hoping I never see it again, Mom."

Gray reached over and gently patted her daughter's foreleg with her free hoof. "Understandable, dear. Though may I offer a suggestion on the off-chance that you do see her again?" At Ebony's nod, she continued. "Close your eyes and pretend you're talking to another pony. Justified your fear may be, lumping her in with the residents of boutiques city-wide is doing her a serious disservice. I know if somepony treated me as an actual ghost and not as a mare named for one, my own feelings would be hurt. She took it in good stride the first time, but who knows what really goes on in her mind?"

A blink as Ebony finally caught on to the pronoun usage. "Wait, 'she'?"

"Fairy's genderless, technically." Gray turned aside for a few seconds to run some more cold water through her washcloth, re-applying it to her forehead afterwards. "Hard to think of a machine that isn't, and the topic never came up. Buuut, she had the voice of a mare, so as far as I'm concerned she's a mare."

"Kyahahahaha!"

"Could you hold still, please? You almost kicked me!"

"Ee-hee... sorry, Drama, I c-can't help it! I just got a mental image of one of my fellow Guardians, and... and... 'pretty boy', kyahahahahaha!"

"Do you want to clean this outside-world filth off the floor? I said hold still!"

"...I see," Ebony reluctantly said. "I'll try not to flip out, it's just..." The floor became somewhat more interesting. "I don't have to tell you to be patient with me, right? This isn't the sort of adjustment I can make right off the bat."

Gray gave her a quick reassuring nuzzle. "You say that as if I ever needed reminded of it. I'm behind you every step of the way, Ebony."

It was a common thing for any of Gray Ghost's foals to hear from their mother, and the truthfulness of it never changed. She had promised them when they were younger that she would be there for them as long as they still needed her, and as far as everypony was concerned, her words were a guarantee. Ebony smiled at her mother, happy to have that vow reaffirmed; she had a hunch that she would be seeing Leviathan again regardless of her wishes, and she felt that she would need all the help she could get.

As if to lend its own support, a black shadow rubbed up against them both: Echo, the family's Mane Coon and perpetual attention seeker, who had been elsewhere in the apartment minding its own business while the day's events were taking place. Ebony giggled as the cat's tail tickled her chin. "I know, I know, you like us too, now stop doing that!" she protested, reaching over to pet it with one hoof as she hugged her mother with the other.

"Four foals to be proud of, a wonderful husband, and a beautiful cat." Gray returned the embrace with her wing the best that she could. "For all of everypony's quirks, I wouldn't trade my life for anythi---" She blushed as her stomach rumbled in mid-sentence. "...Crudbunnies. With all this going on, I'd forgotten I hadn't finished dinner."

The unexpected bathos provoked laughter from Ebony. Gray rolled her eyes at her reaction, but let it go with a smile as she made tracks for the refrigerator.

Auto-repair System: 100%.

Motor Control: 92%.

Well, now. That was a chore and a half, but I'd say it ended well.

Removing everything that didn't belong inside my frame was a task that went well into the evening. Some of the grime had been packed pretty well in there, requiring Drama Heart to utilize her magic to pull it out before cleansing those areas with soap and water. More of it was caked onto my wiring, endoskeleton and my coolant circulation system, requiring finesse and delicacy. Happily, none of the worse debris had reached any high-priority areas, such as my power generators or the shell housing my CPU. I imagine if anything did, there'd be warnings in my HUD left, right, and center.

I was concerned at first that Drama would slip up somehow and accidentally cut off my connections to my limbs, or something worse, and because of that concern I couldn't hold back any visible nervousness. Thankfully, aside from one incident where I nearly kicked her in the face--and I'm fully willing to admit that it was partially my fault--her first attempt at performing what amounted to Reploid surgery under my guidance went excellently. She was incredibly thorough: not a trace of dust, grit, or worse remained by the time my frame was sealed shut for good.

It's mind-boggling that she accomplished all of this while singing and dancing around the room, pausing only every other minute to get a good look at what it was she was dealing with before resuming her performance. With her unicorn magic, she has a level of dexterity and control that matches--and at times surpasses--any technician I've ever met. As an example, she'd been wiping off the inside of my left hand when the 'record' she'd been playing came to an end. She selected more music to play and, while keeping her back turned towards me, flawlessly scrubbed the interior to a shine. I almost passed out again just from that.

Had this been Neo Arcadia, and had Dr. Weil and Omega never existed, I would've gotten someone to teach her proper machine maintenance with the intent of hiring her for the Deep Sea Squadron's support staff. This... I'm sorry if I'm repeating myself, but she did fantastic work. When I asked her how she'd obtained her level of skill, she told me that she makes and maintains much of her inventory herself, be they backgrounds, puppets, or props: of course she would have had plenty of practice across her years in the business dealing with tricky details. I don't know anything about the performing arts, but it still makes some sense.

I'm alone in the room right now, and I can hear Drama Heart muttering to herself in the kitchen. After my frame was closed up, she took a look at what I can only presume was a clock and squeaked in surprise. She immediately stopped her music and put the record away, then scooped up her cleaning supplies--including a bucket containing everything that was cleared out--and galloped out of the apartment like someone was chasing her. She returned a few minutes later with said bucket emptied, put her supplies away, and scrambled to make herself a meal while completely ignoring me.

She could've at least let me say 'thank you', but it looks like I'll have to wait. In the meantime as I finish re-equipping my armor, I do another quick diagnostic check. My auto-repair system is back at full power, which is nice, but what I really wanted to find out was the state of my motor control. I'd quietly expected there to still be minor damage that didn't have anything to do with the grime, and I was right, but it's not as bad as I'd feared. That won't take long to fix.

That's a ways down the list, though. Priorities haven't changed: my power generators come first.

Power Output: 10% of capacity. Cannot exceed 35% at the present time.

As I'd told the ponies earlier, the energy boost I received from that lightning strike didn't last long. Being fed may have resolved my hunger for now, but it hasn't done anything for my level of alertness. The ability to push through it notwithstanding, I've been feeling tired all day. I'll be much happier once I'm back at full power and won't have to constantly fight off the desire to collapse. With that thought I focus my auto-repair's efforts on the power generators, setting them to its highest priority.

I rotate on my borrowed cushion to look out the window. Now that I'm not on the run, I can take a moment to look out and get a look--however incomplete--at the world I'm in now. It's been long enough that the sun is beginning to set behind the cityscape, and I wonder to myself if the same thing is transpiring back home. I shake my head, chuckling mirthlessly as the sun slowly sinks out of sight, turning the horizon and the smattering of remaining clouds red-orange. It's a sight that I don't stop to appreciate often enough, and I wish I had the time back home to do so.

A sliver of white-gray catches my eyes from another angle: the moon is beginning its ascent. As I watch it rise and ignore the sounds of Drama eating from the next room...

...Dramatic eating? I wonder if that's possible...

Don't get distracted, Fairy.

Anyway, I note to myself that this world's local sun and moon are moving slightly faster than normal. I suppose not all inhabitable worlds are meant to meet the exact same criteria as Earth, but all the same it bothers me. It felt warm when I was outside, though not too hot. Do they have the same 24-hour days here, or is there...

...something that...

...I...I am...

...

"Drama?" I call, my voice breaking as I push myself away from the window. This isn't right, this is just plain not right."Drama Heart?"

My patron pokes her head out of her kitchen. "What is it? I'm trying to eat. Was there something I missed?"

"Please tell me, because I need to hear this." Why am I seeing what I'm seeing? Why can't I get my voice under control? "Please tell me that the sight of a giant pony's head on the moon is normal for this world!"

"Been around for centuries longer than the city," Drama deadpans. "Why? Is it not like that where you're from?"

"I wouldn't be on edge like this if it was," I answer with more heat than I'd wanted as I point outside. That's supposed to be Fefnir's thing, not mine. "The moon has never had anything permanent on it other than craters in its entire existence!"

Seriously. It's one thing to be transported to a world and interact with a species that looks nothing like what you're used to seeing, but having their very visage stamped in the sky every night for all to see? The story behind this had better be convincing, because right now I am this close to eschewing my stance on logic.

"Okay, okay. If it makes you feel better, yes: the sight of a giant pony's head on the moon is normal for this world," Drama tells me in a very dry tone. "Now, I'm sure your freakouts are important, but kindly put a clamp on them until I'm done eating. Okay, dearie? I have not eaten anything in the past nine hours, and I am very hungry." With nothing more to say, she withdraws back into the kitchen and continues her meal.

A part of me wants to remove my helmet and smack my head on the wall. I didn't get an immediate answer to my admittedly hasty inquiry, and on top of that, Drama's not cut out for hospitality. For the sake of retaining some measure of dignity I restrain myself from doing so, though. I've embarrassed myself enough for both the day and my lifetime.

I sigh to myself as I rest my forehead in my hand, and this time I'm not sure if I'm imitating the sound or if its the genuine article. I'm supposed to be better than this. Why am I letting myself get thrown for a loop each time magic gets thrown at me? And why am I making a big deal out of a handful of dark spots on the moon that coincidentally resemble a unicorn's head?

...They are coincidental, right?

Well, whether they are or not, it doesn't matter. I have to calm myself down. I must calm myself down. And this isn't just for the sake of my dignity: it's for the sake of my sanity. I turn towards the pile of records that were set aside when the cleaning was finished. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Drama. Do you have any objections if I get some more music going? I need something to take the edge off before I go crazy."

"Sure!" Drama calls back, her tone telling me that she was no stranger to 'crazy'. "That's what it's there for~!"

At least she's okay with that. I get up to examine the records. I can't read any of the labels on their jackets, and some of the pictures on them are ones I find disturbing: one is an artist's rendition of a pony skeleton in a dark robe playing a stringed instrument at night. It's making me think of that first song Drama played, so I shake my head. That song might've fit her, but not me.

The one at the bottom of the pile I don't recognize, as it wasn't one of those that Drama had gotten to before her work was done. There wasn't much to its cover, consisting solely of a photographed pony whose image was layered with shades of blue. Hopefully the music on this will sound better than most of those that my patron was playing.

Not to say that they were all bad, as there was a diamond here and there. It's just that the style of music that Drama seems to prefer doesn't appeal to me as much as some might think it should.

I carefully remove the record from its jacket and place it where it's supposed to go, mindful enough to follow the same procedure that I witnessed Drama using. Gently placing the needle on the edge, I sit back down and wait for it to begin...

/-/-/-/-/-/

Drama's ears picked up the melody in the living room first, and the 'thump' of something hitting the floor about seventy seconds later. Not finished with her meal, she levitated her salad next to her and got up to see what the matter was.

Leviathan was collapsed on the floor in front of the couch, eyes closed and lips set in an almost beatific smile. Part of Drama wondered if she had died somehow after the music began, so to satisfy that morbid curiosity she got in close and positioned an ear next to her guest's head. She withdrew a few seconds later: faint enough that nearly all ponies wouldn't hear it unless they were actively searching for it, Fairy's systems were still active and humming along. Drama stepped back and whickered a little, eyes casting towards the discarded record jacket. Which means she let herself get absorbed into the music and fell asleep because of it. Silly robot.

The music had been a going-away present from her elderly grandfather shortly before she had left Baltimare. It was intended as a gag gift, but he had always had a weird idea of what was intended to be funny. Drama actually didn't mind the music too much, despite it not being something she typically listened to everyday, so she kept the record on hoof for whenever she felt like listening to something other than a traditional orchestra. And of course out of all of them, this was what she picked to ease her mind.

Well, can't let her stay there like that, can I?

After returning the cushion to its proper place, Drama carefully lifted Leviathan with her magic and deposited her gently on the couch, positioning her so that her helmet's fins jutted outward. She wasn't quite small enough to fit in it, given that her boots were sticking out over the hoofrest, but it would have to do.

As Drama smiled softly, she decided to leave the music to play itself out and instead trotted for her bedroom, continuing to munch on her salad along the way. Maybe there was a spare blanket or two in her closet that she could use to cover up the sleeping Reploid. No point in cleaning up that dust only to bring it all back, she figured.

I'm starting to think I might have underestimated what her world was like. She had made it clear that her life was a tense and violent one, so I had my suspicions, but I didn't expect her to zonk out like this just listening to a single song. Or to become unsettled just from seeing the state of the moon. This might be the first real peace that Leviathan has experienced in a very long time.

...

In a world that only she could see, Leviathan floated atop an endless ocean beneath an equally eternal starry sky, gently moving to and fro with the waves as a school of fish swam beneath her. Her smile was just as blissful as it was in reality, and would remain so for the duration of her stay.

Author's Note

For those who don't like clicking links, or if they get broken at some point: the first one in the chapter goes to the song the Question was singing when he was breaking into a facility in Justice League Unlimited. The idea of it being a Sapphire Shores song in-universe amuses me. The second one at the end goes to Enya's "Shepherd Moons"; given the number of equivalent characters Equestria already has, I don't think having one for her's much of a stretch. I thought about using the song "Cool Water" from the Zero 2 soundtrack, but in the end I didn't feel that having a record with that song would be in character for Drama Heart.

Fun fact: All of the very male Harpuia's voice clips in the Zero series were provided by a woman. Get why Leviathan felt like laughing yet?

I like to think that I've dropped enough hints by now as to when in the timeline this story takes place. But for those that missed them, I'll just give it to you straight: M.L.G. begins one year before the events of FiM's series opener, give or take a few days.

My biggest concern when writing this chapter was that Leviathan might be seen as too OOC regarding her reaction to the moon pre-FiM. As such, I'm hoping I left enough evidence to show that she has just gone through a very stressful--though not quite traumatic--day, leaving enough leeway for slips in etiquette.

I do most of my writing for this story on my laptop at work (plus side of having a job connected to the real estate market, if minor: sometimes there are some major lulls in activity). Between anything that crops up there plus my doctor's appointments, I'm most likely not going to be able to get an update out next week. Just figured I'd tell you all ahead of time in case that comes to pass.

Estimated Update Deadline: October 15, 2021

--EDITED 1/14/2022: Corrected an error that was pointed out to me in the comments.

Alexandrite

Shortly before Leviathan's maintenance was finished...

Decades past, Manehattan became known in some circles of Equestria as "The City That Never Sleeps". Even in Canterlot, most of the city's activity would die down the closer one got to midnight. Not here. For better or for worse, there was always something going on at all hours of day.

There were some stores that were open all the time (aside from Hearth's Warming), rotating staff as needed. The owners of other facilities found that they were better suited for operating at night, deciding to keep their doors open only during that period. Certain residents would decide for themselves that nighttime was the best time to not just be active, but to fit their definition of 'alive'. In any event, Manehattan was a shining beacon that could be seen for miles in all directions at night. Years later, the Pillars of Equestria would discover that the magnitude of this brightness was such that it served to drive the Pony of Shadows away.

All of this also meant that regardless of the average pony's hopes and dreams, Manehattan was a city of opportunity. And for some, "opportunity" was synonymous with "crime". Ponies who found that they could get away with very little in places like Fillydelphia or Canterlot, particularly with Shining Armor instilling a newfound effectiveness in the latter's Guard regiment, would gravitate instead towards Equestria's most populous city. Manehattan's Royal Police--themselves an offshoot of the Guard--tried, they really did, but they couldn't be everywhere at once. It was only their insistence that they could handle it themselves, stated as such in a letter that went straight to the castle, that prevented Princess Celestia from intervening personally.

So it was that for all of the city's brightness, not everything was awash in radiance.

Hidden away from prying eyes deep within the city's commercial districts was the Lonely Heart Nightclub, a dimly lit establishment that catered to those looking for entertainment, love and drinks in all the wrong places. Rundown but nonetheless steadfast in its determination to keep going, the club was frequented by those who had secrets to hide and desires to fulfill. The drinks were fine, but the food was average at best and the entertainment left much to be desired; very rarely they were able to get somepony who was figurative magic with music, but most days clients were left with the dregs.

Still, for all of its faults, the nightclub's customers rated it higher than the Broken Heart Nightclub elsewhere in the district; that facility was so haphazardly run that it was a wonder it was still standing. Yes, the owner of the Lonely Heart was much better than the owner of the Broken Heart.

One of the club's few pluses was the amount of privacy it afforded its customers. There was a specific corner booth lit by the flickering dregs of an illumination crystal that hadn't been recharged in months. Seated below an autographed and framed poster of a singer who had once performed at the club were two earth ponies and a unicorn. The latter was clothed in a burgundy dress that had seen much better days, much like her face; only the well-crafted watch around one leg gave away her well-to-do status.

The other two were much more nondescript, the sort that nopony could pick out of a crowd based on their faces alone, and both wore dark uniforms with the intent of concealing their Cutie Marks; the differences between them was that the younger one was lithe and athletic, while the elder was well-muscled and inclined to take his time with everything. "...and imagine my surprise when I hear that somepony wanted to hire us," the older thief was saying to the mare, the halfway decent saxophonist on-stage and the crowd watching him making enough noise to overshadow their words. "Normally we just steal from whomever we want and be done with it. What do you want us for?"

The mare responded by levitating a year-old newspaper clipping from within her dress and placing it on the table for both hoodlums to see. A photograph of the Pyre of Fears greeted them, with an additional picture of its proprietor in full Salamandra regalia beneath it. The news article briefly talked about the theater, its owner's intentions, and when the then-new shows would be expected to begin. "You probably know of Drama Heart," the mare hissed with enough venom to put down a hydra. "Or Flaming Salamandra, case depending. I want you. To rob. Her. Blind."

"Whoa-ho," the younger thief murmured, amused. "Rags To Riches of all ponies wants us to pull a heist? I thought you didn't have a vindictive bone in your body."

The mare did not take kindly to this. "And my name is Alexandrite, weasel. If you're going to be wanting any bits from this, then shut your mouth, don't insult me, and let me explain."

"Please do so," the older thief politely requested. "I'm curious."

"Thank you, Bastion. At least one of you has some manners." Alexandrite contemplated the drink that was set before her, then pushed it aside without sipping from it. "There are several of us in the theater district that have been losing money this past year. The performances we host have gotten rave reviews, there has not been anypony embezzling funds, and yet our finances have been slowly dwindling. Measures have been taken multiple times to clean up the theater, straighten things out across the board, make everything more appealing, diversify our acts... nothing's working. Each month has seen an increasing number of empty seats. If nothing's done soon to fix that, we'll have to..." Her face soured. "...lower our prices if we want to fill the seats again."

"Celestia forbid that the rich get even richer," the younger thief cracked. "If you held up a mirror, would you see a unicorn or the pile of money behind her first? I'm asking for a friend."

"Iron Gates, shut it," Bastion warned, nudging him. He gestured at the increasingly incensed Alexandrite. "Continue."

This tempered the unicorn's mood just a little, and she resumed speaking. "We didn't pay too much attention to little Miss Heart at first. A performer based in a neighborhood away from the district, specializing in an alienating premise... what could she possibly do to threaten our standing? Within the past few weeks we've finally discovered the answer to that. Ponies that would normally be present at our shows are absent because little Miss Heart's own plays are put on at the same time, and at two-thirds the cost.

"Those I've directed to determine the root cause have provided proof. There are over eighty different ponies with very distinct manestyles, coat colors, Cutie Marks or builds that--prior to Drama Heart's arrival in Manehattan--I've come to easily recognize during my years in the business. Each new show that hits the stage, all of those individuals would turn up at least once, sometimes all in the same day, and often for repeat performances." Ironically, cold fury burned in Alexandrite's eyes. "Of those eighty, all but six have disappeared from our district and have started congregating at the Pyre. I have not seen any of those seventy-four at my theater in the past seven months, and my associates haven't been noticing them at any of their establishments either. Instead, they've found some new fun by deliberately shortening their lifespans each time Salamandra pulls their strings."

"If we carry off this heist, one small slip-up will mean that this will get traced back to you," Bastion told her. "We will not be able to sell the stolen goods, whether here or elsewhere in Equestria. There's always going to be at least one investigator who will be persistent enough to get to the bottom of this, and any intelligent being who reads the Minutes will put two and two together. Anything we steal will have to be destroyed to prevent the links between us from being discovered."

"Which means that at the end of the night, the sum total of it all's going to come straight from your purse," Iron Gates said with a smug smirk. "Stinks to be you, huh? Still want to hire us?"

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt, weasel."

Gates' left eyebrow raised. "Ooh. Didn't dawdle there, did you? You really must hate this mare."

The unicorn didn't take the obvious bait he was leaving. "Provided you're as good as you claim to be, then I'll win no matter what Drama does in the aftermath. If she tries to track down and rescue her props, she will have to waste precious time collaborating with the Royal Police and close her theater for the duration... and destroying them will guarantee that her actions will fail. If she decides that what's lost is lost and tries to move on, she will have to re-purchase all of the materials she'll need to replenish her supplies. And that will force her to raise her prices to compensate, either driving her down to equal footing with us or causing her customers to return to me. Any of these are fine with me, so long as I'm back on top. And who would believe that Lady Alexandrite, congenial socialite and patron of the arts, would stoop so low as to hire common thieves to do her dirty work?"

Alexandrite met the thieves' eyes squarely. "Weasel, honey badger, it doesn't matter to me how you do it. Teach Flaming Salamandra a lesson in humility that no amount of amnesia will let her forget. Take everything except her life and the roof over her head. I want her to live to see her burn in the flames of her own name."

"A tall order, but still doable," Bastion said agreeably. "Though if you want our gang to be finished by dawn, it'll cost you extra. Weight and mass reduction crystals aren't cheap to recharge."

Disgust bounced around the mare's face like a silver sphere in a pinball machine, but the desire for efficiency gave in. Sixty bits levitated themselves into the saddlebags the thief wore. "Done. Just do it. And remember that you'd better give me my money's worth, or I'll pretend we'd never met when I set the Police on your trail."

Iron Gates patted one of the mare's hooves, and a wave of revulsion washed over her at the contact. "Just relax. It's us," he purred, climbing down out of his seat to leave.

"What my insensitive partner's trying to say is that we'll get the job done," Bastion said, shaking his head slowly in a way that indicated that this was the closest Alexandrite would get to an apology for the stallion's behavior. "Our eyes are on the target. Until dawn." He got up and followed his partner out of the nightclub.

The mare waited until the both of them were gone before burying her face in her hooves. "Uggggh," she grumbled, her voice muffled. "The sooner I can put this disgusting business behind me, the---"

Her mouth abruptly shut. Agonizingly slowly, she shifted her gaze down towards her left foreleg... and the empty space where her watch had rested. She recalled the thief patting her hoof just before he left, and she snarled. Forget the Police. If those lowlifes can't put words to actions and drive Salamandra out of business, I will take the cost of my new watch out of their hides.

"I'm guessing you're not even going to try to tally up how much Salamandra's inventory costs," Bastion deadpanned near-inaudibly to Gates as they slipped through the encroaching darkness back to their base of operations.

"How long have you known me?" Gates spoke, rolling his eyes. "We'll just give her a random number and call it good. She won't know the difference. Seriously, do I look like the kind of stallion who can do complex math in my head?"

Bastion said nothing, letting his unimpressed glare do the talking for him.

"Okay, fine. I'm just feeling lazy today," Gates acquiesced. "But don't lie to me and say that you feel like running the numbers. And you know, what I don't understand is why we don't just destroy everything right there on site. We'll be using the good stuff to put her out for the duration, so what's the harm?"

"The 'harm' involves waking up everypony and everything on the block. That theater isn't the only building on the block that serves as a home," Bastion stated, his tone of voice brooking no argument.

Which didn't stop Gates from arguing anyway. "So we keep the windows closed. Simplest solution."

"That's not going to keep others from hearing us," Bastion retorted, irritated. "Any sort of loud noise done loudly and/or consistently enough in the middle of the night will drive others to investigate, even if it means just telling whoever's in there to be quiet. No one with half a brain is going to believe that Salamandra made that racket just by tripping down the stairs. And even without any of this, we're supposed to stay stealthy. I don't trust Alexandrite to give us a break in the event of us going against the deal."

Gates scoffed, glaring sideways at nothing. "You're no fun sometimes, boss."

"Being 'no fun' is what's keeping us out of prison," was Bastion's reply. "Now be quiet and keep going. We have work to do."

The two of them continued on their way in silence. Reluctantly, in Gates' case, seeing as how he couldn't think of a way to get the last word in their argument.

Hours later...

Bliss. There is no other word to describe how I'm feeling right now. Just pure, unadulterated bliss.

The chorus and gentle melody that lulled me to sleep ended... how long ago? I don't really know. It feels like one's sense of time just melts away here. I wish I had found this place sooner. Hundreds, thousands of miles of nothing but ocean, with who-knows-how-many tiny white dots visible from my position in the galaxy, with many a school of fish and other sea life as my only company... for an amphibious Reploid like myself, it's the equivalent of paradise.

Have I ever taken the time to just stare up at the night sky, watching the endless array of stars crawl across the endless expanse? Was I really too busy working, cleaning, fighting to appreciate their power, their light reaching the world from that far away? It's staggering. I feel sorry for the humans who have to live sealed away from sights like these. At the very least I had the chance to see them in light of my jobs taking me away from Neo Arcadia proper. Humanity doesn't have that luxury.

...Except for Dr. Ciel, now that I think about it. Does she ever go outside at night to see the stars, or does she stay sequestered in the Resistance Base 24/7 to keep herself safe? I sort of wonder.

The ocean's surface beneath me is the greatest bed I've ever slept on. No matter how comfortable they design capsules to be, there's just no comparison. It feels like I've been enveloped in the embrace of a close friend that I've never had. Like I was reunited with a part of myself that I'd forgotten existed, making myself whole again. As I'm thinking this, a gentle breeze blows around me and shifts the waves a little.

A fish jumps over me just to see if it can. It's not of a type I recognize, and I wonder if this is one of those that went extinct in the wake of the old wars. All of that fighting, and all of that damage done to the world... if only those that were fighting were capable of appreciating the beauty of nature, the tranquility of life just living like it is supposed to, the things I'm seeing now. If they had stopped for just a few minutes to meditate on these things, maybe the world would be a different place today...?

There have been questions asked as to whether or not Reploids can dream, given how different our "brains" are from those of humans. If you are viewing my memories, there's your answer right there.

...

An anomaly is disturbing my rest. There's something about the situation that's not right. With some effort I shift positions, and my surroundings fade away, taking all of my enjoyment with them...

...

I open my eyes, and my vision comes into focus. I'm staring... right at the back of a couch? ...Oh. Alright, I understand what happened. Drama Heart must have believed I looked uncomfortable sitting on the floor and decided to move me. Unnecessary, but I suppose it's the thought that counts.

Nice to know that she covered me up, too. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as bad as it had been earlier, true, but I still don't like the idea of more dust getting through my damaged frame. It makes me wonder if finding a cloak or coat I can wear over my armor is feasible, just in case I have to move about in public in the next few days. I'd prefer not to, but then again I've had to do a lot of things I don't like this past day. What's one more?

I'm staying where I am for the moment. I like the idea of sleeping some more and getting my power output as high as is allowable, but I was disturbed from my rest for a reason. I'm not moving until I can determine from my position exactly what it is.

Power Output: 19% of capacity. Cannot exceed 37.7% at the present time.

Good. Auto-repair's working as expected. Part of what takes so long to fix the generators is that they're fairly sensitive equipment compared to the rest of my body, and they're required to keep running at all times. Shutting down the generators outside of a capsule would mean that my auto-repair would stop working, Energen or no Energen, so I have no choice in the ma---

I stop my ruminations, listening carefully. There are faint scratching noises somewhere beneath where I'm laying. Sounds of something or other being moved are reaching me. I doubt mice would make that much noise, so unless Drama decided to go downstairs and just didn't switch on the lights...

Carefully and quietly I push the blankets off myself, roll sideways and get to my feet. Silently I rue a certain decision I'd made a few years prior to Zero's revival: back then Phantom had offered to give the other Guardians, myself included, some stealth training on the side. "Just in case," he'd said. However we'd each turned him down for our own reasons: Fefnir's preferred battle style was loud and flashy, Harpuia didn't see the need in light of his aerial expertise, and I didn't feel that my aquatic leanings and battle attire--read: high-heeled boots--lent themselves well to covert operations. I'm starting to regret that a little bit now, so I'm hoping as I progress through the hallway that I don't make so much noise that it tips off those down below.

Locating Drama's quarters wasn't hard, as her door was left open. The unicorn was still there, sound asleep in what for humans would be a twin-sized bed, but is apparently full-sized from her species' perspective. I know that Gray made it look easy, but I don't think ponies' skeletal structures should allow enough flexibility for them to sleep like this, should they? "Drama?" I call gently. "Drama Heart?"

I'm not getting any response other than a quiet snoring. I don't want to have to raise my voice, so I get up close to the bed before trying again. "Drama Heart. Salamandra? I'm hearing something downstairs."

There's still no indication that she heard me. I reach down and tap one of her hooves a few times, which accomplishes nothing. I huff a little, a hand on my chin. Either she's a heavy sleeper, or...

...!

The curtains on her window are shifting some, and a warm breeze is circulating through the room. Frowning, I turn to investigate. Between the breeze and the noises downstairs, that adds up to...

Called it. As soon as I opened the curtain, I noticed the circular hole--about the same size as a pony's hoof--that had been perfectly cut into the window at about the same height Drama was resting at. There's really no reason why she should have this here, and taking into account everything I've detected in the minute or two since I woke up, the implications are looking increasingly less hopeful.

Please tell me this isn't what I think it will be...

I pull Drama's blanket off of her and stoop down to her level, activating my Deep Sea vision mode. This was meant to help me navigate in the ocean's darkest depths, and as such the light entering the room through the curtain is almost blinding... but if my fears are true, I'd rather not tip anyone off by switching on the lights. I shade my eyes from Manehattan's luminescence as I search for anything out of the ordinary, anything that wasn't there when we last interacted face-to-face...

I abruptly deactivate Deep Sea and pull the blanket back up to Drama's chin, muttering something that I would not have said in Copy X's presence. Right there on the side of her neck, perfectly in line with the hole in the window, is a tiny speck of dried blood. I'm not seeing any evidence in the room that it happened other than the damaged window, but my instincts are still telling me that she was injected with some kind of sedative. How I don't know, but it's the only reason I can think of for why Drama isn't responding to my inquiries.

It's what I thought it would be. Blast it.

I sigh softly. It was my hope that I could rest through the night and work on my power generators some more, get them somewhere close to 50% by sunrise. I hate having my hopes dashed.

My eyes close for a moment. When they open again, my Frost Javelin is in my right hand.

Well, if I can't sleep, I'm just going to have to wile away the hours. Playing 'hero' must be a fun way to pass the time...

Author's Note

The music link in this chapter goes to Everette Harp and Brian Bromberg's "Rock With You". I don't have too many jazz songs in my personal playlists that could've fit the circumstances, so I used what I had.

All of y'all are crazy, but you're the good kind of crazy. To those who have read the story and supported it so far, thank you. All of you. :raritywink:

Huh... well, circumstances cooperated to allow me to get a chapter out by the end of the work week, but I don't see that happening next week. My fanfic laptop's kept at work, and I have off of Monday for Columbus Day (no idea why, but whatever). I figure I'll probably have the next one out by the 18th, but just to be safe...

Estimated Chapter Deadline: October 23rd

P.S. - Yes, the music-based pun in the first scene was intentional. I regret nothing. >^_^<

Crumbling Castle

It's one thing to decide that you want to be a hero in the style of someone you both hate and respect. It's something else to decide that you want to do it without invoking collateral damage.

Before doing anything else, I'd silently gone back to the living room to retrieve the blankets. It took a little bit of work, but I was able to tie them around my sides to conceal the worst of my injuries. I realize I would probably look strange to most people if they saw me, but right now cleanliness and practicality are more important than my pride.

Javelin back in hand, I'm currently considering my options. My plans as they stand are hindered by my lack of knowledge regarding whoever's burglarizing the theater. Who or what makes up their numbers? Unicorns? Pegasi? 'Normal' ponies, or whatever it is they're called? I don't think I ever asked about that... Anyway, my point is that without knowing about them or what exactly they can do, I'm going into this completely blind.

I make a quick inquiry as to the state of my ice manipulation, taking into account my replenished Energen supply and nearly-restored motor control. I get my systems' response, plus a minor bonus, in the time it takes to blink.

Ice Manipulation: 43%. Main system undamaged. Low-medium efficiency due to reduced power output.

Frost Javelin: 98%. Cursory damage will not affect usage. Systems nominal.

Coolant Levels: 84.2%.

Essentially, what it means is that I won't be throwing multiple ice dragons or packs of mines around anytime soon. Still a definite improvement over earlier, and I won't need those techniques for dealing with thieves. Once my power's back to full, my ice manipulation should reach that level as well, and that will be important if I ever need to fight any serious threats before I go home.

Let's face it, it'll probably end up happening. The stories I alluded to earlier would, more often than not, have those removed from their homes risking their lives against all manner of dastardly and wretched beings. Whenever they weren't accidentally romancing those around them, anyway... and so help me if someone gets a crush on me here, I'm going to scream. I am not kidding.

My coolant supply's gone up a little bit, too. Normally I would have to have it replenished from an outside source at the very rare times I ever lost any, usually someplace like the refueling stations found at each squadron's main base. Seeing it restore itself on its own is a surprise, and one that I'll gladly welcome.

...

Just what was in that Heartbreakers candy? My coolant wasn't capable of self-restoration before I consumed those sugar bombs, so why in... ...No, not right now. I'll give time to these thoughts later.

Now that I'm up to date on my capabilities, I can devise a means of stopping the thieves appropriately without sending the building crashing down around me. As stated earlier, I don't have any idea what these ponies can do. Just about anything can happen when dealing with the unknown.

An eager smile splits my face as a plan coalesces in my mind. But as things stand, I doubt they're prepared for something quite like me, either.

I carefully pad over to the exit. Instead of unlocking it to make my way downstairs, I place my hand on the door handle and channel my ice manipulation through my palm. A thin coating of ice envelops the handle and wraps around its latch, jamming the door inside its frame. Just a little stopgap measure to prevent easy entry; it'll dissolve into nothingness in about ten minutes or so, but that should be more than enough time to finish my work in the theater proper.

Now, I doubt that I can actually corral everyone without being seen, but I'll worry about that issue when it becomes important. For now, let's see if they can hear me exiting out the living room window.

Work for the Midnight Castle gang at the Pyre was going about as smoothly as their heists usually went.

A few hours before, Bastion and Iron Gates had gathered the other members of their gang together and informed them of how their meeting with Alexandrite turned out. All of them expressed surprise that one of the theater district's most well-known figures would hire someone like them, but in the end they shrugged and decided they couldn't be picky. They hadn't fallen on hard times yet, but every bit counted in their chosen profession.

The group, which counted among themselves three earth ponies, two pegasi, and two unicorns, hashed out a plan immediately. It was decided that they would go into hiding along the rooftops, keeping an eye on the Pyre and singling out which room was the puppet master's bedroom. After making certain that Salamandra was asleep, one of the unicorns would carve a hole in the window and inject her with a sleeping potion of the group's own make, ensuring that she would stay asleep for as long as it took the Midnight Castles to get the job done. Once that was accomplished, they would pick the lock on the theater's back door and roam free throughout the entire building.

Thus far there had been no problems. Salamandra had twitched when the sedative was injected into her, her eyes opening a fraction, but they drifted shut a few seconds later and she did not react to their presence. Once everypony was inside the theater, the group had set to work grabbing everything they could comfortably carry and using their cache of weight/mass reduction crystals on anything they couldn't, piling the stolen goods on the theater's own cart for transport in addition to their own. At that point it would just be a matter of getting everything back to their hideout without being sighted--or in the worst-case scenario, caught--by the Royal Police's night patrols, and given their years of experience in the field that wasn't going to be an issue.

The stage curtains. An ugly plaster goblin with a two-meter neck. The "guardian skeleton" in the lobby. The popcorn machine. Some cans of dark red paint in a storage closet. The mirror in Salamandra's dressing room. Two crates worth of records. A can of fake spiders. A minotaur-shaped dummy with a trench coat stained by the aforementioned paint. The desk in Salamandra's office, along with everything it contained. The restrooms' supply of toilet paper. It didn't matter what it was: the thieves were taking it. They were told to steal everything that could be stolen, and so they would.

They had just started to remove the lobby's lighting when one of the pegasi's ears twitched. "Boss?" she called, turning her head up and towards her right.

"Something wrong, Knight?" Bastion's voice returned from the manager's office.

"Are we positive that Salamandra's out for the entire night?"

One of the unicorns could be heard huffing in irritation from the auditorium. "If you're telling us that my potion is lacking, Knight..."

"All I did was ask a question," 'Knight' complained. "And you might want to clean out your ears, Bridge. I just heard something creak upstairs."

An annoyed Gates entered the lobby, a random orange scarf draped across his back. "You're right. I'm hearing the sound of bits making a clean getaway if you don't pick up your hooves and get back to work."

"I'm being serious here, boss," Knight protested. "There's---"

"Monnney money money money money," Gates interrupted, waving one of his hooves around and rolling his eyes. "Jinglin' jinglin' jinglin' janglin' out of your saddlebags and into ours. Psssh. Have you ever seen any of Bridge's concoctions not drop their recipients like flies? Like at all?"

Bastion exited the office as he spoke, a framed painting of the Everfree Forest on his back. "There's a first time for everything, so can the attitude. I heard the noise too, but I was under the assumption that it was the building settling."

"You don't seriously believe that there's somepony moving around that shouldn't be there?" Gates asked, frowning. "Come on. If Sally up there was cohabiting with somepony, we'd know it by now. Why are you both acting so worried?"

"A better question would be 'why is Iron Gates a complete jerk'?" the team's second pegasus responded as she dropped the lights she'd collected into a sack. "Just because you have seniority doesn't mean you're allowed to be rude."

"And just because you're the youngest one in the group doesn't mean you're allowed to be a hypocrite, Gargoyle," Gates shot back. "The grown-ups are talking here."

"In that case, why are you still running your mouth?" 'Gargoyle' snarked, sniggering at what she thought was a joke.

"If you're hearing weird things, then I'm experiencing weird things," the group's third earth pony piped up, poking his head into the lobby and interrupting Gates' impolite reply before it could leave his mouth. "I can't get the back door open. A little help back here?"

"Have you tried using your hooves like everypony else, Barricade?" Gates uttered through gritted teeth. "It's not that difficult."

"Wouldn't be calling you if it worked," came the reply. "I tried to unlock it with the same method I used before, plus a few that I hadn't. It's not opening. It's like something's caught the latch and it ain't letting go."

"Check on what's keeping him, Gates," Bastion ordered as he turned and re-entered Salamandra's office, intending to place another crystal on a file cabinet. "I'll be along in a moment. Bridge? Moat? You're with him. Knight, Gargoyle, pick up your pace."

Gargoyle mock-saluted him. "You're the boss, boss," she said as she continued her tasks, snapping her tail in Gates' general direction as he left.

...

Gates growled to himself as he and Barricade trotted through the theater towards the back door. Moat, who had been raiding the ticket booth for anything not nailed down and had remained silent throughout the exchange, and Bridge, who had been in the middle of ripping up some of the auditorium's seats, joined him on the way. "Can't open a door, they don't know when to shut up... feels like I'm leading a parade of idiots, complete with baton."

"Why is Gargoyle even part of the team, anyway?" Bridge wondered. "She's always been too much of a loose cannon."

"Because she's a loose cannon who's good at what she does." Gates scowled, looking for an excuse to kick something. "No matter how much I'd like for her to spontaneously lose her wings in mid-flight over the Crystaller Building."

The others winced at his vicious words, but didn't comment on them. There was nothing more to be said from then on until they got to the back door.

...

When they reached it, Gates had intended to just easily open the door and lord that minor victory over Barricade. That plan was quickly foiled when he discovered that it was as the fellow thief had said: it wasn't opening, and an attempt at unlocking it met with the same degree of success. "Bridge," he ordered, backing away from the door. "See if you can find out what's causing this."

The unicorn did as instructed, pulling out a magnifying glass as she got up close to the door handle. Her horn shone with a blue aura as she used a spell to enhance her vision further, running it first along the handle before moving on to the door's edge to check the latch. "Looks like it's... frozen over?" Bridge stated incredulously as she withdrew the glass, her magic shutting off. "But it's too warm out for ice."

"Ice, huh?" Gates murmured dryly. "And me without my Hypermane heat vision. Out of the way, you three. I'm going to give this door a good kick."

"Didn't Bastion tell us to exercise stealth?" Barricade reminded him. "Orders from the client, I me---"

A loud noise akin to canvas tearing reached them through the door, and Gates drew in a sharp breath. That sounds like...! "Forget stealth! We've got company!" he snapped, pivoting and bucking at the door handle with all his strength. Only a hasty dodge prevented Bridge from getting accidentally struck.

Icy pieces flew through the air off the latch, shattered by the force of the kick as the door swung violently open. Gates turned to charge through the door and subdue whoever it was that decided to interfere with them---

---and stopped himself before he could commit to the action, gawking in disbelief. Slowly, he walked into the moonlight that pervaded the alley in order to convince himself that what he was seeing was real. The others followed, no less stunned.

The wheels of both carts were frozen fast to the ground, engulfed as they were in ice. Ice, several inches worth despite it being the middle of summer. The tarps that the group had been using to conceal what they'd loaded had been torn free and ripped apart, leaving the valuables in plain sight. Even taking into account the reduction crystals at their disposal and the combined magic power of both unicorns, there was no way the group would be able to steal everything on the property as Alexandrite had wanted them to. Not without it being blatantly obvious to the Royal Police and any night-loving residents.

What grabbed his attention immediately after was the most oddly-dressed biped Gates had ever seen in his life (not that he'd seen many, granted). It was standing with its back towards the door, a futuristic pole arm straight out of some comic book or other held tightly in one hand. It didn't react to their presence at first, but when it did, it slowly turned its head to face them over its shoulder and gave them a face-splitting grin that flat-out oozed smugness.

Gates didn't know what he hated more: that this doll-thing decided to butt in on their heist, that he didn't know where it came from, or that he was receiving that smile from someone other than his reflection for a change. Either way he was mad, and he made that anger clear with the calmness of his tone. "Moat? Bridge?" he hissed. "Tear it apart."

Credit where credit is due: the unicorns certainly tried, and with a clever tactic that would have worked with most others at that. Bridge utilized her magic to immobilize the thing's limbs, while Moat attempted to yank its pole arm out of its grip with the intent of skewering it through the torso. What they didn't count on was the doll's minotaur-esque strength. No matter how much they pried, its grip was unrelenting and the resistance it offered overwhelming. After a short time they were forced to shut off their magic and catch their breath.

All the while, its grin didn't relax. "Nice try!" it declared, pivoting and swinging its pole arm at them. Gates and Barricade were fast enough to evade the strike by jumping back through the door, but the weapon's broad side caught the still-recovering unicorns and golfed them both into a nearby dumpster.

Gates growled and reached for the twin combat knives he kept concealed in his sleeve. “Barricade, get everyone out here,” he ordered. “I'll stall it!” Without waiting for the thief to follow the order, he bit down on the handle of one knife and wrapped his hoof around the other before springing at the would-be hero.

I jump away from the slash-happy pony as it attacks, deflecting its opening strikes. Behind him, his companion hurries back into the theater with the intent of bringing the rest of the gang to bear.

As I silently agree to play the thief's game, I congratulate myself on a job well done. After slipping out the living room window and wall-sliding my way down, I'd taken a peek into the alley to see if anybody (anypony, come on already!) was back there. Sure enough, one of the thieves was transferring items from within the building onto a pair of carts, one of which was adorned with Drama Heart's personal symbol. A few of the things on those carts I didn't think they were capable of carrying solo, at least not without strain. Magic. Just like everything else I've been seeing here.

The pony had placed the goods beneath tarps that were covering both carts, then went back inside for more. I'd waited until the door closed, then hurried over and applied my ice manipulation towards locking it. Knowing that I only had a limited amount of time to work with after I heard the pony initially struggling with the door, I then took the time to freeze each individual wheel on the carts to the ground. I'd just finished that task when I heard a group of them talking and trying to get the door open. With nothing more to do but destroy any attempt at hiding what they'd done from those on the streets, I fired the Javelin's blade across the alley to slice open the tarps on both carts with one strike.

Now, the smile I gave the thieves when they entered the alley... I don't know just what it was that possessed me to do that. I can't decide if it was because I'd ruined their night's work and felt like being smug, or if I was just saying in my own way that a destructive wave was about to crash down on them. Either way, it had the desired effect: the unicorns tried to steal the Javelin to no avail, I swatted them aside with the weapon's blunt side to keep myself from killing them, and the most aggressive of the bunch went on the attack.

The pony's fast, far faster than equines have a right to be; I actually have to put in a bit of effort at evasion as we dance around the alley. He's smart, too: he keeps trying to slash and stab at the battle damage that the blankets aren't hiding, recognizing my obvious weak points. A total fool would have tried to attack me without any sort of strategy.

That's not to say that I'm having any trouble holding him off, even as tired as I am. He might be fast, but Harpuia—never mind Zero—eclipses him. I've won my share of sparring matches against the pretty boy with my land disadvantage taken into account. It should come as no surprise that I'm able to either block or turn aside the majority of the thief's strikes, and the few that reach my synthskin aren't able to pierce the ceratanium layer beneath it. Those do little more than shove me backward a little, something which is easily remedied.

The sounds of hoof and wing beats reach my ears: the thief's reinforcements are incoming. Good. Means I can take them all out at once. “Bastion! Barricade!” the thief calls, shaking those who hadn't seen me yet out of their initial surprise. “Corner this witch! Knight, air cover! Gargoyle, see if you can wake up our dumpster divers! That thing's not going to stop all of us at once!”

Excellent. They're reacting according to plan, and my ice manipulation is at adequate levels. Time to field-test my newest technique.

After my fourth battle against Zero at the Temple of Ice, I realized that he was incorporating attacks from those he'd fought before into his personal style. Just looking over the footage while I was recovering, I recognized explosive flaming bullets akin to Fefnir's Buster shots, as well as a rising slash similar to that used by the Cutting Shadow Squadron's own Phoenix Magnion. I decided that if he was going to steal our attacks, I might as well give him a taste of his own medicine.

After recovering, I spent the bulk of my free time over the next seven-plus weeks training myself to use the technique and making sure the Javelin was capable of pulling it off. Sadly, mere hours after I was satisfied with it, Omega crash-landed and “introduced” himself to me before I could charge it up. My race towards his and Zero's battle arena didn't allow me any opportunity to use it then, either.

But now? I think as I allow myself to get cornered by the thieves' tactics. It's time to do something I haven't gotten to do in months: enjoy myself.

It's about time, Gates complained to himself as Bastion and Barricade closed in, delivering a set of rapid-fire hoof strikes that forced the doll-thing to back away. This monstrosity is just way too evasive for one-on-one.

He waited for it to block a particularly powerful blow from Bastion, which shoved it against the far end of the alley, then fished his last combat knife from his uniform and whipped it at the doll's left eye. The pole arm's blade interposed itself in the knife's flight path, deflecting it, but this left it open to a flurry of twisting mid-air hoof strikes from Knight. As he retrieved the knife, Gates admitted to himself that the Wonderbolt wannabe was finally pulling her weight; she hadn't done much to distinguish herself from the rest of the crew up until then, so he'd assumed that she was overly generic. Turns out she's actually halfway decent in a fight. Who'd have thought?

There were some harsh words exchanged at the dumpster as Gargoyle succeeded in rousing Bridge and Moat. The second pegasus joined Knight in her mid-air assault, and the doll began spinning its weapon to hold off the duo and create a killing field of sorts, preventing anypony from getting close enough to attack physically. Gates wasn't too worried: if the unicorns immobilized the doll again, the rest of them could go to town on it and smash it apart. That ridiculously sturdy frame it possessed couldn't protect it forever, and he was looking forward to gloating at it as its life left its eyes. At that point they could figure out what to do about salvaging the heist that had been spoiled...

...But none of that is doing anything to answer why that thing's weapon is glowing!

The pole arm had gained a blue-white aura that lit up the immediate vicinity, almost making it hurt to look at directly as it continued to spin, accompanied by a noise that sounded halfway between a hum and a hiss. If its owner was aiming to blind them it was well on its way, judging from Moat's disgruntled groan, but that wasn't going to stop them... and if it was gathering any sort of magic for projectile attacks, the unicorns should have at least picked up on it--

With a grunt the doll went airborne, covering almost twice its own height in a vertical leap to take it above the entire gang. It had stopped spinning its weapon and instead swung it over its head, and instinctively Gates realized that it was going for a definitive killing blow towards one of them. Even as Bastion ordered everyone to scatter, he was already getting as much horizontal distance as the confines of the alley and the nearby carts would allow, believing that avoiding the blade itself would be enough.

...

It wasn't.

The Frost Javelin descended, striking the pavement as Leviathan landed. With a howl that rivaled the windigos of ages past, a shockwave of freezing air and energy blasted all seven ponies at once, enveloping them in its heart-chilling grip and yanking Gates' knife away from him. Particles rapidly coalesced, forming thick layers of ice that smothered those that were ground-bound, ensnaring them all in a flash. The edge of the wave washed against the back of Drama Heart's cart, flash-freezing one corner ineffectually before the blast dissipated.

1.2 seconds after the Javelin unleashed its power, the fight was over.

Both pegasi blinked, and in the time it took to open their eyes again they were trapped against the theater's exterior by the same ice, wondering how and why they were shivering from both cold and pain. The both of them had a natural resistance to the elements, but "resistance" did not directly translate to "immunity", and even as they wondered what happened they knew they were going to be feeling this one for a while.

"They're not going to die from this, if you're curious. The ice will melt and dissolve soon enough."

Knight blinked a few times at what she perceived was a non-sequitur. She realized that the doll they were attacking was standing before them at eye-level. "What..."

"I wasn't fighting at full strength, pegasi, and I was holding back to boot. Had that charged slash been delivered with all my power... well. I shouldn't have to tell you what would have happened, I hope?"

Next to Knight, Gargoyle had gained some of her coherency back. Not all of it, but some. "Why..."

"'Why?'" the doll parroted, leaning in with a smile. "Because I live here. I thought it was obvious."

Both ponies' ears drooped. "Well, double c-crud and a half," Gargoyle muttered, dismayed. "We thought Salamandra l-lived alone."

"At least six hours behind the times there, ponies." The doll folded its arms, its pole arm still held at the ready. "Now, then. We've got a few minutes before that ice melts. You're going to answer a few questions for me. Honestly."

"W-why should we---" Knight tried to say...

...only to be interrupted. "And you will answer my questions. Unless you want to go without your wings for the rest of your life?"

The both of them paled, regaining full alertness on the spot. "You... you wouldn't!" Gargoyle protested, the snark and bravado she'd been showing all evening leaving her.

"I wouldn't?" The doll shoved its face into hers. "The recent times have not been kind to me. I've been decimated, dirtied, exploded by a dying monster, been screamed at by a filly, surprised by a gray ghost, had my beliefs upturned, treated like an inanimate object, been chased, been hugged, and forced to protect my home away from home when all I wanted to do was to recover my strength in peace. You caught me in the middle of a bad fortnight, pegasi. I will only play nice if you let me."

"...Knight? What d-do you think we should do?" Gargoyle asked worriedly, deferring to the only other pony in the alley who was still conscious and coherent. She wanted to keep her wings, and she didn't want to think about how high the medical bills would be if their enemy... removed them. She valued her freedom too, but what was freedom without flight?

"...Well, I always knew our careers as thieves would b-be ending sooner or l-later..." Knight admitted, shivering. "If I was Iron Gates, I'd be protesting and trying to escape every step of the way. E-easy for him to do. He d-doesn't have the pride and joy of all pegasi to lose. M-might as well go to jail with our d-dignity intact." She looked the doll in the eyes. "What do y-you want to know?"

The doll smiled. She relaxed her hold on her pole arm just enough to allow them a bit of extra breathing room. "First things first: why did you decide to rob the Pyre? Was it just because you thought it was a good idea at the time, or is there some underlying reason for it?..."

I suspect that I'll be hating myself in the morning.

Plus side: the charged Javelin slash was a complete success. I was able to incapacitate the entire gang at once with a single attack, and I held back enough power to ensure that they would survive the experience, albeit with some chills. Chew on that, Zero.

Another plus side: the two pegasi provided me with plenty of details. Who they were, why they were stealing from the Pyre, and most importantly who sent them. I should have enough time and energy to act on that last one before morning, provided their patron's location isn't too far away.

Minus side: ...That manic grin was one thing, but why in the world did I threaten to remove those ponies' wings? I know that I'm tired, but all of the crankiness in the world doesn't excuse that. I don't think I was that bad even during the worst days of Copy X's regime.

...Was I?

I have to remind myself that these are flesh-and-blood entities I'm dealing with, not Reploids. Not machines. When machines lose parts or have them forcibly removed by an outside source, they can be easily repaired in most cases. Fixed. Good as new. Humans, and these ponies by extension, don't have that luxury. Sure, humans can get cybernetic replacements now, but losing limbs for them is still a traumatic experience. Whatever they do after that, they would never be the same. Some damage can never be fixed.

Whether I was this bad in Neo Arcadia or not, what I told those pegasi still makes me feel sick. I'm having this nagging feeling I should be apologizing to them. Yes yes, I know, it's silly to say "I'm sorry" to people who are trying to kill me. But what right do I, a total stranger to their lands and laws, have to threaten them like that? It's the sort of thing that I could be tried and thrown in prison for, for all I know. And that's if any judges they have are feeling lenient.

You can bet that would put a serious crimp in my plans to return home. Sure, I could probably break out of whatever prison they have, but that wouldn't leave any...pony that would otherwise help me with a good impression of me. I need to prove myself better than that. I have an ideal, a memory that I want to live up to now. When the time finally comes for me to reunite with X in Cyberspace, whenever that may be, I want to be able to tell him to his face that I did my absolute best to live as a protector. A true Guardian to the last.

(Though I still make no apologies for wanting to destroy Zero. That's my idea of a good time, and nothing short of his defeat will take that away from me. One day, I'm going to give it to him. Don't believe me? Just watch.)

So I have one more thing to add to my personal checklist: get copies of the local laws so that I don't offend the authorities on accident.

"Stupid cold chills, stupid walking puppet, stupid everything ruining my payday..."

And that means not rising to Iron Gates' bait and freezing him again just to make him shut up. From the moment I freed him from the ice and plopped the gang into one of their own nets up until now, he's been spouting threats, wisecracks, and everything in-between. It's getting annoying, and I'm already tired as is just from trying to mentally censor him. Some of the things he's saying I wouldn't repeat in Fefnir's presence, let alone a child's.

Come on, I thought Gargoyle told me that the local authorities did patrol the streets at ni---...Wait, there they are. Black and white vests over light armor, official-looking caps, towing an enclosed carriage with what I'm hoping has the word "Police" on the side? That seems to match the description. I wave them down when they get close enough, getting their attention. "Sirs? Sirs!"

The carriage pulls over close by, both ponies surprised at my appearance but behaving like the professionals they're supposed to be. "Is something the..." one of the officers starts to say, but stops and does a double-take when he sees the net I'm carrying. "...matter? What the..."

"Got a package for you," I greeted them as I gestured at the angry, humiliated, or otherwise resigned thieves within the net.

Both of the officers are clearly befuddled. I would be too, if I'd witnessed someone carrying around seven people at once with minimal effort. The first officer is the one who speaks. "Um... thanks?"

The other one is able to get a good look at who is in the net, whistling. "The Midnight Castle gang? We've been trying to snag these bums for over a year now! How'd you catch them?"

"I caught them red-handed..." Oops, they're looking confused. Let's fix that. "Excuse me. I caught them red-hooved trying to empty out that theater back there," I said, gesturing at the Pyre down the block. I set the net down where all of us can keep our eyes on it. "The owner's been letting me stay there until I can regain my footing, so to speak. Figured I'd do something nice for her while I was here."

"What sort of ridiculous coincidence..." Iron Gates muttered from within the net. Again, doesn't he ever shut up? Or possess any sort of respect for authority, for that matter?

The largest thief--Bastion, according to what Knight said--seems to agree with me, as disgruntled as he is. "Gates. For the love of Celestia. Stop. Talking."

As Officer No. 2 taps an earpiece he's wearing and speaks into it quietly (so they have rudimentary radios, good to know), Officer No. 1 visibly calms down a little. He's still nervous around me, but he's letting his professionalism guide him. Good. “Guessing there's a story behind this. Do you have time tonight to share your statements?..."

...

While we waited for additional officers to arrive to pick up the thieves--seeing as how this carriage doesn't have enough room for all seven--I told them of everything that had transpired from the moment I'd woken up from my dream. When they expressed doubt over my ice manipulation, I brought out the Frost Javelin and froze a few centimeters worth of sidewalk as a visual aid. This was enough to satisfy them both before we moved on.

When I got to the topic of my interrogation, the both of them gave me these incredibly stern looks. This prompts me to turn my attention to the net. Gates and one of the unicorns are in a position to glare at me, while both pegasi look downtrodden. I gather my thoughts and consider what I am about to do... then astonished all of those present when I knelt on one knee before the thieves. "Knight? Gargoyle? Please forgive me."

I'm not showing it outwardly, but gobsmacked pony faces are a laugh riot. "For...forgive you?" Gargoyle blurts out, incredulous. "Why?"

"It's not the interrogation itself that I want to apologize for," I tell them with complete seriousness. "It's what I threatened you with. I forgot that ponies cannot replace their limbs as easily as machines can, and I crossed a line because of it. I should not have threatened you with the loss of your wings. For that, I am truly sorry."

Most would expect the thieves to reject my apology outright, or set their jaws and ignore me. For the umpteenth time in as many hours, the local ponies are instead choosing to surprise me again. "What?" Knight exclaims, mouth falling open. "You're a machine? But you're---"

"---making my own decisions, yes," I finish for her. I stand up as another police carriage approaches, this one towed by three ponies and having enough space within for the entire gang.

"...By Celestia," Gargoyle whispers. "We got crushed by the unholy love child of the Termarenator and the Masked Matter-horn."

"Heh. You're such a nerd," Gates utters, prompting a mutter of "Why do I even bother?" from Bastion and confirming that there was references there that I wasn't getting.

Well, that could have gone a lot worse. They didn't vocally accept my apology, but at least they didn't get angry over it. The shrug I'm seeing from the police is telling me that I should count that as a win.

...

As I'm finishing giving the officers my statements, the new arrivals are pulling the thieves out of the net one by one, depriving them of their remaining tools, reading them their rights, and cuffing them (with rings around the unicorns' horns that I was told would limit their magic usage). We didn't have any rights-reading for Reploids back in Neo Arcadia due to Copy X being Copy X, and while the human authorities had something similar for their own race, I'd never been around to hear any of it. It's nice to get a basic idea of how this works.

While four of the officers are leading the captured gang into the back of the carriage, the one who'd been paying the most attention to my account is awkwardly shaking my hand with his hoof. I muse to myself that his personal brand looks an awful lot like some kind of camera. "Your methods could use plenty of work, but the Manehattan Royal Police still owes you for capturing the Midnight Castles," he's saying. "Thank you for your assistance, citizen."

"I'm not a citizen, sir," I tell him, letting go. "I'm not even native to this world, let alone this city."

"Didn't think so," he answers, taking it in stride. "I think we'd know if we'd seen a biped quite like you before. How long do you plan to stay in Manehattan, Ms. Leviathan?"

"I don't know," I admit. "It would depend on how long it would take me to find a way back. If there's a way back."

"You might want to consider applying for citizenship at City Hall the first chance you get, then," the officer suggests. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. Now then, are you positive that you don't want us to investigate the pony who hired them? Conspiring with thieves is a serious offense in itself. It would be troublesome if she tried again."

A slight head shake. "Now that I have the full story and my wits about me, I should be able to discourage her from pursuing her vendetta against Ms. Heart. I promise that if she gets unruly, the Royal Police will be the first to know." Something's clicking in my mind. "Pardon me for asking, but why didn't you write down anything I said? Isn't that a bit detrimental to your job?"

"I can handle that back at the station," the officer reassures me with a smile. "Nice thing about having a photographic memory is that I never forget what I hear or see. I can repeat back everything you've said since you signaled for us, if you'd like."

Well, that's interesting. That would explain that camera branding he has. Did he earn that because of his memory, or is it the other way around? "That won't be needed. Very advantageous," I compliment him. "So, those thieves told me that their benefactor was at a nightclub called 'The Lonely Heart'. Have you ever heard of that place? And if so, how do I get there from here?..."

A short time later...

This waiting is killing me. How much longer is it until sunrise?

Aside from a quick stop at the restroom, Alexandrite hadn't left her booth since Gates and Bastion had left. Much as she wanted to go home and go to bed, she intended to wait right where she was for news of the thieves' successful mission. It would draw too many questions from others if the thieves tried to meet her at her home; far as she was concerned, it was sheer chance that no one recognized the Castles' representatives when they met at the Lonely Heart. Her decision got her a few odd looks from the servers, but they could go headbutt a concrete wall for all she cared.

She'd looked up a few times whenever the door opened, but it was just the nightclub's usual clientele coming and going. No ponies in Cutie Mark-concealing uniforms appeared to inform her that their task was complete. She chastised herself for getting her hopes up and went back to nursing her bottle of cider, closing her eyes every now and then to give them rest while listening to the band plink away at their instruments.

Distantly, she heard a few muffled sounds outside the door before it opened up again. This time Alexandrite believed she knew better and declined to look up, instead taking another sip from the bottle. It took her a few seconds to realize that all of the noise in the nightclub had disappeared, and it took a shadow falling over her and the table for her to see the source of the silence. For a moment she thought that one of the thieves she'd hired was pranking her by shoving one of Salamandra's stage props in her face, and she opened her mouth to chastise them for their behavior.

"Miss Alexandrite, I presume?"

...Only to jump halfway out of her skin when the alleged stage prop spoke to her, its tone dangerous. "I just had the most interesting conversation with a certain handful of ponies." The words carried throughout the entire nightclub, and everypony was listening. "They say you're one of the most respected figures in the city's theater and art districts. A socialite of fine repute, endearing to a fault, never antagonizing anyone. You're one of those that anyone... or 'anypony', rather... would be privileged to meet." It stationed itself such that the unicorn wouldn't be able to leave the booth without being caught, glaring at her. "Logically speaking, it would indicate that if I asked you why you had those ponies ravage my home, you would give me a straight answer."

Alexandrite's eyes dilated. "Your... home?..."

"Flaming Salamandra's Pyre of Fears," the prop said plainly. Was it her imagination, or was its forehead glowing? "I was given new life this past day, little pony. I believed that I was dying, and by all rights I should be deceased... but instead I woke up and saw the sunlight, felt its wonderful warmth. The one you call 'Drama Heart' has seen fit to house me and see to my needs this night. I am not an ungrateful soul that would reward her generosity with ruination."

Some of those present started murmuring, but Alexandrite didn't hear any of it. She pressed herself against the back of the booth in a vain attempt to get some distance from this... battle-scarred creature, her heart beating faster. No no no no no---! "You... you're a..."

"A monster?" The entity finished bemusedly. "No. Never a monster. What I am..." It held out one hand, a spear of some kind materializing in it out of nothing. "...is a Guardian. I gave my life once in service to a great cause, Miss Alexandrite, and I would gladly do so again. The Pyre of Fears is my home for now, unicorn. My protectorate. I have no reason to fear a ragtag crew of thieves who are motivated by money and nothing else."

A chill built up in the nightclub that had nothing to do with Alexandrite's own fear. "So if you don't mind a friendly suggestion?" the creature continued. "Cut your losses and never harass Salamandra again. Your reputation would take a hit by virtue of those present here, but you would still be free. You would have the opportunity to prove yourself a better pony than you were tonight. The chance to convince all who see you that the endearing mask you wear in public is your true face, not something that's freely discarded when its convenient. In addition, I should be able to convince Salamandra not to set the Royal Police on your tail." A smile just as cold as the air. "Though bear in mind that I said 'should'. It's not going to be a guarantee, Miss Alexandrite. If you don't clean up your act---"

"Alright! Alright!" Alexandrite cried out, frantic and fearful as she raised her hooves before her face, tears in the corners of her eyes. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me---! "You have my word! I won't target her again! Just... just go away!"

The creature kept still for fifteen long seconds. All the while, Alexandrite's heart felt like it was trying to escape her ribcage in the face of the biped's glare. Finally it lowered its weapon, banishing it back to wherever it was it had gotten it from. The glow in the thing's forehead receded. "I've never met some...pony as cowardly as you," it said, hesitating over the pronoun for reasons unknown. "But I'll take you at your word. Provided you live up to your promise, I will never have a reason to cross paths with you again. Good-bye." It turned and walked towards the exit, its footsteps echoing through the nightclub.

"You... you didn't kill the thieves... did you?" Alexandrite inquired after it, trying mightily to rein in her heartrate and hide how relieved she was that she'd gotten off the hook.

The entity paused, staring out at nothing. "...No," it spoke after a short silence before it resumed walking, its voice surprisingly heavy... with a touch of sadness? "I didn't."

Alexandrite wasn't given the opportunity to dwell on this before somepony else spoke up. "Hey, um, lady?" one of the performers on stage asked nervously as it passed. "If I can call you 'lady'... who are you, and did you really come back from the dead?"

"Metaphorically, not literally," the creature clarified, drawing relieved sighs from most of those present and calming the one who'd asked. "I'm not some ancient being like you might have been expecting. If anything, I'm probably just as old as any of you." It stopped with one hand on the door. "As for who I am, it's not important. I don't intend to stay in this city forever, so I'll be out of your manes soon enough."

"So you're okay with us just calling you 'lady', then?"

Surprisingly, this drew a laugh. "That would be a lie. What I've done here in the past few minutes should've proved that I'm no lady."

"Then give us a name," the performer insisted. "Better that than something you're not, right?"

The creature turned to face the stage. Alexandrite was able to work up the bravery to leave her booth and take a few steps closer as it spoke, and she thought she recognized confusion on its face. "I was under the impression that your species would be afraid of me just because of how different I am compared to you, but you're talking to me with next to no fear. Was I wrong?"

"We ain't gonna lie and tell ya that ya don't look creepy," one of the other performers said. "'Specially with those holes in ya. But then again, we thought griffons and minotaurs looked creepy the first time we saw them too, and they turned out so-so. You ain't gonna go around butchering ponies?"

"Not a snowball's chance in a desert on a summer afternoon."

"Then that means you're so-so too, right?"

As those present conversed quietly among themselves at the question, the entity was visibly taken back by this. It slowly raised its hand up to where its heart would have been had it been a minotaur, paused, then dropped it back to its side with a conflicted expression on its face. "...Everypony in this city is crazy."

A wave of chuckling rippled through the nightclub. "You might find that us Manehattanites are a tougher bunch compared to most," a black-maned earth pony in an incredibly ugly leisure suit informed the entity. It wouldn't be until much later that Alexandrite learned that this pony was the nightclub's owner. "So how about it? Are you going to give us a name before you go?"

The creature smiled ruefully. With this expression, it doesn't seem quite as frightening... "If you insist. My name is Leviathan. Fairy Leviathan," it said, enunciating it clearly for all listening. With a nod and a wave it opened the door and departed the nightclub, smiling at the bouncer as it left.

...

As one and all resumed the activities they had been partaking in prior to 'Leviathan's' arrival, with the addition of a wary glare or two directed her way, Alexandrite hung her head as she tried to parse what had taken place. Everything, from discovering that her attempt to ruin Salamandra's life had been foiled to becoming beholden to the one who had thwarted it to start with, journeyed through her mind. Sighing mournfully, she levitated some bits back to her booth and left the nightclub herself. She had sleep to catch up on, and an important decision in the morning to make.

So much for getting my watch back.

Even with my dash thrusters working non-stop, it took me almost ten minutes to get back to the Pyre. I didn't feel comfortable leaving everything unattended, what with the open back door and the living room window, so I was concerned that somepony else had visited while I was away and taken what was left outside. Thankfully there had been no visitors, though a quick investigation of the apartment showed that Drama Heart was still sedated. Knight and Gargoyle had told me that the sedative they'd used would wear off when the sun rose, whenever that was, so time will tell whether that's true or not.

Currently I'm back in the alley. The carts are still where I left them, their contents untouched but the ice keeping the wheels locked in place having long since dissolved. I sigh, looking at just how much the thieves had managed to take before I'd interrupted them.

I have doubts that I can get all of this back where it belongs before sunrise. Some of these I can manage, sure. That skeleton pony from the lobby or the paint cans, to name a few. But the wooden desk? I don't know where it goes. And these curtains look like they belong in the auditorium, but it feels to me like putting them back up would require either a team effort or a unicorn's magic; I don't want to damage these by accident. So as it stands, I'll just bring back what I can and leave the rest to Drama's judgement.

Wishing that the night would come to an end already, I stoop down to pick up the grotesque long-necked monster and place it somewhere out of the way. I think I'm beginning to understand what humans find so appealing about getting nine hours' rest. Maybe I should try it sometime.

And while I'm wishing for the impossible, I'd like a swimming pool the size of this entire block, please.

Author's Note

The linked music tracks are as follows: ZeRo-BaSs' "Forgotten Aura", Skytric's "Infiltration Redux", and The Dave Brubeck Quartet's "Take Five". The links in the "Redux" video are broken. Just an FYI.

Well, that was a thing. It happened. The chapter went past the 4K mark and then it just wouldn't stop. I'd intended to make this chapter longer since it had Leviathan's first real fight in the story, as short as it was, but I didn't anticipate this. Maybe that'll teach me. I don't know what it will teach me, but it will. Maybe. :rainbowdetermined2:

Leviathan with Jetstream Sam's smile. I'll be seeing that in my nightmares, I'm guessing. :raritydespair:

When I wrote the interrogation scene, I immediately began questioning as to whether or not Leviathan would really threaten a pegasus like that. I doubt she really would, but I like to think that the reasoning she gave afterward makes sense from an in-story perspective.

To those of you who've been involved in gaming for decades, the nightclub's owner is probably who you think it might be. I don't dare take the reference any further than that, however.

Well, it had to happen sooner or later: I've been hit with an onslaught of work at the office as of this afternoon, and it's likely to keep me busy at least through the middle of next week. I'm probably going to hold off on continuing writing for a few days and give myself a bit of a break. I think I deserve it after this mini-marathon. ()^_^

Estimated Chapter Deadline: November 5th, 2021

EDITED 1-15-2022: Corrected several errors. As ever, thank you. :twilightsmile:

EDITED 1-25-2022: I'd been operating under the assumption that the time period between 2 and 3 had been two weeks. I double-checked, and it was actually two months. I made a correction in the fight scene to account for that.

Wake-Up Call

True to Knight and Gargoyles' words, the sedative Drama Heart was injected with began to fade around the time Celestia's sun began its rise. A half hour later its effects were gone entirely, and shortly thereafter she woke up feeling remarkably well rested.

That's the best sleep I've had in a while. Drama clambered out of bed and reared up just enough to stretch her forelegs a little. Hm, feels pleasantly cool in here. I must have left the window open last night without meaning to. I'll have to look around for bugs in a bit, but I don't think it'll hurt to leave it as it is until after I'm done with breakfast. Not suspecting anything, she left to get cleaned up without checking behind her bedroom curtains first.

...

When Drama left the bathroom a half hour later, she felt refreshed and ready to tackle her first full day as a caretaker. Her mane was in the frizzy style she preferred, though she knew it would settle into something more "normal" as the hours passed. She didn't place her bow in her mane, instead stashing it away for now. With her hygiene and such taken care of, breakfast became her main priority.

En route to the kitchen she stopped when she reached the living room, and she stepped in to check on her guest. Leviathan was still where she had left her on the couch, but she had shifted positions during the night so that her face was all but buried in the hoofrest. One arm hung partway off the couch, the back of her hand resting against the floor. The blankets she was covered with seemed a bit marred and oddly rumpled, though Drama didn't know what the causes of those were.

What she understood from yesterday's explanation told her that the living machine needed as much rest as possible in order to completely regenerate, so Drama decided to just leave her alone and go about her day. Let's see now, checklist. What do you have to offer me? Take a quick look at my accounts and double-check to make sure they're in order. Brainstorm ideas for another performance. Take Leviathan out shopping in the afternoon and see if any of the stores have more of those Heartbreakers available, maybe take her to the fashion district and see if there are any boutiques that cater to bipeds... she at least needs something to hide those wounds. I don't think she'd like it if I tried mummifying her.

She had just finished a light breakfast--carrot juice and a blueberry bagel--when the door chime sounded. As the facsimile of a dragon's laughter faded, Drama stared through the floor in the general direction of the theater's front door. I'm not expecting anypony, she pondered as she left her dishes in the sink to wash later and trotted out of the apartment. Who is it? Gray or Turkey checking to see how Fairy's feeling today?

Her curiosity grew as she made her way down the stairs, and she opened the door that led to the theater lobby.

...

Those few ponies who lived on the block and slept soundly through the Reploid Vs. Midnight Castle scuffle jumped awake as a rageful shriek rattled the air.

I'm inside a computer. There are floating arrows with eyes throwing blocks at me. What's that catchy tune playing...?

"FAIRY LEVIATHAN!"

Mmph. What's that noise? ... Don't care, trying to rest.

"GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW, YOUNG LADY!"

Not young, not a lady. Go away, voice in my head. Bring me Zero. I'm bored.

"DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE AND GLOMP YOU AGAIN!"

Don't know what that word means. Don't care. Good-bye.

I'm running on a treadmill. Not on it long enough, platforms are disappearing---

What's that pressure I'm feeling?...

...

Power Output: 33% of capacity. Cannot exceed 41.3% at the present time.

Coolant Levels: 86.5%.

Ice Manipulation: 45%. Main system undamaged. Low-medium efficiency due to reduced power output.

Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve bank: 2%.

Structural Integrity: 61.9%.

CPU cancels sleeping: hugged by a horse.

Mmff. Wish I could've slept longer.

As my systems boot up, rouse me from the weird dream I was having and list off my system statuses, I can immediately tell there's something pinning me to Drama's couch. I can dislodge it easily, but I might as well make sure of what it is first. It's positioned on my back, it doesn't seem to care that my helmet's fins are in the way, and it has its hooves wrapped around my neck--

Wait. Hooves?

I open my eyes and shift my head enough to see what's weighing me down. There's a pony-shaped face mere centimeters from mine---

...!

Just before an undignified scream vacates my throat once again, the thought flashes through my mind: Oh. So that's what that word means.

"KYAAAAA!"

Drama Heart didn't flinch from the high-decibel screech going off right in her ears. She'd dealt both with worse and from more voices at once. She hung on tight as Leviathan practically spun off the couch to the floor, both blankets flying away as she tried to get the unicorn off of her. "Miss Drama, let go of me! It wasn't funny the first time you did that!"

Drama wasn't impressed. "It got you to wake up, didn't it?" All the same she let go and climbed off, immediately charging for the door. "Now c'mon. You're going downstairs with me!"

Leviathan blinked, her face a writhing mass of confusion. "...What? Why?"

The Reploid pushed herself away at Drama's raging fury. "Because 1), what did you do to my theater? 2), why is there a journalist from the Manehattan Minutes at the door? And 3), why is there a Royal Police officer at the door?!"

"...So that's what this is about. Before you start accusing me of anything," Leviathan answered calmly, getting to her feet, "you did notice a speck of blood on your neck when you woke up, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I assumed it was from a spider bite," Drama said, voice cooling down towards normal. "I treated it while I was getting washed up. Why?"

"That wasn't a spider bite," Leviathan told her dryly. "That was a sedative."

Drama's brain flatlined for a split second before getting its act back together. "...What?"

"I imagine that you'll probably be getting the full story from that officer downstairs, if this is what I think it's about," Leviathan said, her confidence back in her voice. "You can stand here and lambaste me, or you can hear them out. Your call, but it's best not to keep them waiting."

A displeased nicker. "This had better be a good one, dearie," Drama warned, turning and trotting for the door.

Leviathan smiled as she followed her into the hall beyond. "I'm certain this qualifies as 'good'. Trust me. In fifteen minutes you'll be wondering why you were angry at me in the first plaaacceeee---!"

Already halfway down the first stairway, the horror-savvy Drama didn't bother trying to turn around when Leviathan's voice unexpectedly rose in pitch. Instead she pressed herself as flat as she could against the stairs, ducking her head. This action prevented her from accidentally getting brained as Neo Arcadia's aquatic Guardian fell past her, tumbling down the flight and smacking into the wall at the bottom.

"Fairy!" Drama straightened and hurried down the remaining stairs as quickly as she dared, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Ergh... wall's probably more damaged than I am." Leviathan made no move to get up beyond rolling onto her side, grimacing. "I misjudged that first step. Maybe I should just come in through the window from now on. Less chance of embarrassing myself that way."

Drama skimmed over the thankfully undamaged wall before looking over Leviathan. "Dear sweet Celestia," the unicorn murmured as she satisfied herself with her companion's condition. "You're just going to be hopeless with the utterly mundane, aren't you?"

"I was once told that I should keep my helmet on at all times," the disgruntled Reploid groused as she stood up and dusted herself off. "At first I thought it was because I'd never know if I needed to fight something at any time, day or night. I think now I'm getting the true reason why."

"And that ridiculous footwear of yours isn't doing you any favors," Drama added as they continued on down the second flight.

"I spent most of my time underwater, alright? Sheesh."

...

As Drama stated, there were two ponies waiting outside the theater doors. The journalist she was talking about had a fairly bushy mustache, a nicely-trimmed mane that was just beginning to gray at the back, looked like he took everything more seriously than most, and had on a rumpled white dress shirt. For reasons Drama could only guess at, he seemed uncomfortable being at the Pyre. His pencil-and-notepad Cutie Mark indicated his occupation.

The officer next to him didn't have the light armor that the ones on the night shift had worn, instead just sporting an R.P. cap and blue shirt with a tie. Her Cutie Mark was a plain coffee mug that was filled to the brim. She nodded in greeting when the door opened. “Miss Leviathan and Miss Heart, correct? Officer Coffee-and-Cream with the Royal Police.”

“Good morning, officer,” Drama greeted her warily, hooking the door to a wall-mounted latch to keep it open. “If this is about Leviathan she only just arrived in town, so she doesn't have an ID card yet...”

"Actually, I'm just here to escort her to the police station," the officer corrected, smiling cheerfully in an attempt to offset Drama's caution. "The reward money's waiting for her."

“Reward money?” Drama echoed. “What are you talking about, ma'am?”

"You didn't know?" Coffee-and-Cream pulled out a wanted poster and presented it to them. The picture on it was an artist's rendition of two earth ponies, one thin and wiry with a very buckable face, the other bulky and powerful. Both wore dark blue outfits that blocked their Cutie Marks from view, though the marks in question were etched over their heads. "'Wanted for multiple counts of thievery, breaking and entering, misuse of magic gemstones, and illegal ownership of Royal Guard weaponry: the Midnight Castle gang'," she recited. "'Leaders: Iron Gates and Bastion. Group totals seven ponies in all: three earth ponies, two pegasi, two unicorns. 2,600 gold bits for the capture of both leaders, 3,500 for the entire gang.'"

Drama rounded on Leviathan, her mouth having fallen open long before she got any words out. "You got up and went bounty hunting while you should have been sleeping?"

"Not intentionally," Leviathan answered, not missing the journalist hastily scrawling everything down. "They were raiding the theater. I couldn't sleep as long as they were here, so I decided to catch them and turn them over to the Police."

This did nothing to calm the unicorn down, instead worsening her mood. "Somepony tried to steal from my theater?" she intoned in a voice she typically reserved for her 'ghoul' imitations. How dare they, how DARE they---!

“Calm down,” Leviathan told her, her tone as serious as pickles on hay burgers. “I don't think the police would appreciate you trying to lobotomize their prisoners.”

Drama turned to her, scandalized. “Oh, I wouldn't do that. That's too lowbrow!” A thin, devious little smile. “On the other hoof, removing all of their nose hairs with my tail trimmer---”

“Miss Drama Heart, have a little class!” the journalist cut in hastily. “We have standards! Get yourself under control!”

“...Good to know that controversial brain operations are on the same level as improper use of nasal scissors,” Leviathan commented, eyes half-closed. “And if someone told me a year ago that I would be saying that sentence, I would've had them committed.” She nodded at the journalist. “So you're with the news, then?”

“That I am. Buried Lede. I'm a reporter and editor with the Manehattan Minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the theater, Reploid, and ponies alike. “Somepony at the office wanted me to find out more about a disturbance that was taking place in this neighborhood yesterday, but it looks like something much bigger's blown through here. Anypony mind helping me get the full picture? ...A word picture, mind you. Not an actual picture.”

“I would say that I'd need to clean this mess up first,” Drama mused a trifle irritably, glaring at the pile of items that Leviathan had left in the back of the lobby, “but that could take a while. Do you need to talk to Fairy right now, or can it wait?”

Leviathan regarded Drama suspiciously, but it was Lede who answered. “I can always chase her down later, as long as I know where she's going to be. The story's not complete without every angle.”

“Good. Fairy, while I'm giving Mr. Lede his interview, go on ahead with the nice officer to the station and pick up your money.” The unicorn ignored Leviathan's puzzled face. “Get yourself more of that candy if you like, and do scout the fashion district for a suitable boutique. I'm not going to let you wander around looking like something Gray Ghost dragged in!”

Leviathan had been caught by surprise a number of times in the past twenty-four hours already, but having somepony make her decisions for her did a good job adding to the collection. She raised a finger to protest. “But---”

“If you don't know where to go, just ask somepony for directions.” Drama patted her hand. “You're a grown machine. I'm sure you'll be fine! And please, take your time. I'll be busy today.”

“But I---”

“And before you say anything else, no I'm not interested in your reward money,” Drama interrupted, turning away with an air of 'this conversation is over, I have a journalist to talk to'. “You're the one who caught the thieves, not me. Spend the money as you will, and I'll see you when you get back!” She beckoned for the journalist to follow her in as she walked away towards her office, grabbing a few stray items in her magic as she went.

...

Leviathan looked helplessly first at her departing form, then at the officer who was trying her hardest not to laugh. “I don't suppose there's some way I can get out of this?”

“You could, but unless you have a very good reason, it shows a lack of appreciation for our generosity and makes you look rude,” the officer replied in the negative. “And you were acting alone in this, so we can't just give it to somepony else. You could do that yourself after we give you the money...”

“And if I find out you did that, I will pin you to my couch and give you all the love and attention you could ever hate!” Drama Heart hollered from her office.

A bead of sweat trailed down the officer's temple. “...but it doesn't look like that's an option either. How in Equestria did you get yourself saddled with such a creep?”

Leviathan's hand pressed against her face, dropping off of it slowly. “I'm sure the local news will tell the city about it soon enough. Can we just go, please?”

“I thought you'd never ask.” The officer led her out the door to the parked carriage nearby. “Come on, Miss Leviathan. Let's go.”

...

I look around outside the carriage as we rumble down the street before addressing the vehicle's source of horsepower. “So,” I ask in what will probably be a vain attempt at conversation, "is 'Coffee-and-Cream' your real name?”

“It's short for 'I-Like-My-Sugar-With-Coffee-and-Cream',” the officer explains in a tone that suggests that she's been asked this a hundred times before and is absolutely sick of it. “I'm told my Mom was out of it when I was born. The less said about that, the better.”

Figured I wasn't going to get anyplace. “Fair enough.”

Author's Note

The music link for this chapter leads to Sheep Man's music from Mega Man 10, which should give you a good idea of what Leviathan was dreaming about.

Kind of a weird thing, but last week I actually had a dream where I visited the Pyre, though obviously I never saw Drama Heart herself. Most of the details are fuzzy, though I do remember a crowd starting to gather there shortly after it opened for the day.

I am firmly convinced that pickles are one of those foods that are acquired tastes. I've always hated them.

The officer's name is a reference to a lyric from the Beastie Boys song “Intergalactic”.

Yeah, I realize this is a shorter chapter than usual. Work is... a bit of a thing right now. I'm not going to have much time for writing at work this week, so I'm going to have to do so at home. And since I'd really like to get back to producing videos for my channel soon, it's not going to help me much with chapter length. Oh, well... such is life.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: November 17, 2021

Giant Steps Are What You Take

Coinciding with Leviathan's cleaning and Alexandrite's meeting...

FOR THE CROWN'S EYES ONLY

FROM: Untold Walker

A bedbug has invaded the blankets of the city that never sleeps. Please find enclosed this sketch of a being unlike anything ever seen in Equestria. That might be stretching it, but have you seen anything with this kind of appearance?

I've heard the words straight from its mouth. It is a Reploid, a fully living machine with everything that implies. Difficult to believe, yes, but there was enough light for me to catch a glimpse of what lay within its damaged body: metal, wiring, tubing, more metal, and what it referred to as coolant (basically its equivalent to blood) staining its frame. I caught its scent, and there is nothing biological about it.

One would think that its voice would be flat and emotionless, as dictated by sci-fi writers everywhere, but instead it conveyed a wide array of emotions from amusement to annoyance appropriately. It proved itself capable of free-thinking: it deliberately took a lightning strike to the head to save another pony's life, knowing that it could shrug it off. And from what I have heard it speak of, it is no stranger to violence. Were I a gambling pony, I'd bet my old claws that it was made for war. Too, I'd wager my earrings that it knows little about magic: learning what a unicorn's aura was for made it faint.

What truly convinced me that it was an alien being was its reaction to being confronted with a basic door. It treated the door like it was expected to open on its own, but was proven wrong by a collision. This forced the machine to request help in bypassing it. One would think that unless its case was truly extreme, it would at least be familiar with the concept. Everything it does in reaction to its surroundings makes me think of somepony who moves to a big city after previously spending their whole life on a secluded farm. I'm not saying this to be mean, but it doesn't belong here.

The machine introduced herself--yes, it identifies itself as a "she"--as 'Fairy Leviathan'. The name itself feels disturbing, like it's trying to combine the beauty of a Breezie with the viciousness of a cragadile. Maybe that's just me, maybe not.

My drawings aren't high-quality by any stretch, so I would like to clarify that this is not simplistic clothing she's wearing: it's actually a set of lightweight armor, though I can only guess at what it's made of. As alien as she appears to be, it feels to me like she is meant to have a streamlined look, even if it doesn't come off as such to ponies. She's a mystery, and the explanation she provided as to why she's here only raises more questions. More on that when I have the ink to spare.

I have not seen her at full strength as of yet, but she could be a serious game-changer in that none of her functions depend on magic. With this in mind, I'd like to request that my status as one of your agents, however tangential and tentative that it had been while I was with the Royal Police, be reactivated. Somepony needs to watch events play out, and with the news of its existence getting ready to spread around Manehattan and beyond as I write this, I am in perfect position to do so. I await your orders.

P.S. - Someday you have got to drop in for dinner! My husband makes the best carrot-and-potato casserole ever, and I know that my little darlings would love to meet the real you.

The next morning at sunrise...

FROM: The Crown

TO: Untold Walker

Disintegrate after reading. By the Order of the Princess.

Your re-emergence and message could not have happened at a worse time. As of yesterday, a monster classified as a "bugbear" that was previously captured by the agency has somehow escaped from Tartarus and gone into hiding. As it possesses knowledge of our agents and may seek vengeance, particularly against the one who captured it, I have fully dissolved S.M.I.L.E. and triggered Contingency Ultimus. Thoroughly destroy any evidence of your affiliation with the agency that you possess. Henceforth, I will disavow any knowledge of your existence in the event inquiries are made.

But if it appears within your jurisdiction and you are in a position to re-capture the bugbear, then please do so. In all cases, follow protocol.

As to the topic you raised: I have seen the sketch of the creature that you sent with your missive, and I am forced to admit that none of the bipeds I've encountered across my life are anything quite like this. The obvious damage, its unnerving visage... I don't know if this was an intentional detail or if it is a reflection of your self-admittedly poor artistry, but it doesn't look like its eyes have any pupils to speak of. This together with your statement that it is both mechanical and truly alive already worried me, but adding immunity to lightning? I feel that most ponies would be worried if they knew its capabilities, possibly panicked, and I can not blame them. After dwelling upon the matter for some time this past evening, I agree with your sentiment that it is meant for violence.

However, I also agree that it is both lost and confused, and I believe it would be amenable to more peaceful means of living if given the opportunity. I admit that it is wishful thinking, given that this is a truly alien being in our midst, but I do not feel that I would be able to live with myself if we didn't give it every chance it deserves. Go, and assist "Fairy Leviathan" as you see fit. In the meantime, while I have my doubts that we can safely return "her" to her world of origin, I will make discreet inquiries around Canterlot for any clues, no matter how tenuous they seem.

All the same, do not expose it to the Royal Guard, Manehattan's local off-shoot, or other military affairs more than is really required by law. This is strictly a 'just-in-case' measure in case we are wrong about Leviathan, but I do not want Equestria to be caught off guard. Having served under me before, you know my feelings about this.

P.S. - On a personal note, I am delighted that you have surfaced alive and well, and with foals no less. I will consider your invite, though regretfully it does not appear that I will be able to make it anytime soon. This regalia feels heavier every day.

We didn't have any provisions for bounty hunters back in Neo Arcadia.

By and large, humanity and Reploids were all gathered together in one spot. I'll put it this way: if anyone else managed to eke out an existence in that unforgiving wasteland that covered the planet, we had no knowledge of it. There was no need to dispatch freelancers out to the great beyond: any messes were somewhere in the vicinity of Neo Arcadia and within our reach. And in the rare times that we encountered someone who could fight Mavericks and/or the Resistance, we didn't waste our time with one-off deals. We would just bring them into the fold and be done with it.

So part of me is surprised by this. Who would have thought that people could earn money from doing this, provided that the authorities were willing and able to pay up? Was this something else that used to be fairly common--or at the very least not unheard of--in centuries past, or is there something I'm missing? It feels like I'm not getting the full story somehow.

I have to fill some paperwork out before I can receive my money. According to the middle-aged staffer I'm talking to at the Police station, I may need to testify before a court at a later date as to how I caught those thieves. Among other things, this means supplying them with my contact information so that they can get a hold of me.

Just one problem: I still haven't had time to learn the written language yet.

I tell Officer Coffee-and-Cream, and by proxy everypony else in the room, of my dilemma. After some back-and-forth, it is suggested that I just fill out the form in my preferred language first, with Coffee clarifying what goes where. Following that I can read off the information, and they would use their own language to approximate what they hear. It might strike some as being redundant, but at least this way everypony was being kept honest.

"Name?"

"Fairy Leviathan. Technically 'Fairy' is a title, but this way it fits your general naming scheme."

"Age?"

"At least 30 years. I'm probably older, but that's as far back as my memories go and I didn't think to bring a birth certificate." Or 'production certificate', either or.

"Species?"

"Reploid."

A moment as they parse what I said. "Gender?"

"None, but that just makes things more confusing in casual conversation. Let's just call me female for simplicity's sake, alright?"

"Current address? This one's not filled out."

"Whichever address Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears is located at. Or 'Flaming' Salamandra. I've heard her use both."

The ponies paused to peruse a business directory before nodding and writing it down. "319 13th Street. Current occupation?"

There are any number of things I can say in response. My title of Guardian doesn't hold much weight here. I used to be an environmentalist of sorts, but not anymore. So, since I'm most likely believed dead back home... "Retired soldier." Hopefully they won't question that euphemism.

"Country and city of origin?"

This one will have its issues. Even discounting my otherworldly origins, the long decades of war had effectively erased all boundaries. We didn't have countries anymore, plain and simple. "Neo Arcadia. Just... that. Kind of hard to give a country when none exists."

The officers are full of questions, that much is evident, but their professionalism shines through again. "There are a lot of unknowns here, and it looks like there are some things you're not telling us, but that can wait until it becomes relevant. How long have you resided here in Manehattan?"

"Less than twenty-four hours."

Coffee-and-Cream nudged me, amused. "Making a name for yourself already, huh? Should we expect regular visits from you?"

She meant it as a joke, so logically this means that I would address it with all of the seriousness it deserves. "I hadn't planned to make this a career. I want to get repaired and go home, so I would prefer not to be here any longer than two months at most."

A few sets of ears turned down at this, with Coffee's one of them. "That's a shame. Speaking solely for myself, Miss Leviathan, I think the Royal Police would be happy to have you once you became a legal resident."

Okay, they're making it really difficult to prevent myself from squealing over their cuteness. With some effort, I keep myself restrained to a laugh. "Kyahahaha! Don't worry. I'm just messing with you, sort of. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind helping you all out if another opportunity arises. I just feel like the bulk of my time's better spent devising some way of returning home."

"Fair enough. Do you feel you'll be here for at least the next two weeks?"

"I don't see why not. Being in a city at least feels like familiar territory."

The middle-aged staffer thumbs through what's probably a guidebook. Impressive, considering his lack of digits. "I wouldn't consider this a 'standard' situation, so here's what I suggest. City Hall is closed today, but I'll get some paperwork with your information prepared and mailed out. This way when you apply for citizenship, they'll already have it on hoof. Head over there in about three days and ask the pony at the front desk, and you'll be told where to go."

I'm probably not going to be getting out of this without becoming a citizen of Equestria, am I? It feels a bit jarring. Just a day ago, I was fighting to protect Neo Arcadia's people, and now look at me. You'd be alone if you thought this was how I expected my life to turn out. "It's really that easy?"

"The legal process used to be substantially more tedious," the staffer explains. I really wish he'd remembered to give his name. "A holdover from the days when Equestria was on strained or hostile terms with its neighbors. Eventually Princess Celestia got it into her head to streamline the process and make it easier for those that genuinely liked Equestria to remain if they wanted. Nowadays, if whoever it is can provide definitive proof that they'll be within Equestria's boundaries for a prolonged period and they keep their noses clean on all fronts, they can stay, come and go as they please. It's just a matter of getting you recorded in the official register for legality's sake. Some towns and villages skip this entirely, but in a city as big as Manehattan it's a necessity."

There's that name again. 'Princess Celestia'. Judging from the context she's the ruler of the entire nation, not just this one city. I wonder if she was officially... what's the word... coronated, if that's the case. There's some doubt there... or maybe she was, since she passed whatever legislature was required to make gaining citizenship easier...? I don't know. Stories that tell of kings and queens presiding over their lands have been around for ages, but no such rulers have been around as long as I've been alive. The closest figure I can think of that matches the description is Copy X. If princesses really do meet the criteria for widespread governing I haven't the foggiest, and that's another example of just how little I know. "Makes sense, I guess. So, is there anything else?"

"No, that should be everything. Let's give you your reward." The staffer starts to duck beneath the counter, but there's a split-second's pause as he realizes something. "Hold up. Miss Leviathan, do you have something to carry them in?"

I shake my head 'no.'

"Not even a knapsack to your name, huh?"

"Not even that. Aside from my weapon, which the Police should already know about from my statements last night, everything..." In this world... "...that I own I'm currently wearing."

The staffer gives it a bit of thought. "Guess there's no helping it, then." He ducks behind the counter, this time returning with a canvas bag in his mouth. He places it before me and unties the strings keeping it shut, revealing its contents. "Your reward as promised. 3,500 bits for the entire Midnight Castle gang's capture. Keep the bag, too."

I do a quick double-take at this last one, checking to see if... yes, that's the Police's emblem sewn into the bag. "Are you positive? Won't ponies get suspicious if I walk out of here like this?"

The aged pony waves it off with a smile. "If they do, direct their inquiries to the Station. We'll make sure that those currently on shift are notified so that they know what to expect. If it really concerns you, nothing's stopping you from using some of that money to buy your own bag before returning this one."

"I'm surprised that you're not making a bigger deal out of this," Coffee comments. "It may not pay all of your bills across a moon, but 3,500 bits is still a decent sum."

Compared to my earlier laughter, my chuckle is subdued. "I'll let you in on a secret: where I'm from, I had no real use for physical money and no way to judge its value. I don't even know how I'm going to spend all of this."

Not sure if I'm going to get used to how expressive these ponies' faces can be. "...Huh. Not sure if I believe that."

I think my amused snorts are becoming more natural-sounding, in my opinion. "Still the truth whether you believe it or not, Coffee-and-Cream."

Happily she's not trying to force the issue, despite her misgivings. "If you don't mind a friendly recommendation, Miss Leviathan?"

"What is it?" I ask, tying the bag shut and hefting it over one shoulder.

Everypony shudders, though its the one behind the counter that speaks. "Buy yourself a coat. Just because we're good at hiding it doesn't mean you're not making us nervous with those holes in you."

I shut my eyes and count to ten under my breath very slowly before re-opening them. "Suggestion noted, officer. My 'caretaker' is wanting me to visit the fashion district anyway," I reply, my preferences clear in my sour tone. "Which way do I go to get there? Anypony know?"

The soft sound of wingbeats subtly shakes the air. I turn away from the officers and suddenly eyes in my face what in blue blazes---! "I can help you out with that," a friendly, familiar voice offers.

"GRAY!" I screech, jerking away and almost stumbling over the startled Coffee, who side-steps just in time. My systems are blaring a high-volume warning at the suddenness of the pegasus' appearance. "Don't do that! What are you, a ninja?!"

"No, I'm a housewife," Gray tells me as if I hadn't just screamed at her. Talk about nerves of steel. "You said you wanted to know where the fashion district is?"

Twice, twice over. That's two times I've been scared out of my synthskin just in the past hour, and two times that this same pony has snuck up on me in the past day. I swear to X, she is not going to catch me off guard like that again. "Gray. Seriously. Why? If I had my Javelin out, I could have killed you just now!"

"She does that. Nopony knows why. Just try to get used to it," the elder officer says, rolling his eyes. "If I had a bit for every time she snuck up on me, I could afford that pinball machine I've been wanting."

"Hm?" Gray perks up, recognizing the stallion's voice. Her face lights up as if she'd recognized an old friend. "Oh hey, Codger! When did you get here?" She settles onto the counter as she talks, despite this being a blatant no-no in most circles. "I thought you would have retired years ago!..."

Analyzing the situation at lightning speed helps me calm down some. "That answers that," I murmur. Coffee looks up questioningly, so I clarify it for her. "I was wondering yesterday if she was in some position of authority, and I'd just gotten her on her day off. She must've been an officer herself once."

"I'm surprised you were able to figure something like that out so fast," Coffee murmurs back, slipping a baton back into one sleeve. "I didn't think she was allowed to be here, so I was ready to escort her out." Alongside those looking on, she watches 'Codger's' face soften as he talks about some past experience or other with Gray. "But looking at them like this, she must've been very respected in her time for her to come and go as she pleases. I wonder if I could get like that someday?"

"Maybe ask Codger about it when you're both off the clock?" an on-looker suggests. "He looks like he has some stories to tell. He could have some advice."

Coffee rubs her chin in thought, then lowers her hoof with a smile. "I might just do that. Thanks."

As fun as this is, I have business to take care of. "Gray?" I call. "Is there a reason you're here besides catching up with old friends?"

"Ooh, right. Thanks for reminding me." Gray and Codger tap hooves briefly before she goes airborne again, addressing me directly. "I was hoping to see how you were doing this morning, but Drama and that reporter pointed me in this direction." She grins. "You go out carousing last night?"

Okay, so maybe there is a bright side to having my exploits published. "If you want the full story, wait for tomorrow's news," I answer. "I don't want to re-tell it more times than I need to."

The background noise increases in volume a bit. Are they or are they not looking forward to my existence being divulged to the public? "I can't say I pity anypony who gets subjected to Buried Lede's tender mercies," Gray remarks. "He's relentless where getting the truth out's concerned. When I showed up, he was even taking a picture of Drama's spider mane for future reference."

...Okay, I have to know about this. "Spider mane?"

"That's just what I like to call this wicked wig she keeps for performances," Gray explains. "Looks like a gigantic recluse was nesting on her head."

Oh, right... that was another one of those things that the thieves were trying to steal. I recall wondering if it was necessary for it to look so scraggly. "Hm. Anyway, my business is done here. Soo... fashion district?"

"Sure. There are probably a few stores that have opened by now. If not, they will be soon." She's smiling eagerly. "How about it? Ready for your first true look at Manehattan as a whole?"

Not that I didn't get a good look at the city on my way to and from the Lonely Heart, but I don't think that's quite what she means. "May as well get this out of the way." I nod politely at those in the room. "Coffee-and-Cream? Codger? The rest of you? Thank you for your generosity. Until another day."

"On behalf of the Royal Police, thank you for doing Manehattan's citizens a favor," Coffee tells me with complete seriousness, raising one hoof towards me. I glance at Gray briefly; she nods and mimes the same action, making it clear what the decorum for this situation is.

At the very least, I tell myself, it's nice to know that I did some legitimate good for these ponies. Compared to my recent life, this at least is something I can look back on fondly. I smile, close my hand into a fist and tap it against the officer's hoof, accepting the gesture and the thanks.

Author's Note

The link for this chapter leads to a remastered version of Goldeneye 007's pause music.

Yes, I went there with the J. Jonah Jameson reference. No, I don't like spiders. Moving on.

The bulk of my work at the office is done, so hopefully that much stress won't rear its ugly head again anytime soon.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: November 23, 2021

Griffon the Benefit of a Doubt

It's just a casual stroll through the streets of Manehattan. Or it's at least as casual as one gets when you're almost six feet tall in heels, visibly injured, and holding a conversation with a pegasus who does an excellent job of making others think she's homeless while on your way to make yourself look pretty.

The fashion district is a fair distance away from the police station, but Gray had told me that it wouldn't hurt to just walk over there instead of trying to take speedy shortcuts over the rooftops. It would give most of the shops extra time to open, and it was a nice morning for walking anyway: right on the borderline between cool and warm, no clouds to be seen, and a very refreshing breeze. I won't lie and say that I didn't start to love walking in these conditions very quickly, so I agreed to Gray's request to take it easy for now.

It almost let me ignore the cautious and often-times fearful looks I was getting from most of the residents. A lot of ponies ranging from foals to young adults stayed at least ten paces away (their paces, not mine), and one screamed in terror and fled down the street. That one at least was the exception, as most of those in that age group at least acknowledged that I had somepony escorting me and continued going about their business after a few moments.

Still wish I hadn't been screamed at. Being feared by common citizens isn't a comfortable feeling for me, so I'll be happy to be gone from here.

The younger generation could've stood to learn a few things from their elders. Ponies that I ascertained were either Gray's age or older were cautious at first, but the pegasus' presence seemed more reassuring than it was for the others, so they had an easier time ignoring me. Going by what I had seen at the station, I guessed that this group was old enough to remember what good Gray had done for the Police while she was still with them, and thus still had a trustworthy reputation. One pony was brave enough to smile and wave at us as we passed, to which we returned the favor.

I'm assuming Gray joined the Police when she came of age, and then quit to raise her family after only a few years. In that case, just what did she do in that time span to make her so respected by the majority of her generation? I know it's none of my business, but I'm still curious. I'll ask her about it when there's nothing else going on.

Right now, she's giving me an abridged history lesson... or trying to, anyway. I've already had to interrupt a few times to ask for clarification on certain topics I didn't understand. As one example, she'd told me that Manehattan was primarily an 'earth pony' city, and that unicorns and pegasi such as Drama and herself who actually lived within its bounadries were a stark minority. When I asked her what she meant by 'earth pony', she explained that she was talking about those that didn't have wings or horns. This seemed strange to me: given that the city encompassed this entire island plus a few neighborhoods on the mainland, I thought that having wings and magic would have helped them put the city together.

Then Gray told me that earth ponies are renowned for their strength. Like humans and Reploids, their individual strength depends on the pony. It could vary from being slightly stronger than the other two races to hurling large boulders around with minimal effort, with everything that implies. Not only did this make the city's status more palatable, but it reminded me of a minor detail that I'd almost forgotten: how that pony who'd carried me out of the alley hadn't needed to put much effort in. Understanding the basics behind them helps that experience make more sense.

I still could have done without the humiliation of being carted off, though.

Anyway, I'm glad Gray's being patient with me and answering my questions. With as much information as I'm taking in regarding this new society, I suppose it's just a matter of time before I have to stop just to sort through it all. There are so many differences between here and home, it's not even funny. And I'm not just talking about the species, either.

I switch from listening with half an ear to a full ear as Gray continues her latest explanation. "...So Princess Celestia's envoys were able to purchase the island from the inhabitants in exchange for a hoofful of trinkets that she knew the locals valued. Both sides saw it as a steal: Celestia was able to establish the harbor she wanted at the cost of what she viewed as junk, and the griffons reversed their financial losses from the skirmishes pretty quickly--"

"Hold on just a second, Gray," I cut in. "Princess Celestia? Are you talking about the same pony who streamlined the nation's immigration process?"

"One and the same," she confirms.

"And how long ago was the purchase made?"

"About... 390 years ago, give or take a few."

...What. "So you're telling me that your country's ruler is at least four centuries old?"

"Closer to ten, really. And I think that's lowballing it."

...WHAT? "And you're being completely serious about this..."

Gray tilts her head quizzically as she walks. "Yes. Why? Isn't there anypony back where you're from that gets that old?"

My head shakes a few times, and my disbelief breaks through. "No, of course not! Reploids at least have the potential to live a few centuries provided they don't die in battle and keep themselves in good repair. Biological beings don't have that luxury, at least none that are sapient!"

"All I know is that there are no records of Celestia ever dying and being replaced by somepony with the same name. For all these years she's been the exact same pony," Gray answers, not bothered in the slightest by my incredulity. "Manehattan changes. Equestria changes. The world changes. She does not. Not physically, not mentally, not magically. Quite literally nopony else has the sort of power needed to keep the sun and moon moving. I think we'd know if there was another who could."

...

She's moving the...!

"Fairy?"

At the back of my mind, I realize that Gray's gotten a few meters ahead of me. I dutifully ignore that. "Answer me something," I say, struggling with all of my might to stay calm and coherent. "Have your world's astronomers been able to determine the distance between this world and the sun?"

Gray taps her chin, frowning as she tries to recall the information. Either that or she's hiding her bemusement at being asked a strange question. "Ugh, been an age and a half since I learned about this in school... alright, I think I remember. They estimated it to be something like... 92, maybe 93 million miles away?"

...

How? ... Just... how? Yes, I know magic is the obvious answer here, but...! "The sort of power n-needed..." I stammer as my CPU hammers out the calculations. I can't keep my thoughts in order anymore. This is just too much! "The power n-needed to move the sun at that distance, to k-keep it in control...!"

The little pony is both unimpressed and unsympathetic. "You're not going to faint on me again, are you?"

I... I don't believe it. These ponies are able to just... just take this for granted? Wake up every morning, expect to see the sun just rise up out of the blue, guided by who is probably the world's most powerful unicorn? And here I thought Omega and Zero were strong; if Celestia didn't hold back, she could reduce this world to charcoal singlehandedly! "Gray," I state, my voice heavy, "I hope with all my heart that I never meet your ruler in person. I can't begin to imagine what she is like, but she feels to me like the most frightening creature that ever lived."

I expected a furious denial from a loyal citizen of the country.

"WAHAHAHAHA! Fr...frightening...!"

I didn't expect furious laughter. Seriously, Gray's pressed herself against the ground and repeatedly smacking it with a hoof, she's laughing so hard. After about fifteen seconds of this, I look around the street and try to restore a measure of dignity to my situation. "Gray," I call to her, raising my voice to be heard over her enjoyment. "Ponies are staring!"

"S-sor-sor-sorrryyyy," Gray struggles to get out before another round of giggles escapes her. "You just... you just got me with that one. I don't... hee-hee-hee-hee~!... I don't think somepony who takes... takes time out of her busy schedule to cook pancakes for foals once a month could ever be frightening!" She continues grinning as she tries to catch her breath, standing up straight. "Whoo, haven't laughed that hard since the lacrosse incident..."

I think my suspension of disbelief is screaming in agony. ...Okay, the on-lookers aren't looking on anymore. I can keep going now. "Pan...cakes?"

"Yeah. Pancakes. You know, those little flat things made of flour, milk, eggs, and love? They don't have those where you're from?" Beat. "...Wait, did I say love? I meant maple syrup. Excuse me. I sometimes get the two confused."

I try to imagine Copy X making what she's talking about, using a situation where he needed to maintain good public relations. I give up quickly, and not just because I've never set foot in a kitchen in my life. "She... she seriously does that?"

"Yes."

"And she... she has that much power?"

"Uh-huh. Though obviously she'd never fight at her full potential even when pushed. She cares about her subjects too much to do that."

"And she's lived that long?"

"Yeppity-yep with a whole lot of yep."

That clinches it. I don't care what happens. Tonight, I'm going to sit on the roof of the theater and devote every precious pound of processing power I possess (ooh, nice alliteration) to scan this feat for myself. If Celestia really does manipulate the sun and moon, there should be some outward sign of it beyond them just moving around freely. Short of seeing the Princess herself, there's no way I'm going to be convinced of this unless I can ascertain visible proof. Preferably with a method that doesn't involve me damaging my optics beyond anything my auto-repair can handle.

Gray's nudging my leg with a hoof. "Leviathan."

"...Yes, Gray?"

"Say it. I know you're thinking it."

And so I do. Flabbergasted and at a complete loss for anything else to say, I restate what I told the crowd at the nightclub just this past night. "...Everypony in this city is crazy."

"See? I knew you could do it." Gray turns and continues down the street, chortling. "Welcome to Equestria. Enjoy your stay."

With no other alternative but to slam my face into a lightpost, I summon all the dignity I possess and continue walking after her instead. Hopefully those few ponies I can hear sniggering nearby will stop once I leave.

It's been a block or so since that conversation. I never switched off my scanners after we purchased those Heartbreakers yesterday, so when we approached another grocery store on the way to the fashion district, they alerted me that there was a potential Energen substitute within the store. I informed Gray, and she shrugged and said that if I wanted to buy something there to feel free.

Which leads me to my current problem: if I walk into that store with the Police's bag in tow, they're likely to mistake me for a thief. And if I just leave it outside, that's just begging somepony to steal it.

No real choice here, I guess. I reach into the bag and withdraw a handful of bits. "Gray, stand guard," I say as I draw the bag closed and set it down next to the store's entrance. "I don't want anypony taking this."

Gray tilts her head. "Is that an order, or a suggestion?"

"Both," I say. "I'm suggesting an order."

"Nicely done," she answers with a smile, giving me a textbook salute and assuming a guard position next to the bag. "Aye-aye, ma'am."

I return her smile before setting foot in the store on my own, wondering all the while how she got her hoof to bend like that. After fighting those thieves last night it wasn't the first time I'd seen it happen, but it was still a mite strange.

...

Another pony flees the store in terror, but by and large they are all cooperative and opt not to raise a fuss. Guided by my scanners, I make a beeline for what is once again the candy and snacks aisle.

Lo and behold, the scanners were pointing me at Heartbreakers again. Two bags with the exact same design as the first one I'd purchased were sitting by their lonesome, surrounded by shelves of other candies that were both full and not giving me the same readings. I take them in my free hand, squinting at them as my optics zoomed in. There's actually a tiny bit of dust on the packaging that wouldn't be present if anypony had been rifling through them, telling me that they're not very popular. Makes sense, considering Gray's complaints from yesterday.

The clerk at the check-out is an odd case. Gray had made mention of griffons earlier, and I was under the impression that they were strictly a foreign species. But here's one anyway, working the register like he'd been doing it all his life. And more to the point, his beak has teeth in it. "Whoa," he utters on seeing me approach, eyeing my battle damage. "That's hardcore."

It's not the typical response to meeting a Reploid that I've experienced so far. It's honestly a bit refreshing. "Not as hardcore as seeing an eagle and a lion combined together," I say to him good-naturedly. "If you think this looks bad, you should see the other guy."

"I can't even imagine. First time seeing a griffon?" the clerk says as he rings up my purchase. "Name's Gilbert. I'm here because I'm trying to earn enough bits to send back to Griffonstone. Speaking of, you owe ten."

That's the first 'normal' name I've heard since I got here. I don't even bother counting off what I owe, instead just handing over all the money I'm currently carrying. "Ten bits. Keep the rest."

His eyes skip 'widening' and skip straight to 'bulging'. "Whoa-ho-ho, chillax there, lady! Calm down! Who in the world just gives this much away?" he asks, incredulous as he transfers the money to the register. "That's at least fifteen extra!"

"I didn't know how much these cost going in, and I just got done turning some thieves over to the Police," I tell him, waving off his shock. "I can afford it."

Gilbert skims over my damage with new appreciation, whistling. "Bounty hunter. That will do it. Well, don't let me keep you. Need a bag to carry those in? Or a receipt?"

"No to both. Thanks."

"No prob. So what are you? Never seen you here before."

"If you're willing to wait for the newspaper tomorrow, you'll probably get the whole story then," I tell Gilbert as I walk away. "Believe me. It's a good one."

"Not doubting that!" he calls, returning to his work as another customer approaches.

Well, he seemed nice enough. Without any strings attached, even. I'm not going to make any complaints; I'm just going to take this candy and leave before something ruins my good mood.

...

Oh, for... I forgot to ask him what 'chillax' meant. Sigh... well, too late now. I'll ask somepony about it later.

...

Given how much of an oddity Gray is, I can't bring myself to be surprised at what's happening right now.

At some point while I was in the store, she decided to take a nap while she was waiting. That's not the strange part. What is strange is that she's using my money bag as a pillow, resting her chin on top of it and hugging it close to her. There are a few ponies that are giving her odd looks instead of me. In fact, I can hear them talking:

"Is there something wrong with her, mom? Why is she cuddling with a Police bag? Is she a thief?"

"No, dear. She's just tired. But why is she sleeping on the street like this?"

"I've seen her before. She's the weird one. You know... the 'weird' one."

"Ohhhh. She's homeless. If I gave her a few bits, could she get a daisy sandwich so she won't go hungry?"

Yes, it's best if I nip this one in the bud. I stoop down and nudge Gray's shoulder. "Hey. Gray. I've bought what I needed, and you're attracting attention again. Time to go."

"Mmf... little lower, Ocean," Gray murmurs, holding on tighter to the money bag. "Back hurts, and you're the cure..."

I'm getting the feeling that I'm treading on very thin ice here. ...So, I nudge her again. "Gray, wake up," I say a little louder. "You're embarrassing us both, and this isn't funny. Do you still want to take me coat shopping, or do you just want to go home?"

Instead of giving me a straight answer, she's sleep-humming. "Go home along with me, the best is yet to be..."

"Ship!" an adolescent pony cat-calls somewhere nearby.

"Alright, that's one transportation cost I am not going to pay," I declare, frowning at what was either a sincere request that the two of us get together romantically, or just mockery for the sake of mockery. I silently curse at whoever it was in the distant past that first coined the term that the teenager used. Gray's nowhere even close to the type of individual I'd consider myself being with, she's already married, and given my aptitude for combat I'd just as soon be a Reploid without peer anyway.

Pier...?

Not. The time. For puns.

I wrack my mind for ideas as to how to wake up my guide. The one I decide on is one that most would probably consider immature, but would still be considered payback for the scare I got at the station. I press one of my fingers against Gray's muzzle. This causes her face to scrunch up at the contact, and she finally returns to reality. "Huh?... Wha?.. Oh. I'm awake, I'm awake," she murmurs semi-groggily, her eyes opening.

"I asked you to guard my reward money, not sleep on it." A half-smirk as I pull the money bag out from under her, place my purchase within it, and hoist it back on my shoulder. I didn't expect her face to make that shape. Cute. "Were you under my command, you'd be scrubbing the repair bays from top to bottom."

"But I like to sleep," Gray whines childishly, sticking her tongue out me. In a more normal tone, she continues: "Seriously, I do. I don't know why I do, but I do."

"Not my first choice for a hobby, but who am I to judge?" I gesture at those around us. "Break it up, ponies. Nothing more to see here."

...

It took a few tries to get them to clear away given my current state and their disinclination to listen, but with a bit of help from Gray we were finally able to get on our way without them following us. As we walk, I tear open one of my packages one-handed with the intent of seeing if I could bump my reserve tank up to 100%, or at least close to it.

Taking my time with one of the candies I close my eyes, shivering as my systems process the incoming energy. Something else to wonder about: is this going to be a regular thing each time I eat a Heartbreaker, or are my systems going to fully adapt to it at some point? It feels like I'm undergoing convulsions. I'll take it if it means keeping myself fed, but this is going to get real old, real fast--

Something presses against my nose. My eyes open, crossing as they see the dark-toned hoof leading back to my hovering guide. Off-handedly I notice that Gray's hoof is a slightly different color than the rest of her, but I set that aside for now. "...I was trying to wake you up without using force," I say, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. "What's your excuse?"

"Don't have one," Gray answers, landing beside me and resuming her walk. "I just wanted to see if your face would do the same thing as mine."

"Hn," I grunt disinterestedly, refusing to pursue that train of thought. I've made myself look foolish enough times today, so instead I continue working my way through the Heartbreakers. At least this way, I'm getting something accomplished.

Three minutes pass.

Four.

"Did it?"

"Sure did. I wish I had my camera. I didn't think metal was that flexible."

I don't need my HUD to tell me about the coolant building up in my face. Whose bright idea was it to give Reploids the ability to blush? And are there any mask sellers out there that would make me look like a genuine mannequin? These are questions that we all must ask ourselves everyday.

Or at least I must. Everyone's embarrassment is tailor-made for them, after all. Just how close are we to the fashion district, anyway?

Author's Note

The music link for this chapter is a guitar arrangement of Dwarf Fortress' music.

If you feel that Celestia's being described as massively overpowered, you'd be right. Bear in mind that the bulk of the story is told from Leviathan's perspective, and she's still trying to operate on logic in a magical world. Mistakes will be made. >^_^<

There are times when I just feel like being silly. This is one of them.

Well, turns out I was worrying over nothing: my flash drive was left on my desk at work after all. :ajsmug:

Thanksgiving is coming up here in the U.S., which in turn means I get a few days off of work next week. Again, I won't be able to work on the story during that time, but hopefully that won't be much of a factor with this next chapter.

...Or at least that won't.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: November 30, 2021

Bull Session

Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve Bank: 99% full. Estimate minimum of 7.3 days until replenishment of main supply is required, accounting for self-repair.

Well, it wasn't quite enough to get my reserves up to 100%, but 1% is negligible. Provided something disastrous doesn't happen, I won't need to worry about replenishment for a week. My auto-repair should be making some serious progress by then.

With that update aside, here is where I am now. The fashion district is several long streets worth of boutiques, specialty shops, and vendors that offer everything that ponies and other local species need to make themselves look 'fantastic', for a certain stretch of the word. It's a place where they can go if they're blue or otherwise don't know where to go to. This is where fashion sits in Manehattan.

"Fair warning," I tell Gray as we enter the district proper. "I don't know the first thing about fashion. I may need help through all the difficult segments."

"You identify as a girl, and you're clueless about clothes?" Gray scoffed. "And here I thought some things were universal."

"I didn't care in the slightest about fashion back home," I say in reply. "I mean, look at me. Helmet. Light armor. Vest. Arm guards. Boots. Bodysuit. This is my daily wear, Gray. Do I look like the type that's good at being pretty?"

"...Interestingly, I've been thinking about this since breakfast. I'm no expert in clothes myself," Gray answers skeptically, "but I'm pretty sure the term 'bodysuit' doesn't mean what you think it means."

"Far as I'm concerned, since it covers my whole body, it's a bodysuit. Let's not argue semantics." Work with me here, pony.

"Call it what you want. You're still wrong," Gray argues. "That's closer to a unitard."

"And this time you're wrong," I deny. "It's not skintight enough to be a unitard." Why are we having this conversation? I'm not seeing what the deal is with this.

"Well, it's sure not a bodysuit." Gray's being persistent here. Seriously, stop. "I was under the impression that bodysuits didn't cover the legs. Or arms, in your case."

"Again. It covers my whole body. It's a bodysuit." I fold my arms, trying to give the impression of 'this is how things stand, and nothing will change that'. "Official definitions can go hang."

Gray rolls her eyes. "You're just going to keep being difficult about this, aren't you? Fine. I'll ask somepony in the district who's in the know. Bet you five bits you're wrong."

"I don't need to gamble to know when I'm right about something, little pony," I retort. "Just drop it already."

"Sure, I'll drop it," Gray agrees. "Just so long as you admit you were lying about not caring about fashion."

"Lying?" I ask with a frown. "What are you talking about?"

"If you didn't care about fashion, then you obviously wouldn't care whether it was called a bodysuit or a unitard, would you?" Gray smiles victoriously. "Ha. Got you there."

Geh... "If that's how you're going to play this, then maybe I should've asked somepony else to be my guide," I pointed out. "Why should I trust you to help me around the fashion district if you don't wear clothes yourself?"

Gray flinches at this. "Ponies have natural coats, Leviathan. We have room to call clothes optional. And I'll have you know that I have a very nice and frilly lavender dress in my closet that I wear every anniversary. It gets compliments, it's still in fine condition, and it looks stylish. Since I picked it out myself, that makes me more qualified to judge fashion than you."

"I'd have to get confirmation from whoever it was that sold it to you before I'd believe that," I tell her firmly. "In any case, I wasn't lying. I seriously don't care that much about the topic. I just like to think that after having the exact same wardrobe for almost my entire life, I'd know just what it is I'm wearing."

A cute little horsey snort. ...'Horsey'? Maybe I should consider readjusting my priorities and looking for a way home before I'm fully repaired if I'm going to be using language like that. "Well, you don't," Gray says disapprovingly. "You can swear to Celestia if you want that you're wearing a bodysuit. That does nothing to change the fact that you're wearing a unitard and it means that you lied to the Princess."

"What it means is that I'm confident in what I'm wearing and I'm willing to stick to what it's supposed to be." I waggle a finger in denial--no, closer to refutation. That's more like it. It's a much better word. "Oaths and lying have nothing to do with it. It's a bodysuit, and nopony or no one is going to tell me otherwise."

Gray takes flight and hovers up to eye level, bringing me to a stop. "And yet that's what I'm doing anyway. The worst you can do to me is tell me I'm wrong, which I'm not. Taking a stand is all well and good if you have the know-how to back it up. If you don't, then you've done nothing but embarrass yourself in front of the entire community."

"Kind of hard to be embarrassed about being correct, Gray." I smirk, giving her the expression that I normally reserve only for potentially life-ending opponents. "Unless it's something that you preferred that you weren't correct about. You can stop arguing with me about this at any time."

"This isn't an argument," Gray denies. "It's a discussion. Arguments have a lot more yelling, nopony wants to admit they're wrong, and they typically end with everypony angry about things they really should not be angry about. So far we've only got one of those."

"You're being as logical as you can right now," I point out. "Isn't that technically an argument?"

"No."

"Oh? Why not?"

"You told me not five minutes ago that 'definitions can go hang'." There's a little smirk of her own on Gray's muzzle now. "Is that something else you're lying about?"

I don't know what's more amazing: that she's actually going through with this, or that I think I'm starting to have fun. "Well, if you're not presenting an argument, what would you call it then?"

"Just basic dialogue."

"Not quite, Gray. Basic dialogue is along the lines of 'Hello, how are you?' 'Oh, I'm fine. You?' 'The same, thank you.' Nothing too complex, unlike everything you've said up until now."

"What, like 'that's a unitard you're wearing'?"

"Yes, and just like 'no, that's a bodysuit I'm wearing'. That's complex dialogue, not basic."

"Sounds like 'basic' to me."

"It only seems like that, trust me. The truth is far more complicated."

"All a matter of definition, and we stopped caring about that a while back."

"No, I stopped caring about that. You're still trying to fight me with logic."

"Sounds like you're admitting that you calling that a bodysuit doesn't make sense. It's a unitard, Leviathan."

"You're not going to win this one. If I say it's a bodysuit, then it's a bodysuit."

...

A short ways down the street, two random ponies bemusedly listened to Gray and the creature bicker. "How long do you think they'll keep talking about absolutely nothing?" one said to the other.

"I'll say... fifteen minutes."

"I'm thinking closer to twenty."

"You're on. Let's check it out."

Our "discussion" was interrupted about twenty-one minutes later by the sound of coins hitting the sidewalk. We looked down to see six bits scattered around, and eight ponies watching us with wide eyes. "...What?" the both of us ask as one.

"Um..." one of the spectators speaks up after some hesitation. He smiles as he gains enough confidence to continue. "Your act was funny. How often are you in Manehattan?"

Gray looked at me, her face mirroring the confusion I was feeling. "Act...?" she mouthed.

I scan over the group's faces. They seemed to have been entertained by it all, so I hated to let them down like this, but... "Sorry, folks, but we didn't put this on for entertainment. Gray just doesn't want to admit that I know what I've been wearing for the last three decades."

"And Leviathan just doesn't want to admit that she doesn't," Gray added. I glance at her sideways, but she just smiles unapologetically.

"If I may, that was an incredibly smooth delivery for something unrehearsed," a pony with a very high-class demeanor comments. She's weighed down by two suitcases and a bulky carrying case of some kind on her back, though it doesn't look like it's bothering her. 'Earth pony', I remind myself. Nifty little bowtie she has there. "Imagine what you could do if you planned those out. Have you ever considered a career in vaudeville or similar?"

I give Gray a raised eyebrow... or at least try to, since they're both concealed under my helmet. She catches on to my confusion and quietly offers a quick definition of the term, leading me to shake my head. "Sorry, but no. I've got other plans, so I don't see myself walking the stage anytime soon." Or ever.

"The same," Gray adds. "I'm happy with my life as is. Thanks for the compliment, though."

The high-class pony smiles gracefully. "You're welcome. I had to ask."

The group dispersed, with those who had tried to donate bits reclaiming them before leaving. There were a few chuckles as they talked about what they had just seen. I huffed a little to myself. I'm not getting how something like my choice of clothing could be considered humorous by others.

I don't think these ponies are mind readers, but looking at my companion, one starts to wonder. "I guess we got a bit carried away there," Gray admitted, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck and giving me a chance to admire these creatures' flexibility. "Don't look so upset. You were enjoying yourself through all that. I can tell."

"...You're not wrong," I answer in the affirmative as I let her continue to lead me. The discussion itself had been fun, even if Gray's insistence on being wrong bordered on the ridiculous. "So, where to?"

The pegasus surveys the street we're on. "Hmm... last time I was here was a few months ago, and that was just to buy my earrings," she comments. "Not too familiar with what they're have, but I don't have to be. You can typically tell who they sell to with just a look..." She focuses on a two-story building a few doors down, its 'Open' sign indicating its status. "And there we go. Come on."

The advertisement posted behind the store's window display catches my attention immediately. I'm not unfamiliar with minotaurs, since Neo Arcadia's Mass Driver transportation team boasted a Reploid based on one (the fact that I have never met said Reploid notwithstanding). I do wish I could have seen it coming; we've had pegasi, unicorns and griffons so far, so having other mythological beings join in seems like a reasonable assumption to make in retrospect. I guess if they have to have bipeds here, minotaurs are an obvious pick.

The minotaur in the advertisement, assuming that's what they really look like and aren't just being exaggerated for the sake of the illustration, is appropriately well-built and is adorned with a suit jacket, shirt and tie. No pants, though I've concluded that they're available if they're really needed; one of the ponies watching my skit with Gray earlier was clearly wearing a set of trousers. I'm not delusional enough to believe I'm as stocky as one of these, but maybe finding something for me here won't be too hard...?

Octavia Melody took a look behind her one last time as she walked, seeing the pegasus follow her unnerving but ultimately benign partner into one of the specialty stores. Doesn't surprise me, she thought as she focused her eyes on the street ahead. Poor thing looked like she had been subjected to a pack of timberwolves. If something like that happened to me, I'd want to hide my wounds too.

She had gotten a letter back from Canterlot just a few days before, approving her for a new job there that would begin the following week. She'd taken action immediately, selling items she couldn't bring with her and finding a rental house in the town of Ponyville where she could practice in peace. Just this morning she had turned over her apartment key and her final month's rent to her superintendent, grabbed what she had packed and started her journey towards the train station to catch the next ride out. The impromptu performance by the two-legged creature and the strange pegasus had stalled her, but she figured she still had plenty of time to reach the station.

It's little things like that act that made life in Manehattan worth living. I'll miss having a residence here, but it's high time I closed that chapter of my life and moved on to the next. She smiled eagerly as she imagined what awaited her at her new job. Adjusting to a more quiet life in Ponyville feels a bit daunting, but I could use the solitude for practicing. I wonder what my landlord's like? Hopefully, whoever it is will be the understanding sort and won't complain about the constant noise too much.

...

Given that the store just opened, it's no shocker that there aren't any other customers in yet. So when the proprietor ducks through an office doorway into the store proper, there's nopony present to see how dilated my eyes are right now.

There's no doubt that who I'm looking at is the largest sapient biological entity that I've ever seen in my life. I make that distinction because I've seen a few whales that haven't yet gone extinct. You know how when people say "That's a lot of bull", they're typically using watered-down profanity? Not in this case: this is literally a lot of bull that I'm staring at.

The beast before me stands a full two hundred centimeters tall (or right around six feet and seven inches, depending on your measurements of choice), being the first one here I've met that was either eye level or higher. I'm really hoping that those massive arms are just for show, because they look like they could use wrecking balls as flails. Its fur is a crimson color, which shifts to maroon from the waist down. It walks on hooves, but it actually has hands on its arms--four-digit hands, but hands all the same.

And for reasons I don't understand, it's wearing a vest with a pair of wings stitched into the collar. It would probably be amusing if the one wearing it wasn't so intimidating.

"Welcome to The Big and Taur Shop," the minotaur rumbles. The voice is clearly female, but she sounds like she's mimicking an earthquake. "I work with two-legged folk and ponies who are too big for their britches. I'm the store owner, Bossa Nova. And you can shut your mouth at any time."

Gray reaches over and presses a hoof against my jaw, closing my mouth and bringing me back to my senses. "Sorry about Fairy. First time she's seen a minotaur in person."

"That's not an excuse for poor behavior," Bossa states disapprovingly. "Just because I am tall for my race doesn't give either of you carte blanche to stare." She inspects me for a time, either judging me personally or my damaged attire. Either way, it feels like a giant spotlight's shining down on me. If I had the glands for it, I'd be sweating right now. "I can see why you're here. An Ursa Minor must have tried to maul you recently. Are you looking for someone to mend your suit?"

Gray twitches at this. Before she can continue our 'discussion', I recover enough of my decorum to give Bossa a proper answer. "I can handle that on my own, but thank you," I tell her. My suit and armor are both made of materials that my auto-repair system recognizes, so it can handle that along the way. "I'm actually in the market for a coat, preferably in a shade of blue and long enough to reach my boots. Other than that, I'm not partial. I'm also looking for a purse large enough to hold what's left of my money after my business here is done."

"Then let me get your measurements and we'll work something out for you." Bossa summons a measuring tape from somewhere and beckons for me to follow her. "This way."

While the minotaur's working with me and writing things down, Gray's persistence wins out. She hovers over the dressing room door to make herself visible; not really the sort of thing one should do in most circumstances, but since I'm only getting measured and not trying on everything in the store, I decided to let it pass. "Got a question for you that's been bugging me all morning. That uniform that Fairy's wearing: what would you call that? She calls it a bodysuit, but I think it's more of a unitard."

"Remove that giant wristband you're wearing," Bossa 'instructs' me. With her voice it feels more like an 'order', but I think 'instruct' was what was intended. "Let me see your arm."

Obligingly, I detach one of my arm guards for Bossa to see what's underneath.

The minotaur makes a circle around me, humming thoughtfully, then pinches the fabric on my wrist. "Be honest with Bossa. Does the material on your hands feel like a second skin?"

"No," I say. "I'd describe it as more of a thin glove."

"In which event you're both wrong," she tells us bluntly. "It's unusual in that your outfit covers your hands and presumably your feet, but it's not as form-fitting as a unitard and it doesn't have the structure of a proper bodysuit. It would be more accurate to call this a jumpsuit."

Aaaand just like that, we've been subject to an artillery strike. Some would probably continue to argue the point, but as for me personally, it doesn't make sense to argue with someone who far out-masses me (at least in a non-combat situation). Gray and I trade defeated eyes as I re-equip my arm guard. "Well, I did tell you earlier that I knew next to nothing about fashion..."

"That makes two of us."

"So instead of the 'pick what you like' phase, we'll head straight for the 'Bossa picks for you' phase," the owner decides. There's just nothing about her that's upbeat. "I've narrowed down my choice to twelve different possibilities. Would you be inclined to buy a hat with your coat?"

"I'll just stick with my helmet, thank you."

"Seven possibilities. Short sleeves or long?"

"Long."

"Four possibilities. Lightweight material, or fit for winter?"

"Lightweight."

"Two possibilities. And you've already said that you prefer it in blue, so that leaves only one choice. Follow me, please," Bossa requests 'politely', exiting the dressing room and pulling me with her. Again, wrecking balls as flails.

...

It amazes me that she was able to decide so quickly what I needed. I'm wondering if that was a fluke, or if Miss Musclebound has a good head for this...

...because the coat she's pulled off a rack and showing to me looks like it'll fit me perfectly. The color's perfect, the length is ideal, the sleeves are just roomy enough to accommodate my arm guards, and... getting permission to try it on here, excuse me a moment... yes. It's neither too snug nor too loose. This, I decide, will be my souvenir when I go home.

Sensing my satisfaction, Bossa leads me to a small section of the store where assorted purses, handbags, and... uh... "Gray, what's the equivalent of these for ponies?"

"Saddlebags."

Right, those. Anyway, there's a decent selection of carrying cases here. I appraise their sizes and carrying capacity, thinking carefully about how much is in the Police bag before selecting one. My choice is less of a pink purse and more of a puce shoulder bag, but a lot of money deserves a lot of space. It's the only color for this size available, and I'd rather not be too picky.

...

"I have to say," I comment when we arrive at the front counter, Bossa stepping behind it to total up my acquisitions. "I'm very impressed with your efficiency. This didn't take anywhere near as long as I'd feared."

The only response I received was a noncommittal grunt. Seriously, I'm trying to pay you a compliment here.

"We didn't catch you on a bad day, did we?" Gray wonders. "I mean, we could have just come back another time."

The minotaur sighs heavily, folding her arms. "Don't want to give false impressions, so listen to me. I hate this job. I hate everything that goes with it. Just because you like what you're buying doesn't make me any happier. I am only in this line of work because arm wrestling doesn't pay the bills. Had I the choice, I would turn this shop over to another."

"Arm wrestling?" I gently ask.

"Yes." Bossa smiles for the first time since we walked in, and it doesn't take perfect vision to see the pride on her face. "Back in my homeland, there is a yearly series of competitions that revolve around strength and ingenuity, with the overall winner receiving a tidy sum and plenty of prestige. As you can figure, arm wrestling is one of those events. I've been a first- or second-place finisher for the past five years." The smile fades to a frown. "But there are few here in Equestria who are willing to challenge me. They are either scared of me or of my strength, but either way they are scared of failure. It leaves me with little to do but run this shop to make ends meet. I have no choice but to be familiar with what I sell, customer. Am I good at this? Yes. Do I enjoy it? No."

...Well. Put it that way, I feel kind of bad for thinking of her as just a brute with a brain. "Two weeks," I say as an idea pieces itself together.

Gray's eyes widen, and Bossa perks up. "What's this, now?"

"Two weeks. That's my best estimation for when I'll be fully recovered," I tell her, trying to hide a measure of eagerness. It won't be like fighting Zero by any means, but I'll take it anyway. It isn't as if searching for a way home is going to take all of my time, is it? I could use the challenge. "I can't do anything about your job, but I can at least make it somewhat more bearable."

Bossa seems almost hopeful, but then she deflates. "Bossa admires your enthusiasm but pities your scrawniness. How much effort can you really put in?"

"How much effort does it take to send somepony flying through deep water?" I ask. "You might be reading about it eventually, but I'll tell you now: I'm a warrior by nature. What sort of warrior would I be if I didn't have confidence in my strength? Give me two weeks to return to full power." I look her in the eyes and grin. "Arm wrestling might not be my idea of a good time, but I'm still willing to give it a go."

I raise my hand towards Bossa for her to shake, and she slams her hand against it. The glass in the window display rattles a little, but my arm doesn't budge. "You never formally introduced yourself, challenger," she rumbles, smirking as she puts emphasis on the term. "Who will I be pitting myself against?"

"Fairy Leviathan. The Siren General of Neo Arcadia's Deep Sea Squadron."

"Accepted. Two weeks time, ten in the morning, outside of this shop. Be here." Bossa lets go of my hand, dropping her smirk as she gets back to business. "As for your purchase, the coat and the shoulder bag total 700 bits together. Judging from that sack you're carrying, I can only assume you have enough..."

It takes some time to count off what I owe, but between the three of us it doesn't take as long as it normally would have. When I leave the shop it's with an empty Police bag in my hand, a replacement on my shoulder, the remainder of my reward money and Heartbreakers contained in said replacement, and a lovely ocean-blue buttoned-up coat hiding the worst of my injuries from the world.

I wish I had a clever one-liner for this situation, but none comes to mind. I'll just be happy with what I have and be done with it.

Gray wants to head for a different store, this time to do a bit of her own shopping. I don't want to keep this money longer than I have to, so this time it's me in the tagalong role. On the way, the sneaky cat decides that she wants more information on me. "Got another question, Fairy. Have you ever removed your helmet in your life?"

"No. As a combat Reploid, I must always be ready to fight at a moment's notice. Why?"

Gray just looks inquisitive at this. "I was looking at it and wondering if Reploids have manes of their own, is all."

"Depends on the Reploid and what they're modeled after," I explain. "If they're based on animals, they usually don't. Those that more closely resemble our creators are given a full head of hair depending on design choices. Artificial hair, yes, but still hair." Please don't ask me further, please don't ask me further---

"Have you ever wondered what your hair looks like?"

...Blast it. "Not often, Gray. Unlike some who obsess over their hair, I don't consider it a concern. I've always had higher priorities to deal with, and I'm not inclined to think about it now."

Gray doesn't press the topic, shrugging and falling silent as we continue walking. Silently, I'm relieved. I've had a few casual conversations over the years, and at least two of them have delved into the topic of how I look without my helmet. It's true that I've had a multitude of other concerns, but it's also true that part of me's afraid to look in a mirror, remove my helmet, and view that aspect of my appearance firsthand. The one time I contemplated checking, I just stood there with my hands near my head for two full minutes before finally just giving up. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

If I'm ever going to find out it'll be while I'm here in Equestria, but the trick will be forcing myself to go through with it. When I'm back in Neo Arcadia, the time for such trivialities will be gone, and I'll never get that chance again.

Contrary to what I said, I'll have to think about it later.

Author's Note

The first link leads to an instrumental of "Yumemiru Dake Ja Dame", Usagi's image song from the original Sailor Moon. I thought about using the original, but I decided that the singing was a bit too distracting. The second link leads to the Colossus' stage music from Spyro 2: Ripto's Rage!.

I had a lot of fun writing that first scene. Such a basic question, and yet it's not very easily answered. :unsuresweetie:

Regarding Leviathan's explanation on hair, I just had it as "a full head of hair" at first. Then I remembered the baldness that is Sigma. I'd just about finished a Mega Man X playthrough for my channel around the time I started the story, so I shouldn't have forgotten that. :facehoof:

Laugh if you want, but Bossa Nova strikes me as the sort of name that a powerful minotaur would have in the MLP-verse.

As a reminder, I'll be having next Thursday and Friday off, and possibly Wednesday too. As such, I'll be taking a short break from writing as well. I'll still be keeping an eye on comments and such, but that's about it. Ciao mein, everyone, and I'll see you when I return.

P.S. Not looking forward to taking Humira. Here goes nothing...

Estimated Update Deadline: December 6, 2021

EDITED 6-30-2022: Added a few extra words to the start of the discussion to account for Gray's earlier description of Fairy to Ebony.

The Head Games of a Foreigner

With my primary business taken care of, we made a detour back to the Police station to drop off the bag they'd given me. The taxi driver, like so many others, didn't know what to make of me and was a bit creeped out. He was just as happy to receive a few bits for the transportation cost from us as he would from anypony else, so he didn't linger on it for long. I just wish the carriage's ceiling had been a little higher.

Afterwards, I debated with Gray for a little bit as to whether I should go back to the theater after she was done with her shopping. That journalist was probably done interviewing Drama by now, and while he was likely to find me sooner or later, I thought it best to just get it over with so I could put myself back in hibernation. I wasn't keen on just staying awake the entire time my auto-repair was active.

Gray informed me in response that this particular journalist--Buried Lede, now that I remember his introduction--was never satisfied with one or two interviews: his modus operandi was to talk to as many of those involved in a given situation as possible for the sake of completeness. This meant not just me and Drama, but also those who took up the latter's call to chase me, those two ponies who delivered me to the theater, the officers who arrested the Midnight Castle gang, and most likely Gray herself. Assuming Lede didn't find me before any of them, I would be waiting for quite a while.

...And it was at this point that Gray realized something important: she didn't have her saddlebags with her. With a sheepish and apologetic smile she disappeared in a, erm, ghostly blur. It took a second for me to realize that her leaving the smile behind her was just a trick of the light.

I've said it a few times already, so I'm not going to say it again right now.

Which leaves me where I am at the moment: sitting on a bench partway down the block from the station, waiting for the absent-minded pegasus to return and watching the morning traffic. Just 'chilling', to use a bit of slang.

I really wish the benches were bigger, but there's nothing I can do about that. Like everything else in this city, they were made with ponies in mind. I'd say that I'm sticking out like a sore thumb, but those digits are in short supply. Gray, where are you?

Down the block, a magic mint-colored unicorn visiting the city for the sake of tourism paused in mid-step. Her eyes took in Leviathan's presence, her posture as she relaxed. But where most ponies would've tread cautiously around an alien being, or ignoring her at best, only one thing was on the unicorn's mind.

Huh, she mused as she continued about her business. I wonder if I could do that. I'll have to try that on the way home.

Everything has to start somewhere.

"Mom, mom! What's that?"

I wince as I hear a foal question its mother loudly. This isn't for its volume so much as it was asking "What's that" instead of "who". Yet another difference between home and here: people at least knew better than to refer to Reploids as "whats". Ponies don't know that true inorganic life exists yet.

"I... I don't know, Butterscotch. I don't think we should be near it."

"Why?"

"Just... just listen to your momma, okay? Let's keep away from the giant whatever-it-is..."

"The 'giant whatever-it-is' can hear you," I comment before they get too far away, not turning my sight away from the road.

I paid no mind to the yelp that went off behind me, or the galloping as the pony fled. Provided that the journalist does his job appropriately, she'll find out all about me tomorrow. I won't be able to do anything about her fright, but that's all on her. It's up to her if she wants to be scared of me or not, much as I don't like it.

"Mom?" the foal's voice calls. "Where'd you go? ...Mom?"

...Oh for the love of... she ran off and accidentally left her child behind? I can't exactly ignore that. Fluctuating social skills, don't fail me now. I get up and approach the little orange foal, who--to his credit--doesn't try to run away. I kneel down and try to get as close to eye level as reasonably possible without going prone. "Excuse me, little one?"

"Yes, whatever you are?"

Ah, childhood innocence. A shame that the real world has to mess it up royally eventually. "Is that..." Hmm... well, I can't think of a better word to use, so... "...normal for your mother?"

The foal nods glumly. "Mom's not good with other ponies. Or whatever you are." He quickly continues speaking when he sees my uncertainty. "But she'll come back to get me! She will!"

Several other ponies are watching the scene, so I try to avoid making any movements towards the foal that could be remotely construed as threatening. Instead of picking him up, I stand just long enough to walk back to the bench. "We'll wait here for her to come back, then. Is that okay?"

"I dunno," the foal answers. "Mom tells me I shouldn't be talking to strangers..."

"And your mother's very smart." I turn my head towards the on-lookers. "You three? I would like for you to watch me so that I don't try anything funny with this child. His mom will be back soon to get him, and I don't want any complaints from her."

But it looks as if even though I won't get complaints from the mother, I'll be getting complaints nonetheless. "I, uh... forgot to wash my mane this morning," one of them says. "Each hair. Individually. Yeah."

"I'm a day sleeper," the second one lies. Seriously, it doesn't take superb hearing to detect your rapid heartbeat. "I was just on my way home."

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves," the third one speaks up harshly---

...Well, now.

"Not stopping to guard this young one from the dangers of the city streets, solely because a complete stranger intimidates you?" the earth pony continues. I recognize her now: she was that aged customer that Turkey Bowl was talking to at the store yesterday. "I might not know why the creature's acting the way it is, but I do know this: there's minding your own business, and there's throwing somepony to the wind through illegitimate excuses. You're both better than that. I know it."

Wow. That's what you get when you combine "well" and "now". Both of those who had tried to lie their way out of helping me look chastised by her words, ears turned down and regarding the ground awkwardly. The foal is confused by what's going on, but after a moment he decides that things will be okay after all and rushes over to the bench to join me on my right.

While the two ponies keep their distance, the third clambers up on my left. There's a strange feeling I'm getting just from looking at her: it's as if just by being present, she's affirming that she can be counted on for anything and everything. Physically, while she has the same general build as most of the ponies I've seen, her age is showing in the glasses she wears, wrinkles on her face and slightly decreased musculature. "I saw you yesterday," she tells me with zero fear and all the politeness in the world. "Fairy Leviathan, I presume? I'm Charity Kindheart. That nice stallion Turkey Bowl was telling me about you yesterday."

I nod and smile politely. "Hopefully nothing outlandish."

"Just a bare-bones description of your history, dear. How are things faring for you? Do you have someplace to stay?..."

...

I'm experiencing a stark difference in personalities here. Gray is nice enough, I suppose, but there's always something at the edge of her voice that gives an air of unpredictability and mischievousness. Drama Heart is a similar case in that she's constantly fighting to keep her enthusiasm and drive under control.

There's no underlying struggle to Charity's words. Her concern is completely genuine, without any ulterior motivates that would color it. In a world full of nothing but shades of gray, hers would be so bright that it couldn't safely be called 'gray' anymore. I'm almost wondering what my situation would be like right now if she had been the one to talk to me in that alley instead of the sneaky cat.

Like both Gray and Drama, she has a certain fondness for the arts. Unlike them, she possesses a philanthropic streak a kilometer wide. Most notably, she channeled her enjoyment into a festival that she held for the sake of making her neighbors better ponies. I say 'held' instead of 'holds' because just three weeks ago, Charity received word that her oldest child elsewhere in Equestria was pregnant with twins. The bulk of her time since then was spent trying to find a buyer for her residence, intending to leave Manehattan and join her family.

As of now she hasn't found a buyer yet, and she's anxious to be there for her grandfoals once they're born. Would that I could help her out, but if you've been following my memories from the beginning, then you know my situation by now. I don't want to let myself get tied to this city to the point where I don't want to go home, and I don't know what I would do with an entire manor to myself anyway. When she heard this she was disappointed but understanding, and she was pleased to hear that I do at least have some shelter and sustenance.

"Shinyyyy!"

I'm still talking to Charity, so the foal's spontaneous exclamation isn't immediately triggering anything more than a subdued double-take. "Hm? Yes?"

The foal's pointing at my helmet. "It's shiny!" He scrambles up my arm to my shoulder, trying to get a closer look. "I can see my face in it!"

Okay, I don't know how much longer I can resist cooing at the sheer cuteness of his species. "Of course it is. I just had it washed yesterday," I joked.

"Can I try it on?" the foal begs. "Can I?"

My smile weakens somewhat as my earlier discussion with Gray comes back to mind. "I'm sorry, but I think it might be a little bit too big for you."

"Aww..."

"Foals will be foals, dear," Charity comments on seeing the young one's disappointment. "Why not let him have his fun?"

I sigh quietly. "I don't know if I want to talk about it, Kindheart. It's... a trifle embarrassing."

"I hope I'm not speaking out of turn," one of the two bystanders interrupts. He seems emboldened by the fact that I'm having a peaceful conversation with these ponies. Charity must really be something else, I suppose. "...But you're not having a bad mane day, are you?"

Part of me wants to stay quiet, but I turn that down. If I don't say anything, they're just going to assume that it is because my hair's an utter mess that I'm keeping my helmet on. "Ladies and stallions both large and small," I confess, directing a tiny smile at the foal as I say those last few words, "...I have absolutely no idea."

All four are showing surprise in their own ways, but it's the foal who expresses it verbally. "You don't know if you have a mane? How can you not know that?"

"It's easy," I tell him, phrasing my reply in a way he can easily understand. "Just have somepony put a helmet on your head and never take it off for your entire life." To the others, I add: "Do you get where I'm going with this? I don't even know what my hair looks like, so how could I know whether it's messed up or not? And if you want to know more about that, read tomorrow's news." I'm starting to get tired of saying that last bit.

Charity rests a hoof on my arm, and I flinch at the contact. She's not Drama Heart, I remind myself, forcing myself to settle. "I promise to you that we won't scream and run away regardless of your hair condition," she reassures me. "I'm sure you look just fine for who you are."

"I wanna see!" the foal proclaims. "I wanna see! Oh, and I wanna wear your helmet, too! Please?"

"It's not any of you that I'm worried about upsetting," I answer, my voice starting to waver. How do I even begin to explain this to them? "It's me."

"Don't feel that you have to be afraid of yourself, dear," Charity tells me... well, kindly, adjusting her glasses. "Unless there's something about yourself that you're not telling us, then there's no reason to think that you're ugly in any way, shape or form."

I never talked about my dilemma with anyone, so this is the first time that anyone's tried to talk me into it. And the more I try to come up with a good reason not to, the more I realize that she's right. Being fearful of my physical appearance is really silly. My battle damage is one thing, as at least there I have a good reason to hide it. But something as mundane as my hair? It's not like I have snakes growing out of my scalp.

...Right?

Leviathan, stop making excuses for yourself and just do it already. You're not Medusa.

I move my hands up to my helmet, pausing when they touch the edge. "I would just like to go on record," I state, "as saying that this is one of the most difficult things I've had to do in my life." Having finished speaking, I press my hands more firmly against the helmet and push upwards slowly, careful not to let the fins hit either Charity or the foal on accident.

From: Gray Ghost, a humble housewife

To: Princess Celesita

We've got an unbeliever here. Would a brief display of power be too much to ask for?

---------

From: Celestia

To: Gray Ghost

Certainly. Give me a few minutes to get away from the throne room. Also, you misspelled my name.

From: G.G.

To: P.C.

I'm in a hurry, and I'm nearly out of ink. Give me a break.

The mother had gotten two blocks away when she realized that she was alone, and that had frightened her more than the whatever-it-was's ability to speak. "Butterscotch?" she called, looking around her and checking down the block to see if her foal was trying to catch up. "Butterscotch, where are you?"

No response. Whining anxiously, she whirled and galloped back down the street, not taking the time to catch her breath. Her only thought was to retrieve her child and get out of there.

When she got close enough to see where her foal was, the sight she returned to almost made her collapse in relief. Butterscotch was sitting on the weird two-legged creature's shoulder, their respective expressions showing that he was in no real danger; Charity Kindheart, of all ponies, was interacting with her calmly while several others looked on. Good, he's safe and we've got ponies watching them. I think I almost had a heart attack there...

She slowed down to a stop and got to work getting her breathing under control. As she did, she listened to Charity, Butterscotch and the creature talk about the state of the latter's mane, of all things. She wasn't a good judge of anything that wasn't another pony, but the creature seemed very expressive... and reluctant. Finally it reached up to its helmet and carefully removed it from its head.

Unknown to the mother, the vast bulk of the damage Leviathan was suffering was below her neck. Her helmet was marred but whole, and it had done a more than adequate job of protecting what lay beneath.

And what lay beneath was a soft and frizzy wave of a mane, barely any different in coloration from her helmet. The locks just grazed her shoulders when released, descending no further. With them visible, 'whatever-it-is' seemed like an entirely different entity... though the white plates where her ears should have been were unappealing.

The stranger gestured for Butterscotch to relocate to the bench, then it gently placed the helmet over him; he was bigger than it was, but not by much, and it engulfed him up to his flanks. "Look at me! I'm a turtle!" he declared, undeterred. Hunkering down and trying to fit as much of himself inside of it as he could, he began inching around on the bench. The helmet's fins made it awkward to navigate by their size, but he didn't let that stop him. "Crawl, crawl, crawl..."

The mother couldn't help laughing at his antics, which succeeded in getting everypony's attention. She froze when she realized that by 'everypony', this included the creature too. A soft "oh" escaped the mother's lips as she fought her flight instinct from having all of their focus on her.

To her relief, the creature didn't leave her seat. "That was quick," it said instead. "I wasn't sure if it would be necessary to chase after you, but you went and saved us the trouble."

"...I'm terribly sorry," the mother stated, shamefaced. "I realized that you were alive, and I panicked. Please don't be mad at me!"

...

I was hoping to only hear those words from someone I had made an enemy out of, not a worried parent. "I understand. Just please, for his sake, don't let it happen again. I'm not saying this to be mean, but I'm not a babysitter. Much as I'd like to, I can't safeguard everypony."

Shyly, she tries to look me in the eyes. She looks me in the chin instead, but at least she tried. "He, um... didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

"Actually, he was very well-behaved," I tell her kindly, smiling. "You're doing a fine job raising him. Keep up the good work, citizen."

I didn't use those words often, so I don't remember how effective they typically were. On the plus side they seemed to work with her, considering her straighter posture. "Th... thank you. I'll try. Butterscotch, could you give the nice mare her helmet back?"

It takes about half a minute for her to convince the foal to return my headwear. That's also how long it takes for me to dismiss the image of myself as a pony from my mind.

After they leave, I don't have time to continue speaking to Charity before the one I'd been waiting for says 'hello' as only she can. "So this is what happens to you without an escort."

Charity jerks, startled, but this time I'm able to keep from jumping at my guide's abrupt return. The pony's hovering close by, alighting on the pavement as I greet her. "Hello to you too, Gray. What took you so long? Fall asleep again?"

"I leave you alone for twenty minutes," Gray deadpans, ignoring my question. "Twenty. Minutes. And already you've got somepony's foal trying to steal your helmet. You're pathetic."

"Not as pathetic as the one who forgot her bags and left to get them while the shopping trip was in progress," I retort, a smirk tugging at one corner. My helmet's left off for now, but I'm keeping a hold of it in case some common thief---or another foal---gets it into their heads to try and take it.

"Touché," my guide admits, her temperament back where it belongs. "I'm kidding. So that's what you look like without that dome over your head, huh? I was half-expecting you to be a blonde."

A raised eyebrow, and this time it's visible to everypony's eyes. "And why is that?"

"Because in some circles, blondes have a reputation for ditziness," Gray explains. "You might be a veteran fighter with a serious demeanor, but you can be a complete dumb-dumb sometimes, too."

"Not sorry to disappoint you," I say, brushing one of my bangs before my eyes. Artificial or natural, the strands drift like the ocean all the same and shine with a similar hue. I don't know whose idea it was to make the tips white, but it was a nice touch. I'm glad I let those two convince me to do this. "From the looks of things, I'm a blunette."

"I'm obviously no expert on this, but those who constructed you did a thorough job," Charity commented, squinting at me for a few seconds. "An average mane has upwards of 100,000 individual hairs. If your race has the same amount..." She shrugged helplessly. "I can't begin to fathom just how much work it would take just to bring them all together. It all looks so real. Nothing like what you would see on something hoofmade."

A hoorah for advanced machinery. "It does, doesn't it?" I agree for the lack of anything better to say. "It means I save plenty---" The shadows on the ground are lengthening. I repeat: the shadows on the ground are lengthening. "---of money on shampoo, and what the blue blazes is going on here?"

“Up there!” one of the two on-lookers blurts out fearfully. “It's the sun! Why's it going crazy like that?!”

I squint up at the sky...

“EHHHH?!”

...to see the most surreal thing I have ever seen in my life. And I've seen a lot in the past 24 hours, believe me. The sun is dropping towards the Manehattan skyline at a rate I hadn't even thought possible. But it doesn't stop there, oh no: just as it vanishes behind the buildings, it returns to its prior position at double the original rate of speed. A brief pause, and then it drifts around in a pattern that I could have sworn was handwriting. It repeats the pattern in case I didn't catch it the first time, then resumes its regularly scheduled orbit as if nothing had happened.

“Was...” Another pedestrian can be heard muttering. “Was the sun saying 'hello'? That looked like a 'hello'.”

Gray blinks a few times to get what's probably a swarm of spots out of her eyes as she looks up at the sun. "Huh," she says with no concern at all. "Guess the Princess must be pranking somepony again. I wonder what poor snob got her attention this time. Maybe that nephew of hers."

"You've met the Princess?" Charity inquires wonderingly, with equal parts dissatisfaction at Gray's overly-familiar tone and surprise that she could still witness strange events at her age.

As for me, my voice seems to be stuck as a high-pitched squeak at the moment, so I can't continue expressing my own surprise appropriately. There's some recalibration in order this evening.

"Went to Canterlot on a trip once as a foal," Gray says, smiling wistfully. "If you want my personal opinion, she's more of a flake than ponies think she is."

...

Alright, that does it. Between everything my guide telling me turning out true and her good-naturedly insulting her own monarch as if she knew her personally, I can't take this anymore. I'll logic this out later. Switching to Standby.

...

Gray and Charity jerked in surprise as Leviathan's squeak cut off. The Reploid slumped forward, her expression dazed as her momentum almost carried her off the bench. Her eyes slid closed as she went still.

As one, everypony who had witnessed the last few minutes turned to look at Gray, their expressions ranging from light disapproval (Charity) to outright glares. The pegasus tilted her her head a few degrees to her left, her smile bewildered. "What?"

Author's Note

The clickable links for this chapter lead to "Kind Thoughts", from the soundtrack of Rune Factory 4, and "Procrastination", from The Big O.

Yes, that's my own take on how Lyra learned to sit like a human. Nothing more to say on that.

For those who opted not to watch Season 5 for whatever reason--or even if you have, and just forgot how the episode "Made in Manehattan" went--Charity Kindheart is actually a canonical character. She appears in the photo album that Coco was showing to Applejack and Rarity. Obviously she's older than she was than when she interacted with Coco in the photos, so I had to take that into account when typing out her description. I'm hoping I got across the fact that while she's not as physically fit as she used to be, she doesn't look like Granny Smith or Goldie Delicious just yet.

I'd also like to point out that while we know she moved away from Manehattan before the episode began, it was never made clear exactly how long she was away for the community's attitudes to drop (at least I don't think it was, from what little I saw of the transcript). I'd like to think that gives me a little bit to work with.

Yep, blue hair. I could have gone with something other than the obvious choice; I actually pondered making Leviathan a redhead for a bit. Buuut, my more favorite color won out. >^_^<

I don't feel that last bit with the sun was Celestia being a troll so much as her telling Leviathan in her own way that yes, the power of the sun is in her hooves with everything that entails.

I'm back from my break, but now my next dose of Humira is tomorrow. Here we go again.

Estimated Update Deadline: December 17, 2021

EDITED 1-15-2022: Corrected another error.

A Sunny and Gray Day

Ebony was in the kitchen browsing the cupboards, looking for something she could have for lunch in a little while, when she heard the distant sound of wingbeats. She glanced up to make sure the window was open, and nodded on seeing it was. "Never hurts to be prepared," she said to herself as she closed the cupboard---

Thump."Ow!"

"...But apparently I wasn't prepared enough!" she griped, turning and trotting into the master bedroom. She opened the window and pulled Gray inside. "The one day I remember to keep that open for you, you choose not to take it!"

"Sorry, dear," Gray apologized meekly. "I approached from the wrong angle and didn't see it. May I have a cold washcloth, please?"

...

"So what happened?" Ebony questioned her once they settled into the living room. "I thought you were going to spend the day watching what's-her-name."

"I was, but we got hit with a curveball," Gray answered. "You ever read about the Midnight Castle gang in the papers? Well, they broke into Sally's theater last night."

Ebony's ears turned down as this sunk in. She didn't like Salamandra very well due to her fondness for puppetry and bombastic presentations, but nopony deserved to have their home broken into. "Is she alright?"

"Far as I can tell. She was talking to Mr. Lede from the Minutes when I got there, and she was more annoyed by the mess in the lobby than anything else. Seems Leviathan was a bit busy doing some late-night bounty hunting: she caught the thieves before they could escape with anything."

"...What?"

Gray started to launch into a lengthy explanation, then thought better of it. "Abridged notes: Leviathan gave the thieves to the cops, Sally sent her to the station this morning to collect the bounty on them, I chased after her to give her a tour of Manehattan, and she bought a nice coat for protection's sake. I'll spare you the details until tomorrow's paper."

Ebony stared at her mother dumbly. "Huh," she uttered eloquently. "So if you were giving her a tour, why'd you come back here? I thought you were going to be out all day."

"Didn't have much choice," Gray admitted, removing her saddlebags with her free hoof. "I had to take Fairy back to the Pyre. After that little stunt with the sun, she refused to wake up for anything. So after that I went to buy a few things for myself and went home early."

"Little stunt---" Ebony gave a start as she realized something. "Wait, was that why it got so dark in here for a second?"

"The Princess was pranking somepony," Gray said as if that explained everything.

Ebony's mouth hung open. "Wha...! Mom, don't just say that so casually! She has to have higher class than that!"

Gray stretched a bit, then flopped onto her side with a thump. By coincidence Echo was stretched out in the same position on the back of the couch, albeit without a washcloth of his own. "Nothing like a bit of levity now and then to hearten somepony. Imagine that you have to work for 14 hours everyday. Wouldn't you get bored with the monotony from time to time?"

"Well yeah, but I'm just your average unicorn," Ebony protested, sitting down normally. "This is Equestria's ruler we're talking about here! She's supposed to be above those juvenille pranks!"

"Equestria's ruler she may be, but she's still a pony," Gray managed to say around a yawn. "A pony with her own thoughts and feelings. Even she wants some fun now and then, I'm sure. As long as she doesn't accidentally give anypony heart attacks with those 'little stunts', then what's the harm?"

A flicker of worry. "...Did anypony actually get heart attacks?"

"I'm sure the Manehattan Minutes would be all over it if they did. As for any cases outside the city, I couldn't tell you. I'll keep my ears to the ground, but I'm sure there aren't any problems. It isn't as if this is the first time she's done something like this."

"Don't you usually keep your ears to the ground anyway?" Ebony asked, eyebrow raised.

Gray worked out what her daughter was trying to say before rolling her eyes. "I mean in the sense that I'll listen for rumors and scuttlebutt. I don't sleep that much."

"Sixteen hours of sleep a day isn't sleeping that much?"

The pegasus snorted softly. "My daughter's a comedian," she grumbled good-naturedly. "Step closer so I can swat at you."

"That didn't work the first six times you tried that," Ebony said in refusal, eyes half-closed. "It's not going to work the seventh."

A chuckle. "I had to try. Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that you can have all the decorum and elegance in the world, but stress and exhaustion can still get the better of you. If you don't find some means of relaxing, it's very possible to work yourself to death. That's something a lot of ponies here struggle with: they focus so much on earning bits to the exclusion of everything else that they end up suffering burnout. It almost happened to me once or twice with the Police. It wasn't fun."

Ebony had heard her mother talk about her short-lived career with the Royal Police a few times, and the stories had never stopped enthralling her no matter how many times she heard them. She got the sense that this particular story didn't have anything happy about it, however, so she didn't press Gray for details. Instead, she asked: "What about the ma---...I mean, Leviathan? What was it about the Princess moving the sun that she had trouble coping with?"

"Well, assuming she wakes up and lets Buried Lede interview her," Gray said, shrugging as best as she could from her current position, "I guess we'll find out tomorrow. I got the gist of it earlier, but some extra context never hurts." Her tail twitched in mild irritation. "I wish your father and siblings didn't have to come back to this. I don't know whether Manehattan as a whole's going to like her, fear her, hate her, or just outright go gonzo. Whatever happens, we're going to be caught up in the storm."

"I don't suppose you could extend my grounding for a while more, could you?" Ebony joked weakly, her face unsure.

It didn't take a logical thought process to figure out what was on the young mare's mind. "I understand you're afraid of her, dear, but sooner or later you're going to end up crossing paths with her again. No matter how good a job I do, I can only delay that meeting, not prevent it. And the rest of the family doesn't share your fear, so they're probably going to end up wanting to meet her. No, my stance is the same: your grounding ends tomorrow night."

Really not looking forward to that appointment. "Double crud," she murmured weakly.

"Why double?"

"Bad dream last night," Ebony explained, shivering. "I was trotting through Bronclyn on a foggy day, and mannequins that looked like Leviathan were being tossed at me out of windows, and over fences..."

Gray's muzzle twisted in concern. "Okay, I'll admit that's disturbing. I didn't hear you scream at all this morning, so I'm guessing it ended on a better note?"

"Yeah, but it was kind of weird," Ebony stated. She was able to smile, but it only came off as bemused. "One of the mannequins broke a fence on the way over, and I used the post to defend myself. The last clear memory I have was me rampaging down the street with the post in my magic, spinning and twirling it like some sort of baton and smacking away anything that got too close. I still wouldn't call it a good dream since those things were still there, but it beats a full-on nightmare."

"So otherwise it would have been a 'triple crud', then?"

"Yeah."

Gray idly swatted at a few dust particles that hung in the air just out of her reach. "Well, just remember that this doesn't mean you can smash Leviathan with a two-by-four when you meet her, alright? I don't think she'd appreciate that."

Ebony refused to entertain that thought, moving to change the subject. "So anyway, what did you buy?"

"Some envelopes, extra inkwells and a few new quills." Gray sat up, smiling. "I have a pen pal now!"

"Huh." Ebony matched her smile, interested. "Any idea who it is?"

"Well, whoever wrote it called themselves 'Princess Celestia'..." What?! "...but that's obviously a pseudonym." ...Oh. "I mean, there's no reason the real Princess would want to write to kooky little ol' me. She's probably got tons of princess-y things to do instead. I'm guessing they just picked that name to show that the writer lives in Canterlot." Gray looked up at the ceiling. "I wonder if I should start calling myself Countess Coloratura? You know, just to show that I'm from Manehattan?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Ebony said following an annoyed sigh. "That leaves a bad impression of you. Sapphire Shores' music clearly rocks more than Coloratura's."

"Well, somepony likes the Countess's music," Gray pointed out. "Otherwise she wouldn't be such a hit."

"I'm not talking about this, Mom." Ebony got up as she spoke, her irritation hiding her desire to get back to what she'd been doing when Gray returned. "I'm going to figure out what to make for lunch. Want me to call you when it's ready?"

"Sure. Thank you, Ebony."

...

As Ebony returned to her business, Gray picked up her saddlebags and strolled into her room, kicking the door shut behind her. After setting aside her purchases she grabbed a legal-sized sheet of paper out of a small cabinet. Eager to get her thoughts across, she settled onto her bed, grasped a quill pen with her mouth and got down to the business of writing, using one of her horror novels as a flat surface.

All the while she counted herself thankful that both her daughter and her husband were such good cooks. The last time she tried baking cornbread, the superintendent had made her sign an affidavit promising that she would never do it again.

Fifteen minutes later...

...

There are days when I loathe being bogged down with work and desire nothing more than a break. Then there are days when I'm reminded that I really need to be careful what I ask for.

It had been relatively quiet in Canterlot that morning, at least from Princess Celestia's perspective. There had been a few ponies who had sought to meet with her over minor matters, but none had lingered for more than fifteen minutes. There had been an unexpected visit from the band who played at her garden parties, but that had just been to notify her that they'd found a replacement for their retiring cellist and would be taking her to meet the Princess at her earliest convenience. No emergencies had sprung up that her subjects weren't capable of dealing with themselves. Nopony tried to sneak 'minor' changes in legislature past her.

And nopony was blaring loud rock or metal music outside the palace gates. As much as she admitted that the racket had a certain appeal, there was a time and place for everything. The middle of the day, during the time when it was important that she maintain her decorum before her subjects and be the ruler that Equestria needed, was not it. My faithful student's brain would probably melt from sheer shock if she knew that I had all of Blin Jaggwar's albums, she thought, keeping her chuckle mental. Of course she probably doesn't know who they are, but I shouldn't take that chance.

Bored, Celestia surveyed the throne room. Nopony aside from herself and her guards were present at the moment, and she didn't have any scheduled appointments until after lunch. For a few moments she wondered whether she ought to summon Raven Inkwell from her duties for a game of cards; the secretary worked hard for her both here and in Ponyville, true, but she hadn't yet learned how to pace herself---

A long scroll materialized before her in a burst of green fire, and she sighed internally as it dropped to the floor. I guess that's out of the question now. I don't think I left anything out of this morning's lesson with Twilight, so it couldn't be from her or Spike. And the scroll is paper instead of papyrus. Which means... She took the scroll in her magic and unrolled it. Called it. She smiled, amused but touched, when she saw who had written it and what it contained.

"To: Princess Celestia

She didn't take that stunt of yours very well. Gaining firsthand knowledge of your control over the sun and hearing me refer to you as a 'flake' made her pass out. Wimp. To allow her to recover I had her brought back to a local theater, the Pyre of Fears, as that is her home base at present.

If I may make a suggestion, Your Highness? Brace yourself. Starting tomorrow, everything about who she is, why she's here, and what she can do is going to roll around Equestria. There's going to be no shortage of concern, possibly even panic from anypony who's only familiar with their own kind. She caught a group of notorious thieves last night who were trying to raid her temporary home, so she's in the good graces of the Manehattan Royal Police, but there's always going to be the truly paranoid. I suspect that if they decide that the Police aren't going to do anything about her, they will either take matters into their own hooves or send a vast multitude of demands to Canterlot insisting that you and the Guard take direct action. Maybe even both. We're nutty that way.

The resulting ruckus would cut into my precious beauty sleep. And no cracks from you about said beauty sleep taking a few months. I've already had to put up with similar comments from my daughter. Just because it's true doesn't make it any less annoying to hear about.

Anyway, now that I've replenished my ink, I can talk more about Leviathan. She visited the Royal Police station to collect the bounty for the thieves' capture, and I caught up with her there. I gave her a brief history lesson about Manehattan and answered a few related questions, from which arose her initial disbelief about your longevity and power. She bought more of this strange candy that she can safely eat (called 'Heartbreakers' for your future reference), and she booped my nose to wake me up from a nap. We had a spirited debate (not an argument) as to the state of her clothing. When we bought a coat to cover her wounds until she can heal on her own, she challenged the minotauress store-owner to an arm wrestling match to take place after her recovery. And she lent her helmet to a foal and let him play with it while waiting for his mother to retrieve him. Everything that happened after, you already know.

I'll continue to send you updates, though I can't promise that they'll be daily. There's no guarantee that anything new regarding Leviathan will surface with this much frequency, and the Manehattan Minutes will be filling in many of the gaps if they do their job right, which is why I won't be talking about Fairy's origins like I'd originally planned. In addition I only have one more full Dragon Fire Candle stashed away, and those are difficult to come by. I can't afford to use these willy-nilly. Finally, my daughter believes that I have a pen pal in Canterlot, and while it's not un-true she'll start asking questions I won't be able to answer if this keeps up.

Sincerely yours,

Gray Ghost

Humble Housewife

P.S. I sincerely hope that I'm the first pony to use the word "boop" in the proper context in a letter to the Crown. It just seemed too funny a word to pass up.

P.P.S. I wanted to sign this letter as 'Countess Coloratura', but my daughter didn't like that idea."

Celestia rolled up the letter and set it next to her on her throne for the moment. She closed her eyes, and in her memories she recalled a little monochromatic Cutie Mark-less filly breaking free from her classmates and charging up the dais, beaming up at her like there was nothing wrong with the world before the foal's teacher could catch her. That same foal later chasing sultan chickens in the gardens, which at the time seemed like a strange way of attaining her Mark (though Celestia wasn't complaining; she sometimes believed those things had it out for her).

Too, she recalled a young and energetic mare ten years later who wanted to do right by others, dedicating her life to Manehattan's Royal Police... and in a more secretive meeting, promising Celestia that she would serve S.M.I.L.E. as a field agent should she be required to do so. For curiosity's sake, the monarch asked Gray during that meeting why she acted the way she did as a foal. With a sad smile on the pegasus' face, she only said seven words in reply: "I don't know. It just seemed right." This confused Celestia, since as far as she could recall she had her outward emotions under complete control.

Regardless of her reasons, Gray would go on to be a massive help to the city well into young adulthood, helping to take a bite out of the city's then-high crime rate.

More memories, this time of a news story in the Minutes that was elaborated on by the Police: a hostage situation at the bridge leading out of Manehattan, and Gray tackling one of those responsible. While she succeeded in distracting the criminals long enough for the rest of her squad to move in and secure the hostages, she was thrown off the bridge with an injured wing in the ensuing scuffle. There were no other pegasi close by to catch her, and she just barely managed to create enough lift with her uninjured wing to keep from sustaining fatal injuries upon impact with the water.

By some miracle she was found safe, if soaked to the bone with salt water, but it was clear from an accompanying photo that she was thinking about something other than the hostages or her near-death experience. "I'm reconsidering my priorities," she was quoted as saying, though those who knew her said that this was a vast understatement: plain and simply put, she was in love with her rescuer.

Later, she requested to be discharged from the Police after she married, and once it was granted she disappeared off the grid entirely. Gray was still technically under S.M.I.L.E.'s jurisdiction, but somehow they were never able to find her. Her special talent, which she'd previously used to get the drop on those the Police were trying to catch, let her stay out of sight: if she didn't want to be found, then nopony short of a dedicated investigator would be able to track her down. They could talk to her husband, sure, but even without speaking to him directly, it didn't take long to determine that he was completely in the dark as to her more secretive life. After that, it was decided that somepony who was fiercely loyal to Equestria and S.M.I.L.E. and had no reason to turn against them was no threat, and the agency turned its attention to more important matters.

At times when there was nothing else occupying her mind over the next fifteen years, Celestia wondered what became of that little filly who had unintentionally cheered her up that day in the throne room. She'd come to terms a long time ago with the inevitability of outliving her friends and subjects, but that didn't mean that she had to enjoy it. So when Gray wrote to her out of the blue telling her of Leviathan's presence in Manehattan, "pleased" was another understatement: her mood was more joyful than anything else, though of course she did a fine job of suppressing it in light of the letter's connotations.

As for Leviathan herself, there was no question in Celestia's mind that the Reploid was a concern. Throughout the alicorn's long life, there was no entity like her in Equestria. For sure there were a number of bipedal races in the world, but how many could claim that they were fully mechanical, capable of independent thought, made for warfare and a complete stranger to the planet all in the same breath? She made it clear to Gray that Leviathan was to be watched, but at the same time let her know that an attempt would be made to find out where she came from and send her home, if such methods existed. If nothing else Leviathan seemed personable, if that note Gray included about her letting a foal play with her helmet was any proof.

Celestia was protective of Equestria, true, but she was not going to alienate an actual alien if alternatives were available. She shook her head ruefully. What was that term Shining Armor once used to describe himself? A 'nerd'? I think they're the ones most likely to go into a frenzy over Leviathan's presence. Beware, ye of the twenty-sided dice.

…

One of the guards looked at Celestia through his peripheral vision. She seems introspective over whatever was in that message. And serious. A message from one of her border guards, maybe?

After a short time the Princess produced a scroll, ink and quill and proceeded to write, keeping her stone-serious expression. Most likely a reply, informing whoever messaged her to keep their eyes open for intruders. I'm glad to know that she takes this whole 'ruling' thing seriously. He smiled and continued staring forward, satisfied with his duty. This is what I signed up for.

"To my little pony,

I agree. 'Boop' is a funny word.

I appreciate you warning me ahead of time about the consequences of Leviathan's existence and presence. Continue sending me updates as you see fit. For now, I will request a copy of the Minutes once tomorrow's edition arrives in Canterlot.

With your next update, please tell me more about what you have been up to these past years. Your letter last night was the first I had heard from you since you resigned your post, and I was beginning to wonder if you were alright.

Best wishes,

Princess Celestia"

When Ebony went to find her mother and inform her that lunch was ready, she found Gray snoring softly as she sunned herself on one of the fire escape's steps. She facehoofed. "You're embarrassing me, Mom."

Author's Note

The music links in this chapter lead to "Cat Blues", from the soundtrack of Cowboy Bebop, and "A Try With the Mist", from the Touhou fangame Sengoku Gensokyo.

While reading about Ebony's dream, it helps if you hum 'Docaty Mountain Railroad' to yourself.

When reading through Celestia's trope page, I noticed something amusing: it said that according to her voice actor, her favorite type of music was 80's metal. To-wit, I consider Blin Jaggwar to be the in-universe iteration of Def Leppard. :pinkiehappy:

No Leviathan this chapter, and next time we'll see what the local newspaper actually has to say about her. The chapter may or may not run a little long as a result, and as such may take me some extra time to work on.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: December 30, 2021

To quote Zorak: “Click.”

A Limitless Chest Of Tales

At the end of the day after I'd finished appraising the newspaper, I decided to put myself back in hibernation for a bit. I didn't have anything to do that would require me to stay awake, and it would let my power generators piece themselves back together with ever-increasing efficiency, and without interference. Drama was alright with that just as long as I stayed out of everypony's way, so I returned to her living room upstairs, put the relaxing record back on, and let my dreams carry me away.

As an aside I learned that the name of the singer was 'Naye'. I'm sure there's a joke here somewhere, but I don't feel it's important enough to dwell on.

The next day was pretty busy... for Drama Heart. Somepony came by to replace the ruined glass in her bedroom window, so that had to be settled. In addition there were several groups of ponies who gathered around the theater's closed doors, demanding to be let in to see me with their own eyes and not being deterred by Drama's statement that I was asleep. Thankfully, there were officers on patrol in the area who were willing and able to break up the gatherings before they could gather much steam.

The third time it happened, Drama got fed up and posted a sign on the door: "Excuse me? When somepony tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone. The Pyre is CLOSED today. If you're so anxious to see somepony who is trying to rest and recover from her recent trials that you're willing to disturb us unnecessarily, then I will notify the authorities and have them tell you what I just said. Let Leviathan rest in peace, and let me work!" A bit on the irritated side, but it got the job done. Nopony wanted to risk the annoyance of the Royal Police, at least not badly enough to see me.

...Well, almost nopony. Butterscotch, the little foal who asked to borrow my helmet the other day, and his mother lingered after the last group had broken up. When Drama inquired why they were still there, Butterscotch gave her an envelope that he'd been holding in his mouth and asked her to give it to me when I woke up. With a face like his, there wasn't a snowball's chance in a desert that Drama was going to refuse him. "I just melted," Drama sheepishly admitted when she gave it to me.

That brings us to today. It's two days following the release of the Minutes' special section about me. Or for those that are having some trouble keeping track, the start of my fourth full day in Manehattan. I'm sitting in a corner in Drama's kitchen, working my way through my second package of Heartbreakers. My landlord is finishing telling me about everything that transpired yesterday over her own breakfast... and it's right in the middle of her explanation that an update crosses my HUD. It's one of those that I've been waiting to see.

Power Output: 99%. Maximum capacity: 100%. Power generators have been repaired.

Wonderful. One down. Let's see, refocusing the auto-repair on my frame and synthskin... there we go. Things are going smoothly. Still not as smoothly as they would have been if I had an actual capsule, since that would've brought me back up to speed in a matter of days instead of weeks, but under the circumstances I can't complain.

A question is crossing my mind as to whether I should continue wearing this coat full-time after all repairs are complete. I think I'll worry about it later when it becomes more relevant.

While Drama takes a break from talking to continue eating, I open the envelope that was given me. The paper it contains has very childish and colorful scrawl, with crude caricatures of a foal's smiling face and mine. Even with my newfound understanding of the local language, it takes a few moments for me to make any sense out of the writing:

"Dear Laveathin..." I wince at the visual butchering of my name. "Don't give up! You're a good Reproid!" And again. "You can do better! Go home and be a hero! ---Butterscotch." I shake my head, bemused. "A hero? Foals and their big imaginations."

"Turn it over," Drama says. "There's more on the back."

I do so, noting that the writing was much neater (and smaller). I read it aloud: "'To Fairy Leviathan: I was unsure of you when we met, but now that I've read more about you, I would like to express my thanks to you for capturing the Midnight Castles. I was always worried that they would rob the office I work part-time at blind in their greedy quest, or that they would hurt Butterscotch somehow while pursuing something unrelated. There may be plenty of crooks on the city streets, but because of your efforts there are seven less roaming about. I wish you the best in your search for a way home. With sincere gratitude, Cotton Ball.' ...Well, now."

"That's an uplifting message if I ever heard one," Drama commented. "You might want to hold on to that. It'll come in handy in the event that someone sends you hate mail."

"Mind elaborating?"

"Well, you have read your share of fiction before, haven't you?"

I nod. "Some things are universal." I wouldn't have been able to comment on my placement in this world if I hadn't.

I wait patiently while Drama finishes eating, and I'm rewarded when she sets her dish aside and turns to me. "There's a novel that's been out for about... I want to say six years now. It's about a petty thief who was falsely accused of murder, and the stigma remained even after he was acquitted. While on a trip to Canterlot he's inspired to join the Royal Guard, but he's faced with an uphill battle: accusing stares, uncomfortable glances, harsh words, the works. One day after he's given a particularly scathing speech from somepony who hates him, a little foal trots up to him and gives him a letter. When reading the letter, he remembers rescuing the foal from somepony who was abusing it, and when he finishes reading he realizes that his mood had gotten better. From that point on he hangs on to the letter and re-reads it whenever he has a bad day, and it's able to keep him going. His perseverance finally pays off by the end of the novel when he completes his training and officially joins the Guard as an officer."

"I have to wonder how much of that I'd be able to benefit from," I say after a second's deliberation. "It could just be wishful thinking. I interacted with those two for less than fifteen minutes, and they were just individuals I happened to meet. It isn't as if I have any sort of emotional attachment towards them."

"You'd be surprised just how much impact words can have on someone," Drama replies. "Never underestimate what they can do. They can either build somepony up or tear them down, depending on the speaker's motivations and how his words are interpreted. Those that encourage can potentially have their words remembered for as long as the listener lives..." She gets up to bring her dishes to the sink. "...while those that discourage are best forgotten."

"Don't teach an orator how to be wordy," I remind her. "I'm no stranger to psychological warfare, whether it's good or bad."

"Says the person who falls to pieces around that Zero fellow in more ways than one," Drama tells me with a playful smirk. "You know, most ponies just ask somepony out when they meet that one individual who riles them up."

That's a divide-by-Zero situation if I ever heard one. "Just how often does 'romancing the enemy' work in reality?"

"Not a lot outside of fiction, and there's troublesome consequences for those who try." My host gets to work cleaning off the sink's contents. "My point is... well, magic takes many forms in Equestria. There's the more tangible variety that you see me using everyday. There's the flight and weather magic utilized by pegasi. The pure power and 'green hooves', as some put it, that make earth ponies so good at working the land... and there's even one that mechanical beings like yourself might be able to utilize."

Oh-ho? Tell me more. "And what would that be?" I ask after swallowing the last of the Heartbreakers.

"For context, ponies are a very emotional and herd-centric species on the whole." Drama winces at something. "For the most part. At our cores, we want to care about others and be a part of their lives. When we combine our strengths, our mentalities, the very things that define us as ponies, there are few things we can't do. But places like Canterlot, Manehattan, Baltimare, any especially large Equestrian city... we might get along with others, but our focus tends to lean towards supporting ourselves and looking out for number one. You get rare ponies like Charity Kindheart who are able to bring out the best in others, but that's just it: they're rare in this day and age."

I idly tap my fingers against the wall. "So if you had to simplify it, how would you put it?"

"With three words," Drama answers. "It's an age-old expression that ponies think they understand, but they never come anywhere close to utilizing to the full." She sighs softly. "I freely admit I'm no less guilty of misunderstanding it. I learned it when I was a filly, but I didn't comprehend it as well as I thought, and it ended up getting shoved to the back of my mind due to other concerns. Maybe you can figure it out someday." She pauses her dish-washing for a few moments, just long enough to turn back towards me with a completely serious look. "'Friendship is magic.'"

...And she's expecting me of all people to learn what friendship's really about? "You're kidding," I finally respond, my voice uncharacteristically dry for my element.

"No, silly. I'm Drama Heart." She really should not look so amused by that remark. "Ha! Dad joke!"

There's a reference there that I'm not getting, and I don't think I want to know. "So let me see if I have this figured out, then. You think that I, a sapient robot from another world with no prior experience with magic and no real friends of her own, can figure out what 'friendship is magic' really means by using the words of a foal as a starting point?"

"Stranger things have happened," Drama says as she puts the now-clean dishes away.

Unlikely. "Name one."

"I can name one that's about to happen, if you'd like." When I shrug in response, she elaborates on her comment. "Singing robots."

...Huh? "By singing robots, you mean..."

"You specifically. You are the only robot around here, correct?"

That... what? "That doesn't make any sense," I argue. "Reploids can't sing."

Ah, the traditional raised eyebrow for suggesting the painfully obvious. "Have they tried?"

Have they... Oh for crying out loud, pony. "I'm not saying we haven't, but as it stands it's a physical impossibility for us. We just aren't built for it. I'm not going to embarrass myself by using someone else's voice data in a vain attempt to partake in the arts, so don't even bother convincing me."

Drama's looking contemplative. That's not a good sign. "So by 'using someone else's voice data', you're saying..."

"When a Reploid 'sings', the best they can really do is to try to imitate others. In the end, it just comes off as a recording since that's the best our hardware is capable of," I explain. "And not even very good recordings at that."

She's smiling earnestly now. "You're worried about sounding like somepony else when singing? Dearie, here in Equestria that's the last thing you have to worry about." Her work done, she gives my hand a gentle tug in her magic and heads for the exit. "Follow me and let me show you what I'm talking about. I can guarantee you that you'll be able to sing by the end of the day. If you aren't able to, then I'll find another way to wake you up that doesn't involve close contact."

I can't wait to hear how this is all connected to supportive children, I murmur mentally as I follow her out of the apartment and down the---

Stumble."Whaaa---!" Crash.

---stairs, oh for the love of X why this again...

Drama's thoughts are in line with mine as she re-orients me and levitates me to the bottom of the flight, grunting a little at the required effort. "I told you, Fairy. I told you about those stairs."

You can imagine the comical indignation I'm sporting. In fact, I encourage you to. "It's not my fault it keeps happening!"

The auditorium looks a lot better when it's well-lit.

I'd been in here before when I was helping Drama put back some of the things that those thieves tried to steal, but at the time she'd insisted on keeping the bulk of the lights off. As a result, the assorted decorations and knickknacks gave the room an unnerving feeling. With the illumination on, it's easier for me to ascertain that everything is homemade, as opposed to being the genuine article. Good thing, because I was wondering why Drama had a set of smiling and frowning pony skulls hanging over the stage.

The seats have lower backs than what I'm used to, so instead I'm sitting on the floor in one of the aisleways. A quick count of the seats reveals that there's enough space for around three hundred ticket-buyers, counting a few rows at the back meant for the city's other species (which is understandable; the average minotaur would probably block everypony's view of the stage). The Midnight Castles were obviously trying to take everything, so part of me is curious as to how they would've been able to grab all the chairs on top of what was already in the alley.

The stage is currently empty save for my host, with maroon curtains blocking the back of it from view. Drama's attired in a black and hale navy dress that's tattered by design instead of wear and tear, with a pendant-slash-microphone in the shape of her Cutie Mark hooked on a chain around her neck. Her mane and tail are going beyond 'unkempt' and into 'all over the place' territory; looking at her from the front, I can't see her bow anymore. Her eyes are red, which she tells me are due to contact lenses instead of any sort of magic.

Yes, I had to ask. When it comes to red eyes, you can't be too careful.

Seeing that I've made myself comfortable, Drama... or I suppose I should call her "Salamandra" now, given what she's doing... clears her throat and begins her lecture. Speakers on either side of the auditorium carry her voice through the entire room. "What I'm going to tell you about now is a phenomenon sometimes experienced by this world's residents, but rarely acknowledged by the whole. Most who go through it will take whatever is offered from it, but tend to forget it even happened before too long. Those few who do recognize its existence use different terms to describe it, though personally I favor 'heartsong'."

"A heartsong?"

Salamandra paces back and forth across the stage. "There are times when somepony feels so strongly about something that their emotions get the better of them. They will seek to get their message across, but not by screaming or yelling as if whoever they're speaking to can't hear them. Whatever their desires, feelings, opinions, or goals may be, this world's magic catches them in its gentle embrace and funnels them through music. It could be as basic as wanting to enjoy a fine spring day, as benign as desiring to help another pony succeed in life, as dance-worthy as getting a crowd to move their hooves in time with the beat, or as dark as seeking to twist another's mind for one's own ends."

I open my mouth to say something along the lines of 'that's rather strange', but she raises a hoof and cuts me off. "Yes, I realize it's difficult to believe. Like I said, even those it happens to have trouble believing it sometimes. I was front and center for a griffon's take on their desire for money once, and when I asked him about the song afterward he just gave me this weird look and asked if my medication had any side effects."

"I wasn't aware you were on medicine."

"I'm not. That's not the point."

"Then what is it?"

Salamandra points at me with her hoof. To me that gesture loses some effect without any fingers, but I can still appreciate that she's trying to list me under an index. "The point is that you don't have to be physically capable of using magic yourself to be subjected to a heartsong. That's the job of this world's magic, so let that do its work in peace... though don't be surprised if it comes and goes so quickly that you didn't realize it took place. It's not something that can be forced; it has to be a natural occurrence. Otherwise you just look silly singing without any sort of instrumental accompaniment."

Hmm... "If you can't force it, then I suppose there's no point in asking you for a demonstration, is there?"

Salamandra giggles at this. "Fufufufufu! Not true, dearie. See, when it comes to my lot in life, my emotions are always at a fever pitch. I love my work, I love telling stories, and I get an absolute kick out of entertaining ponies by scaring their coats right off their skins. My destiny is realized, and I just can't get enough."

There's a faint hint of something at the very edge of my hearing, a musical instrument woven around short bursts of tumultuous sound. Her lesson continues: “When I'm drawing in foals for matinees, I take it easy on them. My dominance over fright would be wasted on their young minds, and I would rather their parents didn't give me trouble. I use prerecorded music purchased from the record stores, bog-standard puppet shows and basic illusions. My stories are no more frightening than the average campfire tale.”

The unmistakable rhythm of a drumbeat threads itself seamlessly into the mix, and... and why did everything around Salamandra go pitch black? Her horn's not channeling any magic...! “But come the evening hours, that's when I'm free to cut loose. The packed theater is subjected to the full force of my storytelling. Ponies pay me to be unable to sleep at night. And what do I use to kick off my performance, you wonder? What do you think I use to show them what they're in for?”

The darkness expands across the theater, enveloping me. I don't like this, I don't like this---! “I leave my dramatic heart to burn like the salamanders of legend!” she howls, her pupils and sclerae ablaze. Her horn finally lights up, and her mane and tail flare out behind her, gaining an orange gradient effect akin to twilight. Her pupils are pinpoints, her gaping maw filled with crystalline drills...! “I hit them with the full force of my emotions... AND I HOLD NOTHING BACK!”

From nothingness, a wall of noise---!

A few moments prior...

Two ponies of average coloration, shape and size stared forlornly at the 'Closed' sign hanging on the Pyre's door. "Again? I was hoping for a chance to see that robot."

"It would be a real hoot if Salamandra wrote a new puppet show with the robot in it," the other said as they turned away, walking around the side of the building towards a destination that only they knew.

"You read the paper, right? Leviathan, or whatever her name is... it said that she wasn't interested in acting."

"Hey, a mare can dream, right?"

"So did anypony say when the Pyre's supposed to re-open again?"

"Dunno. Might take a little bit. Don't think it'll be too long. She's got to earn a living at some point..." The speaker paused. "Wait, you hear that?"

The other pony strained his ears. "Yeah, it almost sounds like---"

No more words were spoken. Abruptly, the world roared with the sound of music and swept them both away.

A conflagration unlike any I've ever recalled seeing rises towards the sky (wait, there's a sky indoors?). Broken skeletons, be they human or Reploid, are scattered about (she's never even seen a human skeleton before!). Somewhere behind me past the flames, there are screams of terror and cries for mercy.

The blaze splits down the middle, and Salamandra approaches me with complete disregard for her surroundings. The scenery shifts as if bending to her will: a cemetery untended for centuries, a dilapidated tower that stretches towards the sky, a trail barely fit for traveling through a heavily forested territory, a village that scarcely qualifies as a safe haven. All the while, it feels as if her words are leading me someplace that I don't recognize.

It is a lovely night
To go embrace your fears
Don't run, don't cry
To me, now
Ponies, I am tonight's host
For your trip to mania
Restless hours await my present guests

You wonder: 'Who am I?'
A restless raconteur
Who just cannot remain silent
She of dramatic hearts
Burning Salamandra
Is ready to assail you all with dread!

I am the mare even Tartarus fears
Emerald envy that Nightmare Moon hears
A bottomless tome that contains your tears
I hold the words of all existing life
Stories travel many, many miles
Simply waiting for a listening ear
And I am waiting to bring you near

In the interim between verses, creatures that are probably from this world's mythology are making themselves known. An almost transparent horse-like creature with its back half fading into oblivion, gazing at me with hatred as it passes. A star-furred bear large enough to block the entire sky, briefly giving me a look that tells me that I'm far beneath its notice as it stomps past. A tremendous beast that can only be a dragon, one of its fangs more than twice as big as I am, exerting its dominance with a roar.

This is too much, this is completely and utterly TOO MUCH!

I land before a yawning cave, its depths unfathomable. Bare meters from its entrance is a tent, its gaudy colors obvious even in the dim lighting. Salamandra emerges from it, pulls a squeaky red sphere off her nose, and chucks it over her shoulder without a care as she continues singing.

I am comedy
Not just a catastrophe
I wield both
The horror and the fun
What better way to aim
To both charm and scare
All of those poor souls
Who seek entertainment?

Inexplicably, I find myself in a theater seat sized just right for me. I double-check for myself, and sure enough the chair is as real as I am. Salamandra continues on:

Go leave your cares behind, they're immaterial
Come, take your seat
Your mental doors ajar
In Salamandra's world,
Your thoughts intensify
Patrons, brace yourself
For the greatest tales ever told!

Despite having become acquainted with Drama's personality in the time I've lived here, I find myself overwhelmed by Salamandra's sheer confidence in that statement. For just a moment, she really does seem capable of telling the greatest stories in the world.

And deep down, something about that scares me.

I am the mare even Tartarus fears
Emerald envy that Nightmare Moon hears
Digging through realms for another's home...

…

I can hear the coolant rushing through my systems. The Frost Javelin is in my hand, and I have no recollection of summoning it. A mob of skeletons bearing down on a lone warrior. A crowd of ponies with torches and farm tools gearing up for an assault on a foreboding castle. A lone individual braving a blizzard; why, I don't know. A building-sized spider with both many eyes and many mouths, appraising spelunkers with idle curiosity.

This is happening too fast for me to fully comprehend. I have to get my senses about me---!

...

The music comes to an abrupt stop, and my surroundings don't fade so much as shatter back into the brightness of the Pyre's auditorium. I'm no longer in a human-sized seat, but sitting in the aisleway. My weapon is in storage, not wielded for battle. It takes a second for me to realize that I'm hyperventilating; I shut my eyes long enough to get myself under control.

As for Salamandra, her countenance doesn't give me 'mysterious, charismatic storyteller' vibes anymore. Her bombastic demeanor has been derailed: she's just a normal pony now, or at least as normal as my limited experiences with her kind have showed me. “You looked like you were about to have a heart attack. I didn't realize that was possible for a robot. Did I go overboard?”

I would later learn that at this moment, not only did my eyes superimpose themselves over my helmet, but my mouth was open wide enough for Drama to see the inside of my throat. "What... was that?!"

Drama Heart's hoof awkwardly dusts off the stage before her. She's pretty much the exact opposite of 'frightening' right now. "I guess I should have warned you about the imagery. I'm sorry."

“You said you could communicate through song!” I exclaim, gesturing at the auditorium around me. “You never said you could alter reality!”

“Yes... heartsongs do that.” Drama beckons me to sit next to her on the stage, which I do. “But the effects are temporary, never lasting beyond the boundaries of the music. The magic doesn't let things go any further than that, and it reverts everything to normal once the song is concluded.”

My face has been living in my hand so much, I should start charging it rent. Drama rests her hoof on my arm, but it barely registers as I utter what has now become my catchphrase for my stay here. “Everypony... in this city... is crazy!”

“Eh-heh... wish I could say you were wrong.”

Author's Note

As I type these notes, 2022 is twenty minutes away here in the Midwest. People are paying more attention to New Year's Eve celebrations than anything else. Far as I'm concerned, that's a perfect time for an update. >^_^<

The music links for this chapter as follows include: The theme from "The Apartment", by Ferrante and Teicher; and Nightwish's "Storytime" (volume warning).

I don't like metal. It's incredibly too noisy, and "Storytime's" no different. But the music itself fits Drama's M.O., even if the lyrics don't; it was just a matter of creating entirely new ones to fit the circumstances. If the plot permits it, I'll try to create lyrics for an entirely original song down the line just so I don't have to use a pre-existing song. (Just don't expect me to actually write the music itself. That's way outside my abilities.)

The name "Naye" at the start of the chapter is pronounced "Nah-yay", for those curious.

Before anyone asks: no, I've never read "Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff", nor do I intend to. I'm familiar with the "stairs" bit thanks to a Twitch stream I watched back in September, and that's about it.

Can't really think of anything to say about the auditorium segment; I just hope I wrote that scene right. I probably could've worked on it more, but I was really hoping to get this done by the end of the day.

Brace yourselves for another year, people, and please stay safe out there.

Estimated Update Deadline: January 14, 2022

EDITED 40 minutes later: Forgot the link to "Storytime". Oops.

Putting the "Logy" in Psychology

What happened in that auditorium was too much for me to take. In this world, the power of music can apparently turn ponies into low-level reality warpers. I'm sorry, but I don't see how any of that is supposed to help me, or even to prove Drama's point that encouragement goes a long way.

But when I said that to her, all she said was: "Give it time." Yes, because I have so much of that now. Did she forget that I have no intention of lingering here? Neo Arcadia's my home. Equestria's just a hotel, and I've been on vacation long enough.

...

...Or was that 'motel'? I don't know what the difference is. It doesn't matter: tourism's a long-dead industry, there are no other population centers on Earth for people to travel to, and neither type of facility exists back home. Anypony scanning my memories knows what I was trying to say, anyway.

Semantics notwithstanding, Drama was able to understand that I needed to be alone for a bit and dismissed me after my latest declaration of her species' collective dementia. I decided to get some metaphorical air and went out for a walk, taking my purse with me (and making sure that a spare key that Drama had gifted to me was contained within). I exited the building through one of the windows this time, in light of my latest incident with that staircase.

On my way out, I passed two ponies who were excitedly talking to each other about being caught in the fringes of what they thought was one of Drama's rehearsals. When they saw me, I had to correct their notion that I was part of it and tell them that Drama was trying (unsuccessfully) to explain something to me. They were disappointed, but they went on gossiping about their experience as they trotted off.

Burning Salamandra: putting the "hears-e" in "rehearsal".

After a quick stop at a store to replenish my personal food supply (which has significantly more in stock this go around, hooray for newspapers), I decided to follow along with what the Royal Police suggested to me and took a trip to City Hall. The whole procedure for attaining citizenship took about half an hour, and I was informed that my papers and personal ID will be mailed to the Pyre within the next few days.

I would have expected the bureaucracy to take an era and a half to stop spinning their wheels and get their acts together, but between the R.P. mailing the paperwork to them, general magic usage, and them taking my presence seriously, it took a much shorter time than I guessed. The only way they could have gone any quicker would be if that Princess of theirs showed up in person to light a fire under them, and I was thankful for their efficiency.

Speaking of fire: while I was there, somepony asked me if I was too warm with my coat on. This wasn't an unreasonable question, taking both the summertime heat and my preference for cooler climates into account. I just told him that the temperatures didn't bother me as much as expected, and we left it at that. The truth of the matter is that my hardware runs pretty hot at peak performance, but my coolant does a fine job of keeping me... well, 'cool'. As long as I'm not subjected to something like open fire, which the type of coolant I use has trouble dealing with, then I can handle general warmth just fine.

With that said, I'd like to go on record as saying that my fights with Zero would probably be more even if he didn't have that accursed Flame Chip. Whose bright idea was it to put that Guard Orotic in charge of that factory, anyway?

With my personal complaints out of the way, I'm currently walking around more or less at random. I don't have any end goals in mind right now; I'm just bringing myself down all the way from Drama Heart's performance, taking in the sights and acquainting myself more and more with the city layout. Oh, I imagine it would be great if a way home just spontaneously materialized in front of me in the next thirty minutes, but that's about as likely as Dr. Weil voluntarily kissing a puppy.

Too, it would put a serious crimp in my plan to arm wrestle a minotaur for bragging rights. You may add that to the list of things I never thought I'd say in my life.

The atmosphere is a bit more relaxed. Ponies by and large are giving me a wide berth, but at least none of them are panicking and running away this time. Sky's on the cloudy side, so it looks like we might get some rain... scratch that, we are going to get some rain. I can see some of the clouds being moved around by pegasi, and if I focus enough... ... ... Yes, that one with the white mane's wearing some sort of flight uniform, as opposed to having a multi-colored coat. Still too far out for additional details.

It's not any of my business and I don't care if I'm caught in the rain, so I keep going and maintain my normal pace. Looking around, everything seems to be what's expected of a big city, and---

---hello, this is new. 'Manehattan Aquarium'? Can't say I've seen one of these in my life. I mean, I know they existed before, but... yeah, the scope of the destruction caused by the Elf Wars can't really be understated. I'm aware of a few private aquariums back home that housed sea life, but the 'rare' specimens they boasted used to be much more common.

But a public aquarium, now? And one that spans two floors, even? I'd say this is worth investigating.

...Or it would, if it weren't for the delay presented by a clerk who is surprised enough by my presence that he doesn't react when I request a ticket. "Excuse me, mister?"

"Aaaaaaa---"

Okay, this has been going on for almost thirty seconds. Shouldn't he need to breathe by now? "Hey."

"Aaaaaaa---"

I go through the motions of clearing my throat before trying again. "Hey."

"Aaaaaaa---"

I sigh before addressing the other ponies in the lobby. "Would someone smack the clerk for me, please? I think he's stuck."

Those present seem reluctant to do so, though whether they don't want to hit him or are uncomfortable in my presence is unclear. I frown, ideas for snapping him out of it racing forwards and backwards through my processor before being discarded.

The aquarium's front door opens, permitting an olive-colored earth pony foal. "...Permit me," she says in a dull tone, her voice close enough to a whisper that I can barely hear her. She gestures with her hooves at the counter. "...A lift?"

Either talking's too much effort for this one, or she's outright done with the world's oddities. I think I actually heard the ellipses in her request. I shrug and pick up the pony, balancing her on one hand and bringing her up to the counter. "Here you go."

The foal doesn't waste time thanking me or relishing the experience of being picked up by an affable alien robot, instead reaching for the clerk. In a maneuver that makes everypony flinch, myself included, she grabs a hair on his mustache and yanks it off---

OKAY, THEN. That is very much a new sound. So that's what happens when you fuse a shriek with a neigh. I did not honestly wonder that. "Ghehhh! Little pony, what was that for?!" the clerk protests as he regains his breath, no longer stuck. "Where's your parents?"

"...That's what I'm wondering," the foal states, her voice not rising above that near-whisper. She blows a lock of black hair away from her eyes, the only outward sign of her annoyance. "...So I would appreciate it if you stopped making that noise and did your job. You're not making our wait any easier." She jumps out of my hand to the ground and exits the lobby as if what had just transpired hadn't.

"I'm not the only one who thinks that behavior is very unchildlike, am I?" I ask the lobby at large. I nod when all of them, the now-not-quite-so-stunned clerk among them, mutter in agreement. "I thought so."

"Ergh... sorry about that," the clerk says, wincing as he taps his upper lip before hiding his residual pain with a smile. "I just wasn't expecting to meet you."

"I'll forgive you if you let me purchase a ticket for the day. How much do you charge?"

"Individual tickets are 30 bits for adults and 10 for foals or the nearest species-equivalent," the clerk explains. "If you're part of a group of three or more, you get fifty percent off from each. Of course, if you intend to purchase refreshments, it'll cost you extra. Finally, season passes are 120 bits per costumer."

"I'll just take an adult ticket for now," I decide as I count off 30 bits from my purse and hand them over. "If I like what I see, I can always upgrade..."

I can't think of too many ways to relax that would be just as good for me as what I'm doing now. I've said before that being here in this city was like being sent back to the past, and this is one of those times where it is actually a good thing. There are a handful of species I recognize as being still around to some extent or another, but virtually all of the rest are either extinct or getting pretty close.

And that's without getting into the specimens that I'm positive are native to this world. Rainbow trout aren't literally rainbow colored, to my knowledge.

Right now, I'm seated on a bench in front of a large tank of salt water fish that I'm told are native to the sea around Manehattan. Would that my frame was fully repaired right now, and that they permitted guests to swim in the tank. If they did, I'd be right there in the water with them. But sadly, that's a huge no-no.

That's another thing I want to add to my agenda: upon reaching full functionality, I intend to take a deep sea dive. Watching life go by on the outside of a tank is one thing, but it's not the same as being up close and personal with the ocean's denizens. I feel sorry for those people who live on land: they're limited to short sojourns through the water without the aid of special equipment. If I didn't have to replenish my Energen now and then, I'd be spending practically all of my time underwater. There's just so much to enjoy down there. Take it from me.

I watch a winter flounder swim up to the glass and drift there for a bit before going on its way, and I smile as it does. Peace. There's nothing like it, I muse to myself as I close my eyes.

"M-MANNEQUIN!"

And for that, I am grateful.

I open one eye, taking in my surroundings. Sure enough, Gray Ghost and her daughter are in the room with me. This time, they're not alone: a stallion and three more foals, one of whom is the emotionless one from earlier, are eyeing me interestedly. "Ebony, we talked about this!" Gray softly chastises her oldest child as the latter cowers behind her mother. "Close your eyes and pretend you're talking to another pony!"

While the young mare struggles to get her act together, I make a split second appraisal of the whole family. The stallion is looking between me and Ebony, probably considering something related to her phobia. The quiet foal is staring at me with an equally quiet intensity, eyes half-closed. The larger (and obstensibly older) of her brothers beams up at me, happy as a clam and shivering with excitement. The wide-eyed youngest of the group---

"HUGS!"

---has a death grip on my ankle. Ponies are really big on physical contact, aren't they? "Don't do that, please," I tell him firmly, working his hooves loose. His response is to whicker softly and tighten his grip, not wanting to let go yet.

The stallion steps forward to help out. At a glance, I take in his life preserver Cutie Mark and generally good-looking appearance (at least compared to other stallions I've seen up until now; how does one judge beauty in an alien race?). "Come on, little guy. Let her go," he says, coaxing him away from my leg. "Let's not bother her right now."

"Your species' social norms take some getting used to," I comment wryly, though I still favor the foal with a smile to let him know I wasn't upset at him.

"I wasn't expecting to meet you here today, Fairy," Gray Ghost tells me by way of a greeting. "Are you trying to get back to your element?"

"Things got a little weird at the Pyre this morning," I answer. "I went for a walk to clear my head, came across this place, and here I am."

Gray tilts her head a fraction. "By 'weird', you mean..."

"Salamandra blinded me with music and hit me with her harmony," I tell her bluntly. "It was poetry in motion, and I didn't like it."

It doesn't take long for Gray to work out what I said. Quirky as she is, she's pretty smart. "Experienced a 'heartsong' for the first time, huh? I'm sorry that you had to get a crash course in those from Sally, of all ponies. She's a little bit over the top."

I'd label that a candidate for 'biggest understatement of the year'.

"...What's a 'heartsong'?" the quiet child inquires.

"You remember two months ago when your mother went on a tangent about how wonderful her family was when she thought nopony was watching?" her father explains.

"W-Wait a sec," Ebony cuts in, pointedly looking someplace other than me. "That was a heartsong? I could've sworn that I was just dreaming all of that."

"I used to be confused about the concept myself, Ebony," the stallion assures her. "Trust me."

"Dreams and music aside, Fairy, I'd like for you to offically meet my family," Gray says to me, her pride clear in her voice and face. "My dear husband, Ocean Guard..."

A polite nod and smile from the stallion in question. "Hello."

"My first child, Ebony Evening..."

"D-Don't look at me right now!" the mare demands nervously, staring at the fish tank... then recoiling when she realizes that she can still see my reflection in the glass.

A gesture towards Little Mister Excitement. "The second oldest is Pure Energy. We named him for a Bulletin Community song."

"Hi hi hi! Tell me what's on your mind!" the bouncy colt greets me, his words just as much of a blur as he is. My mind is able to slow him down frame-by-frame, allowing me to see his spiral-esque Cutie Mark.

Gray then turns towards the emotionless filly. "Next up is Fiver, short for Five-of-a-Kind."

"...We've met," Fiver says after a moment's pause, eyes still locked on mine. That voice of hers is starting to get unnerving.

I return her stare for a few seconds before looking back at Gray. "Isn't that a bit of a jump from hyperactivity to hyper-stoicism?"

Gray delivers a dejected sigh. "Bothersome as that is, I'm more concerned with her Cutie Mark. What playing cards shaped like fangs have to do with calmness, I don't have a clue."

"...Give it time," Fiver responds without looking away. Her blinks are just as slow as everything else about her. "I'll work out my destiny eventually."

Her mother smiles confidently at her, then gestures at her youngest. "And last but certainly not least, Zig-Zag. But we typically just call him 'Zeke'."

A fitting name, I suppose. I lean forward and smile down at the huggy colt. "Nice to meet you, little one," I greet him politely. "Please, just call me 'Fairy'."

Zeke doesn't answer at first, instead gazing at me with those large orange eyes of his. I'm assuming that now that he's not trying to hug me impulsively, he is trying its best to see me for what I am. Finally he gives me the type of smile that only someone as carefree as a child can give. "Hi, Fairy robot lady," he chirps. "You're very pretty!"

Must... resist... urge... to squeal!

Gray snorts, amused. "I know that look. That's the face of somepony enthralled by sheer innocent cuteness. Zeke has that effect on others, Fairy. You're going to have to give in sooner or later."

"It's half that and half your species being very huggable by my creators' standards." Stop blushing, Leviathan! That's an order! "I'm afraid that if I start, I'm not going to stop."

"I don't know whether to be annoyed or thankful for her self-restraint," Ocean Guard muttered to his wife.

"Thankful," Ebony and Fiver respond immediately.

"Annoyed!" Energy and Zeke counter, though they are smiling as they say it. At the very least, they don't seem upset.

Gray shrugged. "I don't mind being hugged. I give you leave." She looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Huh. What would it be like to be hugged by an alien species?"

"I'm not going to hug anypony," I tell them. "I have standards to maintain. Anyway, now that I've met the entire gang, what sort of happenstance brings you to the aquarium?"

Ocean Guard takes the reins of the discussion from Gray. "The four of us had been out of town visiting my sister when you arrived in the neighborhood. We'd made prior arrangements to spend the day here as a family and make up for lost time before I went back to work."

"Ah. Family outing." I clasp my hands in my lap and look back up at the aquarium. "Well, don't let me keep you. It will probably be a while before I leave this room." I smile. "I'm just enjoying this too much."

"Alright, then. You have a good day. Everypony?" He gestures to a door leading to the next room. "They have a shark exhibit around here somewhere. You all want to check it out?"

With a cheer (including a deadpan "...Yay" thrown in the mix), most of the family leaves the room. Surprisingly, Fiver is the first to reach the door; from her behavior, I wouldn't have pegged her to be enthused about much of anything. Maybe she's just into sharks?

Even more surprisingly, Ebony is lingering in the room even after her mother leaves. She's shivering enough to make her chattering teeth audible from where I'm sitting, but she's lingering. "Miss Evening? Your family's going on with---"

"I KNOW!" she blurts out, cutting me off. Another pony in the room jumps in surprise and turns to glare at her, but she's too anxious to notice. "J-just... don't rush me, okay?! I h-have to do this!"

...Huh. Well, alright then.

I turn my attention back to the fish tank, silently reading off the plaques beneath it that described its residents. Just give her time, I tell myself. I imagine that if she wants to talk to me about something, it's best not to rush it. Not with that fear of me she has.

Dear Celestia Dear Celestia Dear Celestia Dear Celestia---!

Ebony couldn't stop repeating the words in her mind. She had let herself stay behind in a room with one of her worst fears... willingly.

And that was the kicker right there. After her mother had read off the details about Leviathan from the newspaper, Ebony was able to start telling herself that the robot wasn't out to get her just because its clothes and perfectly constructed face made it look like a mannequin. From there, she'd started thinking: "Maybe I should at least try to say 'thank you' for returning my things? Or at least apologize to it for Mom being so strange?" She broached the topic with Gray that night, and despite her mother's belief that she was trying to jump too far too soon, she agreed to let Ebony try it the next time they crossed paths with the Reploid.

But like with so many things in life, it was easier said than done. Her lifelong fear of the lifeless looking alive predictably reared its ugly head the moment she saw Leviathan, and only the presence of her family and the protection they offered prevented her from fleeing. When that presence shifted to elsewhere in the aquarium, Ebony found herself doubting her ability to hold fast. She wanted nothing more than to flee the room screaming.

Whimpering, she slowly turned so that Leviathan was at the edge of her vision and risked opening one eye. If she was being watched, she needed to know.

The robot wasn't looking at her; rather, her gaze was fixed squarely on the fish tank... and she was smiling. Despite herself, Ebony couldn't help checking on what it was that had her so transfixed, and was a bit disappointed to see that it was just some salmon. A common sight in the area, and nothing too unusual. There's nothing thrilling a-about this room. W-why is she...

"The Atlantic salmon."

Ebony flinched and turned away, but the robot didn't get up to go after her. Instead, she continued speaking in a voice that could be construed as... melancholy? "This was once one of the most common fish to be found back home. Centuries ago, it was widespread enough to be seen as a staple of some countries' diets. Despite damage to its habitat in certain areas, it was believed that any danger of it dying out was minimal to none."

As the robot continued speaking, Ebony got the impression that she was talking to her... and that somepony had started playing music in the background. "The Elf Wars did more damage to my homeworld than most people realize. Multiple threatened and endangered species went extinct, and those that were once common became in jeopardy of being wiped out. The Atlantic salmon... or just the North Celestial salmon, as it's known around here... nearly became one of the casualties. While carrying out one last assignment prior to my combat conversion, I witnessed a school of this fish living as nature intended. Most of my numbers are years out of date, so I only have that sighting to prove that the species hasn't gone extinct yet. Could be more, could be less... I don't know."

For a moment, Ebony still didn't understand why Leviathan was smiling... but then it clicked together. With some effort, she forced some words past her teeth. "Y-you... you l-love this place, don't y-you?"

"If by 'this place' you mean the aquarium," Leviathan stated, "yes. Seeing all these species not only surviving but thriving? Had this been back home, I would have seen this as the culmination of what I worked for. I would have seen this as proof that my efforts weren't for nothing. And I probably would have decided to live the rest of my life just floating on top of the ocean, going wherever the currents carried me: my own personal paradise. Unfortunately, barring some miracle or five, that isn't going to happen." She closed her eyes and sighed, then continued watching the fish contentedly. "So for now, I'll have to be satisfied with this glimpse of how things once were."

Perhaps it was the music somehow influencing her, but for just a moment Ebony saw Leviathan as someone with much deeper thoughts than what lay on the surface. It... s-she has too m-much personality, the young mare realized. T-too much to be seen as l-lifeless. She looked up to try and meet her in the eyes, but turned away when the sight still proved more than she could take.

"Don't feel that you have to confront me," Leviathan chided her gently. "If you're afraid of me, you can always catch up to your parents and try again another time. I won't think less of you for it."

"N-no," Ebony said in refusal. “I-if I can't g-get my mind to see y-you as somepony h-harmless, then I-I'm never going to get over this f-fear!” She shivered and brought herself down low, all but hugging the floor. “Blast it, I-I can't do t-this myself. My h-heart's telling me y-you're harmless, and m-my brain's h-hitting it with a tennis r-racket! P-please tell me there's some way you can meet m-me halfway on t-this!”

“...Well, I have one idea,” Leviathan admitted, her face having the look of somepony who had tried to drink curdled milk. “But it's going to involve me making a liar of myself not ten minutes after the fact.”

“W-what are you---”

Ebony was interrupted as Leviathan scooted off the bench to sit on her knees on the floor. The m-mare's heart skipped a beat as the robot set her helmet aside, a full head of blue-and-white locks falling free. S-she... she has an a-actual mane?! T-there... there's n-no way that can be r-real! Mom didn't read me a-anything about this f-from the paper!

But she was even more surprised when Leviathan beckoned her forward. Ebony's ears lowered. “Y-you're kidding me. T-that's your idea of meeting me h-halfway? I thought you s-said y-you weren't going t-to hug anypony!”

“To be honest, I'm running low on good ideas,” Leviathan answered. “Miss Evening, we have at least three eyewitnesses in here that will really let me have it if I try anything funny.” She gestured at said eyewitnesses, two tourists and an aquarium employee who were attracted by the goings-on. “Can you think of a better way for me to prove to you, once and for all, that I'm not going to hurt you? Here's an idea: try pretending that I'm a spider you're getting ready to squash.”

If Ebony hadn't been shivering so much, she might have laughed at that one. Some part of her agreed that the idea had some merit. “I... I will t-try,” she forced out, eyes shutting. H-hunting a-a s-spider, h-hunting a s-spider, h-hunting a spider, hunting a spider, wandering, trapdoor, wolf, black widow, tarantula---! Forcing her muscles to cooperate, she leaped forward with one hoof raised to strike. “GOTCHA NOW, SPIDER!”

A pair of hands reached out, one of them deflecting Ebony's attack and the other reaching behind her withers. The impact brought on by a jumping adolescent pony made Leviathan grunt, but not much more than that, and she was able to join hands behind Ebony's back and hold her close. As if driven by the music, an image of a fully-intact Leviathan sitting atop a glacier flashed past her vision.

As expected, her brain began having a freak-out when it realized that she was being touched by a mannequin. Her eyes shot open to their maximum and dilated to their tiniest, her heart rate sped up to near-dangerous levels, and her neurons began rioting in the streets...

…

...But they all stalled when they registered one tiny, seemingly insignificant detail. “...W...w-wha... that's impossible! How the...”

A blink. “What are you talking about?”

Ebony closed her eyes, reaching up and tentatively resting a hoof on Leviathan's chin to see if she wasn't imagining things. Withdrawing it after only a second, she struggled to get her words out in a way that made sense. Trying to pretend she wasn't being hugged helped, though only a little. "It's... w-well, ...you're not cold."

"What do you mean?"

"You're m-made of metal. You're a giant walking d-doll! How c-could you not be c-cold?"

An 'ohhhh' left Leviathan's lips as she understood the source of the mare's confusion. "Ebony, I might prefer the cold, but I do need at least some heat to function at my best. Ideally, my internal temperature should be somewhere in the vicinity of 70°F. Lower than what I imagine ponies' temperatures to be, but not so low that it subjects my hardware to thermal expansion each time I rouse myself from hibernation. It's like I told somepony at City Hall earlier: my hardware runs pretty hot, so there's a balance required. Of course, it's easier to maintain if my frame's fully intact..."

"Is that w-why you bought that c-coat? T-to keep y-yourself warm?"

Leviathan's expression soured again as she let Ebony go. "Actually, I just bought that because enough ponies 'suggested' that I cover up,” she explained as the pony backed away to a safe distance. “I got the impression that my damage was creeping ponies out. Except for your mother and Drama Heart, of course."

Ebony stared down at her hooves, ashamed. "I-I'm sorry..."

"I wasn't referring to you specifically. Don't concern yourself with it."

"N-no, i-it's not that, i-it's..." She squeezed her eyes shut again, her heart still a bit jittery. Just pretend s-she's a pony. Come on, just pretend, i-it shouldn't be that difficult... "I... it's about Mom. You k-know, how she acts..."

"I don't have a bad impression of her, if that's what you're thinking," Leviathan stated, her voice encouraging. "She seems smart and capable, and very family-oriented. Also quirky, but then again almost every pony I've met is. Her tendency to sneak up on me is bothersome, but in the long run I can't really hold that against her. You have nothing to apologize for." A beat, then: "If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you."

This time, Ebony's eyes stayed open. "Wha...? Why? Y-you... you haven't done anything wrong."

Leviathan's eyes, now that the unicorn was meeting them straight on, were gentle and non-judging. "If I had some way of controlling where I ended up and who I would meet on my arrival, I'd like to think that I wouldn't have ended up causing you trouble solely by my existence. I'm no stranger to phobias, Miss Evening. I know how bothersome they can be." Her eyelids slowly fell closed. "For what little it's worth, I'm sorry for the stress my being here caused you."

She's... actually apologizing to me for being what she is...! "D-don't..." Ebony found herself fractionally relaxing. Her brain, which had been protesting all the while against what she had been doing for the past few minutes, found itself without a proper rebuttal. For those few moments, her shivering ceased. "We both know that you're more than just walking metal, so don't say stupid things like that. I'll keep trying to overcome my fear of you, and you just keep trying to get home. Agreed?"

A soft "kya-hahahaha" tickled her hearing as Leviathan put her helmet back where it belonged. "Agreed. Is that everything you wanted to say?"

Ebony's moment of bravery came to an end, and she looked away. "Y-yeah. I... g-guess I'll catch up with Mom and t-the others. They're probably w-wondering what's taking me so long. Um... bye-bye!" She turned and hustled off, annoyed at not being able to say anything more profound before leaving, but unwilling to stay any longer before her brain went on strike again.

...

Part-way through the next exhibit, Ebony stopped for a moment to look back at Leviathan, who had returned to the bench and resumed staring at the fish. This time, she failed to suppress her shivers entirely. "A l-little at a time, Eebon. Little at a t-time," she told herself, trotting off at a less hurried pace as the music she'd been hearing faded out. "Progress is progress."

All the while she tried to convince a traitorous part of her heart that being hugged by Leviathan hadn't been strangely comforting in its own way.

...

"Well," one of the on-lookers comments, "that was drama if I ever saw it."

My eye's twitching again at the mention of that word. "Don't remind me."

Author's Note

The music links for this chapter include: a remastered rendition of Pokemon Black and White's Castelia City, and the remastered version of 'Cool Water', Leviathan's stage music from the second MMZ game. The non-music link goes to the Mega Man Knowledge Base's article on the first game's Guard Orotic boss.

Well, it's safe to say that I never graduated with a major in psychology. I'm fully willing to admit that it's way outside my field of knowledge, so the interactions between Ebony and Leviathan could've been handled better. So no, I'm not very happy with this chapter.

(For anyone curious, my degree is in General Studies. I wanted to get an Associate's in Computer Networking, but I was never able to get enough loan money, so I had to settle for what I had before seeking employment.)

If the chapter's ending seemed a little rushed, that's because it was. I wanted to have it done yesterday before I left work, but that didn't happen; so, I took the chapter home to work on it there in the hopes that I could get it done before calling it a night. That didn't happen either, so I had to take it back to work this morning. I just wanted it done, and considering what the word count is telling me, it's clear that this stretched on much longer than I would've liked.

I worked up a close approximation of Gray Ghost using the Pony Creator. Before anyone cracks wise about me using it, there's a few things I want to point out: #1, my drawing ability has barely improved at all since my high school days (seriously, browse the depths of my DeviantArt account sometime), and #2, my OCs and Leviathan deserve better than to be subjected to anything I can offer; otherwise, I would have tried to create some cover art for the story myself. So on that note:

Estimated Chapter Deadline: January 25, 2022

EDITED 5/14/2022: Changed the name of a fish. It's the "North Celestial salmon" now.

The Reploid Nobody Knows

Wow. Has it really been two hours since I had my meeting with Gray's family? Time doesn't just fly; it breaks the sound barrier on top of that. I hadn't even left that room the entire time. Watching the inhabitants of that salt water tank had just been too entrancing.

If you said that you hadn't expected me to upgrade to a season pass before I left, I would've called you a liar.

I haven't seen Ebony or the others since that meeting, so I have to assume they're probably deeper into the aquarium. Doesn't matter now; I've got nothing else to do, so I'm currently walking back to the Pyre as the clouds above start sprinkling.

And that will give me some time to think about what I learned.

I wasn't blind to what was going on while I was ruminating on the existence of the Atlantic salmon. Only someone deaf or otherwise hard-of-hearing would have missed the music that was playing for the next few minutes, and I have to believe that it was a factor in Ebony getting enough of a grip to talk to me.

The thing is, I didn't believe that I was the source of that music, as lovely as it was.

Lack of video screens and computers notwithstanding, the Equestrians' technology levels are all over the place. I initially believed that whoever it was running the aquarium had been piping in music somehow. However, an examination of the room I was in showed no evidence of such: no speakers, no magical trinkets, nothing. A quick inquiry at the front desk revealed that while such technology did exist and was used in some parts of Manehattan (most notably at the larger stores and the odd carnival), the aquarium's owners had no plans of installing that system in the facility for the foreseeable future.

In addition, I am innately familiar with my own hardware and what it can do. I don't have any sort of apparatus installed in me that would let me play music at will, as much as I would like to. I can certainly imagine some coolant-pumping theme or other playing while I have another dance with Zero. And as I've stated previously, I am physically incapable of singing in my own voice.

So the question has been raised: where did that music come from?

My mind's going back to what Drama told me earlier this morning about heartsongs. According to her, they're capable of manifesting with the aid of this world's ambient magic when somepony feels strongly enough about something that they want to sing about it. Whether it's mundane or not and whether it's important or not, it can still happen.

A combat Reploid I may be, but I've never forgotten my origins. My initial goal was to make the environment better piece by piece following wartime, whether on my own or with help. Losing my way in later years didn't change my mission at a fundamental level. Along with the fact that I found them so relaxing and fun to be around, this helped my fondness for sea life to develop over time. These are my reasons why I want to go home so badly: I want to protect the world, to help it flourish as it once did many years before. Being able to fight Zero again is just a bonus.

That, I think as I hold out my hand and feel the raindrops splashing against my palm, is the key. Words cannot describe my loyalty towards my home and what I want to do once I return. My feelings for these things are strong, very much so. You would have an easier time convincing me to stick a rubber ball on my nose and pretend I'm a clown than you would getting me to abandon my quest. Plain and simply put, I will be going home.

And when those feelings spilled out while I was talking to Ebony, they manifested as an electronic beat and siren-like wailing. It wasn't just the music that appeared, either; for a few moments, it felt like I was sitting atop a glacier instead of a wooden bench. The subtle twisting of reality to provide that mental image was weak, as it didn't persist after that instance, but the fact that it happened at all speaks volumes.

Was this what Drama was talking about when she said that I wouldn't have to worry about singing in a voice that wasn't my own? And does this mean that I, a machine without any magic at all, would still be able to take advantage of it somehow?

If so, then that opens up more than a few... opportunities, provided I can find a way to exploit them while I'm here.

A taxi carriage stops next to me on the road, and its driver asks me if I'm good out in this rain. I consider his implied suggestion, then point out that I'm good: this sort of weather is what I live for. He shrugs, but accepts this and takes off in search of others who may not share my enthusiasm.

Hmm... maybe I should have accepted his offer. I might shed water easily, but the same can't be said of my coat and purse. Neither of them are waterproof. I guess I should hurry along, then.

Keeping a hand on my purse, I trigger my Dash Thrusters and jet off down the sidewalk. Slower than the pegasi but faster than any of these ponies can run, I'm able to eat up the distance remaining between myself and the Pyre quickly and easily.

...

As I turn onto the street that my home base is situated at, I see one of the local mailponies leaving the Pyre in a hurry. Not paying him any mind, I enter the theater and drape my coat and purse around a chair in the corner. "Drama? I'm home, such as it is," I call out.

"Welcome back," the familiar voice called from her office. "Mind coming in? Some of this mail is for you."

For me? Given the recent newspaper, I guess it's an inevitability. I enter the office, taking note of the dozen or so envelopes on Drama's desk. "Less than I expected."

"Ten to one that most ponies don't think you can read yet," Drama comments in jest, setting aside her own mail.

"Or that they're too afraid to start begging 'notice me, alien!' to my face," I reply in the same tone, sorting through the mail. "Let's see, we've got what looks like six letters from individuals around Manehattan... five from assorted businesses, and..." My eyes widen at an envelope that's made of much finer materials than the rest, stamped with an intricate emblem depicting a winged unicorn. It takes a few seconds to parse the overly fancy writing, but... "Princess Celestia, c/o Canterlot Castle?"

Drama almost falls out of her seat at this. "The Princess?!" she exclaims, eager to see what it is. "What are you waiting for, the tides? Open it!"

I don't need further encouragement. Without delay, I tear open the envelope and remove its contents, unfolding them. It turns out not be mere paper like I've seen elsewhere, but tightly compressed parchment. The same emblem that was on the envelope decorates the top of the letter.

As for the text, it's written in the same fancy style that the address on the envelope had been. That's another thing that sets this world apart from mine: this sort of font is a lost art. It can be synthesized with a computer easily, but actually taking a pen in your hand and writing in a way that confuses anyone who tries to read it? I was under the impression that it was another practice that came to an end in the 21st century. After people learn the alphabet, they're content to let computers do all the work for them under the assumption that they'll never need to do actual writing.

Looking at this, they have no idea what they're missing.

Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia
Canterlot Castle

Fairy Leviathan
Deep Sea Squadron, Neo Arcadia
c/o Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears, Manehattan, Equestria

Dear Ms. Leviathan,

I offer you my greetings, and my hope that the day you receive this finds you well. I am sure that a few ponies have done this for you already, but allow me to officially welcome you to Equestria.

Thanks to your interview with the Minutes, the Crown has been made aware of your desire to return home. I have been on one or two sojourns to other worlds in the far distant past, but the planet you described is outside of my experience. I am loathe to discuss those experiences in detail for personal reasons, but I can at least safely say that ponies were prevalent in those worlds. If you are any indication then we do not exist where you are from, at least not as a sapient species. As such, I do not consider myself an expert in the field.

This does not mean that we are unable to provide assistance, however. Research by my most trusted staff is under way here in Canterlot to determine if any methods of traveling to specific worlds exist. In addition, discreet inquiries will be made both here and around the nation to see what avenues are open to us. Since you will most likely keep your ears open where you are, I would like to suggest that we collaborate on this. If you are willing to keep us informed, then we shall do the same.

As for your combat capabilities, actions speak louder than words. It is one thing to capture some petty thieves, or engage in a friendly competition; it is quite another to put your strength to a real test. It is true that Equestria is a peaceful nation on the whole, but we are not without our champions. As such, once you have decided that you have fully recovered, I would like to challenge you to a practice match against a proxy of my choosing. To avoid raising the expectations of third parties, I will not notify your prospective opponent of this until you accept my invitation, so I await your reply.

On a lighter note, I apologize if I shocked you with my display the other day. I would like to request that you not view me as somepony out of reach, inscrutable, or truly frightening. Everything I've read about you tells me that you mean us no harm, and only those who are genuine, unrepentant threats to my little ponies deserve my wrath. My thoughts and feelings are the same as any other of my kind, and I would like to think that I am able to welcome anypony with good intentions. So please: if you ever want to talk to somepony, I am more than willing to receive your letters. Feel free to write to me about anything at all, Ms. Leviathan, whether it is for the sake of updates or simply to pass the time of day.

I am available as a friend, should you want one.

Best wishes,

Princess Celestia

P.S. - My cooking staff does not allow this 'Heartbreakers' candy in the castle, so I have not had the opportunity to try it for myself. Is it really as densely packed with sugar as Mr. Hassleberry claimed it was, or was he just being funny?

As I read the letter to the end, there's a variety of emotions affecting me.

First off is surprise, albeit of the more pleasant variety. I was expecting to have to carry out the search entirely on my own, but here the Princess is already spreading the word of my dilemma and sparing me the need to travel. Best case scenario, we can find something that works in record time. Worst case, somepony at least cares enough to take my situation seriously. Either way this is good news, assuming that she's being legitimate.

Secondly, we have eagerness. The thieves I caught put up a halfway decent showing in light of how far out of their league I was, but I'd believed that they were some of the best that the city offered in terms of skill. The Princess' phrasing is leading me to believe that they have somepony capable of pushing me. If this is true, I can keep myself from getting soft and have myself a fun time in so doing. Sadly it will probably be a land battle only, but it's not keeping my inner warrior from slamming its fists together.

And finally... I'm actually somewhat touched. When one pictures a ruler, most people don't imagine them as being truly "approachable". By this, you don't really expect them to take time off from their busy jobs and interact with the masses on a face-to-face basis as if they occupied the same station or knew them personally, never mind the breaches of etiquette that would result. It should also be pointed out that exceptions to this are few and far between.

But that offer she made...

I had a friend, once. He was just a human I'd met after the first time I'd teamed up with Harpuia to make some place or other livable again. He'd complimented me, stated that he appreciated the work that we were doing, and was all-around charming. Having someone to talk to on an even keel was a novelty, so I stayed in contact with him for some time.

After Copy X took over and things took a turn for the worse, my relationship with the man soured quickly. One day we were trading messages back and forth, and he called me out on "dancing to the tune of a madman" and culling Reploids whose only crime was living; I 'defended' myself, such as it was, by stating that Master X's orders were absolute and intended for Neo Arcadia's security. He was having none of it, telling me that I meant the security of humans, not humans and Reploids both, and disconnected the transmission. I tried to call him back the next day, only to receive an automatic message stating that my personal terminal was being prevented from contacting him.

Somehow, he'd managed to put two and two together and figure out that the situation in Neo Arcadia was not what it appeared to be; you can count the number of humans who'd figured it out on both hands. He never took up arms against the regime, possibly due to a lack of courage, but he never supported it either. Obviously, that little fight wasn't enough to deter me from following the course I was on. After that last conversation I never saw or heard from him again, and during lulls in activity I wonder if he's doing alright.

And I still ponder whether or not he hates me. He was smart, but I have my doubts that he ever learned the truth about the three of us "acting in Master X's stead" after the mad leader was defeated by Zero.

Now we have this. In my interview with Mr. Lede, I'd opened my heart to Equestria. Nothing was restricted information: I told them everything I considered good about myself, and made no effort to hide everything that I knew was bad. And today, here comes the nation's sovereign ruler armed with that knowledge, writing to me directly and telling me that she was willing to be my friend in spite of my flaws. She even apologized for her stunt with the sun. This is just unbelievable...

...

...but blazes if it doesn't make me feel like I'm on top of the world.

I say as much to Drama, and she giggles. "Take your time and figure out how you're going to respond," she says. "This isn't the sort of situation that you can just rush into."

I roll my eyes. "She's asking if I want to be her friend, not if I want to go out on a date. I'm fairly certain those are meant to be mutually exclusive."

“If you say so,” she says, obviously not believing me as she reaches for her own mail. “You're going to go through the rest of your messages now, or later?”

“Maybe later,” I decide. “I haven't done any of my regular training exercises since I arrived, and there's enough space on-stage for me to move about freely. If I'm going to be fighting somepony in the future, I want to be ready.”

“You have your fun, then.” Drama waves me off and turns back to her desk, using her horn as a letter opener to tear through the envelope she was holding. “Just don't break anything, or you'll be cleaning it up solo.”

“Yes, I know, I know,” I say as I leave the office.

Alright, let's see. No access to water, so Exercise and Dance #1 should be satisfactory---

"EEEEEEE!"

I stumble as Drama's window-rattling shriek tries to bowl me over. That noise had several degrees of 'delight' wrapped around it. "Drama, what is it?" I call as I hustle back into her office. "Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong? Is something wrong?!" Drama's waving a paper around, getting that same look on her face that she had when... we first met oh father of Omega. "Fairy, I just got a letter from my baby sister in Baltimare! She just had it confirmed that she's pregnant with twins!" She slams the letter down and launches herself at me before I can react, hitting me with a flying tackle that knocks me off my feet, and---wow that's the biggest natural smile I've seen on a pony's face yet. I think I can see my reflection in her teeth. "I'm going to be an aunt! Celestia, I'm going to be an aunt!"

Almost immediately upon saying those words, she jumps off and tears off out of the office. "Gotta find my suitcase! If I'm fast enough I can catch the next train to Baltimare!" The noise of her galloping up the stairs and her voice taking on a melodious tint both reach me. "Auntie Salamandra's on her way, baby darlings~!"

It takes a few seconds for me to find my voice again, and by then she's out of earshot. All that just happened way too quickly. "But... the kids aren't even born yet," I protest weakly as I stand back up. Please don't ask me to housesit, please don't ask me to housesit...

...

"Be back in three days! Don't do anything I wouldn't do, and even a few things I would!" Drama instructs me fifteen minutes later, laden with her saddlebags and carrying a stuffed suitcase in her magic. She pats my hand, then she's out the door like a shot. She just barely remembers to lock it behind her before she's gone. "Gonna be an auunnnttt!"

My vision's wavering. There's a new message in my HUD: 'Left eyelid malfunctioning.' "Really wishing I'd taken up Phantom's offer of stealth training right now," I complain to the empty lobby.

"...and based on the report, it looks as if the search has come up empty so far," Captain Shining Armor reported to Princess Celestia in the latter's chambers. "But then again, we haven't gone so far as to check in with every magic user in the city. Not everypony we've spoken to wants to get involved in this, and you've already instructed us to be discreet about it."

"That is fair," Celestia decided. "If they want to stay out of this, forcing them to obey is hardly a good idea. Have your Guardsponies finish up here in Canterlot and continue their search in Ponyville, but tell them not to hurry. Just because we've decided to help our wayward machine return home doesn't mean that we have to rush or be pushy. All in due time."

Shining saluted his superior. "As ordered, Princess. Is there anything else?"

Celestia started to tell him 'no', but thought better of it at the last moment. "Actually, just one. Following the revelation of her presence and abilities in the Minutes, I sent Fairy Leviathan a letter informing her of my intention to test her abilities. All I'm waiting for is either confirmation or rejection of my offer. I expect it will take at least another few days before I hear back from her."

"Assuming she agrees, will you be wanting me to determine that she's everything she says she is? My schedule's clear enough that I can afford to spend some time in Manehattan."

Celestia shook her head, smiling as she made a quick decision. "I'll need you down there sometime in the near future, but not to fight. You'll be required to officiate."

Doing the math, one of Shining's eyebrows disappeared under his helmet. "Officiate? I wasn't aware we had anypony truly combat-capable living down there."

"And for good reason," Celestia stated. "The individual I have in mind was one of their Royal Police's best and brightest. Criminals feared her. The citizens felt safer around her. She loved practical jokes, but she knew how to separate work and play, and she took her duties seriously." One corner of her mouth twitched. "And to borrow one of your expressions, she was 'an absolute beast' in combat. But then she found love, and she decided that raising her family took precedence over her career. After she married, she quit her job and disappeared for fifteen years. I only discovered that she was alive and well when she alerted me to Leviathan's existence ahead of the newspaper."

"That would explain why I never heard of her, if she was off the grid for so long," Shining commented, sounding impressed. "But if she spent so long inactive, wouldn't her skills have dulled too much for her to be an adequate gauge for Leviathan's prowess?"

"A reasonable question to ask," Celestia agreed. "But I don't feel that there's anything to worry about. I have little doubt that she's practicing her combat exercises on a rooftop somewhere, making sure that her skills are still sharp. She always did have an eerie knack for figuring out when she was needed, even if much of her rationale revolved around pure guesswork and randomness..."

Gray stared at the grouper through the thick glass of its tank, and the grouper stared back.

Ocean Guard edged up to his wife. "Dear," he said quietly, "I know that look. What are you thinking about?"

Gray licked her lips. "I'm thinking that I need to do something about this unnatural craving for fish sticks that I'm having," she responded without turning her head.

Behind her, the children face-hoofed as one. Their father, being more charmed than put off by his wife's quirks, just smiled and joined her in watching the fish.

Author's Note

The music links for this chapter include: a nice remix (rearrangement, technically) of Solaceon Town's music from Pokemon Diamond/Pearl, Marko's theme from Legend of Kyrandia 2: The Hand of Fate, and "Wind Dragon's Majesty", from Rune Factory 4. Finding appropriate tracks for this one was a bit tough. :unsuresweetie:

Why did I name the chapter like I did? Because everybody has depths to them that you probably wouldn't expect, and Fairy's no exception. It's that simple. :twilightsmile:

Some of you might be wondering why Celestia's having Shining Armor get involved when she'd previously said to Gray that she didn't want Leviathan getting involved with Equestria's law enforcement more than necessary. This may get discussed in a later chapter, so all in due time.

Drama's freak-out was very loosely based on an old clip I remember seeing from “America's Funniest Home Videos” (I'm pretty sure it dates back to the 90's), which had someone getting excited when she learned she was going to be an aunt herself.

To those inclined to leave their ideas and perspectives, please continue to do so. Food for thought is always nice. >^_^<

Estimated Upload Deadline: January 31, 2022

EDITED 1-16-2022: Hooray for correct pronouns!
EDITED 1-30-2022: Corrected a slight grammatical error.
EDITED 2-6-2022: Corrected some spacing and alignment in Celestia's letter. How is it that I don't notice these things? :ajbemused:

Letters With A Side of Mocha

Dear Princess Celestia,

The ponies I've been interacting with most are one who thinks she's part-cat with a penchant for jump-scares, and one who would be considered certifiably insane back home. With all due respect, I hope you don't let whatever quirks you might have go to your head. Otherwise, this friendship you're offering is going to go south real quick. If we can keep things civil at worst and professional at best, that would be wonderful.

I'm sorry if I sound a bit dour in this letter. My patron found out that a family member was pregnant and took off for Baltimare not an hour ago as of this writing, leaving me alone and in charge of the theater until she returns in three days. The logistics of running a military squadron are very different from those of house-sitting a civilian operation, never mind a theater, so I'm out of my element. I'm contemplating just hanging a sign on the door and putting myself in hibernation until she comes home.

So to pass the time, I have a question I want to ask you. Assuming you're as long-lived as everypony claims you are, you've probably read your fair share of fiction. If you have, then you've likely seen stories about those that end up trapped in other worlds. What's your perspective on them? Obviously no one story is going to be able to please everypony, but if the author at least tries to show as many relevant perspectives as possible--with emphasis on relevant--wouldn't you agree that getting others to see the bigger picture is one of their primary goals?

The reason I bring that up is because I once had someone I viewed as a genuine friend. That friendship ultimately ended thanks to my insistence on following the orders of a maniac, though from time to time I still wonder if he's doing alright. The fact that he was right all along and I was just too blind to see it indicates to me that my perspective was incomplete, that I wasn't able to see the bigger picture. And the fact that I'm still alive after being thoroughly disintegrated tells me that my own journey is not complete, that I still have work that I need to do somewhere.

With that in mind, I would like to get your point of view. Bear in mind that I'm not trying to sound suspicious or accusatory when I ask this: what is your ulterior motive in wanting to become friends with me? What could I possibly have done to earn that sort of attention from somepony who probably has a hundred better things to do--like, say, running the country? What sort of role do you want to play in this story that hasn't yet ended?

Don't get me wrong; your invitation was a very pleasant surprise, and I'm happy to have gotten it. It's just that operating with incomplete information rankles to some degree, and I'd prefer not to go through that again. The need to see the bigger picture is something I need to keep reminding myself of, lest I fall into the same trap that I did before.

Regarding your question about the Heartbreakers, I am unclear. One of my acquaintances referred to them as "the Holy Grail of sugarholics", so I have to assume it's as Hassleberry said. However, since sugar consumption does absolutely nothing to my systems, the numbers on the packaging mean nothing to me. I doubt that's what you wanted, but it's all I can offer on that topic. The mystery as to why it's both a viable Energen substitute for me and unhealthiness personified for ponies is still just that: a mystery.

Fairy Leviathan
Private Citizen

P.S. I agree to your offer of a collaboration. In harmony with the above, if you keep me informed, I will do the same for you.

I give the letter another once-over. This is probably as good as I'm going to be able to get it, I decide as I date the letter. Just like I knew what I was doing.

Getting it ready to mail isn't too difficult, as I'm able to use the other envelopes that haven't been opened yet as a template for what to do. Once it's fully prepared, though, I set it aside. I took a peek outside in-between paragraphs, and it's still raining. The letter isn't so important that it can't wait for the weather to cooperate. Keeping it intact and entirely undamaged would probably give those at the Castle a better impression of me if they ever saw it.

Compared to the Princess's letter everything else seems minor, but I suppose I should at least look things over just to be safe. Alright, Message #1...

"'Get out of here, freak! Nopony wants you here!'" I read aloud, rolling my eyes. "Huh. Tell us how you really feel." I rip the letter and its envelope to shreds over the wastebasket. "Message #2, with no name provided... and yet they're threatening me with a restraining order? Yes, really useful info there." Rip, tear, done. "Message #3... it's a letter from 'a secret admirer'. Charming, but they're not my type or my species." Impalement via Frost Javelin; by coincidence, it's straight through a heart doodle that was in the center. "Message #4... it's from someone who isn't impressed with my life story as printed. The truth has that effect on ponies, I see." Crinkle, crinkle, stuff. "Message #5..."

Now this one seems a bit more worthwhile. It's from Turkey Bowl, inviting me to attend his next competition as a spectator and offering to pay any fees. I know as much about bowling as I do about barbeques, but it seems like it would make a fun little distraction. I take note of the printed date and confirm it as the day Drama said that she'd return, setting the letter aside.

And as for Letter #6, it's...

...

Huh. And here I was just trying to get her to keep her hooves off the Pyre. She took my presence a little harder than I thought. And what's this piece of paper that just fell out...?

...! Alright, this merits a closer look.

Machine, a few words with you. You have no reason to listen, but I beg of you: please hear me out. I have a confession to make.

The night of the hit against the Pyre, I had told those ruffians that Salamandra was the reason why my theater wasn't bringing in as much money. I was lying through my teeth: the fault lies with me, and me alone. Years ago, my dear Moissanite died through circumstances that none of us saw coming, and his lack of support has worn away at my nerves since. I suspect that others saw past my friendly facade and concluded that my business sense had taken a hit from my grief, and they wouldn't be wrong. My critical thinking ability has suffered, and I count it a blessing most days if I am able to think straight without wailing in grief. I have been seeing and hearing threats where there are none, internally viewing even those I trusted as threats: paranoia has sunk its fangs into me despite my best efforts at shaking its grip. Even the Lonely Heart nightclub, the one place where I thought I might be safe outside of home, has felt increasingly threatening in the days since the Midnight Castles were toppled.

In my distress and jealousy, I saw Salamandra as a threat to my well-being and sought to demoralize her. If you hadn't been present, I would have ruined an innocent pony's life. I do not deserve forgiveness for this, so don't you dare start thinking that just because I'm complaining about my life. That is not my goal.

As long as I am getting everything off my chest, I suppose I should tell you. Whatever caused my husband's death struck out of nowhere. Up until then there were few things I feared, but the suddenness of it left me wondering just how many threats to my own life there were.

To this day nopony that I have asked have been able to determine why and how it happened. He was friendly by nature, and had no real enemies; he had no harmful vices, so he was of sound mind and lacked any lingering health issues. The autopsy revealed no heart or blood problems, nothing wrong with his brain, no sign of physical harm, and no traces of either malevolent magic or poison. The only clue is that his Cutie Mark was completely erased as if it had never existed.

My point is that I am not a strong pony. I am afraid of the unknown, Miss Leviathan. I am afraid that whatever killed my husband will claim me as well. As the cherry on top, your emergence has not been good for my health. You talked about yourself at length in the newspaper, but your words served to frighten, not reassure. And the revelation that there's another world out there, chock full of ideas and concepts that I don't understand, has driven me to act out of self-preservation. I refuse to meet the same fate as my beloved Moissanite.

So, I am leaving Manehattan. As of now all of the real estate that I own, up to and including the Golden Bell Performing Arts Center and Museum, are up for sale. Whether or not anypony buys them and closes on the properties in a reasonable time frame, I intend to be gone from here as soon as possible. In laypony's terms, I am quitting the theater and retiring from management. It's just not the same in this city anymore, not without my husband and not with my life in potential danger. Perhaps Las Pegasus will be a pleasant change for me; it's certainly far enough away, and maybe there I can find a new career to get involved in that's not so stressful. Anything would be wonderful, if only you weren't a part of it.

For the trouble I caused you and Salamandra by sending those thieves to the Pyre, please find enclosed a check for 4,000 bits. Use it to start your own account at a local bank, if you desire. It's yours if you, your kind, and your creators never interfere with my life again. I don't think my heart can take another scare.

Good-bye, Miss Leviathan.

Alexandrite

That's... not good. By that I was referring to what happened to her husband, not the money.

That little mystery is disturbing, assuming her paranoia didn't lead her to lie to me as well. I don't have any real reason to believe her, at least not entirely. But I can at least determine that she's not using her mindset as a means of escaping judgment for her misdeeds, which I can respect to some degree. Someone saying "please forgive me for doing this because I have an excuse" doesn't sit right with me unless it bothers them more.

If everything she says is true, then...

I shake my head, putting the letter down. No. What goes on in this city is none of my business. This is not my place. A one-off event like this is better off left in more practiced hands. I shouldn't get involved. I am a fighter, a strategist, a nature lover, and at times a hacker. I am not a detective.

If anything, it sounds like the sort of thing I should ask the higher-ups in the Police about. Maybe even the Princess, see if she knows anything about what could have happened---

I said stay out of it, girl. I palm my forehead, sighing. It's a struggle for me not to feel sorry for them. I don't want to get in the habit of playing hero here. Once was enough.

I pick up the check and examine it intently. As stated in the letter it's signed by Alexandrite and good for 4,000 bits, with the logo of her bank of choice in one corner and a row of numbers along the bottom. There's also a blank box labeled "Endorse This Check Here" on the back. One more thing I'm not familiar with. I should probably make a list of what I do know by now. It would be easier than listing what I don't.

I put both the check and the business mail aside until I can consult somepony. If there's one thing I do know, it's not to go into things half-prepared.

Now, how should I spend the rest of the day? I stretch my arms out in front of me as I consider my options with half my mind, double-checking my repairs with the other. I could return to hibernation like I told Celestia I was contemplating, certainly... but there's also getting back into the swing of things with my combat exercises, which Drama's excitement had interrupted. In addition, my momentary triggering of a heartsong has cued me in that magic usage might not be out of my reach, meaning that I have some research to do...

The possibility of an upcoming fight is making me grin, shoving the magic research and desire for rest aside. "Preparation it is," I say to no one as I walk quickly back to the auditorium, my weapon piecing itself together in my hand as I hurry. This should clear my head satisfactorily.

...

Or so the folder in my memory labeled "Might Need This Someday - I Hope That I Don't" would like to tell you.

Two adolescent pegasi, barely old enough to legally be considered mares, sat across from each other at a chess table. Both had deep brown eyes, coats and manes, though one of them had cream-colored specks throughout her coat and a darker manestyle, making it easy to tell them apart.

The lighter of the two favored frilly and expensive dresses and jewelry, not being afraid to throw her money around. The darker-maned pony was going through a 'tomboy' phase, shunning anything that made her look "pretty" and going for full navy blue suits and ties instead. Nopony who knew them believed that this phase would last long, thinking that she would be adopting the same dresses that her sister favored soon enough.

They were the Mocha twins, Caramel and Hazelnut, and they were the heirs to one of the oldest--if not the oldest--businesses in Equestria.

Both of them kept their eyes on the game they were playing, keeping up a running conversation all the while. "She should have received the offer today," Caramel uttered, moving one of her pawns forward a space. "How do you think she is going to respond?"

"I think she's going to write back and tell us that we're a bunch of nutters." Hazelnut did the same, if only to set her queen loose on the board later. "I don't know what the board of directors was thinking. She's a robot. She can't eat anything except those candies. She wouldn't have a reason to make a big show out of visiting one of the restaurants."

"She would not have to actually drink any of the coffees, Hazel. Nothing is stopping her from just giving what she buys to some random joes off the street. Word would still get out that the alien robot liked the restaurants enough to buy from them. I can picture the billboards now: 'I am Fairy Leviathan, and this is my favorite eatery in Manehattan.' She gets a bit of money, and the chain gets plenty of business. Everypony wins."

"As if. Did those bozos ever stop to think about the possibility that the robot's not going to want to get involved? She spelled it out plain as day that she doesn't want to linger. You'd think that they'd have figured out that not everypony are greedy slobs like they are. If the whole world worked the way they think it does, civilization would collapse because the entire population would be too busy fighting over bits to feed themselves."

"Exercising your mean streak today, Hazel?"

"I'm just fed up with the way they run this entire business, Carrie. I can't wait for the day when we can legally take charge of the company. I'd boot all of those bozos out onto the streets and replace them all with baristas. Sure, they'd need serious training for the job, but at least then we'd have actual professionals running the show. ...And we'd have some tasty coffee for meetings, too."

Caramel sighed as she moved a knight from its starting point. "I do not know what Grandpa was thinking when he hired them. I am starting to think that he does not care if the company is run properly as long as he is able to do... whatever it is he wants to do."

"Speaking of Grandpa, how is he?"

"I can sum it up in three words: 'Make your peace.'"

Hazelnut expelled a sigh of her own. "It's finally happening, isn't it?"

A few tears formed at the corners of Caramel's eyes. "I am afraid so, Hazel. You have to understand that he is an old pony, with everything that entails. He cannot make decisions like he used to, or think clearly. A year ago he was not able to spar with us anymore, if you remember."

Hazelnut moved her hooves away from the chess board. "I'm surprised it took him so long to give that up. He always seemed to be so strong." She looked up over her sister's head, her eyes distant. "I still remember the first time I saw him buck a hole through a steel beam, of all things. It wasn't even the physical strength of an earth pony that let him do that. He claimed that his muscles and his magic were in perfect alignment thanks to the family's own school of combat. I knew right then and there that I wanted to be like him."

"He seemed eager to have students, like he'd been expecting us to ask. He said that he had taught it to our parents, but... yeah.”

“Do you think we're ready, Carrie?”

Caramel placed one of her rooks into position near a pawn, daring Hazelnut to capture it with her queen but not caring when the bait wasn't taken. “I certainly hope so. I mean, we have been training in it for almost ten years now on top of everything else. Haven't managed steel yet. Best I can do is iron.”

A few seconds went by without words. “...Why do we always end up off topic like this? We were talking about the idea of a robot buying coffee.”

Caramel whickered, amused. “Give us a few more years to stop being teenagers, then ask me again. I'm having fun here.”

“Seriously,” Hazelnut complained. “Suppose somepony in the far future decides to write our biographies. What are they going to say? 'These ponies didn't stay on topic, so we intentionally left this chapter blank!'”

“That's assuming somepony would even want to write about us,” Caramel countered. “Or read about us, for that matter. The company's been around for more than nine hundred years and has survived all manner of events and disasters. The chances of us doing anything of note compared to our predecessors aren't very good. To manage that...”

“...we'd have to do a lot better than convince a robot to buy coffee.”

“Hazel, I'm telling you. The robot doesn't actually have to drink any of it...”

…

Two sibling mares on the verge of adulthood. They talked about a wide variety of things, as children are prone to do. They did it for fun, for distraction, and for consolation in the face of what they knew would soon come. And they did it because they knew that they wouldn't be able to keep this up forever.

They knew that sooner or later, they would need to grow up.

In a darkened room three floors above their suite and on the opposite side of the building, an elderly pony fought with everything he had to stay alive in the face of the inevitable.

Slow, measured breaths. No wasted movement. Everything he did was in defiance of the prognosis he was given the evening before.

He wasn't going to go down without a fight. Far as he was concerned, it was not going to happen. He just had too many cards to play. All the same, it continued creeping closer.

Gingerly, he raised a hoof up to a bell kept on his bedside table, tapping it. A moment later, a torrent of light and a unicorn-shaped silhouette signaled the arrival of the one being he trusted the most in this world. "What is it, sir? Do you require any painkillers?"

He started to say no, but flinched and gritted his teeth at a sudden spasm. "...Yes, please. And some water. In addition, I would like for you to send word to my agents elsewhere in Equestria. Notify them only that 'it's almost time'. That should be enough to make them run to Manehattan..." He coughed a few times. "Blasted dry throat... and that young good-looking unicorn. What was her name? Stratos...?" He shook his head minutely, cutting off his servant. "No no, doesn't matter. Just make sure she lingers in the city for a little while longer. Use any means you see fit."

"Of course, sir. Would this be about Manehattan's foreign resident?"

"Heh... ech... what gave it away?"

"The newspaper on the floor, sir."

"Forgot that was there. The so-called 'Siren General' is only half the reason. Can't you feel it?" The old-timer found the energy to smile. "That sensation like an earthquake in your ribs?"

"Not at all, sir."

"I can. It's getting bigger, just a little more with each passing day..." A violent coughing fit interrupted him for several moments. His servant remained unmoving at the door, knowing from past experience that his boss wanted to fight this on his own. "...Ucccch... one day soon, one day. Leave me, Ignition. Carry out your duties... wait," he backpedaled, the pony stopping before he could go. "This can't be emphasized enough. Make sure that my family does not find out about any of this. Those nosy runts are too good-hearted to be trusted with their silence. One whiff of this, and they'll..." A pause to clear his throat. "...they'll go straight to the Royal Police. Keep them from finding out, whatever you do."

"As you wish. Anything else, sir?"

"No. Dismissed."

The silhouette turned and left, and the pillar of light disappeared as the bedroom door shut. The old stallion turned all of his attention to his struggle to outlast the final enemy that all ponies must face someday.

Slow, measured breaths. No wasted movement... and a wicked smile, indiscernible in the darkness.

The time to vacate the throne may come sooner than you think, Celestia, and not in the way you think... "Eh-heh-heh-heh...heh...hehccchhh!" Another wracking cough. Rrrgh, blasted poor health, won't even let me do a proper evil laugh anymore... Fine. If I can't laugh at you out loud, then I'll just laugh in my thoughts. Eh-heh-heh-heh...

...heh...

Wait, what was I just laughing about? I could've sworn it was something important... ah, well. It'll come to me eventually. It always does.

Thus Cocoa Mocha's struggle continued for another day.

...

And far below any of them, concealed within three heavily secured safes hidden in the tower's sub-basement, the future lay in wait.

Author's Note

The music links to this chapter include: that one song from Dwarf Fortress that everyone who's played the game is familiar with (and even some who haven't), and a remastering of the Study area from Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow. I think I need to start diversifying my playlists. :twilightsheepish:

A few of you might notice that I've updated the divider for the chapter. It's meant to reflect Leviathan's condition; the better she gets, the brighter and less mottled it'll look.

"The only clue is that his Cutie Mark was completely erased as if it had never existed." Sound familiar? But nope, I'll confirm neither Tirek nor Starlight Glimmer are responsible for this. We've got something new going on here.

And on that note, we say hello to our story's antagonist at last! How is he going to come into conflict with Leviathan, and why? Well, I'm sure not going to spoil it to its full extent now, so you'll just have to wait and see! :raritywink:

The character here named Caramel is not the same as the Ponyville resident with the same name from the show. I doubt that really needed explaining, but it's best if all my bases were covered.

Following up on the Gray Ghost image I posted not long ago, have one of her daughter Ebony. People who haven't read prior chapters might jump to conclusions about her personality from her appearance alone, so I'd like to point out that she's just trying to find her flyswatter and go bug hunting. >^_^<

NOTE: As of 1/7/2023, for reasons I don't understand, Fimfiction is dead-set on giving me the standard "invalid img" box for Ebony's picture. So, here's a link directly to the picture at Imageshack: http://imageshack.com/i/poNUCNZhp

One quick note is that I do have an image of Drama Heart. It's just a matter of making her Cutie Mark look more like how its described and not like something straight out of middle school.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: February 3, 2022

Making the Most of Oneself

Current Power Output: 98%. System nominal.

Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve Tank: 99.8%.

Solar Energy Backup: 2%. Inoperable. Please see your technician for repairs or replacement.

Structural Integrity: 72%. Estimated repair time: 59 hours.

Auto-Repair Systems: 100%. Currently operating at maximum efficiency.

Armor Integrity: 92%.

Motor Control: 92%.

Dash Thrusters: 100%. Systems nominal.

Coolant Levels: 100%. System nominal.

Combat Capabilities: 85% overall.

Ice Manipulation: 95%.

Frost Javelin: 98%. Systems nominal.

Armed Phenomenon: 71%.

Recommended Course of Action: Continue running auto-repair. Usage of capsule not required.

...

I've just spent the last few hours taking a nap and running a full diagnostics scan, and my health is looking better all the time. There isn't much I can say about a lot of these.

The two biggest concerns are still my frame and my solar absorber. Regarding the former, the gash in my side is more than halfway fixed... good, but it could still be better. That also leaves all the other damage, so I'll still need to wear my coat in public for a while.

On the latter, while it isn't strictly required for the absorber to be functional, it's still convenient to have working. It's present as a supplement for my Energen tanks. Provided that I'm either out in the sun or close enough to the water's surface for its rays to reach me, it slows down my fuel consumption by as much as thirty percent. And on the off-chance that I run out of Energen, I can shut down everything not required for my day-to-day survival and subsist entirely on sunlight. Very nice to have when I'm off-duty. Plus, any combat I partake in between now and when I return home will most likely be on land, so any edge I possess will be good ones.

I remember hearing some speculation once that long ago, the earliest sapient robots were powered by and large by solar energy. If that's true, then why the switch to a mineral-based power source? Was it because the robots could then be counted on for work anytime day or night?

Of course, there are two major caveats to this setup. First, if I'm someplace where the sunlight won't reach me--like the room I was collapsed in post-Omega--then the absorber's completely useless once it runs dry. As I told my associates earlier, I'd be nothing more than trash if I was without both supplies of power. For another, keeping my combat functions active once I'm reduced to my absorber uses up the energy much more quickly. I would need to take long, frequent naps in sunlight if I wanted to continue functioning.

Much like a cat. Or Gray. Truth be told, I'm not convinced that what few cats I've seen here aren't solar powered themselves. While I was on my way to the Big and Taur shop the other day, I passed by a stray that was resting on its back squarely in a particularly large patch of sunlight... but I'm off topic again.

My coolant levels have fully replenished themselves. Because Heartbreakers, for those who forgot. I'm sure it makes sense in some haphazard way that I'm not getting, but I've got other things to worry about at the moment. I'll get back to my viewers on that.

Some who are unfamiliar with me may wonder what my diagnostics mean by "Armed Phenomenon". To dumb it down some, it's a secondary form I can access in certain situations. If I'm up against someone that I would have difficulty defeating normally--Mr. Two Minus Two himself, for example--then my body shifts and morphs into a jet-equipped manta ray submarine. It boosts almost all of my combat capabilities, with the biggest standout being my speed, which quadruples. The only real problem with it is that it requires a large body of water for mobility's sake, such as that found at the Temple of Ice, but that's just a minor issue at best.

The Armed Phenomenon is usable even at low efficiency, but for it to unleash its full potential, it requires four things: a steady power supply, plenty of Energen, a stable frame, and functional ice manipulation. It's why my prior scans listed its efficiency at 0%: their poor conditions negated any effectiveness the form might have had, despite it being in otherwise decent condition.

Everything else my diagnostics are telling me won't be problematic. 92% isn't anywhere near low enough for my armor to start falling apart, or for my motor controls to malfunction entirely. My ice manipulation and combat capabilities will max out when everything else does, and my Javelin's cursory damage can be saved for last. So all in all, I'd say I'm in 'Good' condition. 'Excellent' is when I'm at 99-100% on all fronts.

...

Back in Drama's office, I'm considering my options.

I hadn't stated as much when I wrote my reply to Celestia, but I left enough of an implication that I was willing to test my abilities against whoever it was she was going to assign. So I have two matches coming up: a serious one against an opponent to be determined, and a not-quite-so-serious one against Bossa Nova.

And as you might respect, contemplating these future events takes me back to the past. Or more specifically, my embarrassing showing against Omega.

Zero was able to best Omega multiple times, with his final victory coming when the latter was being empowered by the Dark Elf. I fight baseline Omega once alongside Fefnir, and... well, you know that story already. Dr. Weil's going to have someone just as strong or close to it ready by the time I get back. If I tried fighting whoever it is as I am now, there wouldn't be enough of me left to store in Drama's cookie jar. I'd probably be justified if I tried labeling him as a force of nature by now.

As long as I'm making comparisons, everything I knew of X told me that he was a genuine force. According to Neo Arcadia's archives, he never stopped improving throughout his entire career. Whether it was through personal advancements, copying weapons from his opponents, or gifts left behind in unlikely places by his long-dead creator, he was able to constantly adapt to whatever environment he found himself in. The only thing keeping him from steamrolling everyone and everything was his own attitude. If he had a choice in the matter, he would have stomped "Elpizo" long before he had the chance to grab the Dark Elf, and the events that led to my being here wouldn't have happened.

Hmm... now if I was told that I could go back in time and meet one specific person, his creator would have been it. How in the world did he have the foresight to hide one of his upgrades in an enemy tank before it was even built? Very clever.

There was one other person spoken of in hushed tones that we Guardians were taught to remember. I was always impressed by this one's accomplishments. He was built specifically to drive that generation's hover vehicles, and he didn't disappoint. He passed every test he took, drove up the morale of everyone around him just by existing, and could be counted on for anything. If you needed someone to watch your back during a high-speed chase, he was your best bet for getting out alive and in one piece. Surrounded by Mavericks and in need of a rescue? He'd blast away every enemy with his bike's cannon without so much as singeing your hair. Wanted a chaperone for someone's date? Sure, he had free time. He followed orders, respected everyone, was respected in turn, and never lost hope even in sticky situations. He was an absolute ace.

So it was that when he gave his life helping X take down a Maverick stronghold, everyone mourned his passing. If the site of his burial hadn't been lost to the ages, I imagine that there would still be people visiting his gravesite to this day. He has simply earned that much respect.

Though one has to wonder about his name. Most non-civilian Reploids have designations with some sort of meaning behind them. I was named after a sea monster or some other aquatic creature, for example... history's iffy on that. Maha Ganeshariff's name and appearance are references to an ancient and mythological elephant. The list goes on.

The ace that we all hold in high regard? His designation was "Green Biker Dude". What kind of self-respecting name is that? It sounds like the sort of name that I would give...

...him...

...

I've been doing a really good job of zinging myself recently, haven't I?

Personal degradation aside, here's the point I'm trying to make. I don't have X's adaptability, or Zero's unrelenting skill, or G.B.D.'s everything. I might be one of X's "children", but that doesn't mean that I inherited his talent for getting stronger over time. I can only do so much on my own.

There's an expression you're probably familiar with: "Go out there and give 110%!" It's used to encourage and challenge others to work hard, to do their very best at certain tasks. What it doesn't mean is that they can break their limits. No matter who you are, eventually you will reach the point where your body refuses to get stronger or perform any better than it already can. When you push yourself to try and surpass yourself, you're not really overcoming your limits; all you're doing is trying to find out what exactly your limits are. Trying to break your limits in the truest sense only leads to pain, misery... possibly death, depending on how moronic you are. This isn't fiction where the protagonist can casually overcome their deficiencies via pure willpower and grit.

The same is true for me. My limits were set in place the day my conversion into a warrior was complete. Metal, hydraulics, and ice can only carry me so far. I might be superior to any of our creators in a physical sense, but I have clear limitations that I cannot overcome. I can be creative with what I do have all I want, but it may not be enough, whether I'm fighting Zero or Weil's forces.

Which leaves me with only one option: it's time for some upgrades.

But how? I don't have access to however it was X's creator was able to provide him with new equipment. And I might be familiar enough with my designs and weapon that I can perform maintenance on myself if circumstances are dire, but I'm no true mechanic or technician. Linking up with fresh equipment and parts would require me to shut down and rely entirely on another's hooves. In addition, just to reiterate: at least three hundred years behind the times. Home computers haven't been invented here yet, never mind the sort of technology that would ensure everything went smoothly.

If I had to, I suppose I could scrounge around and locate the materials I would need to craft all of the components of a computer. I have enough working knowledge of hardware and software both that I could figure something out. But even if I were able to create a new operating system entirely from scratch, or whip up new hardware on my skill alone, it's not going to solve my real problems: getting myself stronger, and getting myself home.

I'd really rather not have to rely on shortcuts, but it's looking like I'm going to have to rely on magic for this one.

Before I resort to anything like that, however, let's call up my blueprints and combat specs. I've been over these on several occasions before, but now it's time for a more in-depth look at what needs improving. Who knows? I might have missed something along the way. Comparing specs to current self now. Full scan triggered...

HELMET

All functions are linked to unit's processor through the head. Only unit designated "Leviathan-01NA" can make use of these functions. Functions can not be utilized if helmet is not worn.

Jet Propulsion: Powerful, quick and easy maneuverability through water. Maximum safe speed is 130 knots.

Defense: Offers limited cranial protection.

Jellyfish: Additional defensive measure; will ward off anything that touches it when activated. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

Subsurface Radar: Scans surroundings in a fifty-kilometer radius around the user in order to track points of interest and enemy targets. Most effective underwater, but can be used above ground with vastly decreased range. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

OPTICS

Normal: Allows for the equivalent of 20/20 vision in humans, with an approximate 150° range. Can discern color. Has most of the same basic weaknesses as human eyesight, with the exception of contact sensitivity.

Deep Sea: Enables easier navigation of the ocean floor. Extremely sensitive to light. Warning: usage beyond what is intended risks optical damage.

Hunter: Allows user to see invisible objects. Shuts off vision in one eye as a tradeoff, limiting range. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

Lock-On: Become immune to changes in perception. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

BODY

Armor: Standard-issue Guardian Armor, with minor modifications to shape. Provides limited protection, but should not be counted on for blocking all types of attacks.

Ice Generators: Allows for the manipulation and control of ice in its most malleable form to be shaped as the user wills. Most effective usage is through the Frost Javelin, but similar results can be attained without it at the cost of time and effort.

Dry Ice Mode: Allows for the generation and use of dry ice to be shaped as the user wills. Can not be used through the Frost Javelin, only through direct contact via the hands or, if necessary, the feet. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

Overdrive: Sharply boosts all capabilities for up to thirty seconds. Emits an aura around the user that freezes everything in a meter radius. Once energy is expended, this function is locked for twenty minutes to allow the user to cool down sufficiently. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

Inventory Space: Used for carrying items and weapons recognized by internal hardware. Slot #1: In use by Frost Javelin. Slot #2: In use by Armed Phenomenon equipment. Slot #3: empty. Slot #4: empty.

BOOTS

All functions are linked to unit's processor through the feet and ankles. Only unit designated "Leviathan-01NA" can make use of these functions. Functions can not be utilized if boots are not worn.

Dash Thrusters: Triggers a momentary speed boost of up to 74 MPH (119 km/h) for short distances on land, and an extra 10 knot boost underwater. Can be used in quick succession with no drawbacks, but is affected by decreased motor control.

Ice Skates: Allows complete freedom of movement on surface ice and other slippery surfaces. Boots do not morph into actual skates, but they can still be treated as such.

Double Jump: If in mid-air, gain extra height equal to 80% the height of a normal jump. Can also be used to jump across the surface of water without submerging. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

Frozen Aerial: While in mid-air, create icy platforms beneath the unit's feet to traverse gaps. No more than three platforms can be active at a time, and each will dissolve after ten seconds. Password Locked. Currently inaccessible.

...

It wouldn't be too difficult to imagine the entire theater jumping off its foundation as it was rattled by Leviathan's shocked yell.

...

I'm sure they heard me screeching all the way in Canterlot, but I don't care. Seriously, WHAT IN X'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE?! Was I always this powerful? Did I have this all along and just didn't know?! 'Overdrive'? 'Frozen Aerial'? What even is this?!

...

Wait, wait, wait. Hold up, hold up. Calm down, girl. Let's think about this. "Password Locked. Currently inaccessible," I say to myself as I read over the scan one more time.

To the best of my knowledge, I have never possessed any of the abilities with that label. As I said prior to starting my scan, I've been through these enough times to be overly familiar with what I possess. Having something be available to me, only to be told it was password protected? Something is wrong here, because I know for a certainty that I didn't own any of that. There shouldn't have been anything there that would need that label applied to it.

And from the looks of things, my system agrees. I'm getting red flags popping up across the board and notifications in my HUD that I need to speak with a technician or programmer post-haste. At some point in my existence I've been tampered with, and my brain has just now realized it.

As far as I know, I didn't have any real enemies of my own in Neo Arcadia. Or to specify, none that hated me personally enough to want to make me less capable. Only our most trusted staff is allowed entry to our domains, and those that we hire are required to go through rigorous background checks to ensure that we're not getting anyone who would compromise our ability to keep the peace. So who does that leave?

The average citizen is right out. If anyone tried, there would have been alarms going off all over the place.

My support staff is out of the question, too. They might have been a rag-tag group of random, nameless Reploids and weaker humans who were good with technology, but they legitimately believed that what they were doing was for Neo Arcadia's greater good and wholeheartedly supported the regime. And I'm fairly certain that a few of them were fans of mine; I've walked past their workstations a few times and noticed that they had vid-screen images of me where they normally would've put pictures of their loved ones or friends.

I can't blame Copy X or Dr. Weil, either. For all of his faults, the former knew that we were loyal to him and treated us with respect as long as we carried out his orders. The latter wouldn't have been around due to his exile, and if he'd come anywhere close, the entire city would have been up in arms; us Four knew of his crimes all too well. I suppose he could've done his work while Fefnir and I were incapacitated, but there's too many things wrong with that for it to make sense. Thirdly, he seems like the type who would program all Reploids to be his attack dogs if given the chance, and I'm clearly under no obligation to follow his directives.

So who does that leave? Who would have the authority and enough security access to tamper with either my blueprints, myself or both directly, and possibly even the other Guardians too?

...

I feel like I've just been hit with a thrown sledgehammer. "The Judges," I breathe, leaning on a wall to keep myself upright.

Us Guardians were well-acquainted with the Eight Gentle Judges. They were a set of Reploids that had worked with the real X where judicial matters were concerned since before the Four of us were created, second only to him in power. After Copy X came into power, they helped "determine" whether or not certain Reploids were Mavericks and passed judgment on them. And in fact, within hours after Copy X's destruction was reported, they unanimously nominated Harpuia to become the city's new ruler.

We'd had mutual trust and respect for each other, and I'd like to think that they wouldn't try anything to negate that trust... or at least I would've said that months ago. I don't know all the details, but I was able to glean enough from my interactions with X, Phantom, and Harpuia that the Judges were in Weil's non-existent back pocket the entire time. Whoever it was that created the Judges were never discovered, so if Weil had been the one to do so, that would explain a great deal. The fact that Omega was sent to space instead of executed, among other things...

The Judges themselves don't strike me as being able to tamper with me. Neither my interactions with them nor their official records told me that they specialized in computer programming, hacking, or Reploid design. However, there are ways around that: it wouldn't be difficult for them to covertly seek out someone in Neo Arcadia who was skilled in that sort of thing and either force or bribe them to do the deed, providing them with any permissions they would require. And if the programmer was a Reploid, there was nothing stopping them from killing him or her afterwards to keep any rumors from reaching Copy X.

The most difficult part of it would come from a delicate balancing act: dumbing down our abilities and power enough that we would be unable to oppose Weil if he returned, but not so much that we couldn't mow down anyone who looked at us funny and keep the city adequately safe. Most likely this was done when we were first turned into combat Reploids, as I can't imagine myself needing most of this stuff in my original occupation. Fooling those responsible for maintaining us would've been difficult, but not impossible. My team was good, but not perfect; if they found any of this extra equipment during routine maintenance, they probably assumed that it was responsible for what we were already using and didn't give it another thought. Serial numbers and the like can be disguised from all manner of scans if one knows how, and if the blueprints had been altered appropriately...

It probably would have raised too many questions, caused too many risks if they'd tried to discard, throw out, or otherwise dispose of the parts. High-quality parts just sitting around gathering dust, or being sent to the incinerator? Word gets around, and people would think. Any person with more than half a brain--little Ciel, just to name one example--would be likely to come across the parts and wonder why they weren't being used. Instead, they were stored in the least obvious hiding place: inside ourselves, hidden behind a password and memory blocks potent enough to prevent even that from being detected. Ingenious, dreadfully so.

Speaking of the blocks, I am wondering what it was that broke them and allowed me to learn that the hardware was available. That can wait for another time, though. I'm too incensed to dwell on it too deeply.

I could name instances where these locked abilities would've been useful. Dry Ice Mode could have done some serious damage to Omega, or at least to that outer shell he wore. The Subsurface Radar could've been used to keep better track of Zero during our fights, warning me whenever he was about to strike, and...

...and it's really sinking in now what they did to me.

All this time, I thought I'd known what I could do. What about the others? What sort of abilities could Harpuia, Fefnir, or Phantom have been able to utilize had they only known? What was locked behind doors that they had no way of learning of?

Errrugghh...

I sink down to the floor, removing my helmet and setting it aside. My face drops into my hands. Doctor. Weil. He himself didn't plan this, but the Judges were loyal to him and would do anything to support his ambitions even while they pretended to be X's left hand. What they've done to us, to me, because of his directives... I don't have the words for it. X in Cyberspace, I think I'm going to throw up...!

That's the illness, and getting home and giving Dr. Weil all of the justice he deserves is the remedy. If Zero can't do it, I don't think anyone's going to complain if I do it myself.

...

I take some time to steady myself and haul back the urge to get sick across the floor (because seriously, what half-processed Energen looks like is something that no biological being needs to know about). This is another one of those times when I'm envious of humans: at least they have tears they can shed if they feel like having a good cry.

With some effort, I bring my mind back to here and now: I've got a fight ahead of me sometime, and I need to be ready. Steady as she goes, Leviathan. Focus. You can do this. ...Therrreee we go, girl. Treat yourself to a cookie. ...Or not, since you can't eat them. Rephrasing that, treat somepony else to a cookie.

Now then, given the choice between magic and technology, I'll take tech any day. These things I've got locked away seem like my top choices; I have them, might as well use them. Let's see if I can't crack these passwords. Flexing my processor, I direct an inquiry regarding the requirements for breaking the protection.

Password must consist of exactly 2,000,000,000 characters utilizing the CCSID 437 character set. The password is different for each ability.

"Kyahahaha..." Wow, okay. They really didn't want us getting our hands on all of these in a timely fashion. Two billion characters, and I have around 240 choices for each one. Well, I suppose I should devote a subroutine to cracking the codes, because there's no way I'm going to be doing that consciously.

...And having that subroutine clear away the "password denied" message before it reaches my HUD would help, too. I don't want my vision to be flooded with those.

Alright, the subroutine's complete. I'm going to sic it on the shield around my boots' Double Jump and see what happens. In the meantime, I'm going back to sleep and shutting off all non-essential functions. I've got nothing to do, so I see no point in staying awake for any of this. It's best if I just let it work.

...

Well, after I take care of one more letter. I've got curiosity to sate, so where did I put that Heartbreakers wrapper? Let's get this mystery cleared up once and for all.

Author's Note

The music links in this chapter lead to "Fields", a MIDI file composed by Dave Kelly that was part of the Yamaha XG MIDI library, and the remastered version of "Dive Into Depth" from Megaman ZX Advent.

No actual pony appearances this time, sadly. I had other things that needed focused on for this chapter. I was able to commission someone at DeviantArt to draw a scene from a few chapters back, though, so you can expect to see a link to it when I post the next chapter. >^_^<

I'm really hoping things made sense here. I tried to justify Leviathan having extra hardware she wasn't aware of the best I could, but there's so many ways this could turn out to be confusing. I'm pretty sure I confused myself just writing it. :applejackconfused:

I considered finding some way to give her magical abilities instead, but in light of how little time she's spent in Equestria up until now, it felt to me like it would be OOC for her to accept using those off the bat. If she ever does, they'll probably come much later.

The "enemy tank" referred to in connection with Dr. Light's upgrade is Wheel Gator's stage in X2. I have to wonder why it's there: did the Maverick forces find it, couldn't figure out what to do with it, and just set it aside for later? ... ... Eh, I don't think it really matter, but it's still fun thinking about these things.

Blow characters out of proportion, and they become memes. Blow memes out of proportion, and they become mythical. Yeah, on the Mega Man side of things in this setting, G.B.D.'s a legend in his own right that's far out of proportion to anything he actually did. :rainbowlaugh:

Estimated Update Deadline: February 14, 2022

EDITED at 9:09p.m. CST: Changed the update deadline. Check back in an hour as of this time for my next blog post.

UPDATED 2/6/2022: It's too easy to get "affect" and "effect" mixed up sometimes. Face. Palm. :facehoof:

The Definition of Terror - Part 1

Like she'd said she would, Drama Heart returned three days after she had left. She was giddy beyond words, all but prancing as she left the train station and made the trip back to her theater on hoof. She was so enthused from the time she had spent back in Baltimare, catching up on time spent with her youngest sister and making sure she had everything she needed, that the news that she would soon be an aunt continued to fill her with energy.

"---walking on sunshine, whoa-hoaaaa, and does it feel good!..."

Even with the sun beginning its evening descent, Drama felt like she had enough fuel to clean the entire theater from top to bottom in the span of an hour. While her emotions didn't manifest themselves as a heartsong this time, a half-remembered tune she'd heard in Baltimare was enough to get others who saw her smiling and nodding along.

And why shouldn't they? I haven't been this happy since the day I got my Cutie Mark! Oh, there's going to be so many fun times ahead! I can just see it now, their "Crazy Aunt Salamandra" showing up out of the blue to brighten up their day! I can't wait, I can't wait!

...

Drama entered the theater through the back door and made her way to the lobby, looking about her as she went. She set aside her familial joy to properly judge the situation. Good, she remembered to keep a few of the lights on. Everything seems to be in order. Nothing out of place. Maybe a mild dusting is all that's needed. If she's this good at house-sitting, I won't need to charge her rent.

She was a little surprised when she got to the lobby, though. Leviathan was seated on the floor near the restrooms, her coat and purse sitting off in the corner forgotten. There was enough illumination for Drama to see that all of Fairy's external damage was just about gone, with a minor dent or two being all that was left. Her white uniform was all but pristine, having mended itself along with her frame. The part of Drama that was enthralled by the Reploid's damaged state was squashed by her more rational side telling her that it was for the best.

Fairy should've been much more pleased with how she was doing, but instead she was staring up at the ceiling, her eyes tired and lifeless. Her pupils flitted towards Drama when she walked into view; rather than getting up, she leaned forward to rest her hands and head on her knees. "Welcome home," she intoned, voice just as quiet as Gray Ghost's stoic child.

"Um... it's good to be home," Drama greeted her, immediately sidetracked by Fairy's mood. "Are you doing okay? You're not mad because I ditched you to visit my family, are you?"

"No," was Leviathan's response, and the unicorn could tell she meant it. "I'm just having one of those... bleh kind of days."

"Understandable." Drama patted her shoulder, giving her what she felt was a consoling smile. She turned and headed for the stairway. "Give me a few minutes to put my things away and get my dinner, then we can talk about it."

"You might want to wait on that," Leviathan said, not getting up.

A bit of puzzlement. "Fairy, I've got to put these away before I do anything. I can't just leave them down here."

"I'm serious, Drama. I really don't suggest trying to go upstairs."

...Oh-ho~? That's just begging for me to find out. Drama approached the door to the stairway, opening it---

...

The entire building shivered at the storyteller's unbridled rage. "Fairy Leviathan, what in Tartarus happened to my stairs?!"

"Gray took them down because I'm grounded," Leviathan murmured, sullen.

Drama tried and failed to parse that, her anger sputtering like a malfunctioning heater. Finally, she spoke the only two words that came to mind. "That's... disturbing."

"Your friend's a monster when she feels her children are threatened," Levi answered, her tone unchanged.

The unicorn contemplated being angry at Gray instead, but got a handle on her temper. However she felt about the matter, it could wait. Hear it out. Remember to hear it out. No point in being furious if you don't hear it out first. "So... long day? Want to talk about it? ...In fact, I'll make it mandatory. Come with me to the auditorium and tell me everything. Come on, up and at 'em."

Leviathan hesitated for a while, her expression making it clear that she wasn't interested in moving. It was only when Drama held out her hooves like she was about to hug her that she sighed and got to her feet. "Alright. Just promise me that you won't want to be mad at me. Or at Gray."

"I can't really put that down in writing until after I hear the explanation," Drama countered, knowing full well her words didn't make sense. Her suitcase, already wrapped in a turquoise aura, magicked itself open long enough to jettison a black-and-orange ballcap. "And here. Got you a gag gift."

Leviathan caught the cap as it was thrown at her and spent a few seconds looking it over. "I'm not familiar with this style or this bird that's on it," she stated, her somber voice starting to perk up a little.

Drama chuckled. "Hence why it's a gag gift." She turned and walked to the auditorium, not having to turn to know that Fairy was following her. "Anyway, start from the beginning. I want to hear everything."

"Suit yourself. Just remember I tried to warn you..."

MID-MORNING, THAT VERY DAY...

My external damage was almost completely repaired when I woke up this morning, but not quite to the point where I felt like discarding my coat. And while the subroutine I'd put in place had made excellent progress towards unlocking my Double Jump, it was a low priority compared to everything else my systems were up to. No need to rush it unless it was an emergency.

"Just a moment."

If Leviathan was upset at being interrupted just two sentences in, she didn't show it. "What's the problem?"

"'Subroutine'. 'Double Jump'. Where'd these terms come from? If you used them before, I don't remember."

"Heh... got a little ahead of myself, didn't I?" Leviathan sat down on the edge of the stage, her host close by. "After you left, I discovered that some of my hardware had been tampered with back home. When I realized what was needed to get them working, I sicced a program on them to chisel away at their protection."

"What kind of protection are we talking here?"

"Passwords two billion characters long, with a provided list of 250 to choose from. Give or take a half-dozen."

Drama's face slowly contorted into something grotesque. She couldn't put a pin on the exact number of possible combinations there were, but she didn't need to; the words 'two billion' were enough to sour her expression. "How the actual---?"

Leviathan rolled her eyes and cut Drama off before she could say something profane. "This is why I typically don't discuss the inner workings of my CPU with those unfamiliar with computer science. There's enough possible combinations there that even if I was immortal, there wouldn't be enough of the universe left to fit in a hypothetical dustpan by the time I finished cracking just one of those passwords. This is why it pays to play it smart."

"Then would you mind dumbing it down to something an organic mind can comprehend?" Drama quipped, poking Levi's arm playfully.

"Sure. There were two things I discovered while poking around and putting the subroutine together. The first was that the password protection was going to let me make as many tries as I wanted. Any programmer in their right mind would set it up so that all access attempts would be logged in a security file, and they would place limits on how much something can be accessed before it just flat-out locks the user out of the system. There aren't any provisions for either." She shrugged. "At this point I can only speculate as to why it was designed that way. Maybe someone wanted to give me a fighting chance at regaining what's rightfully mine, which would make some sense. Or maybe they were just being lazy and underestimated me. Who knows? Those are just guesses. They're less important than facts to me as things stand. And the fact is that I can keep trying until something works. There's a time and place for everything, and now's not the time for dwelling on 'whys' and 'wherefores'."

"Plot relevancy. Gotcha."

An audible blink. "What?"

Drama waved a hoof impatiently. "Less important than facts right now, Fairy. What's the second thing you found?"

Leviathan raised a hand as if to ask again, but sighed and lowered it. "Have you ever heard of a game called 'Mastermind'? One pony has a limited number of turns to correctly guess a four-digit sequence based on feedback from another pony?"

Drama thought about this for a bit. "Sort of sounds like 'Bulls and Cows'," she finally said. "It's fairly popular with pony foals who like to exercise their minds without resorting to stuff like chess. I'm assuming this ties in?"

"Yes. Take away the 'limited number of turns' aspect, and that's more or less what I'm pulling. The completed subroutine starts by generating a completely random password and submitting it to the system. Barring a miracle it's obviously going to get rejected, but the subroutine asks for and gets a list of which characters are at least in their proper positions. The list is analyzed, the correct characters are locked in place, and all others are shifted to the next one in the set I'm using. The password is then re-submitted, lather, rinse, repeat."

A bit more thought on the storyteller's end, and her eyes widened at the end of it. "You probably could've worded it better, but if I'm understanding you correctly... it cuts down on your number of attempts to about 250 at most?"

"Give or take a half-dozen. And once the correct password is given, it should in theory give me permanent access to my locked hardware. I'll have to repeat the process for each piece of equipment, but in the long run I'll be much stronger than I was when I first got here."

Drama's giggling sounded more like it came from her Salamandra persona than her natural self. "Ee-heeheeheehee... the world is really not ready for someone of your mind, Fairy."

Leviathan brushed off the praise. "I'd apply that more to computers in general, not just mine. They're useful tools if they're properly programmed. So, do you still want to know how the stairs got that way, or not?"

Beat. "...Wow," Drama uttered, her mane settling back down from the momentary high she was on. "We really got off topic there."

"Nothing wrong with being curious about it, and it's my own fault for mentioning the terms to start with. So, where were we?..."

I hadn't interacted with Turkey Bowl at all since the day we met, so of course I accepted the invitation he'd sent for me to attend his next match. That takes me to where I am now: Mustang Lanes, the largest of Manehattan's three bowling alleys according to my taxi driver, and the home for the city's EBL bowling team.

Presenting the pass Turkey had enclosed with the invitation lets me into the building. I'm about thirty minutes early, and what seating is available hasn't filled up yet. I see a few suited-up out-of-towners who look like they're the visiting team, sipping idly from some drink or other and completely ignoring me, but no sign of Turkey himself. Probably preparing for the match, or what have you.

"Excuse me? Leviathan, right?"

Well, she gave it a long 'e' sound instead of a short one, but there are worse pronounciations. The unicorn who's getting my attention seems a bit on the statuesque side, though it's hard to determine what that term really means where this species is concerned. Light yellow-cream color, neatly brushed blue mane and a ring around the base of her tail... not too shabby appearance-wise. Pretty stylish, really. "That's me. How do you do?"

"Feeling great today!" She offers her hoof, to which I answer with a fistbump. "I'm Pinny Lane. Turkey Bowl asked me to keep my eyes open for you and answer any questions you might have while he's getting ready."

"Heh. I'm not too familiar with bowling, so I've got plenty." I follow along as she leads me to a table near the spectator seating. "Neo Arcadia did have an alley... kind of hard not to, what with twenty million-plus residents, but I left that sort of thing to the civilians."

"Twenty million all in one city," Pinny comments, shaking her head. "I know you talked about it and all in the paper, but it's still nuts to think you've got that many living in a single location." She gestures for me to sit down. "Population-wise we're the largest city in Equestria, but we still don't come anywhere close to that."

"In all fairness, that was due to extenuating circumstances," I assure her as I try to make myself as comfortable as I can. "Your nation's at peace without any real long-term crises, so there's cities all over the place. There's no need for the entire population to stick together in one spot."

"Still nutty." Pinny shakes her head as if to clear it. "But we're not here to talk about that. Let's talk bowling. What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with how the game's scored. I'm familiar with the basic premise... set up pins in a triangle formation, roll a ball down the lane at them, try to knock them all down... but I've never looked at the scoring system or how the points are tabulated."

"Sure." Pinny looks around for a bit, muttering. "Lessee, scrap paper, scrap paper... there we go." She levitates a piece of paper and a pencil over to the table, proceeding to draw a rudimentary chart consisting of ten columns and three rows. As an added touch, she scribbles her initials next to the chart. "That top row doesn't mean anything; I just like to add a buffer."

She clears her throat and starts into her lecture. "A bowling game is divided into ten frames. You're allowed up to two attempts per frame to knock down all the pins." She writes a few numbers down in the first column. "Suppose for my first frame, I knocked down five pins on my first throw and four on my second. Gives me nine points so far. Simple math.

"Now, on my second frame I throw a strike by knocking down all ten at once." She scrawls an 'X' in the second column. "Here's the part that trips up a lot of ponies when they first start playing. A strike is worth ten points, plus what you get on your next two throws. So we're going to leave this bottom row blank for now."

Pinny fills out columns three and four thusly: another strike, then a nine and a backslash. "Two strikes and a nine, plus my score for the first frame totals thirty-eight for the second. For my third frame, look ahead at the fourth. With what we said in mind, some would think that we'd get twenty-nine here, too. They'd be wrong. See the backslash? That indicates a spare, which means we needed both attempts in a frame to collect all ten pins. So we're just going to add the spare's value to the strike and give ourselves 20 points, bringing our score up to 58..."

"Excuse me, Fairy," Drama interrupted. "Why are you going over the rules of the game? I already know how to play." She added as a muttered aside: "I'm not any good at it, but still..."

"Just going over events for posterity's sake," Leviathan said, having anticipated the question. "If anyone sees my memories in the future and they're unfamiliar with the game, at least they'll know how to play it for themselves."

"I really don't think ponies are going to forget how to play the game that easily," Drama answered.

"Three hundred years ago I'll bet no one thought that people would be unable to open a basic door, either."

A wince. "That's fair. Keep going."

"...so that gives me 122 points after seven frames." Pinny gestures at the eighth. "Now, this zero could mean anything. Maybe my aim was off and I threw the ball into the gutter. Or I committed a foul of some kind by stepping into the lane, or deliberately used magic to steer the ball..."

"Excuse the interruption here," I cut in. "Could you elaborate on that last one, please?"

"Sure. Unicorns are allowed to use magic to hold the ball or make it spin upon release, if that's how they prefer to play." She gestures at one of the lanes. "But you see those black markers on the sides there? The ball has to be actively rolling down the lane before it passes those markers, and you cannot be holding the ball in any way past that point. If those criteria aren't met, then it's an automatic foul. No points for the attempt, and any pins knocked down are reset."

Makes sense. "I'd wondered how unicorn magic impacted the rules." I gesture at the tenth and final frame. "I imagine that the players get three attempts for this last one?"

"In a fashion," Pinny continues to explain. "If you get either a strike or a spare, then you get an extra throw; if not, that's where your game ends. This is also the only frame where it's possible to get more than one strike. So looking at what I have here, then my final total would be..."

"180 points."

"Bingo!" She jots the number down, then sets her items aside. "Now then---"

"HUGS!"

"---time for hugs---" Pinny does a quick double-take. "Wait a minute---WHA!" She stumbles as a blur collides with her side. Huh, that's some nice velocity there. "Careful there, careful---!"

"Hi, bowling lady! You're very pretty!" is the response she gets from a very happy foal. Yes, that's one of Gray's kids again. 'Zig-Zag', I think she called him?

Pinny blushes. "Yes, I get that a lot, but could you please not?" she protests, earning some chuckling from those in the background. "I have to help the nice robot---" Nice? "---learn about bowling, okay? Could you let go of me? Like now?"

I repay Pinny's assistance by prying Zeke loose and scooping him up into my hands. "I'm sure your mother taught you better than this, child. Speaking of, where is your mother?"

Zeke points away from us towards a food counter. Sure enough, Gray's manning it---ponying it?---and surveying the building. On seeing me, she smiles and waves before going about her business. And that's an adorable little hat she's wearing. "Odd job," her foal explains. "Food for bits."

Pinny smooths out the fur on her leg. "As long as you're not unattended," she says with a tinge of worry. "I really don't want to get in trouble my first year in the league..."

A rookie, huh? Explains her upbeat behavior. We'll see how long that lasts. "I didn't know your mom could cook," I comment to Zeke.

The little lovebug shakes his head repeatedly. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh. No cook. She's terrible. Just serving. She's very servy."

"You're not just saying that because you like eating stuff you really shouldn't, are you?" I inquire.

Zeke's response is the same as previous. If he does this enough, maybe I could get him to fan me? "Dad's the cook. Mom can't cook. Cornbread incident."

Does he ever say more than two to three words at once? "If you say so... how about the rest of your squad? Are they around?"

A rapid nod, as opposed to a rapid nope. "Ebony's playing pinball."

...

"What do you mean, 'TILT'?! You bug-blasted machine! Give me my bits back!" Ebony howled at the pinball table that she felt was cheating her out of her allowance.

...

"Energy is energized."

...

"Celestia forbid... that you ever... start drinking coffee," a mare, who was only now realizing why it was never a good idea to run a race against someone named 'Pure Energy', managed to wheeze before collapsing to the floor.

Energy beamed at her as he pranced in place. "That was fun, that was fun! We gotta do that again sometime!"

"Please no..."

...

"Fiver's playing cards."

...

In the same gaming room that Ebony was barking threats at an inanimate object in, three veteran card-players pondered the little filly present at their table. Not a single blink, tail or ear twitch gave away her mood, and the corners of her mouth never budged. Only top-notch gamers were that good at controlling their poker face, they knew. She'd proven herself a fair hoof at the game up until now, and if the rate at which she was improving was any indication, she'd be a terror at the tables when she grew up.

It was a good thing that the only chips they were betting with were those from the snack counter, they decided. No need for anypony to lose their money over what was supposed to be a casual, friendly match. And since they didn't want to get in trouble with the filly's parents for corrupting her, they were careful not to attempt anything that could be seen as such by on-lookers.

Still, they were impressed. A bit intimidated too, but impressed all the same.

One of the players disappointedly put his cards down. "High card. Ten."

"Two pairs. Jacks and sixes," said the second, turning his cards for the others to see.

"Royal flush," the third stated, doing the same.

The three of them turned to their youngest. Sure, she could theoretically match that 'hand', as the minotaurs liked to put it, but the odds were severely against her on account of three of the Jacks already being used. May as well see what she had before they moved on.

Letting her poker face slip for the first time, the filly sighed in vague disappointment as she turned her cards towards them. "...Four twos," she murmured. "...And a joker."

Ponies #1 and #2 felt their jaws hit the table as they realized that Pony #3 had forgotten to remove the joker card before shuffling the deck. Said dealer, on the other hoof, was guffawing when he realized just how the little filly had gotten her name.

Five-of-a-Kind's mouth shifted downwards a fraction, her young mind not understanding why they reacted as they did. "...Huh?"

...

"I'm hugging you."

...

...Wait, what? When did he get his hooves around my neck? "Zeke, seriously. You have to stop making a habit of this."

"No can do," the little pony tells me. "You need it."

And how in blazes does he know that? "Fine, I'll humor you. Why do I need it?"

Zeke fixes me with a face so serious that it's almost laughable. "Fighting too long."

I can feel the coolant rushing through my face again, something which isn't lost on Pinny (or the on-lookers around us). "From the mouths of foals..." she manages to say in-between giggles.

Not bad for only three words: he's not wrong. "Alright, fine," I decide, knowing that I'm going to end up regretting this in a minute. "If I give you a hug, will you please let go and run along? I don't want to take Miss Lane away longer than I need to. The matches begin in about twenty minutes."

"Twenty-three minutes, man," somepony on the opposing team corrects me. I don't bother responding to him; I like to think I was more reliable as a timepiece than anypony else in the alley.

Zeke's face twists, likely to match what's going on in his mind. Finally he nods and smiles cheerfully. "Okay!"

Don't know if I believe him or not, but I might as well go through with it. I place one of my arms around him, holding him close. All the while, I make sure that my face is telling the others that I do not approve of this. Judging from Pinny's continued laughter and the amused snorts from the visiting bowlers, I don't think I'm succeeding very well---

---!

Did... did he just kiss my face? I think he just kissed my face! "Um... Zeke? Was that really called for?" Inwardly, I wince at the lack of force behind my protest.

"Nope," he cheerfully replies. "That was grat... gratui... uh..."

"On the house?"

His face lights up. "Yeah, that's it! On the house!" He gives me another quick squeeze, then jumps down and trots off. "Bye, robot lady! Bye, bowling lady! Enjoy your game! Gonna find Energy!"

"You sure he needs it?" Pinny wonders half-jokingly, watching him go.

I'm not able to correct her belief that 'Energy' is something other than a name, on account of my processor dwelling on what just happened. One hand drifts up to where I was kissed...

...and after a moment, my week-long resolve finally splinters as the unbridled cuteness of the Equestrians overcomes me. "So adorable!" I breathe.

Was that my voice? That squeak couldn't have been my voice.

"Ee-hee... ee-hee... ee-heeheeheeheeheehee..."

Leviathan stared straight ahead at the empty auditorium, her face containing the world's entire supply of 'not amused'. "It's not funny, Drama Heart."

This only served to shift Drama's gigglings into straight-up cackling. "Eh-hahaHAA hahaha-hee~! Oh-hohohoho...!"

...

Outside the building, a passer-by shivered as the echoes of Drama's laughter reached him. As he picked up his pace, he decided never to walk past the Pyre after sundown again. The place was just too creepy.

Author's Note

The selected music link for this chapter? Whatever songs you hear from Hasbro's Scrabble 2.0 in the time it takes you read this part. Seriously, it's some good music and I don't have time on my lunch break to track down anything more fitting. ()^_^

I actually had this ready on Friday, but I forgot to bring my flash drive with me to the office. Can't complain too much; it gave me some extra time to proofread and address some stuff that I was hammered with in the comments. Keep them coming, people. Tactful observations are one of the things that can help me make this story better. :pinkiehappy:

Beyond her matches with Gray and Bossa Nova, Leviathan doesn't know what she's going to be up against in Manehattan yet, so as far as she's concerned she's not in any hurry. She's not pushing her processor to work as hard as it can getting the passwords hacked using the method she described. That may change as the story progresses.

We've got another canon character here, if a minor one. I remember Pinny Lane the most from "Slice of Life" (seeing as how that's the first episode that I ever actually sat down and watched from start to finish). I've always liked her design, but if any of you read her dialogue and started hearing it in the voice of Botan from Yu Yu Hakusho, that one's on me. :ajsmug:

What can I say? I like developing background characters. >^_^<

(Technically there are four more canon characters used here, but that begs the question as to whether or not anyone can discern who they are just from a single spoken line.)

A bit of backstory here: when I was attending Henry Ford back in 2005, I was required to pick a sport for my phys-ed credits. Since bowling didn't require me to exert myself as much, I went with it. On the whole it didn't really help me improve my game any (my scores ranged from 100 to 190, and I've never broken 200 in my life), but I at least finally learned how to keep score without a computer.

That last scene between Fairy and Drama was a direct shout-out to the original The Lion King. That interaction between Banzai and Ed is probably my favorite part from the whole movie.

Finally, EvanRank at DeviantArt was nice enough to let me commission a rendering of Gray Ghost's staredown with a fish at the Manehattan Aquarium. Congrats to the artist for a job well done. Check out more of her stuff via the provided link!

Estimated Chapter Deadline: February 21, 2022

EDITED a few hours later to correct a word choice.

2/11/2022: Changed the link to the picture. It now goes to DeviantArt instead of Imageshack.

The Definition of Terror - Part 2

"Are you done yet?"

"Hee... yes, I think I'm good. I feel much better now."

"Excellent. Now if there aren't any further interruptions..."

I don't know why Zeke felt like he had to do that. The hug by itself was more than enough, but to add a kiss on top of that? I just can't get my mind off of it. Did he know for a fact that I'd been fighting for too long, or was that strictly a personal opinion? Because if it's the former, he's incredibly perceptive for a child. If it's the latter, then he's just being a lovebug.

I've already established that I enjoy a good fight more than almost anything. It's in the name: I'm a combat Reploid, after all. However, that doesn't mean that I'm incapable of appreciating a peaceful way of life. Every time I see the ponies around me going about their business and interacting with each other peaceably, part of me wants to smile. If Copy X and Dr. Weil hadn't gotten it into their heads to ruin everything, this would've been the pre-dominant way of life back home. The energy crisis would have been eventually solved thanks to Dr. Ciel's genius intellect, and organics and robots alike would have entered a golden age.

If only...

Maybe Zeke's right. Maybe I have been walking the battlefields long enough. Once I get home and help kick Dr. Weil to the curb, I'll have to think about setting aside my Javelin once and for all and focusing on what's more important.

The sad thing is, that's probably not what's going to happen to me. Even without taking Zero into account, my desire to be challenged is going to keep drawing me back into the fray. Eventually something will destroy me, and no unlikely jaunts into a new universe will save me when that happens.

What to do...

"Miss Lee-viathan, are you home up there?"

Pinny's mispronunciation of my name brings me back to reality. "Sorry. I'm awake."

My arm's nudged good-naturedly. "You don't need to zonk out because of some random puppy love. He's far too young for you."

"I don't think he sees me that way, Miss Lane, and even if he did he's not my type. So if we're done embarrassing the killer robot, could you get back to your explanation?"

"Right. Sure."

...

With that out of the way, Pinny gets back to talking. The EBL, it is explained to me, consists of fourteen teams; it had previously been thirteen, but one of the higher-ups insisted on allowing one more team to be formed to even things out (personally, I think whoever it was puts too much stock in superstition). The Ponyville team I'm seeing now was born from that insistence. "A varied-looking bunch over there..." I say, seemingly to myself.

Pinny's smart enough to catch what I'm trying to ask. "I've never met any of them personally, but I know a little about all of them." She gestures at the dirty blonde-maned one who had tried to correct me on the time earlier. "That's Letrotski. He was involved in some sort of incident recently involving a rug and a rich pony with the same name as him... I couldn't make sense of it, just that the case was settled out of court. The one next to him claims to have fought in a war against the Griffon Kingdom, which makes no sense when we've been on peaceful terms with them since before his grandparents were born. Also quick to lose his temper." She nods at the third member of their team. "That one's more known by his nickname 'Donny' than his real name, and he's the best bowler of the four. He's on track for setting the league record for the most strikes in a row." She smiles, her blushing evident. "Nice-looking, too..."

I've been rolling my eyes a lot since I got here, I've noticed. "Focus, Miss Lane. What about their fourth?"

Pinny grimaces and lowers her voice. "I've heard some bad stuff about that one. He had to spend some time in prison because he was harassing foals. Only reason he's even allowed on the team is because he's just that good at bowling, and even then we've got everypony watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything funny. Keep an eye on him too, would you?"

I'm sure it's not a coincidence that he was staring in the direction that Zeke had gone while everypony else was paying more attention to me. "Understood."

The long-legged unicorn smiles thankfully, then continues at a more reasonable volume. "...And all four of them dabble in clothing manufacturing on the side. Those shirts and suit coats they have on are entirely their own make. Pretty sure it's their day job during the off-season, actually..."

...

Turkey Bowl did eventually show up to greet me alongside the other two members of his team. Pinny told me that he was just getting ready, but he was wearing the same gray jacket that he had on him when we first met. I assumed that she meant that he was just trying to get in the right frame of mind for a competition.

"'Frame' of mind. Cute."

"Trust me, it wasn't intentional. Anyway..."

After a few inquiries as to how life in Manehattan was treating me alongside general small talk, I give my thanks to Turkey and Pinny and left to find a seat that would allow me to see everything. I wonder a little if this was how it was going to be: Turkey was one of the first ponies I interacted with directly, and you'd think that after our meeting in that grocery store I'd be seeing him more often. As it stands, our interactions have been lackluster, few and far between.

Maybe that's because he's more sane than Gray and Drama. The more touched in the head they are, the more likely I am to spend time with them. Turkey strikes me as being a "normal" pony, and I don't mean in terms of wings and horns or the lack thereof. He's just a pony making a living by doing what he does best, with no real quirks to be made aware of. He doesn't have any real reason to interact with me on a day-to-day basis, and doing so would probably take him out of his way.

"Not true. Turkey's been at the Pyre often enough that I can recognize him easily. He's been to each new show I've put on at least once, plus a few during the day. Keep your eyes open, Fairy. I'm sure you'll be talking to him again."

"If you say so..."

For a time, things were uneventful. There isn't anything for me to say about the games themselves beyond them being contests of accuracy and skill. There was one more minor fact I picked up in that the team who won needed to have the highest combined score after three games, but that was just small stuff.

Also, there's ponies being able to pick up large objects with a single hoof. I'd seen one of those thieves do something similar with his knife when we fought, but there's a serious difference between that and a bowling ball. It serves as a reminder that not all biology is universal.

It was after the second game ended that shenanigans started happening...

Pinny pumped a hoof as the pins went flying, the official scorer logging her final strike of the second game. 235 points, she mused as she trotted back to her seat. Far from my best game, but it could be worse. If it hadn't been for that 7-10 split on the 9th frame... oh, well. At least Turkey and the others are picking up the slack.

According to Turkey, his special talent had to do with his unerring accuracy. Simply put, whatever he aimed at, he hit. However, in most matches he preferred instead to rely on his more natural skills in order to give the opposition a fighting chance. Against Ponyville's Donny, that wasn't an option: he needed to be counted on to bring his A-game. As such the two of them matched each other frame for frame, Donny shattering the league record for consecutive strikes in the process (and receiving a nice round of applause from all those present).

In-between games there were short breaks to allow for refreshments to be served and trips to the restrooms to be made. Almost immediately the Ponyville team's 4th member got up to leave, citing the latter. Those that were suspicious of him--Leviathan included--watched as he did, and most only turned away when they were satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere near the foals within the alley.

As the pegasus from the snack counter pushed a trolley full of food and beverages through the area, Pinny decided to double-check out of curiosity's sake as to where all the foals were situated. The huggy one, Zeke, and a more energetic colt that she'd seen running around were watching a game in progress at the opposite end of the alley. A third--closer to a young mare in age--was seated on a chair next to the alley's gaming room, complaining about tilt-happy pinball machines. A fourth was situated in said gaming room talking to ponies four to five times her age, and was being treated with a surprising amount of respect. Not seeing any others and her curiosity being satisfied, Pinny turned away to rejoin her team.

A few seconds after she passed, the stallion everypony was wary of left the restroom and went in the direction opposite of which he was supposed to go. And from her seat, Leviathan's eyes narrowed as she witnessed this.

"Well, it was nice while it lasted," one of the gamblers said to Fiver as they put the cards away, "but it's time we got going. We've got appointments to keep."

"...How often are you in Manehattan?" Fiver asked after swallowing one of the potato chips she'd won.

"Why? Are you interested in playing against us again?"

"...I wouldn't object to that."

The gambler considered this. "If everything goes according to schedule... we should be back in the city in a month, maybe a month and a half. We could meet here at Mustang Lanes again, if you like, but only if its okay with your parents. I have too much respect for Gray Ghost to go against her wishes."

"You keep mentioning that name," one of his friends brought up. "Who is she?"

A wistful smile. "Former police officer. Got herself hurt getting me out of a hostage situation when I was in my twenties."

His friends whistled. "No kidding?" said the one who'd asked. "You've got to tell us that story sometime."

"Maybe later." The gambler held out his hoof towards the foal. "Talk to your mother sometime about this. Tell her that Double Down sends his regards, see if she remembers the name. If she doesn't, it's no big deal if we call this off."

Fiver tapped his hoof. "...I'll see what I can do. Have a good day."

The three gamblers nodded, smiled, and departed, leaving Fiver alone. For a few minutes she tried to decide what to do next. ...Zig-Zag and Energy are cheering somepony on; maybe I should join them? ...I could just come up with games of my own to play, but Mom did tell me this was the sort of place where I shouldn't be alone...

An unfamiliar stallion trotted into the room. He looked left, then right, grimacing when he didn't see what he was looking for. "Peanut butter on a Tuesday... little filly, was there a 'Double Down' here? I was wanting to catch him before he left," he said as he approached her.

Never having paid attention to bowling and not being in the know like Pinny Lane, Fiver exercised her standard level of caution around a stranger instead of going on full 'red alert'. "...Left a few minutes ago," she uttered, backing away a step.

The stallion snapped something that should not have been spoken within earshot of a foal, causing her ears to turn back. "This close! I was this close to getting my money back!" he barked, taking a step forward (and Fiver another step back). "One of these days, I swear!"

"...Too close for comfort," Fiver complained as she tried, and failed, to get some extra space between them. "...Leave. Just because I have trouble yelling doesn't mean that I can't."

"Seventy bits!" the stallion ranted as he got closer, too engrossed in what he was saying to hear her. "I won seventy bits off of him in Pinochle fair and square, and he's never once responded to my requests for payment! Do you know what that makes him? Do you know what that---"

A pair of black hooves struck his side in mid-sentence, staggering him for a moment. Ebony--who was aware of his reputation--pivoted to face him, teeth in a snarl. "Stay away from my sister, creep!"

Between the stallion being a tough-as-nails earth pony and Ebony only ever exercising enough to keep herself in shape, the unexpected strike didn't keep him disoriented for long. He recovered and turned his attention to her, several levels more aggressive than he had been. "You did not just do that," he growled. "Did you just buck the Haychus? Nobody bucks the Haychus!"

Not feeling as brave as she had been, Ebony squeaked out an "Uh-oh". Whirling around, she galloped out of the room and hustled for the building's nearest exit. "Heee-aaaalp!"

"...Wait for me," Fiver whispered, not far behind.

...

The stallion would have followed them, but a wall of blue jumped in his path just as he exited the room. He gulped as the killer robot who was attending the matches straightened, her arms folded and her eyes judging him. "Those children are under my protection," she warned. "Harrass them at your own peril. You had best return to your team."

"Alright, alright, okay," 'the Haychus' acquiesced hastily, slowly retreating back to where he was supposed to be. "I get it, I get it. I ain't going to bother anypony."

"M-M-Mannequin!" the filly who'd struck him was heard shrieking, drawing both the robot's attention and a sigh. As soon as her attention was diverted, the stallion bolted.

To me it seemed like a good thing that I'd stepped in... or dash-jumped in, as the case may be. The conversation I picked up on my way over, along with Ebony's cry for help, didn't bode well.

Of course, Ebony's standard greeting for me isn't necessarily a good thing, either. "Hello to you too, Miss Ebony. Miss Fiver."

"F-Fairy?" Ebony stammers, facing away from me. "Oh. It's y-you. T-Thanks."

"So cool," Energy breathes, attention grabbed by the spectacle. He and Zeke are close by, staring up at me with starstruck visages. I can hear the ponies who were playing over here murmuring in the background, but I can't quite hear what exactly they're saying over the children.

"...I didn't know you were here," Fiver comments. "Where were you?"

"Watching the EBL games at the other end," I say, gesturing over my shoulder. "I was asked to keep an eye on that stallion to make sure he didn't try anything funny. I'm told he spent some time in prison a while back for his treatment of foals." And I have a pretty good idea of what that treatment amounted to. I don't know how that works with this species, and I don't want to know.

Ebony shudders, ears turning down on hearing this. It's just now sinking in what kind of pony it was she was dealing with, and she doesn't like it. "Fairy? I-I don't want to b-be here anymore..."

"Understandable," I tell her. "Do you want me to see if Gray can take you home?"

Energy quickly shoots that idea down. "Not until four, not until four. Mom's still on the clock working. I don't think they'll just let her leave early."

"...And we can't go to the marina where Dad works," Fiver adds. "They're okay with one of us being there. All four of us?" She shakes her head. "No."

"Too much mischief," Zeke finishes, dejected. "Apparently we're menaces."

Raising a hand to my chin, I rapidly consider and shoot down some ideas before deciding on what I felt was a logical course of action...

"I think I'm seeing where this going," Drama cut in. "You decided to bring them to the Pyre so that you could keep an eye on them until their mother was in a position to watch over them again."

Leviathan nodded. "I left a note where Gray could find it, apologized and explained to Turkey Bowl and his team why I was leaving early, and took the foals to a hayburger joint so they could get something to eat (my treat). Following that I took them to the Pyre, and I told them stories from Neo Arcadia... for all of five minutes."

"Found you quickly, didn't she?" Drama deadpanned.

"In retrospect, I should have just asked her if I could take them with me instead of leaving without her permission. I wasn't expecting her to immediately drop what she was doing and set out to find me. And when she did?" She grimaced. "Ugh, just... wow."

"...so keeping in mind what I just said about his demeanor, you'd think he would take everything seriously," I say to the attentive foals in the lobby. Eebon's eyes are shut, but her ears are straight up: despite her fear, she's listening to me. "Then one day one of Harpuia's technicians checked the security footage, and we discovered that Zero spent half an hour trying to use a glorified pogo stick to reach an alcove in the ceiling---"

An internal siren blares. I jump to my feet so quickly that it causes the foals to haphazardly follow suit, almost falling over backwards as they do so. "Threat inbound!" I shout, summoning my Javelin and whirling to face the entrance. "Hide, quickly!"

The children scatter in all directions, and I brace myself to intercept something that's going to fly straight through the door---

Whumpf. "Ow!"

Correction: straight into the door, prompting a mutter of "I wish she'd stop doing that" from Ebony. Gray drops to the ground, gesturing angrily at the door handle before massaging her forehead. She is not a happy camper.

"...and for the record, I'd like to say that thing's surprisingly durable."

"It ought to be. That's ballista-proof glass there. Ridiculously expensive and impractical for mass production, but it'll stop most anything that's smaller than the door itself."

Stare. "...What."

"Listen, this wasn't always my home, alright? Just keep talking and stop giving me that look."

Dismissing the Javelin and knowing that I'm going to regret doing this, I reach for the door, unlock it and turn the handle.

Gray doesn't disappoint me. The moment she has enough space to enter, she leaps onto my torso and gets a grip on my coat's collar, bringing herself eyeball-to-eyeball. There's so much fury filling my vision that my systems have her labeled as a Class 'A' threat: not as high as X or Zero, but still enough to be considered an equal to any of us Four. "I want you to listen to me and listen good, Leviathan," she hisses. "I like to think I can trust you enough to watch my babies if I'm somewhere close by. And maybe if you'd asked me directly if you could take them somewhere, I would've considered it. But that's just the thing: you didn't ask!

"I couldn't hear Energy or Zeke anymore! I couldn't see any of them anywhere! The note you left said you were taking them here, but it didn't say why!" Oh. "I had to ask Turkey's team about it in the middle of their match! If that young lady hadn't told me you were protecting the children from a perceived threat, I would've gotten it into my head to take them back by force!"

"But Gray, I---"

Her rant, plus one of her hooves, stops my protest before it can really begin. "Fairy, an ultimatum. Notes are not good enough for something like this. If you want to take the foals someplace--preferably someplace safe--then you speak to me directly. Do not make me worry by taking them out of my sight without an adequate explanation, you understand?" She jabs her hoof against my mouth a few times, less to do damage and more to try and get her point across. "You even think about doing that again, I will twist that Javelin of yours into a pretzel! You hear me?! A PRETZEL! Do you understand?!"

Wha... this... she just...

Gray shakes me a little, my internal gibberish not enough for her. "Well? Do you? ...Answer me! Equish! Do you speak it?!"

I can't think of any Neo Arcadian civilian, outside of maybe my old friend, who would have both the guts and the will to tell me off like this. Virtually everything that would make sense for me to say is flatlining before it leaves my processor. As such, there is only one word that escapes my throat. "...What?"

Her dilated eyes are the first sign that this wasn't the answer she was looking for. Making a noise that sounds like a twisted union between a screech and a groan, Gray jumps off me and gallops into the stairwell. She slams the door behind her, and for a second all is quiet. What is she---

Before I have the chance to finish the question in my mind, Gray answers it. I flinch as an ear-rattling ruckus shakes the wall I'm leaning against, the carpet in the stairwell being ripped apart and the stairs themselves being torn asunder. The analytical side of my mind is wondering how exactly she's accomplishing this. The side responsible for fight-or-flight wants to... well, I'm not really sure what it wants, because it's throwing up its hands and quitting.

I start to walk towards the door, but Fiver holds out her hoof and stops me. Is that concern I'm seeing in her stoic eyes? "...Nopony can talk to her when she's like this," she informs me gently. "...She'll forgive you eventually. She always will. Just not right now."

"O-on the plus s-side," Ebony manages to get out in light of her proximity to me, "t-this means she l-likes you enough t-to think of you as a f-friend. N-not like that's a-always a g-good thing, w-with us..."

Subdued, Energy and Zig-Zag stay quiet. I keep myself from saying anything as well, instead nodding minutely in agreement with Ebony. Gray's message has been received loud and clear: unless you have a death wish, behave yourself around her children. I've heard of the term "mother bear" before, but this is the first time I've actually seen one in any form. Poler Kamrous would be busting a gut right now if she were still alive.

I'm going to have to trust that the kids can get through to her. I'm getting the sense that trying to explain my side of the story right now, while she's in this mood of hers, would just fall on deaf ears.

Gray storms out of the stairwell and kicks the door shut. The fur around her hooves looks ruffled and disheveled. "Children, we're going," she declares sternly, still angry but down to an eight from a ten. "I read Haychus the riot act when I found out and he won't bother you anymore, so we're heading back to the alley. We'll talk about this after my shift ends."

"...Yes," Fiver agrees as she and the others follow along, giving nothing away in her pace or voice. "...We will."

Zeke looks back at me sadly, and I give him a reassuring smile that doesn't quite reach my heart. It's good enough for him, though, and he trots out the door after his siblings.

...

A full minute has gone by since they left. I walk over to the stairwell and open the door to see exactly what Gray did...

...and quickly close it again. An iceberg stood a better chance of surviving being boiled than I do of successfully explaining what happened to the stairs to Drama. If I still have a roof over my head after this, I'm going to be very amazed.

"...And that's why I was brooding when you walked in," Leviathan finished. "I got swept up in Gray's wake and crashed into a rocky shoreline." She frowned. "I thought I was making good headway on developing my social skills. I guess not."

Drama stayed silent for a time after the account was finished, wondering what to say. Fairy hadn't outright stated it, but it was clear to the puppet master that she was hurting from the experience. Fiver had said that Gray would forgive her eventually, and if Drama had been a gambling pony, she would have bet her bow that Fairy didn't believe the little stoic. Gray's anger had that much of an impact on her.

After a few minutes the fragments coalesced into something coherent, and Drama reached over to pat Leviathan's elbow. It said something about the situation that the Reploid didn't flinch at the action as she normally would've. "I've known Gray for about a year now. The day we met, she was sleeping on top of a wastebasket that used to be set up outside what would become the Pyre, and we hit it off almost right away... not because she was sleeping on the wastebasket, mind you. Given her finances she doesn't attend all of my performances, but she's still one of my biggest local fans. I know her well enough that she's on a very short list of ponies that I can safely call 'friends'. Thing is... she's also the only pony I've known who's ever made me fear for my life."

Leviathan tilted her face in her direction. "Hm?"

"You heard me talking about this with her once already. Once after one of my performances that she'd attended, the rest of Gray's family showed up at the Pyre to pick her up and take her out for pizza. I'd looked outside at that point and saw Ebony, saw how anxious she was, and I got it into my head to play a practical joke on her. So I took out my goblin stage prop, ignored all of the warnings that Gray was trying to give me, and positioned it so that it would be right in Ebony's face when she turned around. The resulting scream was enough to make my hair stand on end, never mind the hair of those nearby.

"The next thing I knew, Gray had bowled me over. It happened so quickly that I have no recollection of the actual impact: first I was on my hooves, then a second later I was flat on my back with pressure on my neck. She was pure fury, eyes dilated and tail lashing all over the place as she told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from her family. The way her teeth were bared, I thought for sure she had actual fangs. For a fleeting moment, I seriously believed I was going to die."

"Did you?"

Drama snorted, not quite suppressing a chuckle at Leviathan's half-hearted attempt at humor. "If I had, I wouldn't be here, would I? Most of her family dragged Gray off of me, and their youngest explained to me in his own way about Ebony's phobia. I felt the same as you're feeling now: unsure of myself, having realized a little bit too late that I'd crossed a very dangerous line. I threw the goblin back into the lobby and went to apologize, but then I realized that the rest of her family were verbally ripping Gray to shreds for her overprotectiveness. Even Ebony was upset at her. And wouldn't you know it, she never even tried to defend her actions: she just sat there looking as if her world had collapsed around her.

"I approached her, and she turned to look at me. I was clearly in the wrong for what I'd done, true, but the first thing out of her mouth was a heartfelt 'I'm sorry'. It was like all of her anger was just... gone. I told her that if she was willing to accept my apology, I could accept hers. She was fine with it, Ebony was okay with it as well, and that was that. The next time I saw Gray a week later, she was as good-natured and laid-back as she'd ever been."

Drama rested her hoof on Leviathan's hands, smiling reassuringly. Her 'sanity meter' was as high as it had ever gotten. "The point I'm making, Fairy, is that I'm sure Gray is just as torn up about this as you are. It goes against her nature to stay angry at others, so you don't have to feel that you have to sulk. We might struggle to form connections sometimes, and we might be the flakiest species in the world, but not everypony is inclined to hold grudges over honest mistakes. If you get the chance to talk to Gray tomorrow, you might be surprised to find that she really does consider you to be a friend, like Ebony told you."

New life entered Leviathan's eyes. "Are... you sure?"

"Guaranteed. In fact, I can arrange it." She withdrew her hoof and trotted for a small set of stairs at one corner of the stage.

Leviathan watched as she climbed down and headed for the exit. "Where are you going?"

And just like that, the meter was spiked downward. The eye she turned on Fairy as she headed for the exit was rapidly twitching. "Oh, I just have some business to take care of. Meet me outside in about twenty minutes. I'll need you to carry me and my things up to my apartment when I get back."

With nothing else to say the unicorn left the auditorium, leaving Leviathan with a hunch as to what "business" she was referring to but little else to work with.

...

A little filly disappearing shortly before she was to start kindergarten. Her parents left as frantic, nervous wrecks for weeks.

...

Gray had just started to drift away for the night, a faint image of something she couldn't place settling into her brain, when she heard a quiet tapping at the apartment door. Climbing off the back of the couch, she headed for the door and opened it a crack, peeking through it curiously as she wondered who'd be visiting at this time of the evening. "Hello? Guard resid---WHAA!"

The feline-minded pony found herself yanked through the now wide-open door, face to face with the seething Salamandra. "I am reopening the theater," the furious unicorn told Gray in a dead-serious hiss, their eyes scant millimeters apart. "You will report to me at 10:00a.m. each day of the week starting tomorrow. You are not allowed to back out of this until you have earned every bit necessary to pay for the damage done to my theater. And no, you are not allowed to use 'but she took my babies out of my sight' as a defense."

Gray's ears turned down as she realized the scope of Salamandra's anger. She knew better than to try and wriggle out of the situation, and she might've had nerves of steel, but there was still one matter that left her anxious. "I can't just leave them all alone while Ocean's at work," she protested weakly. "And I can't take Ebony with me. Not after that time you scared her."

"Should have thought of that before you ripped up my stairs," Salamandra snarled. "10:00a.m. sharp tomorrow. Friend or not, if you don't show up, I will send you the bill and Mortar & Son will get on your case about it if you don't pay it."

"Do you have room there for two?" a younger voice piped up anxiously, Ebony making herself known at the doorway.

"I thought you were asleep," Gray chided her quietly as Salamandra freed her from her magical hold, letting the two face each other. "And what do you mean 'two'?"

"Couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking about what happened earlier," Ebony admitted. "And the more I dwell on it, the more I want to help do something about it. Miss Heart, do you have room for another part-timer?"

Gray's mouth hung open, the pegasus surprised at her daughter's initiative. Salamandra, while just as surprised, was more unsure. "Why do you want to work at the Pyre, dearie? It's your mother I'm mad at, not you."

"Mom's in trouble because I wanted L-L-Leviathan to get me away from that creepy bowler," Ebony explained, struggling to say Fairy's name for a few moments. "This whole thing started because of a misunderstanding that I'm partially responsible for. I'm legally old enough to be allowed to work part-time in Manehattan, and getting some work experience before school continues would probably be a good idea. Unless your roster is full, is there any real reason why I shouldn't be allowed to work?"

"Your phobia," Salamandra said flatly. "My 'actors' are all mannequins and puppets of various types with my illusionary magic making them seem real. I cannot in good conscience let you work there."

"Who said anything about being around t-t-those b-b-b-blasted things?" Ebony countered, shivering at the thought of it. "Is there any rule that says you can't teach me how to work in the ticket booth? Or even just to have me work pest control?"

This gave Salamandra some pause. "Hmm... with the stairs gone, I am likely to get bugs and spiders crawling out of the woodwork... I'm assuming you already pay for supplies out of your own pocket?"

"Always do. My goal when I grow up is to be an exterminator."

"Most ponies her age burn their allowance money on snacks, games, and toys," Gray remarked, a bit conflicted over Ebony's decision. "She spends hers on things like mousetraps and roach motels."

Salamandra raised a hoof to her chin as she pondered what she was told. "...Tell you what. You come with your mother to the Pyre tomorrow, and I'll see what I can find for you to do. We'll discuss the details then. Alright?"

Just as Ebony agreed, Fiver poked her head out of the bedroom shared by all four siblings. Her mane, no longer held in place by her hairband, hung limp. "...Would you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here."

"I thought we were being quiet," Gray murmured, her tone sheepish.

"...You were." Fiver walked out of the room to join them. "...But I'm not a heavy sleeper like my brothers. It's harder for me to drift off."

"I apologize for disturbing you at this time, little dearie," Salamandra admitted gracefully. "I'll be on my way now. Don't forget, Gray: you and Ebony, 10:00a.m. on the dot tomorrow. Be there."

Fiver held out a hoof, stopping the unicorn as she turned away. "...Before you go..." She walked up to Salamandra and wrapped her forelegs around her as best as she could, surprising her. "...Give that to Fairy when you get the chance. As thanks for helping us today." She turned her head towards Gray meaningfully as she let go, her mother awkwardly looking off to the side with a blush. "...I didn't get the chance earlier."

Salamandra smiled playfully. "I will pass that along. A good night to all of you."

...

As Fiver made herself comfortable on her little trundle bed a minute or two later, her ears caught Ebony's whisper. "Hey. Why'd you hug her? I thought you typically stayed away from ponies you didn't know very well."

"...Demonstrating my sense of humor," Fiver bluntly stated at the same volume. She rolled onto her side and pulled her blanket over her head until only her muzzle was visible, making it clear that she wasn't interested in talking further.

Ebony stared at the wall, not knowing what to make of that. Her sense of humor? Wha...?

"WHA?! Drama, what are you doing?!"

"Passing along a 'thank you' from a foal, dearie."

"I don't think hugs are meant to be that tight! Get OFF!"

"Fine, fine. Little Miss No-Fun..."

Author's Note

Clickable music links include: "Whispers", from the Super NES game Side Pocket; an iteration of Passport.Mid; "Neo Arcadia March" from Zero 3, Iki Town's nighttime music from Pokemon Sun/Moon, and "The Egg and You" from Cowboy Bebop.

I've never seen The Big Lebowski, nor do I want to. I looked up the movie's entry on TV Tropes so I could fill out the pony counterparts' characteristics, and that's it. Also, for those wondering: the name "Haychus" is supposed to be pronounced "hay-kis", not "hay-chews". Sort of like the name "Tychus", as in "Tychus Findlay".

(Ditto for Pulp Fiction. I stay away from R-rated films on principle. I just saw where Gray's rant was going and decided to slip in the reference.)

The "glorified pogo stick" is the Triple Rod from the first game. One of the buildings in the game hides a Cyber-Elf, and typically you're supposed to wait until one of the bosses can tunnel partway through the building before you can go get it. However, if you have the Triple Rod, it's possible---very difficult, but possible---to reach the alcove where the Cyber-Elf is by pogoing off a specific enemy in the subway.

I'm starting to get the feeling that Gray's becoming a bit of a spotlight stealer. Be assured that after her upcoming fight with Fairy, I'm going to try to dial back her screen time (story time?) while still keeping her relevant to the plot. That line about the missing filly is there for a reason.

I've decided on something: I've decided to eschew the "between 3k-5k words" requirement. From this point on, as long as I get the chapter to be at least 3k words long, I don't care what it ultimately ends up being. The fights Leviathan will be getting into later in the story will be getting their own chapters, so I was going to have to stop splitting it up sooner or later.

This coming Monday is Presidents Day here in the USA, which means I have off of work. By extension, it also means that I won't be able to continue working on the story until Tuesday. As such, my personal deadline will be adjusted accordingly.

Estimated Update Deadline: March 8, 2022

Bald Bull Needs Not Apply

Drama Heart was right.

Gray and, surprisingly, her children turned up at the Pyre at ten the following morning. While Drama took Ebony into her office to talk to her and the others scattered around the lobby, I approached Gray to formally apologize. She told me in reply that while what I did was wrong, she was no less guilty in her own actions: the scolding she received from her children after her shift at the alley ended made that clear. Violence was not, and should never be, an option if there are other choices available. She accepted my apology, and I hers.

She asked me afterward if I wanted to be friends. I started to say that there wouldn't be much point to it given my goals, but something made me stop.

One of the things I've noticed in the time I've been here is that I'm being forced to confront myself, as it were. My understanding of reality, my interactions with civilians, how I treat those who disregard the law, my status as a Guardian... all of that in the span of a week. It's making me take another look at who I was. Who I am now.

And what I want to be in the future.

It's all well and good if I'm able to return home in a reasonable time span. But suppose in the worst case scenario that I'm not able to. What would happen then? Would I be able to find a place for myself here? I don't mean that in the sense of actually owning a house. I'm talking about being able to do something with my life. As far as I can tell, I'm not really needed on the environmental front: the ecosystem by and large looks pretty clean around here. And on the military side, while there's still crime--some things are universal, after all--it doesn't look like that it's anything the Royal Police can't handle.

What place is there here for someone who isn't able to do the things they were designed to do? And do I really want to find the answer to that question alone?

The simple answer to that last question is no, I do not. Everything major I carried out back home post-modification was with someone providing me with support, whether it was my own squadron or my fellow Guardians. Whatever may happen in the future, whether my path takes me back to Neo Arcadia or leads to a dead end here, it wouldn't hurt to find solid backup. It's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.

Princess Celestia's already extended her hoof in friendship to me. As things stand, there's no reason for me to reject a legitimate offer from one of those under her rule.

So I held out my hand, took Gray's hoof, and accepted her offer. I thought at first that I'd heard her purring somehow, but it turned out to be the building's air conditioners at work. Good, because that doesn't sound like the sort of noise a pony should make.

...

Other things have happened. I'll go through them from least important to most and bring you up to date.

First: Drama explained to me the significance of that gag gift she got me. A lot of large towns and cities throughout Equestria have some sort of symbol that they identify closely with. For her birthplace of Baltimare, that symbol is a local bird called an 'oriole' known for its black and orange coloration. That particular scheme clashes with my preferences for blue and white... so of course she thought it would be perfect for me, and she snagged the hat at a gift shop before hopping on the train back to Manehattan.

No, I haven't worn it yet. Maybe someday if I'm feeling especially whimsical, but not now.

Second: not counting those I discarded the day Drama took off, I've thrown out twenty-four pieces of mail that are either business offers or complaints about me and my presence. I asked her about them the morning after she returned, and she told me that if I didn't want to affiliate myself with any company, that was my call to make. So, I'm just not going to bother.

Third: I received my papers and ID from City Hall in the mail. For better or worse, I'm a citizen of this city now. I'm still not completely sure how I feel about that, so I'll save those thoughts for later.

Fourth: I have a checking account now at First Equestrian Bank of Manehattan. Drama was just as surprised as I was by Alexandrite's confession and enclosed check. She suggested that I take the check to the bank in question, and the teller I spoke with was able to confirm that it was legitimate and help me set up an account. Sooo, now I have four thousand-plus bits to my name in addition to what I have left over from the Midnight Castles' bounties. I don't know what I'm going to end up using them for, so I imagine it's just going to be for one of those "rainy day" deals.

Fifth: Both Gray and Ebony are working at the Pyre now. Drama was infuriated at Gray for destroying her staircase, so she's having her work at the theater full-time until her debts are paid. My patron's taking advantage of this opportunity to get some remodeling done and have my needs taken care of (read: larger stairs and a suitable railing), and according to Mortar & Son it's going to be fairly expensive (and take at least a week to finish everything once they get started). Gray's going to be here a while.

Ebony is bound and determined to help out around the theater in any way she can, if only to gain some work experience before her school restarts and ease her mother's burden a little. She's been helping out in the ticket booth, assisting Drama's other part-timer behind the snack counter (and was he ever thankful for that), and snooping around almost every place on the ground floor looking for vermin, insects and other pests. The only places she doesn't investigate are those that would trigger her phobia, but even then Drama's pleased with her work ethic.

It probably helps that she moved the "guardian statue", as I like to call it, out of the lobby and covered it with a blanket to keep Ebony from getting spooked by it.

The rest of Ebony's "squad" have been regular visitors, too. Gray was loathe to split up the group just because she was needed here, so I've been finding myself in the role of babysitter between the family's arrival at 10a.m. and Ocean Guard getting off work at 5p.m. I've been doing things like having foot races against Pure Energy up and down the block (after remembering to get Gray's direct permission this time), acting as Zig-Zag's chauffeur, playing card games against Fiver and sometimes Energy, and telling stories of my life (with the messier details edited out) to all three. It's the first time that I've deliberately set out to spend time around children for prolonged periods.

I think I'm starting to like it.

Even Ebony's starting to adapt to my constant presence. She isn't shivering quite as much, and while she's trying her hardest not to look at me, I can tell by her ears that she's listening to what I tell her siblings. I've even managed to catch her smiling after one of my comments drew laughs from Zeke. I'll take that as a win.

Sixth: I was notified that the court date for the Midnight Castles' trial has been set, and it was requested that I be on hand as an eyewitness to their attempted raid when it rolls around. I don't like any of them, that mouthy earth pony especially, so of course I agreed. It'll be nice to have this done and taken care of.

Seventh: ...I sent out a letter that asked about what went into the creation of Heartbreakers candies, and I haven't received a reply back yet. It's not terribly surprising, given that the manufacturers are probably very busy, but I'm hoping that they don't take too much longer.

Eighth: The password surrounding my boots' Double Jump system has been broken. I have a new ability in my arsenal now, and it's there for good.

Double Jump: If in mid-air, gain extra height equal to 80% the height of a normal jump. Can also be used to jump across the surface of water without submerging.

I am going to enjoy using this oh so very much. I wish you could see my smile right now...

But the ninth thing I'd like to bring up is my highest source of happiness this morning.

Current Power Output: 99.8% out of 100%.

Energen Levels: 100%. Reserve Tank: 97%.

Solar Energy Backup: 100%.

Structural Integrity: 100%.

Auto-Repair Systems: 100%. Currently on standby.

Armor Integrity: 100%.

Motor Control: 100%.

Dash Thrusters: 100%.

Double Jump: 100%.

Coolant Levels: 100%.

Combat Capabilities: 100% overall.

Ice Manipulation: 100%.

Frost Javelin: 100%.

Armed Phenomenon: 100%.

All systems green. Ready to go.

Everything that makes me who I am is in perfect condition once more. It's as if I had never met Omega in the first place. My estimation to Bossa Nova was right on the money. After two weeks, it's finally time for me to work on my highest priority: discovering how to get home. I am feeling absolutely pumped right now.

...

I gently let Drama down outside the front door. Without any means of getting downstairs on her own and her not wanting to disturb a bird's nest on the fire escape, I have to carry her outside whenever she wants to go to and from her apartment. I have strength to spare, so I don't mind. "Here you go. I don't know what time I'm going to be back today. Between that contest with Bossa Nova, my appointment with the Crown's representative and wanting to spend time at the library..."

"Don't you worry about a thing, dearie," Drama assures me. "I managed this place just fine for a year before you came along. I'm sure I can keep the children in line without you for one day. If I need to go back upstairs, Gray's strong enough to carry me."

"If you say so."

I turn away from Drama and take a step towards the end of the sidewalk. I pause and close my eyes for just a moment to savor the summer breeze as it brushes against my face. There was a smattering of rain off and on yesterday into the late evening, but this morning the sky is clear. Somewhere nearby, I can hear birds singing. There's a few ponies out and about on the streets, marginally interested in my appearance but otherwise going about their business. A stray dog takes it easy in the shelter of an awning across the street. A taxi carriage rolls past down the road to who-knows-where.

I've got a full day ahead of me, my readouts are green, and I'm brimming with energy. There's no reason why I can't go out and have some fun.

My hand goes to my coat lapel, and I whip the article off with a flourish. My clothing and armor underneath are as pristine and shiny as they were the day I first donned them. There isn't so much as a dent in my frame, and not a single tear or smudge to be found elsewhere. My helmet's jewel glimmers in the light as I map out the best path to take towards the Big and Taur shop. My smile, which had been missing more than I'd like my first two weeks here, is beginning to feel natural again.

With my destination set, I trigger my dash thrusters. In the split second before I leave the sidewalk and venture into the road, I jump as high as I can. My speed and momentum carry me most of the way across before I start to descend. One of my boots makes a subtle tap against the air; my Double Jump activates, granting me enough extra height for me to grab a ledge and vault onto the rooftops. A giggle escapes me as I continue running, giving way to a joyous laugh before I get two streets away from the Pyre.

If this is how I'm feeling now, I'm going to be delirious once I'm able to go for a swim.

Back in action!

...

Drama snorted quietly as she gathered Leviathan's coat in her magic, hearing the awed comments of those who'd witnessed the Reploid's departure. "And she says she'd never make a good actor," she said to herself as she walked into the theater lobby. "She has some decent flair for the dramatic."

Several pegasi spot me on my trek across the city. I recognize one of them as the one who took the lead in hassling me that thunderous afternoon two weeks ago. "Looking much better!" he calls, waving.

I salute him with a smile, and we race together for a bit. After a short time, the both of them part ways with me and soar away into the sky, leaving me behind. I don't care; I'm just running for the sake of running. Winning a race was never the point of this.

The point is that I've been relying heavily on others this past fortnight, forced to stay on the down low unless circumstances dictated otherwise. For just a little while, I want to enjoy this freedom I have until the urgencies of life take me back down to earth. I feel I've been allowed this much, and since nopony has tried to interfere with my enjoyment as I put my new system to work, I am thankful for their reciprocation.

I'm not stupid enough to think this will last forever, but I think I've earned at least five minutes. That shouldn't be a problem, right?

The air is rushing against me as I continue to dash and jump across the city. I can see a collection of office towers in the distance, including a handful that would fit in just fine in Neo Arcadia's cityscape, and for a moment I contemplate scaling one of them to get a better view of my home away from home. The moment passes; it's best if I make it to Bossa's place on time for the competition. Panoramic perspectives can wait until later.

"Look up there!" somepony down below calls out. "It's the alien!"

"Here? Seriously? You're pulling my---never mind, there it is!"

That's all the conversation I can pick up on as I leap across another street. What seems to be a condominium with a swimming pool built into the roof is coming up fast. There's a gorgeous-by-their-standards pony sunning herself on a chair next to said pool, and a red-maned sunglasses-wearing stallion at the door. Some fast calculations tell me that I'm just barely going to clear the guardrail. Hearing you loud and clear, opportunity, I think to myself with a mischievous smirk as I re-position myself in mid-air. Hold your horses, I'll get the door.

Ooh, the sunshine is just so warm. Just take it all in, girl. You deserve it all.

Limefrost Spiral, yet another snobbish and stuck-up pony in a city full of them, soaked up the rays of Celestia's sun. She didn't care about the news that an alien robot was in town, as she knew she was never going to meet the robot face-to-face anyway. What she did care about was wanting to look her best when her date showed up.

And even if she did meet the robot, she was convinced that she could win it over. Ah, the arrogance of ponies who overestimate their own charisma.

'Marrying for money isn't going to make me happy', they say. Tch. I'll show them all. Bits are where it's at. Once I'm in his good books, I'm home free. I'll never need to worry about lacking anything again. I'll never need to worry about working again. Then I'll be able to trade in this worthless condo for something much grander. I wonder if Charity Kindheart's manor is still on the market? It's not like she ever used it to its fullest.

Ahh... it's not easy being this level of dynamite, mare, but you've got it. When he gets here at ten-thirty, pour on the charm. Those rich ponies are suckers for pretty faces. He'll never know what hit him.

"FOOT DIVE!"

Limefrost frowned and cracked open an eye at the unexpected yell, ready to lambast whoever it was that interrupted her sunbathing. Her brain had just enough time to register the very robot she'd read about dropping diagonally towards her pool like a meteor, arms folded over her chest and both feet pointed at the water. What she did not have the time to do was scream.

Leviathan plunged into the water at high velocity, sending waves flying in all directions. The most notable of these was the one that crashed into Limefrost, smothering her for a moment. Both pony and chair wound up all but plastered against the rooftop entrance. The culprit jetted through the pool and leapt out the other end, bounding off the guardrail and continuing on her way. "Kyahahahaha!"

Limefrost recovered quickly as the wave receded. She sat up, pushed her chair out of the way and shook violently, trying to get some water out of her eyes. "You idiot!" she yelled at the departing Leviathan. "If I want to get wet, I'll ask for it! How dare you tamper with my gorgeousness!"

A-rap-a-tap-tap.

Limefrost twitched at the sound of somepony tapping the wall. She turned... and did a double-take at the sight of the good-looking stallion standing at the door. If she'd been paying attention, she would have noticed that he'd more or less shrugged off getting drenched. "Smooth Beat! You're here early..."

The unimpressed stallion gestured at the watch he wore... which clearly read ten o'clock on the dot. He adjusted his shades and shook his head, letting her know with his eyes that he wasn't pleased with either her forgetfulness or vanity (or both), then turned and left. The door slamming made her feel like her opportunity had been wasted.

"Wait! Please!" Limefrost desperately called after him, belatedly remembering that this was the time they'd agreed on, not ten-thirty. She briefly wondered how long he'd been waiting as she scrambled to the door. "Come back! I'll freshen up! I'll pay attention to you! Please, just give me a minute to get ready!"

Smooth Beat didn't return; only the sounds of receding hoofsteps answered her. Teeth bared, Limefrost glared out over the guardrail and spied Leviathan just before she dropped into what she knew to be the fashion district. "I lost my future because of you!" she yelled, the idea of the Reploid being out of earshot not crossing her mind. "If you ever drop in like that again, I swear to Celestia---!"

Huh. Could have sworn I heard somepony with more greed and beauty than brains try to threaten me. ...Oh, well. Must've been my imagination. My microphones aren't that powerful.

The Big and Taur shop was easy to locate once I touched down in the district: it was the one with the wall of muscle standing out front. Bossa Nova is waiting next to a table and a pair of stools. "The challenger has arrived," she greets me. She gestures at the hundred or so ponies (plus that one griffon from that grocery store) that have gathered on both sides of the street. I imagine there's probably more watching from the windows. "Bossa has spread the word and told them that she intends to beat you. Don't disappoint her."

"Overconfident, are we?" I respond with a smile, still on an emotional high from my full recovery. "I'm back and ready to dance with the best. Don't do yourself a disservice by underestimating me."

"Your suit is fixed. You don't look like you got mauled by an Ursa Minor anymore. You certainly look like you're at the top of your game." Bossa gestures at one of the stools, her smirk challenging me to a fight before her words do. "Now let's see you stay there, Little Miss Meatless."

I walk to the indicated stool and sit down, going through the motions of rotating my right arm and chuckling at Bossa's half-hearted insult. Wow, I am in a good mood today. "Any rules other than the most obvious?"

"Only that this is a contest of pure might, not guile." She sits down in the other stool. "No cheating allowed. Use only your natural arm strength to attain victory."

"Simple and to the point." My smile shifts enough towards 'dangerous' that those at the front of the audience flinch. "I like it!"

Elbows on the table, hands at an angle. As it did previously, the impact of mine against Bossa's rattles the nearest windows. I take a moment to appreciate the fact that her arm alone is about as wide around as my torso. That's some serious muscle, and it reaffirms my belief that she can use wrecking balls as flails.

Also I have to wonder who's playing music in the background, as I didn't see any record players parked around here. Maybe it's playing indoors somewhere? Whoever it is, they have good taste... at least better than those present who are taking last-minute bets on the outcome. Seriously, ponies?

Bossa points at one of those in the crowd with her free hand. The pony nods, taking the hint. "On the count of three," he calls. "Ready? One..."

Our grips tighten.

"Two..."

Our respective muscles, or what passes as them for me, tense.

"THREE!"

The match begins evenly at first as both arms struggle to make headway. Bossa gets my measure before I can get hers--fitting, considering her occupation--and my arm begins its slow descent towards the table surface. My smile becomes strained as I struggle to counteract the push. Figured as much! This much strength is no joke!

"Go, Bossa, go!" a chant begins as some decide to support the minotaur. "Go, Bossa, go!"

"You can do it, Levi!" a voice I recognize as the griffon's calls out. "Kick her tail!"

Others start to cheer on their chosen champions. 'Levi', huh? That's a cute nickname. I like it. Well, then... far be it from me not to respond to that the way it deserves!

My arm stops two inches from the table as my systems re-route as much power into the limb as it can safely handle. Plus side, we're on our way back to where we began. My cheering section hollers accordingly. "Giving it... all it has!" I force out through my teeth.

Minus side... my other arm feels like it's about to fall asleep. Nothing I can do about that right now.

Once we're back at the starting point, I'm able to tilt the match in my favor as it becomes my turn to push her arm down. Maybe I overestimated Bossa's power---

Wait, never mind! Are her muscles rippling? I thought that was a figure of speech! No understating this, they actually look like they're rippling! My opponent roars a wordless challenge, our elbows sink into the table a little, and my arm stops in its tracks. Slowly at first but with increasing speed, I'm being pushed back. I can't devote any more power to this without damaging my arm, can't make any more progress---!

With a mighty boom, Bossa slams my arm against the table. With the match over, she stands up, throws both hands into the air and bellows victoriously. Those that cheered for her mimic the gesture and respond in kind.

I re-route my power back to where it's supposed to go, and feeling returns to my left arm. I massage my right arm through its guard, examining the imprint that was left in the table's metallic surface. That was... that competition was really something.

Hypothetically speaking, with that much power, Bossa would get along great with Fefnir. He'd always been the strongest of us Four where physical strength was concerned. With my Overdrive inaccessible and having no means of upgrading my strength, there's just no way I can match that.

"Heeheehee..."

So what does it say about me that I feel well and truly giddy right now?

"Stand up, Leviathan. Face me." Not giving me time to do so myself, Bossa pulls me to my feet. "You're right not to act woeful. Were the yearly competitions open to outsiders, I see no reason why you couldn't escape the preliminaries."

"Kyahahaha! That sounds like a compliment. I'll take it!"

"Good, because it was meant to be one. Do you have any means of getting stronger, Siren General?"

I shake my head. "Not at present. All of my limits are built-in. That's literally as strong as I can get without endangering everypony around me."

Bossa dismissed it. "Don't let it trouble you. You let me put my strength to work for the first time in a good while. I'm satisfied with this." When she smiles, it's out of gratefulness. "Thank you, Leviathan. I hope you come back again to challenge me another time."

I glance at the crowd... or more specifically, the griffon ('Gilbert', that's his name). He had a good idea, so why shouldn't I make it public? This will help make it easier for those who have trouble pronouncing my name. "Call me Levi."

The minotaur's bass laughter measures a 4.0 on the Richter scale. She turns to the crowd and raises my arm into the air. "Everypony, a cheer for Levi! A terrific sport and a fierce competitor!"

I've got to say, being cheered for something I deserved to accomplish feels really nice. Take that, Copy X.

At the same time Leviathan Dr. Doomed Limefrost's swimming pool...

...

Knock-knock.

Knockity-knockity-knock-knock-knock.

...Knock.

KNOCKITY!

Drama had just settled into her seat in her office when she heard the familiar set of knocks at the door. On time, but there's one missing. Usually there's a light scratching at the door on top of that. She trotted back into the lobby and magicked open the door, greeting the Ghost-Guard siblings with a smile. "Welcome, welcome! Come on in, dears." She looked around. "Where's your mother? She's supposed to be here, too."

Ebony led the group into the lobby, shutting the door behind her. "Hi, Miss Heart. That's... going to be a problem. Mom claims that she received a letter from Princess Celestia, and she's required to be present for something." Unsure, her eyes drifted to the side. "She didn't tell any of us what it was about. I mean, I knew they were pen pals, but..."

"Pen pals?!" Drama shrieked, eyes wide. "With the Princess? Since when?!"

"...At least since while we were out of town, if I understood it right," Fiver replied.

Zeke's eyes were the same shape as Drama's. "The actual Princess? Not a pseu...sudo... what's it..."

"...Pseudonym?"

"That thing, yeah."

"Why?" Drama wondered. "Did she say it was a pseudonym?"

"I... I don't know," Ebony said, unsure. "When I first found out, Mom told me that she thought the writer just picked that name to show that they were from Canterlot. I didn't think whoever it was is the real deal."

"It would be so cool if it turned out to be the real Princess Mom wrote to," Pure Energy commented, his hyperactivity at a minimum for now. "Just think about it! Our Mom is friends with royalty!"

Drama settled down a little, her mouth in a not-quite-a-smile. "I guess if Fairy were here right now, she'd have a one-liner or other to offer on the Princess befriending a cat."

"Wait," Ebony cut in, holding up a hoof to stop Drama from continuing. "F-Fairy's not here?"

"No, she's not. I was made aware of a few appointments that she had to keep today, so it's a tossup as to whether she'll be back before your father comes to collect you or not."

"...What kind of appointments?" Fiver asked. "Did she say?"

"She said she was going to spend the afternoon at the library," Drama informed her. "She also said she was going to arm wrestle a minotaur..." She ignored Energy's murmur of "so cool" and continued, or at least tried to. "...and that she was supposed to meet up with a representative of..." Her breath hissed through her teeth as she realized something important. "...the Crown!"

Ocean and Gray didn't raise stupid children. All four of them rapidly did the math. "A letter from 'Princess Celestia' asks Mom to be available for something..." Ebony began.

"...and somepony affiliated with her coincidentally wants Leviathan to meet with them..." Fiver continued.

"...which means that whatever's happening is going to be big!" Energy exclaimed, his enthusiasm spiking.

"Mom Vs. Fairy?" Zeke wondered. He shrugged at the looks the other three were giving him. "Mom's an ex-officer. Fairy's a soldier. Maybe they'll fight?"

"Fight how?" Ebony protested. "She's made of metal! What's bucking her going to do?"

Fiver shoved a stray lock of hair off her muzzle. "...There's more ways of fighting than with brute force, you know..."

...

As the four of them debated as to how their mother would be expected to fight and win against a killer robot with ice powers, the Pyre's owner was thinking of something else entirely. "Tartarus," Drama whispered, turning to stare in the direction Leviathan had gone. "Gray, just what kind of past did you have that the Princess would ask for you to get involved with this directly?"

...

Confusion. Assorted silhouettes against a bright light. The light disappearing.

...

Author's Note

The music links for this chapter include: Chris Mason-Battley Group's "Falling Rain", Super Metroid's prologue, The Mythos version of Zero 2's "Departure", Crystal Method's "The Winner" (faretheewell, Wicked Twister), and Simon Haseley's "Hogan's Thing". I was on a roll this chapter, and I wanted my choices this go around to be indicative of that.

Seriously: I had a lot of fun writing this one. I can't say that enough. :pinkiehappy:

The bit character Limefrost Spiral was named for a planetary system in the video game Descent II. It sounds a lot to me like the name of a fancy ice cream flavor, to be honest. Here, have an image of what she's supposed to look like. If you're wondering what her Cutie Mark is, that's supposed to be a bowl of ice cream garnished with a lime slice (just in case it wasn't clear enough that I'm not an artist).

Also: no, I couldn't resist. >^_^< Leviathan herself doesn't know what reference she made; she just thinks her actions were personally funny.

If anyone's wondering about the stallion "Smooth Beat" who appeared in the same scene, do a bit of research. Far as I'm concerned, his existence is canon to the story. :raritywink:

Levi was never going to win the arm wrestling match: Bossa is her superior in pure power, plain and simple. She did earn the minotaur's respect and made some of the locals less anxious around her, though, so it isn't like nothing was accomplished.

Chapter Update Deadline: March 11, 2022

A Running Gag Continues

As large of a city Manehattan was, it had no shortage of schools. Bronclyn High wasn't the most renowned of those schools by any stretch, but it still had a history of both fine education and successful athletics. Banners hung on its gymnasium walls showcasing championships in hoofball and volleyball by the Express against their biggest rivals, the Manehattan Cavalry. Trophies and photographs adorned a display case in a darkened hallway outside the gym, storing the memories of those students who had come and gone.

A pair of doors at the end of the hall opened, admitting two silhouettes. The lights clicked on, revealing the identities of them both.

Captain Shining Armor, currently without his Royal Guard uniform to keep from drawing undue attention to what he was here for, entered the school. Earlier that morning he had paid a visit to a member of the school faculty, requesting to be allowed to enter the building. The principal had been understandably reluctant, but changed his mind after the captain had submitted his credentials and explained his reasons for needing access--and after requesting that the whole thing be kept quiet. After promising that he would lock all the doors and switch off the lights when he finished whatever he needed to do, Shining had received the keys to the building and went on his way.

It helped that the pony who was escorting him was very recognizable and able to speak for him. His girlfriend, Princess Cadance, was officially taking a much-needed break from her duties for the sake of relaxation. Her regalia had even been swapped out for a cap with her Cutie Mark stitched into the front, the item having been purchased from a Canterlot gift shop before their departure. Unofficially, she was here because Celestia had read her a letter from a certain Manehattanite that described the author's love for her family in no uncertain terms. Cadance, being the Princess of love, was curious enough to go and meet her for herself.

"...It's quite a combination," the alicorn said as they walked in. "She's supposed to be a real romantic where her husband's concerned."

"And according to Celestia, she's undeniably fierce in a fight." Shining led her straight to a set of double doors, opening them and heading up the short flight of steps beyond. A distant neighing sound made him flick his eyes about for the cause. "I can see why some would be confused. You normally wouldn't expect the two to go together, but somehow she makes it work."

Upon reaching the top of the steps, the two of them had arrived in the seating area overlooking the school's swimming pool. During the summer, the pool was typically kept available during especially hot days or for those taking swimming lessons; ponies tended to be fine swimmers, but if they wanted to be excellent swimmers, you had to start somewhere. As things stood, the first such class wasn't supposed to start for another few days, and today's temperatures weren't supposed to get unbearably warm.

"Judging from the time, we're here early," Cadance commented, spotting a clock at the far end of the room. "Might as well sit down and wait..."

"Hold on a moment," Shining interrupted, raising a hoof to cut her off. He looked around, suddenly suspicious. "I think there's somepony else in here. There's this odd wheezing noise I can't place, and I don't think it's the air conditioning."

Cadance's ears twitched, and she surveyed the room a bit more cautiously than she had been. Her eyes were drawn to a window situated up near the ceiling, the sunlight passing through it to illuminate the pool's diving board...

She snorted, pressing a hoof against her mouth to suppress a laugh that tried to escape. "Shining, look over there..."

The Guard captain did as his girlfriend suggested. His mouth fell open in an unspoken exclamation of "What am I even seeing...?"

...

The sight they witnessed was their introduction to Gray Ghost. The pegasus was positioned on her back at the end of the diving board squarely in the middle of the patch of sunlight, just a little less than one meter over the water's surface. Her forelegs were curled up near her chin. The wheezing and neighing noise that they'd been hearing was turning out to be her snoring, Gray having been asleep since at least several minutes before they'd arrived. Edging across the seats to get a better view, the two of them were able to discern her contented smile as she slept.

"Now that's funny," Cadance stated, having a smile of her own. "And also adorable. I wish I had been able to bring a camera."

Shining recognized the sleeping pony from the briefing he'd been given prior to leaving Canterlot. "She's the one that Leviathan's supposed to fight! How... how did she even get in here before us?" he murmured, incredulous. "We have the principal's keys, so did she track down the janitor or..."

"Wait, that's her?"

"Gray coat, black mane, and cat's eyes for a Cutie Mark," Shining confirmed. "That's definitely her."

Gray's tail twitched. "Where's my fishy fish dish..." she sleep-mumbled, the words trailing away to nothing as her snoring picked up where it left off.

"..." Cadance regarded Shining questioningly. "So, how do you want to do this? Just let her sleep until the robot arrives?"

"I guess so..." he decided, picking a seat at random and sitting down. "Gotta admit, from the briefing I'd expected her to be a hypercompetent law enforcer. I wasn't expecting her to act like a housecat."

Cadance followed suit. "Maybe this is just one of those 'more than meets the eye' situations?"

"We can hope."

Fun as it was, I left shortly after the match concluded. Something else that I was looking forward to needed to be done, and I didn't want to keep them waiting. The time has come to put my strength to a real test. I said good-bye to Bossa and received directions to my destination from somepony in the crowd before leaving the same way I'd left the Pyre.

My mind goes back to the letter and the package I received in the mail yesterday...

Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia
Canterlot Castle

Fairy Leviathan
Deep Sea Squadron, Neo Arcadia
c/o Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears, Manehattan, Equestria

Dear Ms. Leviathan,

It is my understanding that you will be fully recovered tomorrow as of your reception of this letter. After consulting my proxy on this matter, we have arranged for your test battle against this individual to take place at the indoor swimming pool utilized by Bronclyn High School. The time has been set for 10:30a.m.

In addition, please find enclosed a Dragon Fire candle. These candles are specially made to transport letters and small items directly to their intended recipient from across long distances. Simply light it, hold the item over it, and it will disappear in a puff of green flame. While they can be used for their traditional purpose it is not suggested that you do so, as you will need to extinguish the candle quickly to prevent wastage. The purchase of but one of these candles is fairly costly.

I hope to hear good things from you in the future.

Sincerely yours,

Princess Celestia

From what I can tell, these candles are basically this world's closest equivalent to instant messaging. They're basically good for words and tiny files, so to speak, but not much else. I don't know exactly what she means by "fairly" costly, though. By 'fairly' is she understating what she really means, or is 'fairly' just that: fairly?

Well, the gift was still nice in any case.

When reading the letter, I noticed more evidence that my situation is being taken seriously: they're letting me fight someplace where I would have home field advantage. Assuming that the Police interrogated those thieves, they should already know how my fights on the surface would go. By providing me access to a large source of water that I can utilize at any point during the fight, they're giving me the chance to prove myself to them and show that I'm on the same level as their champion. Obviously whoever it is won't be able to join me underwater, but if they've got magic in their corner, then that makes things even.

...Are they going to be having a unicorn fight me? If so, then I have to be ready for anything.

The school is easily identifiable, and not just because of its name emblazoned on a large sign. This building is the only one I've seen yet that spans an entire city block, as well as the only three-story building that feels to me like an actual three-story building. I won't need to worry about accidentally smashing a hole in the ceiling if I do so much as a short jump in the halls.

The main doors are locked, but the ones for the north wing aren't. Once inside, the metal gate separating the hallway in two makes it clear which way I have to go.

At the end of the hall, there's a singular door that looks like it leads into a locker room, and a set of double doors that leads to a seating area. I figure it doesn't really matter since they ultimately lead to the same place, so I opt for the latter and open them. "Hello?" I call. "I was told to meet here! Is anypony there?"

"Up here!" an unfamiliar voice calls in confirmation. Masculine, early-to-mid twenties. "Come on up!"

If that's not an invitation, nothing is.

...

As I enter, I survey the pool area proper. I can see some safety equipment hanging on one wall... life preservers, vests and the like. "Don't Gallop On Wet Tiles" signs are posted at both ends of the room. A large net lays in one corner, with a white ball, a pile of colorful plastic rings, a few other toys, and a set of foam-esque boards close by. A larger sign that shows evidence of age briefly commands my attention:

"Please Obey the Following:

If you're a pegasus, please don't dive-bomb the swimming pool.
Shower off immediately after you're finished using the pool. Chlorine does weird things to a pony's coat.
If you're overweight, remember the boogie boards are there for a reason.
The volleyball net is not a hammock.
The "Don't Gallop On Wet Tiles" signs are not there to make the walls look pretty. If they say not to gallop, you don't gallop.
We don't care how warm the sunshine is: do not sleep on the diving board. And no, you can't use "I didn't see the sign" as an excuse. This means YOU, Gray Ghost.

Bronclyn High School Faculty"

That's... oddly specific. Gray must've went to this school when she was younger, but why would they need to make a specific rule for---

My eyes are drawn to the diving board. Sure enough, Gray's there sleeping in a patch of sunshine. Of course. I don't know what else I was expecting.

"Yeah, I don't get it either," the same voice tells me, prompting me to lower my hand from my face and pay attention to him. He's a fairly sizable and muscular stallion, but not overly so. Those white and blue colors look good on him. He raises a hoof as I approach. "Captain Shining Armor of Canterlot's Royal Guard."

"Fairy Leviathan. Private citizen," I greet him in return, tapping his hoof with a fist before raising my other hand in a textbook salute. "Though you knew that already. It's an honor, Captain."

Shining chuckles good-naturedly. "This isn't entirely official, so don't feel that you have to stand on ceremony with me. I can afford to let that slide in informal situations."

I lower my hand, smiling. "Taking that as an order." I nod at the pink pony behind him, who---... Does she have both wings AND a horn?! "And you are?"

"Mi Amore Cadenza. Just call me Cadance," she tells me kindly as she gestures at Gray. "I'd actually heard stories about her from my aunt, so I decided to go along and see for myself."

Pegasus flight and unicorn magic combined into the same pony. Is she who I'm facing? She says she's not, but I'd better get confirmation. I nod and return my attention to Shining. "So, who am I going to be facing? Am I early?"

The unicorn looks puzzled at this. "You were never told?"

"No," I say. "All that Princess Celestia said to me was that I would be fighting a proxy of her choosing. She didn't say who it was going to be."

Cadance utters a long-suffering sigh, facehoofing. "Not this again, Auntie..."

Double-takes don't come quicker than this. "Wait, she's your aunt?"

"I apologize for not introducing myself properly," she answers, straightening. "I'm Princess Cadance, and I'm Celestia's niece by adoption. If she didn't tell you who your opponent was, I can only figure she was trying to get you to loosen up by having a bit of fun at your expense. She does that sometimes."

Princess Cadance. And without any sort of high-ranking status symbol like a crown or fancy robe, I had no means of determining that. Well-played. "So if you're not who I'm facing, then who is?"

"That would be..." Shining turns and points at the diving board. "...her."

At the diving board... and at the snoozing pegasus over the water. "Zzz... this is my favorite chapter..." Gray mumbles in-between snores.

"..."

"Don't give us that look," Shining complains defensively. "If Princess Celestia tells me that she's top tier, then I believe her." He regarded Gray, curious. "Though I am wondering how she intends to demonstrate it..."

I shake my head. "I'm not accusing you of lying, Captain. I'm more exasperated than anything. Neither of you tried waking her up?"

"She looked happy being there," Cadance admits. "We didn't want to bother her."

"I guess I'll do it then," I sigh, turning towards Gray. Let's see, how did Drama do this... ...alright, here we go. This will work. "Ee-hee... ee-hee... ee-hahahahahaha! Showtime, dearies~!"

"Showtime?!" Gray's eyes snap open, and she springs to her hooves... only to slip and fall off the board towards the water. "WHA--!"

A light blue magic aura snaps into existence around Gray before she can fall in, moving her to safety. "Please don't laugh like that again," Cadance requests, the slightest tinge of annoyance coloring her words. "You sound like a deranged clown."

I'll tell Drama you said that. She says she's going more for 'hyena'. "It was either that or dangle some yarn over her nose, and I've got no strings on me."

"Getting the feeling I should recognize that expression from somewhere," Shining says, almost to himself.

Wasn't aware that it was meant to be an expression. I choose to direct my next words to Gray. "You do know that sign over there refers to you, right?"

She turns, blinking in surprise as she sees that yes, there is a sign on the wall. "Wait, they still have that old thing there? I thought they would've taken that down after I graduated."

"That sign isn't exactly hard to miss," Shining points out. "I can see everything it says from here."

"Well, I didn't see it," Gray scoffs. "And the sunshine was warm. So there." She smiles, eyes glimmering with friendliness. "Captain Armor and Princess Cadance, right? You here to watch me total Leviathan?"

...I was going to say just to call me 'Levi', but...

"In a manner of speaking," Shining answers, "though I wouldn't phrase it quite like that. This is to see what Leviathan can do at her best so I can get a report sent to Celestia. We'd rather that you didn't try to destroy her."

"Fair enough, I guess," Gray says agreeably, though it doesn't keep her from pouting a little. "Give me a moment to get my gauntlets. I left them in one of the locker rooms on the way in." She trots through a doorway behind the diving board and disappears around the bend.

"While she's preparing, I might as well get acclimated," I state, smiling broadly. "Been wanting to do this for weeks now." I slip down through the railing and make tracks for the diving board. "Would you two mind scoring me?"

"Are you sure you don't want to prepare for this yourself?" Cadance inquires. "I have to believe this is serious business."

A reasonable question for somepony who doesn't know me. "Princess, this is the first opportunity I've had to enjoy a good swim since I got here," I say as I walk to the end of the board. Not counting that bit of mischief on the way to Bossa's. "Dry land is too dusty for me. Spending a few minutes underwater is how I prepare."

"...Well, alright. Sure," Shining decides. "Why not?"

I nod in thanks, backing up a few steps. My eyes close for a moment as I figure out how I want to do this.

The board isn't wet or slippery and my balance is good, so there's no danger of me slipping en route; wouldn't seriously hurt someone like me, but it would still be embarrassing. The ceiling in the room is pretty high... probably another reason why this place was chosen, as it would allow complete freedom of flight for Gray. I open my eyes to check the pool's depth: around ten feet down at this end, and four feet at the opposite end. Deeper than I would have expected from somepony half my size, at least over here.

Doesn't matter. What matters is that it's deep enough to meet my standards. "Three... two... one..."

I skip forward and bounce off the end of the board with all of my enhanced strength. I probably could graze the ceiling if I triggered a Double Jump, but I'll forego that stunt for now. One flip, then two. There's just enough time to straighten out in mid-air after, minimizing my impact with the water---

Perfect. Just enough of a splash to show that I'd dived, but nothing too flashy.

I rotate a complete 360 degrees as I shoot down the length of the pool. My boots' thrusters and my helmet's jet work in tandem to propel me through the water. Just before I would hit my head on the wall, I flip around to kick off of it instead, surfacing for a second before going back under.

Swimming around like this makes me feel free, like I have an entire realm all to my own. The pegasi and griffons have the skies to themselves. Everypony who lives on the land sees it as their personal kingdom. As for me, my domain is the sea. This laughter that the Captain and Princess are hearing right now stems from the joy coursing through my systems. For just a few moments, I can forget the problems that wait for me in the future.

Most everypony has their own opinion on what constitutes an escapism. This right here is mine.

I slow to a stop and resurface near the diving board. "So, what's the score from the Canterlot judges?" I call out.

"If I'm being honest... 9.2," Shining declares. "Excellent dive, but not enough splash."

The Captain's got some wit. Either that, or he has some 'kid' in him still. Either way, I think I'm starting to like him. "And how about you, Princess?"

"9.0," Cadance states, smiling like she's not sure what to think of me. "You get style points for the flips, but I'm not sure if they're strictly necessary."

I snap my fingers in mock irritation. "Tch. And here I was going for a perfect ten. I'll get it one of these days."

"Speaking of 'strictly necessary', I have a question for the record," Shining tells me, not quite hiding his smile at my comment. "Those jets on your feet and head. Are those responsible for your ability to swim?"

"Good question, but no," I answer. "My helmet and boots are optional items; I just like to have them on all the time. I can still swim just fine without them. Losing them just means I'd give up any real speed and have to go about it the old-fashioned way." Which is more than I can say for Fefnir and the others, I recall, smiling at a fond memory. Were they ever irritated. "And since I don't require air to live, I'm not in any danger of drowning."

Looking at Shining Armor, I'm getting the same kind of feeling from him that I got from Charity Kindheart: dependable and entirely trustworthy. As for Princess Cadance... well, she's royalty, and I've already agreed to share information with the Crown. Not being honest with them is a poor move, and it's more likely to foul something up in the future than being completely truthful. I think I can trust them with this information.

Before Shining's line of questioning can continue, a soft fluttering of wings directs our attention to Gray, having returned to the room via the door she'd left through. "I'm back. Sorry about the delay," she greets us apologetically. "I had to make sure my gauntlets were still in good repair. I haven't used them in sixteen years."

I take a moment to check out said gauntlets and whoa-ho-ho-ho-boy those look wicked. Metallic bands encase her forelegs up to the knee. Slightly elongated protusions in the general shape of cat's feet (but lacking the fuzziness) jut out from the bottom of these bands, extending into four points. At the end of each point is a claw, none of which are larger than my fingertips but all of which look dangerously sharp. Both gauntlets are made of some sort of silver-like alloy that I'm having some trouble recognizing. When Gray alights on the floor, I note that whatever the alloy is, the gauntlets' "feet" are flexible enough to rest against the tiles instead of poking holes straight through them.

Cadance seems impressed by Gray's commitment to this whole 'cat' thing. "Wow. You like to take your theme as far as it will go, do you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gray denies. "Having these gauntlets makes me feel like I have a chance of winning against Fairy. Without them, I just feel... defenseless."

"You ripped up the Pyre's stairwell with nothing but your hooves and teeth," I remind her. "That's hardly 'defenseless'." Which isn't wrong. She probably wouldn't be able to actually destroy me without the gauntlets, but she'd still be able to do at least some level of damage to crucial components. Depending on your perspective, that could still be counted as a win.

Shining whistles at this revelation, but Gray ignores him in favor of looking put off. "Look. I've had forty years to get acquainted with my strengths and weaknesses, alright? Don't tell me what I can or can't do."

I tap my temple. "My sensors don't lie, Gray. When you charged the Pyre that day, my systems pegged you as a Class 'A' threat. Before that, there were only seven individuals I'd ever met who merited that much attention." I turn to regard both Shining and Cadance, giving them a rudimentary examination. Sure enough... "If it helps with the frame of reference... while I don't know what either of them are capable of, my instincts are telling me that both the Captain and the Princess here could probably take me in a one-on-one fight if they were so inclined. Like you, they both register as Class 'A'." I smile encouragingly. "Don't sell yourself short, clever kitty. You're vicious when lives are on the line."

The three of them take my statements differently. Shining has his chin cupped in a hoof (which is anatomically impressive), appearing contemplative. Whether's it's due to his opinion of me, of Gray or of himself, I don't know; any of them are valid. Cadance doesn't seem too thrilled, which I suspect is because she's a gentle pony at her core despite whatever powers she has. I'm not saying she couldn't fight, just that it wouldn't be her first choice.

...

Alertness. Confusion. So close, but out of reach.

...

Gray is looking me in the eyes, unsure. "I knew I'd caught you off guard, but I didn't think I was that threatening. Am I really that frightening when my family's in danger?"

I pull myself out of the pool and climb to my feet. Water slides off of me, unable to find any sort of hold. "Two unstoppable killing machines failed to scare me. One civilian mother left me at a loss for words."

"Huh." Gray turns her eyes away from me, pointing them towards her gauntlets instead. "My family keeps telling me that. I think even Celestia told me that once. On some level I know they're right, but I've always had trouble believing it."

"That explains why you keep calling yourself a 'humble housewife' in your letters to Celestia," Cadance comments.

"Because I am. There's nothing else I want to be. This is my lot in my life." She closes her eyes and beams brightly. I think I see the fangs that Drama told me about last week, so I can let her know she wasn't imagining things. "And I wouldn't trade it for all the world's treasures."

You can hear the sheer devotion to her family through those words. I know I can, and judging from Cadance's pleased eyes she can hear it as well. Shining notices this and nods approvingly. "Everything settled, you two?"

Gray hovers up to eye level. "Sure am, Captain."

"Leviathan, how about you? Are you done having fun?"

"For now."

"Great. The both of you get over here, please." There's a note of eagerness in Shining's tone. It's probably my imagination, but it reminds me of when I once overheard two of my technicians getting a dice game set up while they were on break. I'd said I liked him before, but that confirms it. "Let's get some ground rules laid out so that neither of you go overboard..."

I giggle at this as the both of us approach the railing. "Kyahahaha! I'm the last one you need to worry about going 'overboard', trust me."

Shining rolls his eyes. "Poor choice of words, yes, I know..."

I heard Cadance murmur something about my laughter being more natural than what I'd woken Gray up with, but I dismiss it. We've had our obligatory contemplative banter and friendly interactions. What say we move on to the main event?

Author's Note

...In the next chapter? >^_^<

The music links for this chapter include: a little track simply called "Buu is Asleep" from Dragon Ball Fighterz, "Jungle Craze" from the Sailor Moon R Super Famicom game, "Cynical Pink" from Trigun, and Yuumi's Champion Theme from League of Legends. I consider that last song to be Gray's theme.

The depth of Bronclyn High's pool is loosely based on that of the one that my high school used while I was there: the deep end was 10-11 feet, while the shallow end was 4 feet, which made it perfect for teaching kids how to swim. It's been twenty years and a cross-country trip, so I don't know if they've replaced it since I graduated or not.

The seven individuals that Levi's referring to as being at least Class 'A' are her fellow guardians, X, Copy X, Zero, and Omega. By her standards, Reploids like the Guardians' direct subordinates would be Class 'B'.

I can't think of anything else to say right now, so...

Chapter Update Deadline: March 18, 2022

Fairy Vs. Ghost

Privately, I'm wondering how the good Captain's going to handle this exhibition match. Gray's not wearing any sort of armor, so one good hit from me's liable to grievously injure her, if not kill her. On the flip side, whatever it is her gauntlets are made out of, I don't think it'll do me any damage that my auto-repair can't wipe out inside twenty minutes. This had better not be as one-sided as I feel it's going to be.

As if answering my concerns, Shining Armor's horn and Gray herself are both starting to glow. When the glow vanishes, Gray has a very faint green sheen surrounding her. If I tilt my head at a certain angle, I can't see it at all. "The shield I just gave her is standard issue for practice matches within the Guard," the Captain explains. "It possesses three layers that will each disperse whenever damage up to a certain point is dealt. Leviathan wins if she can destroy the shield inside five minutes. Gray wins if she can either disarm Leviathan of her weapon or fight her to the point that she feels she can't continue. If none of the conditions are met before the five minutes are up, the match is a draw. Do you understand?"

Good. This won't be as unfair as I thought. "Clear as crystal, Captain," I confirm.

"You sure you don't want to give her a shield too? She's going to need it."

Okay, that was uncalled for. "Gray..."

My opponent waves me off. "Not a word, Fairy. I'm just trying to make things fair."

And that was even more uncalled for. "Gray!"

Okay, pony faces really should not look that quizzical. The tilt just sells it. "What's wrong? Not fair enough? I can ask him to reduce mine to a one-hit shield, if you'd like."

There's pre-battle banter, and then there's this. "Gray, I'm saying this for your sake as well as mine: don't underestimate me."

"Have you even seen her fight before, Gray?" Cadance wonders. "Where's that self-confidence coming from all of a sudden?"

"Alright, alright. Sheesh," Gray mutters with a shrug, turning to fly over to the diving board. "You'd think that the opposition would be happy to fight with an advantage, but I guess winning doesn't really appeal to them..."

...Nice try, but I'm not going to rise to that bait. Anyway, Cadance has a point. In the wake of the conversation we just had about her capabilities, where is her self-confidence coming from?

Guess I'll be finding out.

I walk to the opposite end of the pool, summoning the Javelin as I go. Upon reaching my starting position, I level the weapon directly at Gray. The so-called "humble housewife" is hunkered down on the diving board, tail repeatedly whipping the air around her. I can't tell very well from my angle, but it almost looks like her Cutie Mark is glowing a little. I wonder what the significance of that is. "Last warning: don't you dare hold back!" I tell her one last time.

"Suit yourself, fish sticks!" Gray answers cheerfully, licking her lips. 'Disturbing' much?

"Let your skills do the talking!" Shining calls, raising a hoof into the air. I tense in anticipation, the warning sirens blaring in my mind once more.

The Captain drops his hoof. "LET'S GO!"

My intent had been to Double Jump across the pool to meet Gray halfway, but she has other ideas. With a bound off the diving board, she jets down as silently as her namesake straight at me. That's not hyperbole, either: her wings aren't making any sound. I raise the Javelin to block her path, trying to anticipate whether she'll go right, left, or above.

...! Or she'll go below; that works, too! Seriously, she just flew between my legs and kicked the back of one of my knees in passing to try and unbalance me! Thankfully I'm able to stay upright, and I pivot and swing the Javelin in an upwards arc--

--barely missing, as evidenced by the tiny specks of black hair that I managed to sheer off her tail. I shuffle backwards along the floor, trying to keep her in my sights as she makes another attack run--

--just in time as one of her gauntlets whips through the space where my face had been a split second before, coming within a hair's breadth of reaching my eyes. I'm forced to keep backpedaling as Gray's 'claws' furiously slash at me, and she manages three more not-quite-strikes before I'm able to block them with the Javelin's shaft. Her attack thwarted for the moment, she hovers over the pool and beckons me to follow her.

Far be it from me to turn down that invitation. I charge in her direction, channeling energy into the Javelin as I go. As I jump at her, she flies higher out of my reach in a vain attempt to taunt me--

I tap the air with a foot, and my Double Jump activates as planned. "Surprise!" I call, reaching her level. As her eyes widen, I swing the Javelin before me and release all of its stored energy--

Gray's wings stop flapping. The Charged Slash misses entirely as she lets gravity take over, and I only manage to graze the ceiling at best judging from the ice particles that gather there. Blast! She's going to---

And 'blast' is exactly what it looks like she intends to do: her wings reverse her fall, she turns, and a pair of back hooves fly at my---

...!

I blacked out there for a moment... I have to remind myself that bucks around here are capable of hurting me. My face feels like it's on fire without any actual heat, and judging from the pain in the middle of my back, she'd managed to aim me right at the edge of the pool. The impact wasn't hard enough to debilitate me, but I'll still be feeling that the rest of the morning.

Well, then. If she's not going to let me do any close-range dama---

SUDDENLY EYES! "Hi," Gray says to me, having gotten in my face in the time that passed between my being launched and my regaining awareness. One of her claw-covered hooves lashes out---

No, you are not going to damage my optics. I shift my Javelin to a one-handed grip and uppercut Gray away with my free hand, managing to hit her just below her neck before her claws make contact. "Ha!"

Gray does a few backward flips, re-orienting herself over the pool. As she does, I notice that the shield Shining had given her is shifting in coloration from green to yellow. It obviously absorbed the lion's share of the punch; Gray is a bit on edge, but she seems fine otherwise. I'm guessing that she's regretting her attempt to make things as fair as possible for me.

I'm not going to give her time to retaliate. The pool's depth should give me an adequate shield of my own. With as catlike as she behaves, chances are she's not going to want to get herself wet. And without a weapon as powerful as the Z-Saber, she's not going to stay in the air for long in the face of this.

I jet towards the bottom-center of the pool and level the Javelin at Gray, locking on to her hovering form. I deliver the appropriate signal, and the spearhead detaches and shoots up at her. In a miracle of engineering that leads me to thank whoever it was that created the weapon, two more spearheads rapidly materialize and arrow towards their target.

It's not a terribly useful attack if I'm dealing with targets above water, as the projectiles can keep themselves sustained much longer in aquatic battles. That's alright in this circumstance. They don't need to last forever; they just need to keep her occupied.

The fourth and final spearhead locks into place where it belongs. With a deft movement of my fingers I give the Javelin a spin, working to create one of the best techniques I can offer without going full Armed Phenomenon.

Unlike some I could name, I'm not in the habit of calling my attack names out loud. I don't know, it just doesn't feel very... 'majestic' to me, I guess is the right word. That's not to say that they don't have names of their own, and "Spirit of the Ocean" is one that I'm personally proud of.

I mean, please. It's basically a serpentine ice dragon with a head as big as I am. How could I not be proud of it?

Up above, Gray effortlessly deals with all three homing projectiles: the first by bucking it away and breaking it against a wall, the second by ripping it into five pieces with one of her gauntlets, and the third by grabbing it and letting it carry her around the room like a malfunctioning hover vehicle until it runs out of power. It's as the last one dissolves into nothingness--again, props to the engineers--that the Spirit of the Ocean erupts from the pool in all of its fury. I can hear Shining and Cadance's amazed cries (or at least I assume it's amazement) as I sic it on Gray.

Aside from a bit of wariness after I slugged her, she's been very laidback and confident about this whole thing. This time, she looks like she's taking it seriously; reading about something in the paper is one thing, but seeing it firsthand (firsthoof?) is another. She zips out of the dragon's flight path, then keeps flying with a cry of "You're kidding me!" when the dragon turns to pursue her. The Spirit's not overly fast compared to the average pegasus, but it works fine for what I typically need it to do.

I can tell right now that Gray's options are limited. She can't just scoot out of the way and let the dragon smash itself against the wall, as that would cause collateral damage to the building. And she just can't keep flying until the time limit runs out: by her own admission she's not a 'young' pegasus anymore, and her stamina isn't what it used to be. In addition, the Spirit can maintain its cohesion for a good while before it finally breaks apart. So tell me, clever kitty: do you have a plan for getting out of this one?

"Three minutes remain!" Shining calls out a reminder.

Gray's annoyed growl reaches me through the water. "You're going to sit down there for the rest of the duel and hope for a draw, aren't you? Get up here and fight!"

"The best generals are the ones who win without fighting!" I retort with a smile, not that she can see it through the water. "You'll have to come down here and get me if you want me to fight that badly!"

"...Good idea. Thanks for the tip!"

Wait, what is she---

Gray's eyes have closed. She has stopped dodging the Spirit altogether, and I can see it coming in for another charge. She's flying around in circles, faster and faster, her revolutions increasing rapidly and the air circulation reacting in kind...!

And I really should've kept my mouth shut. In complete defiance of natural laws and without any sort of tech aiding her, Gray has created a localized tornado indoors on her own power. The Spirit of the Ocean tries to break through, but crumples in the face of the wind speed and pressure---

The pool's water and everything in the room below the ceiling that isn't nailed down are getting rapidly sucked up into the tornado, and I can feel myself getting pulled along with it. My own fault for picking the wrong vantage point, but how was I supposed to know that she was going to try something like this?! I'm sure this breaks at least one law of physics!

I whirl and try to jet away, but the tornado's attempting to yank the Javelin out of my hand. Out the corner of my eye I spot a brief flash of light: a translucent magic shield several meters across has popped into existence in front of Shining and Cadance, protecting them from the buffeting winds. Both of these details serve to remind me of the conditions for this match, and I tighten my grip, not wanting to lose my weapon. My fingertips graze one of the pool's ladders...

"Whhaaa~!"

...but they can't find a definitive hold. Even at my fastest I can muster in these circumstances, Gray's tornado is too powerful for me to outrace... and this is a humble school swimming pool, not the open ocean, so it's not like I would be able to go anywhere. It still doesn't make losing control of my path any less embarrassing, though. Ditto for that shriek that just left my lips.

My eyes flick about as I try to keep track of Gray's twisting movements, even while I'm being thrown around against my will. Aside from the pool water, all of the toys I'd seen earlier and three dozen broken pieces of ice dragon are buffeting me every which way. If Gray wants to win this session, she's going to have to stop controlling the tornado and strike me directly, so---

No, wait... she's adjusting her course, slowing down... and the tornado's losing strength? Alright, I see what she's planning now. Prior experience from my practice bouts against Harpuia are suggesting to me that she's going to try to send it all crashing down outside of the pool, and me along with it. At that point, she's going to strike me while my guard is down.

It's all in the timing and how the tornado drops me. If I'm anywhere close to upright, I should still be in a position to block her attack, but if she drops me on my head, then that's going to leave me wide open while I'm stunned. Helmet or not, that's not going to do me any favors at these speeds---

...And of course the tornado's going to drop me head-first, I don't know what else I was expecting! Can't quite lift my hands to defend---!

...

Ooorgh, I'd almost forgotten the sheer dizziness that comes with being caught in one of those. My equilibrium's way off balance... I'm happy I haven't eaten any Heartbreakers in the past hour. My cranium's still intact, but I think there's cracks in my helmet... going to have to fix that later. My energy output's dropped by twenty percent to account for that hit. And why are all these tiny little pegasi that resemble Gray flying around my head?

Man alive, I've been in Equestria too long. I'm starting to see things.

Something's catching in my left hand as I stabilize myself. I pull myself upright, using the Javelin for support---

Slash.

"...!"

Did... did something just pass through me? What was that ghostly sensation? And... why am I feeling vaguely disconnected from the world...?

"Leviathan! Are you alright?" I can hear Cadance calling. "What did Gray just do?"

Gray did something? Was... was that her? Did she do something? Looking down, I'm not seeing any sort of damage from a direct hit, so---

WARNING: Ice Manipulation offline. Attempting to reconnect... ... Attempt failed. Connection severed.

Energy Output: 56%.

I woozily turn my head to look at Gray, still feeling disoriented from her washing machine's spin cycle. She has her back to me a few meters away, lowering one of her forelegs. Her Cutie Mark is pulsing as opposed to merely glowing. Her bedraggled mane's making her look like she's wearing a wet mop on her head, so I guess creating a tornado over water didn't do her much good either. She tilts her head to look back at me, deftly using one of her gauntlets to get her mane out of her eyes. "I am the cat that walks by herself," she says in a matter-of-fact tone, though her words are directed to Cadance. "And all places are alike to me."

...

And in a hundredth of a second, I realize what she did. That strange sensation I felt a moment ago was Gray's gauntlet phasing clear through my torso and endoskeleton, by complete chance shredding the connection between my ice generators and my CPU. My ceratanium frame did nothing to slow it down. I don't think she was targeting my generators specifically; she just wanted to do some sort of damage.

Gray shakes violently, scattering water in all directions. I ignore her for just a moment as I wonder how she did this to me. Was it a special property of the gauntlet? Couldn't be. I was able to block her earlier strikes just fine. As I stated, I noticed that her Cutie Mark was blinking... not in the sense that the eyes were behaving like the real deal, but that there were slight emanations from it. It wasn't doing that in the two minutes prior...

"Two minutes left!" Shining's voice interrupts me briefly.

Scratch that, three minutes prior. So however it was that she carried out that strike, it has to do with her own unique talents as a pony. I'd better think fast on this: I only have a few seconds at most before Gray goes back on the attack.

I've had a lot of time to talk to Drama whenever she wasn't busy, and along the way she's told me about the connection between a pony's Cutie Mark and their capabilities. According to her, Marks are representative of a number of different things, including their personality, desires, and/or whatever it is they're good at doing. Celestia's sun Cutie Mark, for example, is indicative of her connection with said star. Drama's flaming tragedy mask shows her love and passion for theater. The young colt Pure Energy has a spiral-shaped question mark that I'm told refers to his erratic tendencies and hyperactivity.

With that in mind, what does Gray's Mark symbolize?

As far as I know, Gray has always behaved like a cat. She sleeps wherever she wants; she's protective of her young to an almost uncanny degree; she's excellent at sneaking up on others; she treats ponies like Celestia, Shining Armor, Cadance, and her former boss with the Police like they're her equals instead of her superiors; she's not very good at telling the difference between glass and open air; she paws at the Pyre's front door instead of knocking; she lets next to nothing worry her for long; she tends to act before she thinks, almost on instinct; she has unerring confidence in her ability to defeat anypony she views as inferior to her...

"AAAGHHH! Gray, I'm the one who's supposed to do the scaring, not you! GET OUT OF MY CLOSET!"

A puzzled pegasus who had somehow managed to slip inside the janitorial closet while it was supposed to be closed answered Drama with uncertainty. "Is something wrong?"

Looking on a short ways away, Leviathan pinched the bridge of her nose. Then, realizing what happened, she mentally added another mark as she tracked how many times she ended up exasparated by her friend's behavior.

...and she turns up in places where she has no business being...! THAT'S IT!

That's why her Cutie Mark was blinking! That's how she's able to damage my hardware without my frame stopping her! Cats have a reputation for slipping into places where they shouldn't be and being difficult to locate if they don't want to be found! What she's doing is taking this behavior to its logical extreme by tapping into her special talent to its fullest, letting her bypass any and all obstacles between her and her destination!

If nothing else, this is shaping up to be an excellent matchup. And here I thought it was going to be one-sided. Just why did I think that again? Hah!

Gray's turned to face me again, and her motion brings me back to reality. I have your number now, I address her in my thoughts as I aim my Javelin at her one-handed.

She doesn't bother wondering why I'm able to stay steady on my feet after what had happened, or why I'm starting to giggle. Instead she shoots forward, and this time she has her claws pointed directly at where my power generators are. Not a problem.

Instead of swinging the Javelin to defend, I sling the object that had been caught on my left hand straight at her. Good aim, good velocity---

With an audible "THOUMP", the toy plastic ring flies into Gray's face with enough force to ensnare her muzzle. As planned, this surprises her sufficiently that she goes cross-eyed and slows down before she can reach me.

And this makes her a perfect target for the roundhouse kick that follows. The blow belts her out across the pool and over the balcony seating. She recovers her senses and corrects her flight path before she can crash into the wall. Her shield shifts again, this time from yellow to red. One hit to go.

After a few moments of awkwardly trying to remove the ring from her muzzle without accidentally scratching her face, Gray gives up and flies over to Shining and Cadance. The latter acquiesces and magicks the ring off of her, tossing it back where it's supposed to go. Gray nods appreciatively...

And I pick that moment to dash-jump over the pool, swinging the Javelin at her. No fool, Gray wastes no time saying 'thanks' and instead brings her gauntlets to bear, deflecting my slash to the side. In the same motion she pivots and bucks, but all it does is shove me back about a foot on account of me being too far out for her strike to have much power. I love having a weapon with a long reach.

"One minute to go," Shining tells us as I land. "Make it quick."

Gray yawns, a glint of light reflecting off her fangs. "Ah... guess there's no helping it," she decides. "Playtime's over. Time to tango." In another whip-like motion, she slashes out at me---wait, why am I reading an energy spike from her gauntlet---?

My own question is answered by four arcs of silver-shaded magical energy that fly out from the claws. I spin the Javelin in a circle, dispersing the waves before they reach me---

And in that instant Gray is in my face, driving me back. Every strike is aimed at either my chest or head, and each time she slashes I can see silvery trails in the claws' wake. Something is telling me that getting hit directly even once by those gauntlets is a terrible idea.

Wow. When they said they were going to test me, they weren't kidding. She's just abandoned all forms of subtlety at this point: she's honestly fighting like she wants to see me dead.

Most of the strikes I'm forced to block or parry with the Javelin, and sparks fly each time I do. One slash that I'm not able to deflect requires me to bend my head back all the way to keep my face from being carved apart. Another one slips past the Javelin and catches me on my left wrist, reducing my guard on that arm to fragments. Gray's claws are flying at me swiftly and furiously, and one slip-up on my account's liable to end my quest in a flash. Time and time again I'm forced to step back just to get a bit of breathing room, nimbly moving around large water puddles, toys, and at least one life preserver that the tornado had scattered around.

...

My metaphorical heart is beating fast. I can feel it...

This rush of a life-or-death fight...! I haven't felt like this since the Temple of Ice! This is the sort of battle that makes me feel alive!

Down, girl. I don't see any red helmets or energy swords around here, do you?

Then why am I smiling? Why do I feel so ecstatic? Why am I laughing?

Because you're never truly satisfied unless you're fighting for your survival?

Stow that noise! I'm having fun here! This is recreation to me! This is my idea of a good time! And this is a match that I'm going to win!

Ha. That shut it up.

Seriously, though: I am going to win this. Gray's rapid-fire strikes have slowed down a little. She's starting to get tired, and I'm beginning to see opportunities to counterattack. I aim the Javelin at her and fire off another spearhead. She neatly evades the projectile and slashes at me again. I duck beneath the swipe, my hand brushing against something on the floor...

I seize both the opportunity and the net, flinging it at Gray one-handed. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't try to cut through it... guessing that's because damaging her alma mater's property doesn't sit right with her. Instead, a single flap of her wings takes her over the net's flight path. She raises one gauntlet to let fly with another projectile slash---

The spearhead curves back around, catches the net and yanks it back the way it came. Just as Gray's claws descend, the net flies into her from behind and snares her back legs, interrupting her attack and evoking a surprised yelp from her. Propelled by the spearhead, the net drags her around every which way until the projectile's power supply runs dry, at which point it plummets to the ground and leaves her entrapped.

Gray struggles for a bit to extract herself, finally pulling free...

"Poke."

...and flinches when I reach down and flick her in the forehead, having strolled up to her while she was floundering about (heh, "floundering", nice). The red shield flickers a few times, then fades away for good. The power readings I'm registering from Gray's weapons are dwindling down to nothing.

MISSION - 100 - 20p
CLEAR TIME - 4'55 - 1p
ENEMY - 1 - 20p
DAMAGE - 46 - 11p
RETRY - 0 - 20p

TOTAL: 72p
AVERAGE: 72p

LEVEL: C
CODENAME: EDGE

Okay, where did that come from? Either I'm going crazy, or my CPU's developed a sense of humor. Maybe some defragging and debugging are both in order tonight.

"And Leviathan's the winner with five seconds left," Shining announces, bringing an official end to the match. I go through the motions of deep breathing, bringing myself down from my high as he continues to speak. "Cut it pretty close walking up to her like that."

"How much of that could you see?" Cadance asks, blinking. "That last minute or so was a blur. It looked like Gray honestly wanted to destroy her."

I put the Javelin away and look down at the cat-like pegasus who had been my opponent. Sustaining that attack barrage for that long has her pretty winded, so I suppose I should speak for her until she catches her breath. "That was intentional," I explain. "From the start, this was meant to be a 'real test', in Princess Celestia's words. It was supposed to be an exhibition of my combat ability, a means of showing that I was everything I said I was in the newspaper. I suspect this is because she wanted to know how to counter my race if any malevolent Reploids ever followed me here." I shrug. "And I did tell Gray a few times not to underestimate me or hold back. Keep that in mind."

Cadance doesn't seem convinced. "Are you sure? You looked like you were enjoying yourself entirely too much for somepony who was almost ripped apart a dozen times over."

"Don't misunderstand, Princess," I start to say.

Said Princess interrupts me before I continue. "Please, just call me 'Cadance'. I'm supposed to be on vacation."

"Cadance, then." Really informal for royalty, isn't she? "I don't enjoy violence for the sake of violence. I don't go out of my way to pick fights with others, and I'm happy just living and letting live." I smile down at Gray. "What I do enjoy is a challenge. I like being put to the test against someone capable of winning against me. Sure, any of her attacks could have seriously damaged me, but I was able to overcome that. I'm okay with the fact that she was willing to try."

I can feel a bit of pressure on my arm: Gray is nuzzling my wrist where my arm guard used to be. She meets my gaze, concerned. "Are you okay, Fairy?" (Cadance settles down at this, trading smiles with Shining Armor.) "I went all out like you asked, but..."

To better answer Gray, I run a cursory scan of my systems while I pick up my armor fragments off the floor. Don't want to leave those where ponies can find them. "Tired yet functioning, obviously, but you dealt some substantial damage. My helmet's cracked from being tornado-driven into the floor, my Javelin's battered and chipped, your Phantom Slicer cut off my Ice Manipulation---"

"Wait. 'Phantom Slicer'?"

"The attack that phased through me."

Confused ponies are cute. "You actually name attacks where you're from?"

And I imagine confused Reploids are cute too, from their perspective. "You don't?"

Shining Armor starts chuckling, and I can hear a quiet snort that suggests Cadance isn't too far behind. I'd better get back on track. "Erm... anyway, I can't control ice anymore because of that, my left arm guard is scrap, and there's some lingering pain in both my face and back. It's going to take about three or four days to fix everything." I set my auto-repair to work on fixing my internal connections as I finish my report.

"Actually... you might not need to do that yourself."

My head jerks up at the balcony. ...What? "Mind speaking up? I'm not sure if I heard you right, Captain."

"I said that you might not need to do that yourself," Shining repeats, flipping open his saddlebag and pulling something out of it. He chucks it at me with a call of "Catch!"

The object that lands in my free hand is... a misshapen rock, of all things. If I had to describe its shape, I'd equate it to something like an eight-pointed star. It feels a bit hot to the touch, like it had spent a few hours just sitting out in the sun. The coloration is a mix of red, orange and yellow hues that blend together seamlessly.

Gray lifts off the floor, hovering up to my hand to get a better view. "Oooh. Reddocite. Pretty."

"You recognize this, Gray?"

"Well, you've probably guessed by now that since Celestia chose me as her proxy, that means I've done some work for her in the past, right?" I nod, having figured as much. "Reddocite's rare enough that there's only one known deposit in Equestria, and mining of it is strictly regulated to prevent misuse. When pulverized, it can fix and repair any damaged substance in close proximity to it." She shakes her head. "It has no effect on living beings like ponies, so it's useless as a medicine. It's just for inorganic stuff. I've had to use it once or twice to keep any structural damage from being linked to me, and from there back to my squad mates."

Shining takes over. "What Gray didn't say is that it's also very expensive. Just one sample of Reddocite costs as much as any upper-class residence in Canterlot, so it's not widely circulated. Still, Princess Celestia anticipated that you would probably end up needing this, so she told me to bring it along. Technically you're not a biological being, so it should work on you."

'Magic rocks restore health'. Four words, and another entry in the list of 'Strange Sentences I've Uttered Since I Got Here'. Well... no harm in trying, I guess. "Does it just work on what it touches, or does it have some kind of radius?"

"It's the latter," Gray confirms. "Everything within about four meters around it. Short ranged, but thorough."

"Good." I walk to where she had slammed me into the floor with that tornado. "This will make cleanup a little easier."

I hadn't brought this up during the fight because I was too focused on overcoming my dizziness and dealing with Gray, but that impact had done more than just crack my helmet. It had also severely damaged the floor, cratering it and splintering most of the tiles. Leaving it as it was would result in the school administration and the R.P. breathing down our necks. It's best to fix this now so that we don't have to deal with any repercussions later.

Upon getting there, I give the Reddocite a light toss before spiking it into the ground. The ore shatters on impact, dissolving into nothingness. For a moment nothing happens---

Ooh. I never thought I'd say that being subjected to high heat was soothing, but here I am.

As I watch, the floor is actively fixing itself: the tiles are reforming and replacing themselves, the crater is gradually disappearing, and any debris are vanishing. Within ten seconds, the floor looks the same as it did ten minutes ago. Even any water within the radius is being shunted back into the pool.

As for me personally, I can see my arm guard's fragments flying out of my hand and piecing themselves together where they belong, becoming whole. In my inventory, the Frost Javelin's damage is reversing itself. Little nicks and scratches in my jumpsuit and synthskin that I hadn't noticed before are disappearing. A message is flashing in my HUD, telling me that the connection with my Ice Manipulation has been repaired. My face and back aren't hurting anymore. The minute amount of Energen I'd expended during the fight returns to where it had been at the beginning, my power output boosts itself back to 100%, and that energetic feeling I had when I left this morning returns. "Wow, that feels wonderful... Gray, is my helmet still cracked?"

"Not seeing anything wrong with it," she confirms.

My mind racks itself for comparisons to anything I'd seen before. Almost immediately, I find one in the form of Cyber-Elves. There were certain Elves that could sacrifice themselves to restore or add to a Reploid's vitality, or turn themselves into Reserve Tanks for the Reploid to use later for the same purpose. There were even some that could impact the world around them, though I don't recall any that could directly repair their surroundings on this scale. It might be a bit too soon to refer to Reddocite as the Elves' counterpart since this is the only sample I've encountered, but nothing else is coming to mind. Might as well stick with it until I can dredge up some other memory, provided one exists.

(Side note: the sacrificial part isn't strictly true anymore. The report on the 'Ciel System' wasn't the only thing the good doctor shared with Harpuia. She'd also offered a means for certain Cyber-Elves to be upgraded into 'Satellite' forms and be prevented from dying while still letting Reploids benefit from their abilities. Judging from the two that I saw orbiting Zero when we arrived to assist him, I'd say it worked out fine.)

Still, if there's anything that this bout succeeded in hammering home, it's this: Never. Underestimate. Magic. If there's only one mineral deposit with an exorbitantly high cost per shipment, then Reddocite can't be counted on to fix me every time I get in a scrap. I'll take it in this instance, but I have to be extra careful not to sustain damage like this again. And that means acquiring knowledge about magic that Drama Heart doesn't have the time to offer me, if only to minimize the chances of being caught off guard.

"The Reddocite works. That's good to see, and it's something else to add to the report," Shining notes. "If you don't mind, I've got some things I'd like to ask you about that I'd witnessed during the fight. Do you have some time?"

"Depends," I say, enjoying the sensation of the energy circulating through me. Desired caution or not, this still feels good. "Does anypony know how late the Manehattan Public Library is open?"

"10am to 8pm on weekdays, 9am to 3pm on weekends," Gray recites from memory.

"Then sure. I've got time." This will doubtlessly be the most informal debriefing I've ever been involved in, and Shining seems like the type of officer who saves the no-nonsense attitude for when it's needed the most. Part of me's curious as to what it's like to directly work for him...

But my thoughts are swayed from that as I take in the room's condition. There's large puddles of water everywhere, the pool toys are all over the place, and everything that had been hanging on the walls aside from the signs are much the same. "...Though I think I'll need to clean this up first."

"You do that." Gray turns and trots back towards the locker room. "I've got to grab a shower and get this chlorine off of---WHOA WHOA WHOA WHAAA~!"

Predictably, moving at a quick clip on wet tiles has consequences: Gray slips, flails about as she tried to find purchase but fails, and ultimately ends her struggle with her face pressed against the wall.

"'The Cat That Walks By Herself', ladies and gentlecolts," Shining mutters, smiling bemusedly.

"Gray, that sign said not to gallop in here!" Cadance calls out, somewhere between annoyed and amused. Closer to the latter; she's clearly suppressing a chuckle.

"I was trotting, not galloping!" Gray protests. "There's a difference!"

And my reaction?

"Kyahahahaha~!"

...Draw your own conclusions.

Author's Note

The music links for this chapter include: a nifty remix of Giratina's battle music from Pokémon Platinum by Vanilluxe Pavilion, Wolverine's music from MVC3, and a Sega Genesis-esque remix of "A Fleeting Respite" from Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow by TheLegendofRenegade.

(For those wondering why I didn't use one of the battle tracks from Zero/ZX, I'm keeping those in reserve for later.)

As I've stated previously, fight scenes aren't my thing. If the flow was even halfway discernible, I'm going to have to settle for that and think of it as practice for the future. There's going to be at least a few more of these before the story ends.

Fun fact: I hadn't intended for Fairy and Gray's fight to take place at a school. My first thought was to have it at one of the in-universe equivalents of Madison Square Garden. Then prior to the previous chapter, one of my readers mentioned something about the fight needing a lot of water (paraphrased), and I scrapped my initial plans.

Not going to lie, I'm certain I might have stretched the connection between Cutie Marks and their owners' abilities just a bit too far with this chapter. :twilightsheepish: All I can really say in my defense is that there's a good in-universe reason for why Gray's so cat-like; it's just not the right time to fully explore it. You'll just have to settle for the tiny hints I've been dropping off and on.

"Phantom Slicer" is a cool name for an attack, though. Just putting that out there.

The 'reddo' in "Reddocite" is actually a Latin word. Your average search engine would probably be able to explain its meaning better than I could. Fairy can picture it as whatever she wants, but personally I'd equate it more to E-Tanks from the Classic series. Its effects on the surrounding area are just bonuses.

One more expositional chapter, and then I can finally start giving the story's antagonist a more active role. Thank you for being patient with me thus far.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: April 1, 2022. And no, I don't like practical jokes, so y'all are safe.

Winding Down

It didn't take me long to clean up the pool room.

I walked around the perimeter and tapped any and all water that wasn't where it was supposed to be with the Javelin, using the liquid as material for mini-ice dragons instead of my own generators. One by one I directed each dragon back into the pool and let them dissolve there. Some of the water had gotten into the balcony seating, so I had to clean that up as well. From there, it was just a matter of putting everything else away.

Thinking about it, I'm a little surprised that the tornado hadn't caused more damage. I can tell you just by getting caught in it that it was equal to a low-end EF3 (you'd be surprised what you could learn by associating with Harpuia long enough). Yet, the walls and ceiling were fully intact. How much of that was pegasi being pegasi, and how much was physics packing its bags and going on vacation? Something else to let my viewers make the judgment call on.

Gray hadn't finished her own cleanup by the time I was done, so I sat down next to Shining and Cadance to wait for her. As the minutes passed, I engaged in conversation with them about what life was like in Canterlot compared to Manehattan. I learned that if I valued my sanity to never seek out a residence over there: apparently some of the unicorns with rank and prestige are jerks and snobs of the highest order, most notably Princess Celestia's own nephew. Shining even did an impression of him that I didn't think was real, but Cadance swears is 85% accurate: "I don't want that robot in here! I don't want to be turned into a machine! How would I enjoy my collection of fine teas that I never let anypony else try for fear that they would get their grubby hooves all over them? Oh, the horror!"

Yes. Enough said.

Cadance told me that there is a fair amount of prejudice and hatred towards me among those in the upper class and those who have Celestia's ear, but surprisingly less than there was when I granted Buried Lede's interview. Apparently one of Celestia's favorite musicians was present when I had that discussion (not an argument) with Gray over what my clothing was called. Her first day on the job, she took umbrage with somepony's belief that everything I'd told the newspaper had been pre-calculated to drop everypony's guard. "What sort of 'murder-happy robot' would take part in a vaudeville act with a random pony about their clothes? The lot of you should be ashamed of yourselves!" she was quoted as saying. She then went on to recite as much of my discussion as she recalled, and as a result a few ponies actually reconsidered their opinions, including one of Celestia's own aides.

Part of me thinks it shouldn't be that easy. The other part of me says not to look a gift horse in the mouth...

...Gift horse? Sigh... Well, I guess I had to use that one sooner or later.

Anyway, there's probably a few "murder-happy robots" out there somewhere that would try something like that just to yank everypony's chains. My detractors aren't too far off the mark if they're thinking like that. Still, it's nice to know that some of the mundane citizenry over there are in my corner.

Gray finally exited the locker room after Cadance was done with her account, completely dry with her coat and mane in order. In her teeth was the handle to an armored, sealed briefcase that lacked a discernible way to open it. When she said that it was used to store her gauntlets, we nodded and asked no further questions about it. If anypony wanted its contents, they'd better know how to phase through solid objects.

Which brings me to...

"So I'm going to ask these questions in order, starting with you," Shining begins the interview by addressing me. "At the start of the fight, you made what looked like a second jump in mid-air. Was this something you were keeping a secret from the local newspaper to keep potential enemies from finding out?"

I shake my head. "Actually, this was something I only found out I could do after that edition was published. At some point in my life, my blueprints and hardware were tampered with to keep me from being aware of what I'm supposed to be fully capable of. I have my suspicions as to the culprit, but without being able to conduct a full investigation I don't have solid proof. I've been chiseling away at the passwords protecting them since the discovery, and the first ability was unlocked last night."

"First?"

"Of eight, yes." I glance off to the side. "Though can I have a guarantee that you're not going to take this to the newspaper? I'd rather that this be kept off the record. You three and Drama Heart are the only ones that know about the finer details, and I feel it's a good idea that it stays that way."

"You have my word that this will stay strictly on a need-to-know basis," Shining promises entirely earnestly. That's the best I can probably get from him, considering his duties. "Cady, could you not...?"

"...tell everyone and their dog? I promise," Cadance agrees. "Gray?"

Gray nods, her expression as close to serious as I've ever seen without it dropping into full-blown anger. "I can keep secrets."

I smile thankfully, then begin my explanation. "The first one, as you've all seen, is..."

...

The next few minutes are spent giving the three a rundown on all eight abilties and what they're supposed to be used for. The second question Shining asks, however, isn't about any of those but is instead about something I've had since the day I was given the Javelin. "You being able to fire off the tip of your weapon as a rocket doesn't surprise me. What I'd really like to know is how you can create replacements for it that quickly. It's not like there's extra space in the weapon to store more."

Gray perks up at this. "Yeah. I wasn't thinking about it at the time, but that does seem weird. How do you do that?"

"That's something you'd have to ask whoever it was that created the weapon," I say, shrugging. "It was worked on long before I was ever conceptualized, let alone built. The homing projectiles are best used underwater, but they have their uses in the air, too." I nod at Gray. "And it means I still have a mid-range attack if something happens to my Ice Manipulation."

"That's what I ended up cutting? I was hoping I'd hit a coolant line," Gray says wonderingly. Cadance flinches at how casual her words sounded. "I was curious why you didn't use any more ice the rest of the fight. That answers that."

"How many of those projectiles can you keep in the air at once?" Shining continues.

That warrants a frown. "Just up to three. I tried spawning more once, but it wouldn't let me. The notes I was given on the weapon said something about 'hardware limitations' and 'too many sprites'. I couldn't make sense of it and its designer was long dead by the time I entered the picture, so finally I gave up, accepted that it could create multiples in the first place, and moved on."

The looks that the three of them are trading each other are the same ones I had when I first learned of that flaw. "Let's just move on to the next question, Shining," Cadance decides as she shakes off her confusion.

"Yeah. Good idea." The Captain's puzzlement is gone by the time he's done with his next inquiry. "I was watching your reactions to Gray's Phantom Slicer---"

"Still can't get over the fact that she names her attacks," Gray mutters.

Shining ignores her. "---and you seemed to piece together how she could do that quicker than expected. If there was anything about that in the Minutes, I don't think it was ever elaborated on."

For the sake of proving a point, I remove my helmet and place it on the bench next to me. Cadance is smiling at me, and I don't get why. "How familiar are you with computers, Captain?"

"There are a few in operation, but they're reserved strictly for research and analysis," he explains. "Large, very bulky and heavy. Just one of them is about as big as any classroom here, and they take some time to handle complex calculations. I hear the setup period's a drag."

I was under the assumption that they would only be familiar with computers by way of comic books and the like. It's nowhere close to home computing, but that's still better than I expected. "Give it time. Centuries from now, this world might end up having computers that can think as fast as any pony. Of course, the key word there is 'might' due to differing technological paths, but that's irrelevant. My point is that my creators were at the same stage you're currently at a long time ago. But as the decades and centuries passed, they were able to invent computers that are small and capable enough..." I tap my forehead. "...to function as brains all their own."

"Like in 'Millions Umbra'," Gray comments, the tip of her tail twitching. "Neat."

...Okay, that's a derailment. "What's that, now?"

"First horror story I ever read," she explains. "The central character's basically a robot stallion who was created to think like a pony. It didn't straight-up call him a 'robot', but all the similarities are still there. He was made of metal and everything, without any magic of his own."

Not as much of a derailment as I expected. Very well. "You get what I'm talking about, then. Good. As I've made clear in the past, Reploids in general were made to be able to make conscious decisions and think like our creators. And for all of us, that's how we'd like to think most of the time. But if you're involved in a battle that requires hair-trigger timing and split-second decisions, where every movement can mean the difference between life and death, you have to think quickly. You have to possess laser-like focus, not the addled mind of an organic lifeform.

"If ponies here are anything like my creators, they should be capable of burning through many trillions of calculations a second at their peak. The problem is that they don't have the means of consciously comprehending everything the brain does. They're completely blind to how much work goes on behind an average thought process. They decide what to have for breakfast in the morning, go 'okay, neat', and devote nothing else to it. A random carriage goes by, they register that image in their minds, and then it's forgotten about a second later. Reploids are the opposite: our brain capacity is a mere fraction of ponykind's, but we know everything that runs through our CPUs. If we so choose, we can shut out everything irrelevant, devote all of our attention to a single topic (maybe two at most), and arrive at the answer that makes the most sense to us within seconds regardless of the subject. We simply have that much focus to spare."

Maybe that was a bit too much like boasting? They all have their jaws hanging open. Gray's the first to get her act together. "Wow," she breathes. "All that, and you still faceplanted into a door."

I tighten my grip on the edge of the bench to keep from falling off. I've heard of facefaults, and I don't want to experience one today. Or ever. "I said 'if we so choose', Gray!" I protest indignantly, noting that her comment managed to jar Shining and Cadance back to their senses. "It's not something we do all the time! If I had a bit for every time I did something without thinking, I could probably buy your lunch everyday for a week!" I sigh, forcing myself to calm down. "And a lot of it depends on the state of mind combined with what's going on. I feel that if your tornado hadn't dazed me, or if we'd been fighting outside the pool the whole time, I would've had the presence of mind to evade your Slicer."

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that your personality factors into it too," Cadance brings up.

"Bingo, Princess," I acknowledge her. "That can get in the way sometimes. My fellow Guardian Fefnir..." I roll my eyes. "He was like a brother to me, but he was as hotheaded as his element. Outside of combat affairs, he could be reasoned with like any rational being. In battle, he was a shoot-first-ask-questions-never kind of guy. Really easy to rile up, and he takes fighting more seriously than I do. He's capable of the same thought processes I am, but he prefers to think for the moment instead of the future. A real combat nerd."

"May I interrupt with a side question?" Gray asks. She gets a nod from Shining Armor before continuing speaking. "This Fefnir fellow. You're saying he was hotheaded, so I'm guessing fire?"

"Yes. And with that in mind, I think you would have had a higher chance of beating him than me if he'd been the one to appear here."

"What do you mean?"

"Even assuming you fought with the same rules--you get three hits, he keeps going until he wins or loses, and the duel takes place someplace where he'd have an advantage--he'd be worse off. After all, his biggest weakness was something your race is naturally capable of harnessing, Gray. And since none of his ranged attacks were capable of homing... well, you're smart. Do the math."

The three of them are silent for a time as they contemplate this. "I overheard you telling Drama once this past week that you have issues with fire," Gray comments. "While lightning you shrug off like a day at the park. So I'm guessing if you and Fefnir fought, he'd win more times than not. Whereas he's poor at dealing with excess electricity and lightning."

"He's won more than his fair share of spars against me," I confirm. "Knowing how he fights wasn't enough to give me an edge. Even getting him underwater isn't a guarantee."

"Reading into this, you have a third Guardian who harnesses electricity but is weak to ice?" asks Cadance. "That's a strange little elemental triangle you have going there."

Come to think of it... "It is, now that you mention it. Huh."

"You said before that you were one of Four," Shining cuts in. "Did your fourth have any particular connection to this 'triangle'?"

"Not in the sense that he was strong or weak against a particular element," I answer, thinking about Phantom. "He was the most... I don't know if 'normal' is the right word here. Whenever we sparred, he was roughly equal to all of us. Any given fight against him, the chances of winning or losing were even."

"Non-elemental?" Cadance suggests.

"Sure, that works. In regards to the analysis you noticed, Captain, did that answer your question?"

Shining smiles. "And then some, thank you. That's everything I needed from you, so you're free to go if you like. Cadance and I still have some things we need to talk to Gray about."

Sounds like a good idea. I re-don my helmet and start to stand up---

...

...Blast it, I sigh internally. Curse my curiosity. There's too many things about her that I'm wondering about.

"Is something wrong, Leviathan?" the Captain wonders, watching as I re-take my seat.

"This might sound like a silly question, but is anything you have to discuss with her supposed to be confidential or otherwise private? I'm feeling like I should be staying here."

"Don't worry. We'll tell you if we have to broach a sensitive topic," Shining assures me. "You're curious about her, right?"

"...Yes."

"Well, that makes two of us. Stick around for a bit." He turns away from me, setting his sights on my recent opponent. "On the tornado you whipped up, Gray. Have you ever undergone an official wingpower test?"

Gray's wings flare outward for a few moments. "Several times. The most recent one was a year before my accident. Rated a 13.4 at the time. I let myself go after I got married, so I don't know where I stand now."

"I'm guessing that's meant to measure the strength of the pegasus's wings?" I ask.

"Both that and how fast they're able to fly," Shining responds. "The higher it is, the better physical shape they're in. In general, if your wingpower is thirteen or higher, it means you're among the fittest and quickest that Equestria can offer. It's tough to have one without the other."

Hmm. "In terms of speed, how does wingpower measure up?"

"If I recall, one unit of wingpower is about 19.5 miles per hour," Cadance explains. "But the tests aren't meant to measure a pegasus' absolute top speed. It's more like what they're able to achieve when they put in a bit of effort. If they measured their best, you'd probably be seeing wingpower of at least 35 on average."

Some quick math reveals what that number is. "Pretty close to the speed of sound. That's about how fast I figure Gray to be at her peak."

I just can't get over how fascinating eyebrows can be sometimes. "How do you figure?" Gray asks skeptically. "Was it just from watching me fly during the duel? I don't feel I was anywhere near that quick."

"No, it was from the day we met."

This gives Gray some pause. "Why, what happened back then?"

"Remember when I threw Drama across the street to keep that lightning from hitting her?" I reminded her. "I saw you swooping in to cushion her landing, and I was able to track you in that moment. Given local conditions, I think you could've hit the sound barrier if you had a few more seconds to work with." I'd mused at the time that her speed would impress Harpuia, and I still believe that. Some pretty good acceleration, too.

Pretty sure magic's messing up the equation somewhere, though. Those were some incredibly tight turns Gray was making to create that tornado, never mind the one she pulled to rescue Drama. Realistically it shouldn't have happened without serious injury, but it wouldn't be the first time that this universe's physical laws made a mockery of mine.

Gray's finding the balcony railing more fascinating than her eyebrows. "I wasn't trying to achieve anything flashy. I was just trying to save a friend from getting hurt."

One of Cadance's hooves rests over Gray's as she speaks. "And that's all you really need sometimes to motivate yourself. Your love for your friends and family is a very precious thing. Don't ever lose it."

"Don't teach Coloratura how to sing," Gray retorts without any heat, one corner of her mouth tilting up. "I've always known where my priorities lie, Princess. I don't need my Cutie Mark to tell me that. Don't need it to tell me that you're in the same boat that I am, either."

Both Shining and Cadance blush at this---what? "You're not wrong," Cadance admits a bit awkwardly.

"Is there something I'm missing?" I ask. "How'd we get from flight speed to that?"

"Not much of a romantic, Fairy?" Gray jokes.

A mild huff. "You're the one who keeps accusing me of having a murder-crush on Zero. You tell me."

Shining clears his throat. "Let's get back on topic. Leviathan, do you have any further questions for Gray on the subject of wingpower?"

Let's see... "Not on that specifically, but I can link that with something we brought up earlier. Is weather manipulation something that all pegasi can do, or do you need specialized training to pull off phenomena like pinpoint lightning strikes?"

"'How often' and 'when' you train varies depending on where in Equestria, but if you're a pegasus, you're typically expected to learn at least the basics of weather control even if you don't intend to make it your career," Gray clarifies. "Unless you have some sort of physical ailment that keeps you from flying, you may be needed to help out in some way down the line, so it helps to be prepared. You were born a pegasus, weren't you, Princess?"

"Yes, and I went through the same instructions," Cadance confirms. "Though creating a tornado on a whim typically isn't something I set out to do."

A bit distracting, but level with me here. She was born a pegasus? Then how did she get that horn? Is it possible for ponies to gain extra appendages over time? Would that come about via spontaneous mutation, or some sort of twisted magic-centric growth cycle?

"I picked up the basics as part of a required course in my fillyhood, and some more advanced stuff as an elective here at Bronclyn High before I decided on my career path," Gray continues. "I went through specialized training after I joined the Police, though for the sake of security I'd rather not discuss the specifics of that training. I will say that's where I learned to use tornadoes to drop bulky enemies on their heads and set them up for a finishing blow."

What kind of Police force that operates almost entirely in urban environments teaches their officers to use natural disasters to subdue lawbreakers? There's something deeper there than that, but I'm guessing that falls under "you don't need to know". Fair enough. You've got to keep at least some secrets, right?

Shining takes my silence as an excuse to continue. "I think we've gotten all we can from that. Moving on, what's the story with those gauntlets? I realize they fit in with the whole 'cat' motif, but I've never seen that type of weapon used in law enforcement."

"I was trained with those police batons, but I always found them awkward to use at best." I imagine I would too, if I had to wield them with my teeth. "My assigned partner and I went to our direct superiors and explained the problem, and after some discussion they agreed to have these specially-made for me. Thing is, there aren't any real good blacksmiths in Manehattan, so I had to commission these from the Royal Guard's smithy in Canterlot. Gave up a month's salary to pay for them, but they've proven that they're worth every bit since."

"Steel of some variety?" I inquire. "They'd have to be, in order to damage the Javelin in any way."

"Partially. There's steel like you said, but we've got silver and moonstone in there, too." Gray fishes one of her gauntlets out of the briefcase. Watching her do that is just... weird. Her leg's not even turning invisible as it happens like you'd expect: it's just a solid object passing through another solid object without damaging it. It's a bit uncanny, and the slight glowing of her Mark just adds to it. Shining and Cadance's faces are indications that they agree with me. "There's three enchantments on this, one for each substance. The first grants it some extra durability and keeps it from getting rusted or chipped. The second magnifies the claws' sharpness to the point of letting me fire off projectiles at will. And the third protects it from magnetism."

'Amused smirk' is go. "I take it that magnets were a common problem in your line of work?"

Gray puts the gauntlet back, chuckling. "You have no idea. One year the Police ran a contest to keep morale up; I took part and received a ticket to one of Celestia's galas as a prize. While I was there, this helmeted loon turned up from out of nowhere to cause trouble. He called himself, and I quote, 'the master of magnet'. One second I was charging him, the next I was waking up with my face in the punch bowl wondering if I'd somehow gotten drunk. After that incident, I went to the smithy and asked for that last enchantment to make sure it didn't happen again. Sure enough, there were some chumps in the following years who thought to try using magnets to keep me off-balance." She looks up at the ceiling, a hoof on her chin. "I still wonder what happened to that loon. Nopony heard anything from him again after that incident, at least according to the rumor mill."

"That experience had to have been embarassing," Cadance comments with a hint of sympathy.

Gray shrugs. "Not really. The fruit punch was delicious. What was embarassing was that I thought I was seeing magnets everywhere the rest of the evening. Alas, they were mistakes, not magnets."

...It feels like every serious conversation I have with this pony has to have some kind of joke I don't understand. No wonder she gets along fine with Drama. And why did she have her claws if she was attending a party? "Gray..."

And lo and behold, an innocent face. "What?"

"...Never mind. The gist of what you're saying is that they're reliable, tricked out, and comfortable, correct?"

"Yes, essentially. I could have simplified it, but I've been to a few debriefings in my time. The details matter."

"Though some of those details probably could be called into question..." Shining remarks under his breath. Cadance nudges him in response, though her half-closed eyes are telling me she's no less bothered. "...Right. Next question. Princess Celestia described you to me as an 'absolute beast in combat', and I went into this believing that she was talking about your combat skill. From everything I've seen since I arrived, I've determined that she was talking more about your 'feline' habits. What drove you to start acting like that? How does behaving like a cat get you a Cutie Mark?"

Gray lays down on her seat, propping her head on her hooves. Outwardly she's not showing much emotion, but a few swishes of her tail are giving away her irritation. "That's as big a mystery to me as it is to you."

The three of us frown at Gray's comment. "How could you not know that?" I ask. "This theme of yours... I was assuming that this was something you'd just decided to do one day, and you ended up receiving your Mark by fully immersing yourself in the role. How could you not know when all of this started?"

Frustration. Exhaustion. The world getting brighter. A flurry of leaves on the wind.

Freedom. Elation, a family reunited. Confusion, then a shrug.

"I just don't know," Gray tells us, shaking her head. "I've always felt that everything I've done was what I should've done. From kindergarten on, I've been seeing the world through a specific lens that I can't describe. All this time, I've been living my life as my whims dictate. Other ponies tell me that my behavior is off-kilter, and I've tried to keep that reined in... but it always overcame me without it trying, and eventually I decided not to struggle against it anymore." She's looking at us, but I'm getting the feeling she's not really looking at us, if you understand what I'm trying to say. "I can't give an answer for why I act the way I do, why I'm as strange as I seem to others, or why I've just gone with the flow for most of my life. All I know is that it just seems right."

Translation: there's something wrong with her mentally. Can't think of any other reason why a representative from a herbivorous species would behave like a carnivore, unless it was all done for grins and giggles. "Have you ever seen a doctor about it?" I inquire.

"A few times," she admits. "I'm banned from one office because I wouldn't stop falling asleep on their couches mid-appointment. The second one eventually told me not to come back unless I was convinced that I 'wanted to improve'. The third decided that I was taking an interest in their office aquarium for all the wrong reasons."

"...That last one doesn't seem like they had a proper reason to block you," Cadance tentatively brings up.

"I think what convinced them that I was beyond hope was when I went up to their secretary and asked for some mayonnaise."

"Okay, never mind!" Cadance hastily backpedals. Yeah, I think that's where I'm drawing the line, too.

Gray chuckles again. "Just as well. I've always been more partial to tuna."

"Right..." Shining shakes his head. "Well, I do have one more questions..." He frowns at me, and his voice becomes apologetic. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave for this. It's for the Crown and its representatives' ears only."

About time. "Just as well. I have to get to the library anyway." I stand up, going through the motions of stretching my arms out in front of me. "Nice meeting you both, Captain, Cadance. If you ever see that musician, could you tell her I said thanks for her support?"

"Sure," Cadance agrees. "I can do that."

"Thanks for your time, Leviathan." Shining offers his hoof, and I accept it with a fistbump. "Hope you find something over there you can use."

He doesn't sound very hopeful, but I'm going there anyway. I don't have anything to lose by doing so. "You're welcome."

"Tell the foals and Drama that I'll be back at the Pyre after lunch, would ya?" Gray requests.

"Certainly. Which way is it to the library from here, by the way...?"

...

Leaving the school the same way I entered, I decide that even if the debriefing left me with more questions than answers, it's still been a good morning thus far. The only way it could be better would be if the answer to my dilemma appeared out of thin air, though that's as likely to happen as Dr. Weil becoming a humanitarian.

I've taken part in a friendly competition to see how I stack up against the locals, I had a nice swim, and I had a great fight. The fight in particular was especially satisfying; it gave me the same sort of rush I got whenever I fought Zero. In at least one way, however, I'd rank this one higher than any of those. Do you want to know why?

It's because there was nothing at stake.

Shining Armor watched as Leviathan departed, continuing to stay quiet for a full minute after she was gone. It was only after he was completely positive that she wouldn't be able to listen in that he returned his attention to Gray Ghost. "Now, then. Were you aware that you're pushing the envelope where your special talent is concerned?"

Gray's eyebrows furrowed. "In what regard, Captain?"

"If Twily were here, she would probably give a big lecture as to how magic has its own set of rules, that they're expected to be followed. One typically doesn't expect a pony to be able to break those rules the way you did. Cats might be slippery, but they aren't that slippery. I don't own any, and even I know that."

"Nice observation..." Gray stifled a yawn, then turned to stare longingly at the patch of sunlight that was no longer situated over the diving board. "Though it's off just a little. It's not really breaking the rules, just exercising them in a different way. If I were trying to break the rules, there's no way that I would be able to do what I do."

"What's this 'different way' you're talking about?" Cadance wanted to know.

Gray took a moment to clear her throat. "...Excuse me. When I was younger and putting my abilities through their paces, I discovered that a lot of them are contingent on my physical health if I want to use them actively. The weaker I am, the less likely they are to work. I can guarantee you there's no way I would be able to get the Phantom Slicer to cooperate if I were at, say, my youngest child's level of strength."

"Could you give me an example of a more 'passive' ability of yours?" the alicorn asked. “For a frame of reference?”

"My sixteen-hour sleep cycle. If I don't have to work, then I rest as much as I can."

"...I think I've been at a loss for words more times in the past half hour than I have in the past half year," Shining muttered.

A fanged smile that was present one second and gone the next. "I get that a lot. Anyhoo, I've had a few ponies tell me when I was active that my techniques were 'broken'. After I worked out what that word meant in that context, I had to tell them that no, they weren't. The Slicer isn't something I can just do casually; it takes a fair amount of concentration and physical effort. If I'm distracted or tired, they start to falter. That's how I got in that accident at the bridge: I'd been fairly stressed that day due to a prank gone wrong and there were foals among the hostages, so I wasn't in the best of moods. I got mad and charged one of those responsible, and... well, to summarize, it ended with me struggling to stay afloat in salt water with a busted wing.”

A few seconds passed as everypony processed what they were told. “With that in mind, you sleeping when we arrived makes sense now,” Cadance remarked, the dots swiftly connecting. “Getting all the rest you need does wonders for your thought processes. If you can think clearly, then you aren't likely to waver when it comes time to act.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Gray unfurled one of her wings, examining it as if contemplating how to clean it. “Though that's not the end of it.” Closing her wing, she fixed the both of them with a deadly serious gaze. “When you get back to Canterlot and have one of your private meetings with the flake---”

“The 'flake'?” Shining and Cadance echoed in disbelief.

“...Well, she is,” Gray defended herself half-heartedly. She lowered her voice far enough that their ears only barely managed to pick up her words. “But anyway, when you do that, ask her about what the contents of File C184-GG-N0-RE-SPR1 had been. That flurry of slashes at the end? That wasn't my first idea. There was something else I could've used, but I decided it wasn't worth it. I don't care how much she wants me to take her seriously in a fight: I cannot in good conscience use that against a friend, and there's no way I can handle it in my condition even if I was willing.”

Shining took in her words and her eyes. “It's that serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack, Captain, and I mean that literally. Don't breathe a word about it to anypony. That goes for you too, Princess. What you learn from that file does not leave Celestia's chambers. Verbally or otherwise.”

Solemn nods from them both. “You have our word,” they promised.

Gray's demeanor shifted back to its more natural state, with her volume following suit. It was a fairly abrupt transition that took them both off guard. “Wow, you really are meant for each other if you can talk in unison like that. Been dating a while?”

Cadance recovered first and decided to field this one to keep Shining from stammering the entire time. “Well, yes. Since our school years, we...”

…

With the most serious stuff out of the way, the three of them engaged in lighthearted conversation for a few more minutes. Gray tried to talk the two of them into visiting her apartment after she got off work, all the better to meet the whole family at once. She succeeded with Cadance, but Shining begged off while citing the need to return to Canterlot and deliver his report to Celestia. With that they went their own ways: Shining to return the school keys and get to the train station on time, Cadance to offer income to the city's tourism industry, and Gray to the Pyre (after making sure first to remove any remaining evidence that the four of them had been present, then to return the briefcase to its hiding place).

On her return trip, Gray decided that the sensation she had been experiencing since the fight ended was regret. For fifteen years she was content to laze about and take care of her children, her glory days--such as they were, considering S.M.I.L.E.'s clandestine activities--far behind her. She had promised herself when she had married Ocean Guard that she would never fight again. She did not want to get involved in another situation where she would be required to use that technique, as not only would it require her to kill, but it would put her own life at risk as well. She did not want to take another life while her children were alive, be it someone else's, or...

When she said that she was as “serious as a heart attack”, she wasn't referring to the Captain or the Princess. Nor was she talking about Leviathan and her power generators. In all reality, she was talking about herself.

…

A glowing Javelin swinging down at her---

Evading an ice dragon that could swallow her whole---

Whipping up a tornado, taking care not to damage her surroundings---

Feeling her gauntlet's claws tear through something in passing---

Surprise when a plastic ring snared her snout---

Giving in to her instincts in a last ditch effort to overwhelm---

Listening to the ecstatic enjoyment of one who sought to challenge herself---

…

Gray smiled sadly, slowly shaking her head as she flew. If only we had met while I was still with the Police. I would have loved a chance to fight you again, Fairy Leviathan. At my core, testing you made my heart beat like you wouldn't believe. Unfortunately...

Mental images of her husband and children crossed her mind one after another. She recalled their patience, their kind words, and their love. Time changes a mare. I can't afford to let myself get drawn into this any more than I already have. I'm okay watching you on Celestia's orders, but no further than that. No amount of fighting is going to replace my biggest trophies: a husband and children who understand, and can put up with, little ol' me.

The cat who walks by herself has been fully tamed.

Author's Note

Music links for this chapter include: Michael Walthius's "Echoes", "Autumn Plains" from Spyro 2: Ripto's Rage, "Safe Ambient" from Amnesia - The Dark Descent, and an instrumental of "Tuxedo Mirage" from Sailor Moon S.

This is another one of those chapters where I'm hoping that everything I said makes at least some sense. A lot of this was in part because I wanted to address a few things: Fefnir being able to beat Gray, and comments regarding how dangerous her phasing abilities are. If I got my beliefs in both departments across, then great.

(Bear in mind that the stated explanation for the former takes Shining Armor's rules into account. Thank you.)

Why yes, I did include a reference to the X-Men arcade game in this chapter, why do you ask? >^_^< It also doubles as a reference to that one incident I read about on TV Tropes years ago that claimed Magneto was messing with the Gala in some way. :rainbowlaugh:

The ending feels a bit rushed to me, admittedly. Don't know what I can really do to fix that, at least not with the time frame I have to work with. Anyway...

Chapter Update Deadline: April 13, 2022

Priorities

Caramel and Hazelnut Mocha, tired from a long day of sparring, putting up with their tutors, gaming, and walking among the common citizenry for publicity's sake, slept soundly in their beds.

Most of the tower's staff had gone to their own homes at the end of the business day. The cleaning ponies finished their work and left, locking up behind them. Only the security staff remained, continuing to do their jobs diligently.

Near each door, spherical green crystals embedded in the ceiling and encased in glass bathed the area with dim radiance. If anything tried to enter through the public entrances, the entire building would be placed on high alert.

However, the tower had its fair share of secrets. There was still one entrance that nopony except a select few individuals knew about. And it was through that entrance that seven individuals sneaked inside, making their way to a sealed-off meeting room near the top of the tower.

It was only when the last of them took their seats that any of them dared to speak.

"Y'know, the boss really needs to spring for some new lights." Male, with a standard Manehattan accent. Subject #1.

"I hear you. If it weren't for this gear, I couldn't see anything at all." Another male, this one with a tone straight out of Griffonstone. Subject #2.

"He's what, the richest in this city and he won't put new bulbs in? He can't be that cheap." Rough and raspy, but obviously female. Her voice sounded like it came from somewhere high above them. #3.

"Perhaps he gets some sort of perverse amusement from hearing his followers bang their knees on the furniture?" Female, possessing a delicate yet chilling voice. Possibly from Vanhoover. #4.

"You're thinking of that charming Candy Cane fellow." A feminine voice that made the others feel like it would snap at any moment. A pony most likely from Baltimare. #5.

"If by 'charming' you mean 'can't be outsmarted because he's a moron', then we're already having a good meeting." Female, with an exotically cheerful disposition. None of those present could tell where it originated. #6.

"I don't know. I find the darkness pretty soothing." Male, but another whose port-of-call was indeterminate, entirely due to how ordinary his voice sounded. #7.

"I'll grant you that," #3 commented. "It reminds me of home a little. Still doesn't make sense for him to leave it like this, though."

"It's completely unfair," #4 griped. "This is the first time that all of us have ever met in person, and we're not even allowed to see each others' faces?"

"I recognize the voice at least," #6 brought up. "You're that one figure skater. You do good work."

"Why, thank you. I've always thought so."

"Entirely unfamiliar, but I'm not in civilization often enough to easily identify it," #2 pondered. "And the gear I was provided doesn't let me see more of you beyond vague silhouettes. Not even I can see in total darkness."

"We're all in the same boat," #1 said. "No point in getting upset over it, is there? You're not the only one."

"I know, copper, I know. I'm not upset. Just annoyed."

"Anypony else think our summons seemed hurried?" #7 wondered. "I thought we weren't supposed to be brought together for at least another three or four years."

"Maybe that robot's got him panicked," #3 suggested. "Personally, I don't know why he's worried. I could swat that thing out of the way without using his gifts."

"Or he just wants to get rid of that maniac on the throne before it's too late for him?" #5 threw in. Her own words ended up distracting her. "Ooh, catchy. 'Maniac, maniac on the throne, and she's ruling like she's never ruled before'..."

"Hang on a sec," #6 interrupted. "We're still two stallions short. Where's our eighth and ninth?"

"You must not have read all of that paper," #1 lightly scolded her. "They've been sitting in cells at the Police department for weeks. Their trial's been scheduled to begin in five days."

"I caught a clipping on the breeze that talked about the robot, and that was it," #6 grumbled. "Sue me."

2 chuckled eagerly. "I wonder what it would be like to hunt a robot. Seems like a whole new experience compared to my usual marks."

"I can't imagine anypony going to the trouble of building one, different world or no," #4 commented. "What sort of twisted mind would create something like that?"

"And if we disintegrated it again, would it go back to the world it came from?" #5 exclaimed eagerly. "That's what I want to know!"

"Rather twisted on your end, but it would pose a tidy solution to our problem," #6 said thoughtfully. "It gets to go home, we're free to carry out our ultimate mission. Everypony wins."

"Who said anything about sending it home?" #5 replied, voice cracking as if under pressure. "I want to destroy it! Oh-ho-ho-ho, burn, burn, burn...!"

"Leave the burning to me," #3 warned. "That's my job." She gestured in the general direction of #1. "And his, just a little."

"You seem pretty quiet," #2 commented to #7. "You charbroiling something in there?"

"I'm just a little nervous," #7 admitted. "This is the first time I've interacted with this many at once."

"We'll be working together towards a common goal from now on," #1 acknowledged him. "Think you can get used to it?"

"I... yeah. Yes, I can."

"Same here," #3 agreed. "I work best alone, but teaming up now and then never hurts."

"Glad to hear it," a voice unfamiliar to all but one of them spoke, cutting off all conversation. A door at the opposite end of the room slid open, admitting an unknown party before closing again. "Our mutual master wants all of us to be on the same page before his plan is set into motion."

"Ignition, mah stallion!" #6 crowed. "How've you been? You still cutting up dance floors?"

"With hedge clippers," the new arrival answered dryly, not amused at the idea of being anypony's stallion. "Cocoa Mocha himself will not be in attendance tonight, as his health has taken a turn for the worse. He's held out as long as he can, but our best estimate is that he has four days to live before his will passes on. As such, I will be sitting in for him."

"We're not going to be left leaderless, are we?" #4 inquired. "I joined him because he had some good ideas that I wanted to see through. I'm going to be very disappointed if we are left out in the cold."

"Mr. Mocha has a contingency in place for such a situation," Ignition promised. "In the event of his death, a pre-selected individual will approach one of you and recite a specific code phrase. Once the position is confirmed, any orders from said individual are to be treated as if Mr. Mocha himself were giving them. I will be transferring my loyalties alongside you."

"What is this phrase?" #1 asked.

Ignition took a deep breath, then answered his question via a string of words that lasted for a solid ten seconds. The phrase twisted and turned every which way, leaving the lot of them bewildered at what they'd just heard.

"Sooo... was that supposed to be a password or a spaghetti farm explosion?" #6 uttered, nonplussed.

"Abstract art," #5 whispered. "It's so..." She sniffed. "...beautiful!"

"It's more messed up than an unraveled Hearths Warming sweater," #2 deadpanned, "except the sweater can actually be disentangled and sewn back together."

"To sate your curiosity, that's a dialect that was old when Starswirl the Bearded was alive," Ignition clarified for them. "I'd have been surprised if any of you understood it. Loosely translated---very loosely translated---it means: 'A star falls, and the land takes its place. The great equalizers bring balance to the world. One form, one rule, one throne.'"

3 whistled. "Mocha is really not being subtle about his opinion of the solar alicorn, is he?"

"He has made it clear throughout his life that he hates the Princess and desires to see her ousted, though he has never told me why. The 'why' does not matter, just so long as all of us want her gone. If any of you have objections, leave your equipment here and depart the facility at once through the door behind me, and you will not be targeted so long as you don't interfere with our operations."

"She has been too lax," #1 growled without hesitation. "She sits in her precious mountain palace and lets the scum accumulate throughout Equestria! That ghost-cat-pony-whatever she is realized this too, else she never would have joined the Police!"

"She has greatly restricted the hunting I enjoy," #2 grunted. "I would like to regain that freedom. By force."

"All of those I know back home are too lazy to care that Celestia's control of the sun might slip one day," #3 snarled. "And those here in Manehattan are even worse. We need a method of utilizing the celestial bodies that won't risk our lives out of the blue, and I believe Mocha and his team are capable of offering it."

"It's entirely too selfish of her to hoard all of her majesty and not spread it around," #4 stated, casting her lot in with them. "Such greed is... unsightly."

5's giggling had a few of them struggling not to arm themselves. "They say that an alicorn's horn can cure any disease," she claimed. "Will it, or will it not? Only one way to find out, heeheehee~!"

"One trip," #6 hissed. "One shopping trip goes wrong, and all of a sudden every Royal Guardspony in the world has it out for you! I saw the tag, so I know that refrigerator was only three bits. I don't care what they say! Police-colt over there is right. If she can't control her Guard, then we need somepony who will!"

"Celestia is too intimidating," #7 finished. "We need somepony who is not just powerful and authoritative, but can relate to the common being. Mocha's origins make me feel like he is that type of individual."

Ignition nodded. "Then you are all on board with this. Excellent." He approached the table and took his seat. "Next on the agenda is the gear you all were given. These are the end products of a task that has been carried out for centuries down Mr. Mocha's family line. Via the collection of--and experiments on--the shed scales of dragons..."

"Due in no small part to yours truly," #3 declared proudly.

"...we have succeeded in creating the ultimate personal defense," Ignition continued as if #3 hadn't spoken. "Near-complete and flexible body protection, capable of providing a powerful buffer against magic and matter alike. Each one has been especially enchanted at the labs to fit your unique abilities, and you are welcome to put them to the test so long as it is out of the public eye. In addition, in the unlikely event that your equipment is damaged, the belt on each suit comes equipped with a sample of Reddocite. Even for us this ore is very expensive, so do not feel that you have to break it out at the slightest provocation."

"Are there going to be any concerns with identification?" #7 asked. "I don't think any of these suits came with helmets."

"The only concern is whether or not the authorities are able to link you to Mr. Mocha or the Chocolate Mocha Beverage Corporation," Ignition told him. "Few, if any, would believe that our leader has the resources or the connections to staff an R&D department devoted entirely to magitech. All the same, do not take that chance. If you are pressed into identifying yourselves, give your names and nothing more."

"I'm not sure if I'm completely onboard with my face being visible," #4 groused. "I'm too well-known. I don't want Celestia for a ruler, but I don't want my career to go down in flames, either."

"If it bothers you that much, just wear a mask," #2 stated. "The most basic way of hiding your face there is."

"Too fragile for what will be a violent coup," Ignition countered. "There wouldn't be any point in most cases. Unfortunately, the arrival of an entirely unexpected third party has forced our hooves. Had we the time, we would have completed helmets set aside for all of you. As things stand, only our missing representatives have the complete set ready for them. For those of you uncomfortable with being known, take any steps towards concealing your identity as you see fit."

"Speaking of those two," #6 asked, "are we going to leave them at the mercy of the authorities? They're as much a part of this scheme as we are."

"No. And that brings us to your first assignment. #1-2 and #4-7, tomorrow evening at 2015 hours, you will strike at six different points around Manehattan and its vicinity." A glowing green outline of the city, as well as information on the locations they were to hit, plastered itself against a wall; those facing away from it turned to look. "If you're able to obtain what is stored there, terrific, but those are secondary objectives at best. Your primary mission will be to draw as much of the Royal Police to your positions as you feasibly can. Be attention-grabbing, and once their eyes are on you, make yourself as difficult to catch as possible."

"Is that where I come in?"

Ignition nodded at #3. "Yes. Bastion and Iron Gates are in separate cells near the back of the R.P. station... as a side note, thank you for that information, #1." Another outline opposite of the city's appeared, this one a floor plan of the area where #8 and #9 were located. "Once your cohorts have drawn as much attention as they can, launch your attack. The skies will be clear and the Wonderbolts won't be anywhere near the city, so you should have no problems reaching your destination. Get in, grab our agents, and get out. Once you are clear, the rest of you will retreat and make your way back here without being seen."

3 confirmed the order and sat back, satisfied. Most of the remaining agents followed suit. "And what of the robot?" #5 inquired eagerly. "Can we rip it apart if it confronts us? Please say yes, please say yes!"

"No."

5 sank in her seat, disappointed. "Aw, crudbunny."

6 perked up in mild interest. "Oh, you say that too."

"Our priority at the moment is to rescue your fellow agents," Ignition reminded her, "not to let yourself be caught up in flights of fancy. Mr. Mocha has a diversion in mind for our resident alien, and it'll be the perfect time to test our drones out in the field. If Leviathan is a match for them, then we will deploy you as we see fit. But until that time, we don't want any of you taking action against her."

"And what of the Ghost?" #1 brought up. "Retired family mare or not, she is still a credible threat to Mr. Mocha's plans. If she gets involved, everything we've worked for will go down in flames."

Ignition snorted softly. "We would have thought it obvious. You have the data from her final case. You know her vulnerabilities. If the little housepet decides to actively menace us... kill her."

"So we can engage the Ghost if we meet her, but stay away from the robot," #7 said. "Am I only one who thinks the order is backwards? Isn't the robot supposed to be the bigger threat? I thought that was why we were summoned here to begin with."

For the first time since his reaction to #6's greeting, Ignition allowed his true mood to show through his amusement. "Mr. Mocha believes that Leviathan was being a little too honest with the city's citizens. We know her strengths and her weaknesses because of that interview. As long as you enter the field with the right tools for exploiting those weaknesses, we can destroy her long before she could ever pose a serious threat." The amusement left him. "In contrast, we are convinced that the Ghost was hiding her full potential during her years with the Police. In a battle with the throne on the line, she's going to stop holding back and show what she can do. She can't be allowed to interfere with our operations under any circumstances. Take her off guard and take. Her. Out. That goes for all of you."

After a few moments to allow that to sink in, #7 nodded. "Yes, sir. Understood."

"Good. Continuing the discussion, here's the rest of what you need to know about your equipment..."

...

The meeting continued for twenty minutes after that, hammering out the last few details of the next evening's operation. Once it was adjourned, most of the group scattered around the top floors to get some sleep. #3 removed herself from the area and selected the entry tunnel they'd used to infiltrate the building, finding it much more spacious than anything her boss could offer.

Ignition wasn't being entirely truthful with them. In a world where Leviathan had never appeared, Cocoa Mocha wasn't so hasty as to summon his agents. The robot had them more on edge than they preferred admitting, but showing fear of the unknown was the last thing they wanted to do. So in a brief discussion with Cocoa earlier that day, he was instructed as to what to tell the agents if the topic was ever broached.

In the long run it would be the worst thing they could have told them, and not necessarily for the most obvious reasons.

...

In the tower's sub-basement, not far from where the future lay in wait, there was a heavy stone pillar. The few who had access to this area wondered why it was there in light of steel being heavily used in the tower's construction, but they didn't deem it important enough to bring it up with anypony. It was helping to support the ceiling and keep it from crashing down, and that was the most important thing to them.

What they didn't know was that it wasn't the pillar itself that was important, but what was concealed inside. A cylinder massing almost half of the pillar itself operated within, powered by enough magic to keep it running for years unattended. The cylinder was filled with a murky black liquid that not only completely blocked all attempts at determining what it was meant to hold, but also served as a nutrition-and-growth formula that could be absorbed into one's body through the skin.

And floating in the center of this liquid, deep asleep and completely unaware of the events that were to transpire in the coming weeks, was a helpless and tiny little filly.

In a small village somewhere in the more rural areas of Equestria, an elderly pony levitated a magnifying glass up to her eye, all the better to see the letter that had arrived at her door earlier that day. Her grandson had already read it to her--thrice--but she was still having trouble believing it. Maybe reading it herself would get rid of the thought that it was some sort of hoax.

To all surviving graduates of my School for Gifted Unicorns:

By now, word has probably reached you of the alien being currently residing in Manehattan. She has made known her desire to return home, and I believe her. However, as things stand we do not possess the means of sending her back to her world of origin.

I am looking for ponies who, whether through research or trial and error, possess esoteric knowledge of alternate forms of travel. It does not need to involve direct transportation: anything that involves realms outside of our own will do. Even if we are not able to piece together a method to send her home, what knowledge you can contribute will still help us immensely. Who knows? It might well be that we will be able to use it as a small part of the eventual solution.

In addition, if you so choose, you will be asked to assist with my researchers on-site in Canterlot to determine what is useful and what isn't. This is one of the biggest undertakings in recent history, and my staff can use all the help they can get. Time is of the essence.

Wishing you a pleasant day and a safe journey,

Princess Celestia

"...Nope," the unicorn muttered. "Still there."

"You're not going to ask me to read it again, are you?" her grandson asked.

The unicorn sighed, putting down the magnifying glass and rubbing her eyes. "That paper that came here all the way from that big city... I thought they were just telling a big story. Now the Princess herself is saying that it's all real?"

"Sure looks like it."

"And it's not just for me, but everypony who's been to that School and is still alive..." The unicorn squeezed her eyes shut, then slowly opened them. The clouded pupils regarded the letter once more. "They're taking this seriously. Cel-Cel wouldn't go to all this trouble for a joke."

The grandson smiled. "You never told me you knew the Princess personally."

"She showed up to teach at the odd class whenever her duties didn't get in the way. Nothing more." The unicorn turned to squint at a mirror. For a moment, her reflection wasn't that of a pale yellow-coated, rose quartz-maned pony in her eighties, but a vibrantly-colored lemon and cherry-hued mare with a spectacular figure. She blinked, and her mental image of the past was gone. She turned away with another sigh. "Too old to travel like I used to, can barely focus like I used to... why am I still contemplating going?"

"Because you've always been the type to help a total stranger, no matter who they were?"

The elder glared at her grandson. "Don't be so smart sometimes, you little runt."

The younger stallion chuckled unashamedly, long used to words like that coming from his only surviving grandparent. "Maybe it's time for you to get some sleep, grandma. You're up long past your usual time anyway. I'll wake up early and start getting some supplies together for the trip. Since we obviously can't take the train---"

"Hate those big wastes of space," she grumbled. "Hate them with a passionate train hate. Give me a good ol' wagon any day. Not so noisy."

"---we'll need to be well-prepared. It's going to take at least three days before we reach Canterlot, and that's without taking the weather into account."

"That goes for you too. You get yourself ready for bed too, you hear?" the unicorn ordered him, fumbling for her cane for a bit before finally wrapping one of her hooves around it. "If we're planning a journey, we're not going to make fools of ourselves. Don't need you staying up too late to walk tomorrow."

The stallion walked alongside her, offering his support patiently. "Yes, grandma."

Author's Note

The music links for this chapter are: "Crimson", a remix of Super Metroid's Red Brinstar music by nokbient; the briefing music from Descent; and "Forest of Hope", as heard in Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

Here we get to our lineup of bosses... well, most of them, anyway. Their identities and appearances will be revealed as the story goes on. Before anyone starts speculating, Bastion and Gates are the only ones in that list that we've seen before. I realize #5 might remind some of you of Drama, but we're dealing with somepony completely new here.

The higher-ups have it out for Gray, but they seem to be underestimating Leviathan...? We'll see how things go.

And we also have a brief look at one of the many unicorns that Celestia is contacting. Will she play a larger role down the line? Like many other things, time will tell.

I have to visit the local hospital on the 18th, so I'm not going to be able to write on that day. The deadline will be adjusted accordingly.

Estimated Update Deadline: April 23, 2022

Intro Stage: Warming Up

To Leviathan,

Shining Armor's report on your duel has led me to conclude that I made the right decision in choosing to trust you. You kept yourself within the confines of the rules he set, you did your best to treat my proxy fairly, and your demonstrated capabilities matched those listed in the newspaper. I find it just as concerning as you that you are capable of more and hadn't been made aware of it until recently, but as I am not as familiar with what you've experienced as you are, I will leave matters in your hands.

I have recently sent notifications across Equestria in the hopes of gathering those who might be able to assist you. I expect that everypony who is inclined to accept will be present in Canterlot within a week's time, at which point the real fun begins. I don't need to put quotation marks around that word for you to hear them in your mind, do you?

Until we have a solution, I sadly can't allow you to visit here in person. Part of this is due to familiarity. You might slowly be turning into a common sight in Manehattan, but most of those in Canterlot are closed-minded and set in their ways. This is changing a little thanks to one of my own musicians, of all ponies, but it's not yet enough to prevent widespread panic. I don't want to risk any riots in the streets.

Another part of this is due to my personal student. She's a very precious pony to me, but there are times when her exuberance for learning magic can get somewhat tiring. My primary concern is that she'll look at you, see a golem instead of a machine, and hound you nonstop trying to work out every minuscule detail as to how you operate. I'm counting on her getting so wrapped up in her studies that she doesn't find out about you for now. Her own assistant's a bit more attentive and has already picked up some of the details from the grapevine, but I've asked him to keep it a secret until the time is right, and I trust him to keep his promise.

On a more casual note, I had a strange dream concerning my student recently. There was music I couldn't quite place in the background--something about "dancing to a joy division", whatever that is--and she was traveling through an endless corridor of realms linked by doors. I didn't get any negative vibes from it, so I doubt it really means anything. Still, the experience was off-kilter enough that I felt like sharing it.

In your last letter, you told me that you had been collecting a small pile of souvenirs to take home with you. If you have no objections, I would like to add to that collection. Please find enclosed a gift of one of my own feathers. Use it as you will, whether it's for decoration or some other purpose. If you choose to use it for writing, you may find it to be significantly more durable than the standard feather pens currently on the market. If you don't feel that such a use is viable, then simply carry it around with you and treat it as a memento when you return. You never know; it might just help you go places.

Here's to a successful venture.

Celestia

As I've been prone to doing, I've been dwelling on that last letter I'd received for the past few hours. It had materialized in a puff of green flame while I'd finished putting away my reading material at the library, and I counted myself fortunate that nopony had been looking my way at the time.

It doesn't take much to see the implications. Any dedicated research effort is going to take time to accomplish, no matter how on point everyone's minds are. The best case scenario here, I feel, is that it will take about six weeks--taking me right to my two-month preference. In contrast, the worst case scenario is that I'm here for anywhere from months to even years. Celestia was right when she closed her letter: all I can do now is hope.

I'm not too bothered that she doesn't want me in Canterlot right now. I feel more comfortable sticking around the area where I first arrived. This morning prior to my trip to the library, I visited a park that Gray's children recommended to me. There's a nice hoof-made river flowing through it, and I got to swim and lounge around for a bit.

Best. Feeling. In the world. I have my doubts that I'm going to get this sort of enjoyment in Canterlot, not unless they have something like this flowing through the city. Granted I know little about the place beyond it being the nation's capital, but I am aware it's mountain-based. And where there's mountains, there's bound to be dust and grit. Nooo, thank you.

Continuing, this is the second time Celestia has mentioned her student in her letters since I began my correspondence, though she's yet to give me a name. From what I've gathered, she's a checklist-loving, obsessive-compulsive, overreacting bookworm who goes to pieces when the slightest thing goes wrong. When it comes to magic, she's supposed to be a quick study and very intelligent, with the potential for greatness... if only she were a bit more social.

I was somewhat surprised when Celestia said that she was being withheld from the study group, but dwelling on it helps me make sense of it. I may have been built in a lab, but I'm no lab rat. I'm not exactly keen on being dissected, not unless it's by somepony I trust with my life. Once was ten times more than enough. Again, I know nothing of this student outside of what Celestia has told me, but her temperament obviously needs some serious work before I'd allow her anywhere near me.

Though on the face of it, that dream that was mentioned is chuckle-worthy. What sort of realms did the Princess see, I wonder?

And then there's that feather she sent me. She must have quite the impressive wingspan, because it's as long as my forearm. My scanner's registering a low magic reading coming from it; whatever it is, it's probably responsible for the thing's durability and flexibility.

I'd asked Drama last night if there was an official name for the type of pony that Celestia and Cadance matched. She told me what little she knew about alicorns, that being that they were combinations of all three types: unicorn magic, pegasus flight, and earth pony strength, on top of being the rarest ponies alive. With that in mind, some of that strength must have carried over into Celestia's wings. It's the only reason I can think of for why it feels more like a standard-issue stylus instead of a basic feather.

The feather's currently sitting in one of my spare inventory spaces. I didn't want to just leave it in my purse or coat, and I didn't have any means of treating it like a worn accessory. Just for grins I decided to see if I could stash it away, and it turned out to work just fine. My hypothesis is that something about its magic has my systems fooled into thinking that it's something I can use, like a Cyber-Elf or something. I don't have any facts to back that up, else I'd be calling it a theory. Oh, well; as long as it works.

...

I was able to say hello to an old acquaintance: I met up with Charity Kindheart while I was en route from the library to Drama's preferred grocery store. She had this far-off look in her eyes.

The day after that special edition of the Minutes had been published, Charity had finally located a buyer for her manor. While I was palling around with Gray and doing my research at the library yesterday, she was closing on the property and arranging to have what belongings she wanted to take shipped off to her new home.

When I found her, she was visiting some places she was familiar with and seeing the sights one last time before she departed on an overnight train. She'd already said good-bye to her closest associates, and the area around her eyes was a bit puffy—clear evidence, at least to me, that she'd been crying.

Oop---she's continued talking. Let me get back to the here and now.

“...spent the past forty years of my life in the business,” she's saying as I return my focus back to where it belongs. “Being able to satisfy my customers' preferences was enjoyable, but so was giving something back to them other than clothes. That's what sparked my desire to create the Midsummer Theater Revival: to not just share my love of the theater, but to help ponies regain their sense of cooperation and community. To bring them together.” She gestures at the street, though I'm guessing she has all of Bronclyn on the mind. “I'm worried that after I leave, they're going to lose those senses. I'm sure you've noticed that we're a very irregular species.”

I wince, though not out of any special concern. The term 'irregular' back home was sometimes seen as a synonym of 'Maverick'. “Speaking as an outsider, maybe trust that somepony will try to follow the example you set?”

“Oh, I certainly hope so, Fairy. I really do.” She pulls a pocket watch out of her snazzy little coat, frowning when she sees the time. “I have to get to the train station. Time just passes by too quickly...”

I'm not really sure why I'm doing this, but something prompts me to kneel down and draw Charity into a one-armed hug. “Don't I know it. You take care, alright? Go and be the best grandmother in the world.”

Charity accepts the hug with grace, nuzzling my chin briefly. “And you go and get yourself home, dear. Be the Guardian you were meant to be.”

“I will try. Thank you.”

…

Those were very strong words, I think to myself as I watch Charity ride away in a summoned taxi. Telling me to be the Guardian I was meant to be.

Taking my life experiences into account, I have a lot to work on. Being a better judge of what's right and wrong, for example. Not strictly relying on my gut instinct and charging in head-first. I don't want to repeat the mistakes that led to me being shunned by the only friend I'd ever had, and to me falling for the words of a fake. That would kill all the chances of me getting my old life back in a heartbeat.

…

As I leave the grocery store a little while later with a sack of foodstuffs, I wonder to myself if I knew what the word 'Guardian' truly means. Oh, I'm familiar with the textbook definition of the term: “Protector, or defender”. But that can't be all there is to it. I was defending Neo Arcadia from the Resistance when they had every right to resist. I was protecting the residents from scum... who were pushed into taking desperate measures by their own kind. We were believing 'them' over our own eyes, the 'them' in this case being Copy X. We were fed words, and we ate them like starved predators.

That's not protection. That's not defense. Clearly there's plenty that I'm not seeing. But on the flip side, there's plenty that I can: all I have to do is turn around.

...And I mean that in the literal sense, not just the figurative one. There's this strange humming noise that's been following me since I left the store. No use ignoring it anymore, so I might as well see what it is.

The thing is about a foot and a half in diameter and is shaped like an over-sized butterfly. An over-sized metallic butterfly: its tiny limbs are clearly made of steel. It has orange domes where its compound eyes would have been, and its abdomen and wings are painted a garish shade of pink. Don't get me wrong; I like pink as much as the next girl. I'm saying that this particular shade is offensive to my optics.

What is this? Is this somepony's pet project? If so, it's fairly creative in spite of---

...!

The humming noise intensifies, and... and bursts of orange light are shooting out of its eyes straight at me! I quickly drop down, hoping that nopony was close enough to hear my startled yelp. Both light bursts fly over my head, continuing down the street for another thirty meters before losing their cohesion and dissipating into particles. I can hear some surprised gasps and cries from those that are still out on the sidewalk.

Well, regardless of whether it's a pet project or not, I'm not going to say “that's fine, move ahead” to something that deliberately shot at me. My hand grabs at the whatever-it-is, preventing it from flying any further. I apply as much pressure as I can and channel my ice manipulation down through the cracks that are forming. Within seconds, the butterfly's lower half detonates in a miniature fireball as its structure becomes too warped to handle whatever's powering it. I ignore the shrapnel that pelts me, knowing that none of it can bypass my frame. I let what's left of its head drop to the ground, crushing it beneath my boot---

And nearly jump out of them as the last thing I thought I'd hear in this city roars at the top of its metaphorical lungs.

It doesn't take long to spot the tower of smoke that billows towards the sky. It's somewhere miles to the west, probably coming from one of the small suburbs on the mainland. What on earth happened over there? Who or what decided that blowing something up was a smart move?

My ears are assaulted by five more explosions, and I'm sure that these are all situated around Manehattan proper. Their sources appear to be coming from the far ends of the city, so at the very least neither Drama's theater nor Gray's apartment are being threatened. But what's going on? Why this, all of a sudden? And why is everypony poking their heads out of buildings when common sense should tell them to take cover?

"Look!" somepony calls out, pointing (so to speak) at something. More of those butterflies are approaching, making a beeline straight for me out of seemingly nowhere. A few blocks down the street, I can see a motley assortment of honest-to-goodness mechaniloids charging at full tilt down the street. One of them swats aside a taxi carriage that isn't quite able to get out of the way in time, ignoring the unhitched driver as he flees for his life.

Those ponies on the street panic and take off towards whatever safety they can, hollering and screaming. I stop one who seems vaguely familiar before he can get past me. "Hey!" I call out, raising my voice to make myself heard over his yelling. "Hey!"

"Get out of my way, robot! There's something attacking us!" the stallion shouts, trying to get past me.

I summon the Javelin to block his path, stopping him. "Hold it! Are you familiar with Salamandra's Pyre, by some chance?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"I need these groceries delivered there," I ordered him, my voice authoritative as I hold out said bag towards him. "Tell the owner I sent you, and that I'll be a little late getting back. Can you do that for me, please?"

The stallion anxiously looks back at the approaching butterflies, but nods hurriedly. "Pay me later?"

Nice to know where your priorities lie. "Sure, put it on my tab. I'll stop them here. Go!"

The pony takes the bag in his mouth and tosses it into the air; it lands on his back without a single item falling out. I step out of the way, and he bolts towards the distant Pyre. Excellent balance, I note idly.

I turn to face the incoming swarm, slinging my purse onto a nearby awning and trusting that it'll support the bag's weight. I don't know where all of these things came from, or who it was that somehow managed to mass-produce mechaniloids in this low-tech land. What I do know is that they're intent on coming after me, that anypony between us risks becoming collateral, and that there are innocents in danger. There will be no excuses if they aren't prevented from rampaging as they please. Theorizing can wait.

One by one, each butterfly opens fire. They're not trying to attack me all at once, which in theory would make them more difficult to predict, but it doesn't matter: I'm too fast for them regardless. Some deft spinning of the Javelin reduces the beams to nothing, followed closely by the drones themselves once I get in close. Some of them are able to recharge in time to fire again, but a single bound allows me to evade most of the blasts, get in close, and pulverize them. The one blast that catches the back of my hand doesn't leave more than a scratch behind, though that's more due to the angle instead of the power output.

This wave is pure cannon fodder, no question. My CPU's telling me that they have about the same level of durability as Neo Arcadia's mass-produced Pantheon Hunters. They'll be able to intimidate the panicky civilians here, but anypony with a decent level of training and courage will be able to survive encounters with them. Someone like me? Fo'get about it.

Yes, that was a Bronclyn accent I imitated. What of it?

I have some time before the next batch of enemies arrives, so I'm devoting a bit of focus to one of the shattered drones. There's unfamiliar carvings and letters stenciled on the underside of one of the fragments; admittedly I'm not an expert in the Equestrian language, but I don't recognize these as part of it. I'm not seeing an endoskeleton for support. In addition there isn't anything that would denote signal transfers, and the apparatus that allowed it to fire energy bolts is completely disconnected from anything that would give it power, so maybe...

Alright, they're not quite mechaniloids. There's a little crystal of some variety or other powering them instead of a system that I recognize. Magic... I can't bring myself to be surprised anymore. I remove the crystal, which is roughly the size of my thumb, and crush it in my hand to ensure that it won't be coming back.

Structural Integrity: 99.7% --> 100%.

...Interesting. These must be similiar to Reddocite in that they can reverse damage, too; the scratch I sustained is gone, and the fabric over where it had been is undamaged. I'm not experiencing any sort of energy replenishment, so maybe it's some kind of weaker derivative?

A whistle blows, putting a stop to my musing. "Hold it right there!"

I look up sharply at the order, ready to tell off whoever it was that addressed me in that manner... but I'm not the intended recipient. The wave of drones is stampeding across the intersection, and a Police officer seems intent on getting their attention at the cross street. That coloration looks familiar...

The officer's attempt works just a little bit too well. Some of the drones break off to pursue her, and she realizes that doing so just might have been a bad idea when they refuse to stop. "Never mind the 'hold it', never mind the 'hold it'!" she cries as she whirls and gallops away.

...Wait, I recognize that Cutie Mark. That's Coffee-and-Cream! Crazy pony's going to get herself killed by what she just did!...

Aaannnd it looks like what's left of that wave isn't going to let me help her out. "Not on my watch!" I declare as I charge at them.

There are more of these butterflies, but we've got two new types closing in. One appears to be... ...what's that animal, it's right on the tip of my tongue, I know I've heard the name somewhere... right, okay. It's shaped and painted like an armored honey badger. This one's low to the ground, fairly slow moving, and seems intent on mauling anything that gets into close range. One of them just left a long gouge in a lamppost just for the sake of it.

The other is more recognizably wolf-like, reminding me of the Garm line from back home. The difference is that these are a bit bigger and more jagged in shape, have glowing green eyes, and---

HIGH HEAT ADVISORY!

---can spit fire, thanks for the forewarning, sensors! If they're willing to pack heat, somepony out there has it out for me. That was too close!

I kick one of the wolves' mouths shut before it can fire again, leaving the flames with no place to exit and reducing it to molten slag via self-destruction. Sadly, I'm left with no choice but to dash out of the way before I can pull the same stunt on another. Keep moving, Levi. Don't let yourself stay in one place too long, or badger-baby's going to bite you. Not too keen on suffering that.

One of the butterflies fires at me again, barely grazing my left upper arm. The shot comes within a hair's breadth of hitting one of the badgers. Hmm, idea time. Why shouldn't I make things a little easier on myself?

Alright, zigzagging around the street a little bit here, giving them something to think about... though I don't think any of them have actual brains. I'm influencing their positioning little by little and taking advantage of their attack patterns. The butterflies hover every which way, halt, then fire. The honey badgers don't have any ranged attacks and instead go for close-range strikes. The wolves are a mix of both: they have the fireballs for mid-range, and claws when they get in close. The fire is what especially worries me, but if I play my cards right it'll cease to be an issue.

Okay, I've pretty much managed to get myself trapped. The butterflies on one side, and all other drones on the other. I'm beginning to direct energy into the Frost Javelin. Going to have to time this right. Those of you listening at home probably have a good idea of what I'm up to.

The butterflies and wolves charge their energies, then fire simultaneously. Well, not quite simultaneously. Some of the shots are mere tenths of a second apart, but eh... semantics. In any event, a dash-jump takes me out of the shots' path and off the side of a building... leaving the badgers and wolves to take almost all of the butterflies' blasts. Three-fourths of the wolves succumb to the attacks, detonating one by one. Less than half of the badgers are destroyed, showing how remarkably tanky they are. The butterflies are caught by the wolves' fireballs, torching and weakening them.

It's while all of them are trying to figure out what just happened that I drop down from above, stabbing the Javelin into the ground as I land. In the same motion, I release all of the energy that I'd just gotten done channeling. With a howl not too dissimilar from the wolves', an icy cold shockwave billows out in all directions, giving my attackers a taste of winter's cruelty. It only lasts a few short seconds, but it's too much for most of the drones to take; one by one their frames collapse on themselves, explode, or both. The badgers last longer thanks to their durability, but become immobile on account of the ice that's ensnared them, rendering them easy prey for the Javelin's blade.

I'd hate to live in a world where thermal expansion wasn't a thing.

The shockwave managed to put out a few fires that the wolves had accidentally started, but there's still several more places in danger of going up. Best to deal with those before I move on. A few more Charged Slashes should do the trick... ... ...and there. That should prevent any unexpected bonfires, or at least keep them at bay long enough for the residents to deal with them. I grab a few crystals from the drones' shattered wrecks, healing the minor damage I'd sustained with one of them and stashing the rest in my final inventory space.

Now to find the missing Officer.

I turn down the street that Coffee had been running away on. It doesn't take long to spot her as I run: she'd only made it a block and a half before the butterflies caught up with her. Credit where credit is due, in that she actually managed to destroy a few of them: the remains of her baton can be seen among the wreckage, and some of the debris looks flattened from a well-aimed buck. All the rest have converged on her, however, and she's tiring fast; it's only going to take one strike from these things to hospitalize or kill her. I direct more energy into the Javelin as I approach. "Officer!" I yell as I approach. "Jump away, now!"

Coffee doesn't waste time questioning why. She gathers her strength and does as told, trying to get as much space from the drones as she can. Her timing is perfect; my Charged Slash freezes most of the batch in place, catching the attention of those I missed. Not that it does them any good as I systematically rip them apart, dancing around their attempts at counterattacking.

From there it's just a matter of demolishing the drones I'd flash-frozen, and by now Coffee's recovered enough to join me. As I smash the wolves apart, she goes to town on the honey badgers, repeatedly punching each one until the metal caves in and the power crystals shatter. She's slower than I am, and by the time I'm finished with the wolves there's still two left, but I stand back and let Coffee vent her fury instead of stepping in.

Earth pony strength... it's quite a thing.

...

Finally satisfied that the last drone isn't going to move anymore, Coffee takes a step back to catch her breath. As she does, I put out a few leftover fires and run a quick surveillance of the vicinity. I'm not seeing any more drones flying around, and I'm not hearing anypony else screaming in fear, so until more show up I think that's all of them. Around here, at least... don't know about those explosions elsewhere that kicked this whole thing off.

To repeat myself: what on earth happened over there?

Coffee's more or less recovered by now, so I turn my attention to her. "Are you alright, Officer?"

"I'm winded, but I'm not hurt," Coffee admits. Her thankful look is replaced by worry. "What in Tartarus were those things?"

"I wish I could answer that," I say in the negative. "Just double-checking, but Equestria doesn't have robots of its own, right?"

"Nowhere even close!" Coffee states emphatically, visibly appalled at the thought. "I think we would know how to deal with you when you first appeared if we had! Sci-fi's one thing, but reality is something else!"

"Not quite sci-fi." I retrieved the crystals from my inventory and showed them to her. "I was able to pull these from a few I'd destroyed back there. You can have the Department examine these if you want, but I'm positive that these were powering the drones."

"I'd wondered what those things were I'd broken... hold on to those for now. I don't have anything to carry them with."

"I'm less curious about the drones," I wonder as I put the crystals back, "than I am about those big explosions."

Coffee's eyes widened, and her ears stood up straight. "No! I almost forgot about those! Leviathan, if you don't mind--"

Whatever it is I don't mind, I'll never know. "Attention, all unoccupied officers," a calmly furious voice crackles over Coffee's radio, just loud enough for me to hear. "Attention, all unoccupied officers. Return to headquarters. The Royal Police Department is under attack. I repeat, the Royal Police Department is under attack."

"Blast it!" Coffee snarls. "Leviathan!"

I nod. "Don't have to tell me twice. Lead the way!"

Coffee immediately gallops down the street as fast as she is capable. I run alongside her, shifting into a dash from time to time when she starts pulling ahead of me. No more drones accost us as we hurry---

---...Scratch that. That steadily-increasing shadow in front of us could hardly be anything else. "STOP!"

The both of us slam on the brakes and backpedal... right on time. Something crashes down on the road, cratering it and knocking us both off our feet with the impact. A microphone-rattling roar further causes everything around us to reverberate as whatever it is swings down at me, and a fast calculation's telling me that I'm not going to be able to block it on time...!

There's a pull on the back of my vest, a grunt of exertion, then I find myself yanked backwards in a hurry. Another crater is created where I'd been a few seconds before, but I'm far enough away from it that I can afford not to care as much. "Thanks for the quick save, Officer!"

Coffee lets go of my vest, spitting something off to the side. "The cloth was a lie. It looked like cotton, but it felt like I bit into steel wool."

That warrants a chuckle. "I wouldn't call it armor if it wasn't durable enough to protect me." Though it doesn't protect much, granted. Weren't the Reploids of old much more heavily armored? I climb to my feet, wary of continued attacks. "So. What am I looking at here?"

'What', indeed. It almost looks as if someone had taken a gorilla, genetically modified it to be thirty feet tall, and stuck three of the Guard Orotic's long necks and heads on it. The body's a very dark gray, with gold trim along its legs and up its sides.

Just to clarify: it doesn't have arms. Those long necks are its arms. I'll bet this thing won't have any problems scratching its back.

Coffee's thinking along similar lines. “It looks like somepony made a golem out of a gorilla and a hydra. You okay handling this?”

The internal alarms are blaring. A meter appears on one side of my vision, estimating the beast's structural integrity. I adopt a two-handed hold on the Frost Javelin, pointing it at one of the gorilla-hydra-thing's necks. My grin is all but splitting my face in half.

“...Yeah. You are. Getting clear!” Putting words to actions, Coffee turns and gallops away.

The Gorridra, as I shall call it from now on, isn't waiting for her to leave before commencing its attack. One of its necks is swinging out at me like a club, trying to flatten me again. A single jump takes me out of danger and brings me forward, and a jump off of its torso lets me get close enough to slash at the neck's base. The Gorridra roars—whether in pain or anger, I can't tell—and tries to spear me with its opposite 'arm'. By then, Coffee is well out of danger.

A thought crosses my mind; grimacing as I dart away from the Gorridra's strike, I raise my voice to its maximum. “To anypony watching this fight, get yourself as far away as you can! Get to your back doors and leave! When this thing dies, it's going to die big, and a single wall will not save you!”

I'm hoping that got through to everypony hiding in their homes and businesses. Destroying this thing's going to be the only real way to stop it, and explosions aren't known for their subtlety. There's going to be debris all over the place, and there's a very real risk of some of it being launched clear through walls and windows. If they don't heed my warning, they probably won't live to regret it—

Yet another high heat alert! The Gorridra's middle head opens wide, and a wave of flame billows down at me. Sideways jump, sideways jump, yes! Away from the fire, rebound off the torso, and I got another hit in on the damaged neck! “I know, I know. I've heard it all before!” I state to the Gorridra as it roars again and attempts to run me through—

Wait a moment.

So I dart in, jump, slash, avoid the piercing attack, dodge the flames, dart in, jump, slash—

Did... did I just lock this thing into a pattern? Is it just going to keep doing this? Because if it is, either this thing's a victim of hardware limitations, or this is just its creator's way of saying 'hi'.

Either way, I have its number. This thing's behaving like a true Maverick, and I'm going to full well treat it like one.

…

Let's be honest. Do you really think that the Gorridra has any sort of chance against me? Like, at all? Because if you do, I think you might be watching someone else's memories.

My attack pattern gets repeated three more times before I'm finally able to slice off the neck I was targeting; the Gorridra never tried any sort of deviation. As the beast roars furiously, I stab the Javelin into the open wound and channel my powers into its interior, forcing a half-formed Spirit of the Ocean to materialize within—

The familiar noise of something fragile shattering reaches me after the Mine detonates, and the Gorridra's 'Integrity' bar disappears from my vision. The beast's roar cuts off entirely. Both of the remaining heads are collapsing to the ground with finality, the energy that had given them life disappearing forever. I jump away from the body as it topples over with an earthshaking 'thud'.

...Well. That was thoroughly anticlimactic, and there wasn't any sort of explosion like I'd been expecting. But if it means that the danger is over, I'll take it. That's the key takeaway here.

A few Charged Slashes to put out any flames, then... “Area's clear!” I yell into the air. “It's safe to come out now!”

As the residents' presence become known again--making me believe that some of them didn't run when I told them to--I circle the downed Gorridra and carve into it with the Javelin, taking it apart piece by piece. This will make it easier for the cleanup specialists this city has to handle. I sort of wonder what they're going to do with all of this, and what they're going to make of it all. I can only imagine the questions that are going to be asked behind closed doors.

Leviathan had no way of knowing this, but most of the metal would have their paint and runes scrubbed, be broken down and sent out to be reforged. A year later, a plow made from this alloy would replace the saggy old one owned by Ponyville's Apple family.

Coffee-and-Cream comes up behind me as I finish my work, saying something into her radio. “...I apologize for not arriving on time to assist, sir. I was waylaid by a giant hydra-headed gorilla. And in case you don't believe me, you're more than welcome to come out here and see the wreckage for yourself. … It wasn't alive, sir. The whole thing was made of metal, and it had some sort of magic crystal powering it...” She looks at me as she says this last bit, and I confirm it with a nod. “Came across Leviathan. She was able to procure smaller crystals of the same type from some... things that attacked us both. Maybe forensics can make heads or tails out of them. ...Yeah, she destroyed the gorilla. It's in pieces out at...”

The conversation between Coffee and her superiors continues for a bit. During it, she requests information on what's happening around town... and none of it is any good. My heart's sinking a little listening to them. Eleven officers injured, one in critical condition. Another officer apparently turned against them. Six different parts of the city deliberately attacked for reasons unknown. The only plus side is that no civilian deaths have been reported... yet. "Any idea why this happened?" I ask, my concern overriding my desire to stay quiet.

Coffee holds up a hoof for silence, listening to her radio. "Uh-huh..." Her eyes shoot open. "WHAT? You're saying that a dragon attacked the Police station? Why? ... ... Frail hair on a..." she groans, shaking her head. "Where will you be wanting me? ...Alright, I'll be heading there as soon as the cleanup crew arrives."

With her conversation done, Coffee turns to address me. Her face is contorted in fury. "This concerns you directly, so I feel safe telling you this. Somepony got it into their head to try and break the Midnight Castles out of prison. Most of the gang is still accounted for: the unicorns are passed out, the pegasi refused to leave their cells, and the Earth pony known as Barricade was grabbed before he could flee. On the other hoof, the ringleaders Iron Gates and Bastion were able to escape on a dragon's back."

And here I was thinking that the city was peaceful, relatively speaking. I was wrong. I was terribly, terribly wrong. I can't even bring myself to be surprised at an actual dragon being present. "So all those other attacks were just meant to be a diversion for the jailbreak?"

"That's what the higher-ups think," Coffee agreed. "No indication as to who this group is that struck out of nowhere. What about those things that were attacking us? What do you think?"

"It's not a coincidence," I tell the officer. I note the light damage that my Javelin had sustained during the past twenty minutes, then dismiss it back to storage and set my auto-repair to work on it. "The drones showing up at the same time all these other attacks were taking place? Somepony out there either didn't want me getting involved or just wanted to destroy me. Probably both. It was still a spectacular failure, but you have to give them credit for trying."

"The cleanup crew's going to have a field day with this," Coffee complains as she surveys the debris-saturated street. "Ten to one we've landed ourselves in the middle of something big."

"No argument from me."

There must be something about my expression that makes Coffee seem curious. "I realize you're busy, but do you feel you're up to helping us resolve this?" She continues on as I look her in the eyes, my attention gained. "The Royal Police might have a large workforce, but we can't be everywhere. Having a dragon alongside a traitor, two skilled thieves and multiple dangerous unknowns clearly escalates this up to 'Royal Guard' and 'Wonderbolt' threat levels. And with some of our veterans injured... well, I'll see if I can ask the Chief about our chances, but historically we've always been reluctant to ask for help from Canterlot or Cloudsdale. Which leaves you."

Do I want to help them? It's a valid question. I'd made it clear to them once before that going home would always be my highest priority. The thing is, that was before my perception of this city's security was challenged. If I turned a blind eye towards their problems when it was within my ability to help them out, I would never be able to sleep peacefully again. What sort of Guardian would I be if I didn't fulfill the basic definition and protect? It's all in the name.

And there's more...

...

My mind, it's...

Heh. Some duty-focused soldier I am.

I'd wanted to keep myself closed off. I didn't want to form any attachments to anypony here. When the time came to return home, I didn't want to have any regrets.

But somehow, three ponies managed to worm their way into my life in only fifteen days time. Celestia, that powerful but kind ruler who just wanted somepony to talk to on even footing. Drama Heart, the eccentric playwright who sounds like she could be a terrifyingly mad scientist. Gray Ghost, the unpredictable family mare.

If I left to pursue my own agenda, what would they think of me? Would they excuse my behavior as understandable in light of my circumstances, or would they be more likely to chew me out for not helping when I had the chance? How much goodwill would I lose if somepony died on my watch?

...

I close my eyes. Just because I'm a mechanical terror, that does not make me heartless. These ponies have a way of growing on you. Words can't describe how I'm beginning to feel towards those that have decided to be my friends. The fact that they are friends is telling: the one person I could safely call that back home refuses to speak to me because of my own misguided beliefs. Even my fellow Guardians don't fit the bill: we might be capable and willing allies who can engage in casual conversation, or stand in the same room without wanting to tear each other's heads off, but... well, when Copy X's regime began, we tended to have detached attitudes towards ourselves outside of military affairs (okay, poor choice of words, I admit it). We never had the time or the ability to forge healthy relationships.

Gray, Drama, and Celestia? Saying that I 'love' them is a stretch right now, but 'liking' them? That's a definite "yes". I'm not going to be the type of person who doesn't care what others think about me. I'm not going to ignore their opinions just because they might be different from my own; doing that just once was bad enough. If they want me to help--and there's no doubt that they would, if I asked--then I will. I can't and won't turn my back on them now.

If I did, I'd never be able to face myself in the mirror again.

…

...

Coffee watched as Leviathan's eyes closed and she went through the motions of exhaling a deep-seated sigh. Her eyes opened, revealing a chasm of fierce determination. The two words she spoke filled the officer with relief.

“I will.”

Author's Note

It's 7:40p.m. U.S. Central Time on Saturday, April 23, 2022 as I'm typing these notes. Four hours and nineteen minutes before my deadline. I made it, barely. Work, health, and R.L. distractions weren't quite enough to stop me.

The music links for this chapter are: Zelda's lullaby from Skyward Sword, "The One and Only" by Dominic Ninmark, a rock cover of Mega Man X Corrupted's boss theme, and Kyrandia's night music from The Legend of Kyrandia 3: Malcolm's Revenge.

If I need to add any extra notes later, I'll just edit this. Right now, I'm a bit rushed and dinner's on the table anyway. >^_^<

Estimated Update Deadline: May 10, 2022

Sabotages Tin

In just thirty minutes, the city's atmosphere had gone from "taking things day by day" to "barely concealed panic", with "concern" being the best possible mood. Scarcely anypony knew what was going on beyond the basics: six different locations had gone up in flames, the causes of which were unknown, and the peace was greatly disturbed. Some began to wonder if their home or business would be next, and subsequently started battening down the hatches. Others were bound and determined to continue living their lives the way they always had, though they inwardly resolved to keep their eyes open for trouble.

The city's weather control and fireponies stepped in, extinguishing the flames caused by the widespread distractions. The cleanup crews arrived at the scene of Leviathan's battles to clear away the debris. With the situation calm, at least for the moment, the Minutes' best journalists and reporters ventured forth to find out exactly what happened. It would mean less sleep for them, but this was an emergency; they didn't care.

After confirming who was healthy and who wasn't, the Police made sure their remaining prisoners were still secure and set about dispatching those who could still patrol out onto the streets, trying to reassure the citizens with their presence. In the meantime, they made plans to get into contact with the nearest construction company and get their headquarters repaired posthaste. The forensics department set to work compiling reports and evidence, trying to at the very least determine who was responsible for the attacks on the Police.

There was one bit of surprising news. The cells holding the Midnight Castles' two pegasi had been breached along with their leaders, but they had both refused to leave. Their reasons for remaining were threefold. First, according to the one who identified herself as 'Knight'--a washed-out prospect from the Wonderbolts' training program--their encounter with Leviathan was an eye-opener. While the robot had ruined their plans the night they were captured, they were amazed that such a creature existed, and they didn't feel like it would be worth it to go back out on the streets if somepony like her roamed around. Those listening suspected that there was more to it than that, but didn't press the issue.

"What I'd said before still stands," Gargoyle had added. "She's the unholy love child of the Termarenator and the Masked Matter-horn. Not changing my mind about that."

Second, while they were thieves, they were not warmongers. They had more respect for their home than to join with somepony who would strike against it. They wanted nothing to do with whatever was going on, plain and simple.

And third, dragons terrified them.

...

While everypony started making plans and consolidating what they had, conversations were taking place. The first and foremost one took place at Leviathan's home away from home.

Coffee-and-Cream had contacted her superiors to notify them of my willingness to assist the Police. She told me afterward that unless something happened that I was in a position to react to, I was to head straight for the Station at 0930 hours. That would give everypony time to analyze their information, plus get a few hours sleep. I'd wondered to myself how many of them would be pulling all-nighters.

I retrieved my purse from where I left it, double-checking to make sure its contents were still accounted for. There was a tag I'd placed on it that read "Property of Fairy Leviathan - Steal at your own risk", but there's always going to be at least one overconfident fool who believes they can get away with it. Satisfied, I made tracks for the Pyre.

I returned just as Drama's final performance for the day ended, and her audience was leaving. Some of them saw me and either waved or cowered; I nodded at the former and stayed out of the latter's way, but they all saw my serious expression and didn't try to talk to me. Did none of them hear the explosions going off? I mean, the walls would have muffled some of the noise, but they're not soundproof. A lot of them look on edge, but that could just be due to Drama's usual storytelling.

Well, they'll be getting anxious soon enough.

...

Drama and Gray are putting everything away for the night as I approach them behind the stage. The former is the first to see me. "There you are," she greets me. "I was wondering what was taking you."

Gray finishes stashing a few minor props in a storage chest before doing the same. "I'm guessing those explosions we heard were the reasons why that random stallion shoved those groceries in my hooves?"

"Yes," I answer curtly. "I'm surprised no one here panicked."

Drama's sporting that little half-crazed smile of hers. "Who says nopony didn't? I was able to work the noise into the fabric of the performance. I was at the point in the story where the protagonists... if you want to call them that... were escaping the dungeon. I claimed that the explosions were due to an unknown third party assaulting the castle for their own reasons, and the story took an entirely different turn."

Curiosity once again overcomes me. I'm going to need to leash it someday. "Dare I ask how the story ended this time?"

"The destruction of all involved. Care to know the details?"

"Pass," I say, regretting my question immediately. The last time I answered 'yes' to that question, Drama explained everything in full grisly detail. I'm no stranger to that--in fact, I've dealt with some of that personally--but I have my limits all the same. "I feel that what I have to say is more important than that..."

...

The last fifteen minutes have been spent explaining the truth behind the explosions, my encounters with the drone waves and the Gorridra, and the destructive break-in at the Royal Police station. "...So they're supposed to be letting me know where exactly they'll be needing me tomorrow morning," I finish saying to them. "I have a strong feeling that I'm going to be busy for a while. If you consider both fugitives to be one team, I'll be facing off against eight different opponents. And that's if they can find them all before our meeting. Just between you and me, I don't feel it's likely."

Part of me wonders if I should go ahead and start working on unlocking the remaining passwords in my brain. You never know with this place; I might end up needing the abilities they're hiding. Particularly since one of my possible enemies is a bona fide dragon. Being able to subject it to dry ice via my very own facepalm of doom would be advantageous.

...Maybe I'll deal with one of the non-draconic threats first. If it turns out that I'm given more of a fight than anticipated, I'll boot up that subroutine again and set it loose.

Drama's absorbing everything I say with worry, which on some level offers me relief. She might be a few songs short of a record, but she's no combatant. She's not going to get involved in this.

On the other hand, Gray's face was undergoing convulsions. When I'd first began, she was perturbed. When I talked about the drones, she was incensed. When I told them about the break-in, she became a perfect candidate for laser vision. And when I informed them of the discovery that part of it had been an inside job, I could've sworn her sclerae turned red for a moment from anger. I could hear these deep-throated growls that she's still making. Ponies are not meant to produce those noises.

Given her prior occupation, I suspect that she's taking this personally. I'd better nip this attitude in the bud before she starts. "No, Gray."

So of course my words would be met with an angry snarl. "What do you mean, 'no'?" the pegasus protests. "This is my city, Fairy. My home. I have every right to step in and protect it, and I was doing it long before you arrived. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't help you!"

"I'll give you seven," I answer, counting off on my fingers. "One: Ocean Guard."

Gray flinches.

"Two: Ebony Evening."

Her mouth opens to say something, but that 'something' refuses to appear.

"Three: Pure Energy."

Her tail, which had been lashing about, hangs limp.

"Four: Five-of-a-Kind."

Both eyes are becoming mournful.

"Five: Zig-Zag."

Her ears are turning back.

"Six: Echo."

A foreleg lifts reflexively when I mention her pet cat. The siblings have certainly talked about him enough for me to know that she sees him as part of the family, too.

I move in for the kill. "Seven: Drama Heart."

Gray hisses in surprise as she turns to my patron. "You---!"

"Listen to me, Gray," Drama states, holding up a hoof to stop her before she speaks. Could be just a trick of the light, but I think there's something in the corner of her eye. "I don't know what kind of crazy past you have that would warrant you being sent to fight Fairy by the Princess herself, and I don't care. Having to watch the pony who probably understands me the best go off and put herself in danger is not the kind of horror I specialize in."

At a loss for words, Gray plants her posterior on the floor. The fight's more or less taken out of her by this point. She doesn't have much of a backbone when it comes to her friends and family, does she?

"And before I forget..." Here, Drama's lips curl back in a snarl of her own. Her horn glows, and I can see her equine teeth morph into the crystalline drills she uses for her on-stage performances. Pretty impressive illusion. Whatever it was that was in her eye, it's gone now. "You still haven't worked off your debt to me. Until Mortar & Son is fully paid you're still working here full time, and I do not want you running off. If you do, jailbreaks and explosions will be the least of your worries."

That first one I'd expected. The second one is making the corners of my mouth twitch. Gray's chuckling, but there's a nervous edge to it.

...Though now, Drama's words are reminding me of something important that I'll need to speak with the Police about tomorrow. Between the Pyre's remodeling and the Ghost-Guard family's occasional financial issues, I'm going to need to know whether or not they're going to offer any money for the capture of those Wanted. Or if they're going to offer any sort of salary at all. Money's not an issue for me, but it will be for my friends; if I'm not going to use it, somepony ought to.

I get my smile under control, though I retain my inward eagerness. No matter what happens, the coming days aren't going to be dull.

Caramel Mocha sat at her suite's gaming table, waiting for Hazelnut to finish in the bathroom. Every few seconds she worriedly gazed out the window and watched the distant emergency workers finish their tasks. The steadily sinking sun was making it increasingly difficult to discern their details.

Much like she imagined everypony else in the city to be, the unexpected explosions and resulting fires had caught them both off guard while they were winding down from another long day. Both of the young scions had wanted to see if they could do something--anything--to help. A few guards and a janitor downstairs were able to catch them before they left and talk some sense into them; reluctantly listening to reason, they returned upstairs so that they wouldn't be in anypony's way.

Still frustrating. We went through weather training just the same as every other pegasus. We could've at least tried.

The bathroom door opened, and Hazelnut exited with a laundry basket on her back. On her way out she stopped, flinched, and raised a hoof to her head. She muttered a few words that their parents had not taught them to use before she remembered where she was. "Ughhh... sorry, Carrie," she apologized as her sister rushed over to her. "Headache's still bothering me."

Caramel offered one of her 'arms' for support, which Hazelnut accepted. "You took something for it, right?"

"Yes, but it hasn't kicked in yet." Hazelnut stumbled over to the suite's exit and deposited the basket there for their family's hired servant to pick up. "'Quick-acting', my wings. It's as slow as every other medicine."

"Everything takes time," Caramel gently rebuked her, guiding her towards her room. "C'mon, let me get you to bed. Maybe a good night's sleep will help you deal with it."

"It had better," Hazelnut grumbled before wincing. "...Sorry again. That was a bit too rude."

"I've heard worse from you in a good mood. Don't worry about it, Hazel. Good night."

"Meh. I wish."

...

After taking her own turn in the bathroom, Caramel didn't follow Hazelnut's lead. Instead, she planted herself in her favorite reading chair and tried to distract herself with other things.

As Hazel had guessed, Leviathan had wanted nothing to do with the company's business offers, if 'total silence' qualified as a reply. She seems more content just doing her own thing and carrying out her own objectives.

Oh, well. At least we tried. Now if only the board of directors could take a hint and stop whining over the lack of acknowledgement. Even I'm not stupid enough to think that the promises of money and benefits can sway everypony, and I'm the one who likes to flaunt my wealth in public.

Speaking of stupidity, there was a 'Robot Sighting' reported in the newspaper this morning. That artist who did our grandpa's portrait pitched a fit over Leviathan randomly splashing her for laughs. Personally, I don't buy it. That's a rooftop swimming pool that the artist owns. Shouldn't there have been more ponies reporting on it if the robot had climbed the side of the building?

It's best if I don't think about that one anymore. There was always something about Ms. Spiral's attitude that rubbed us the wrong way, and it wouldn't show us in a good light if we were onboard with that. If 'being behind the eight ball' means being in a precarious situation, 'being behind the nine ball' would mean supporting a moron, and I don't want the expression coined with me in mind.

Caramel was never very good at billiards.

The connection between Limefrost and her grandfather made her turn her attention to the carpet. Cocoa had stubbornly persisted for a while after his diagnosis, but the time had almost come for the twins to say their final good-byes to him. For a lack of known relatives, his personal butler Ignition would be made their legal guardian per his Will until they reached adulthood. She didn't like it: he was a decent stallion, but there was always something about him that wasn't quite right. There were better parental figures out there that they knew, and had they a choice, the twins would've picked one of them. She wondered, like she had so many times since the twins first begged him for martial arts training, what her grandfather was thinking.

If she had known what was taking place a few floors above, Caramel would've hated herself for thinking like that.

The entire team of malcontents reconvened in the same meeting room as prior, pleased with the evening's events. The thieves that they had been sent to rescue were now seated alongside them, engaging in idle conversation like the rest and waiting for their boss's servant to arrive.

"...so Alexandrite's went and buggered out, didn't she?" Gates was saying to #4. "Good. Means we don't have to worry about any fallout from her angle. Would've liked to get some extra bits from her, though."

"No news on where she went," said #1. "She threw all of her property on the market, stayed long enough to grab the essentials, and took off like her tail was on fire. The article said that she was withholding where she went for the sake of privacy."

Bastion 'hmmed' thoughtfully. "And no indication as to why she just up and left. That's concerning."

Gates snorted. "Isn't it obvious? She left because 'the unholy love child' scared her. You don't need to be a psychologist to figure that out."

"'Unholy love child'," #7 repeated, laughing a little. "I read about what your Gargoyle said in the paper. It was pretty funny."

"An unstoppable robot with ice powers... an apt comparison," #4 admitted. "And this is coming from somepony who doesn't read comic books."

Gates waved at thin air, his annoyance clear. "Can we not talk about Gargoyle, please?"

"Why not? You're the one that brought her up," #3 pointed out.

"He's upset because she and Knight chose not to go along with us when given the chance," Bastion said in response to the group's unanswered question. "I'm disappointed, but not enough to be angry at them for their decision."

"We agreed not to give those who don't want to join us a hard time," #2 said, slowly nodding. "It's only when they directly tangle with us that we target them. As long as they stay out of our way, things will be just peachy."

The door at the far end opened, admitting Ignition. Everypony straightened and gave him their attention. "It would have been a nice bonus had they decided to join, but what's done is done. What matters is that all of us are present and accounted for now. Fine work to all involved."

"What about Leviathan?" #6 asked. "Do we have confirmation of her destruction?"

"Unfortunately, that was the one major hiccup," Ignition informed them, his mood a tad darker. "All of our Magiflies, Evisceragers, and Torchounds were systematically destroyed. The Gorridra barely put up a fight before she did the same to it. She wasn't even winded."

"What kind of names are those?" Gates complained, his tone snide. "Is our boss a foal? Should we be concerned about him playing hooky?"

"Gates..." Bastion warned.

"Hey, you can't tell me that a foal didn't have their hooves in those names. 'Magic' and 'Fly'. 'Eviscerate' and 'Badger'. 'Torch' and 'Hound'. Ask anypony off the street, and they could give you better names than those."

"Calm yourself, Gates," Ignition answered him. "And learn some tact. Our leader is dying, in case you forgot."

"And that changes what about his creativity?" Gates said. "Doesn't matter if you're eight or eighty. If you can't come up with intimidating names for intimidating creations, that's all on you."

"Infidel!" #5 shrieked. "I ought to use you as bait for trapping Timberwolves!"

"And I'd help," #2 joined in. "You'll need an expert with you if you want to prowl the Everfree."

"On the one hoof, Gates isn't wrong," #6 added, making a conscious effort to rein in her anger. "On the other, I really want to make him eat a boomerang right now for insulting the boss."

"Charming death threats from the continent's finest. Really, they are," Gates purred. "But your priorities are just this side of misplaced. Instead of focusing your ire on me for stating the facts, how about we talk about what's really important: giving the killer robot a taste of its own medicine? I don't know about you, but I want to slap the smug right off its face."

The conference room as a whole seethed at his insubordination, most of those present muttering to themselves. #7, having remained calmest the longest, cleared his throat. "I vote that we save the anger for when he actually fails to destroy Leviathan," he suggested, then sheepishly turned towards Ignition. "If it's alright with you, sir."

"...Indeed," Ignition dryly agreed. "All of you, be silent. #8, keep your partner in line."

"I will require hazard pay," Bastion requested after a moment.

If anypony heard the out-of-character "snrrk" from #4's direction, none of them commented on it. Gates glared at Bastion, but didn't say anything further. Ignition continued: "And #5, count yourself fortunate that the room is soundproofed forwards and backwards. Mr. Mocha's grandchildren are not to find out about our operations at any cost."

"Ooh," #5 crooned. "I thought I smelled sassafras."

Ignition kept talking, all the better to keep the group from getting distracted by that random statement. "Back on topic. Our plan if Leviathan destroyed the drones would be to deploy you as needed to kill her in their stead, and that has not changed. Aside from #3, how many of you achieved your secondary objectives? #1, we'll start with you."

"The break-in at the facility in Diarchs was successful," #1 reported. "I grabbed as much information as I could carry without being slowed down. Heh. It's their own fault for not shutting down like they were told to."

"I took out as many Officers as I could without fatally injuring them," #2 brought up. "One of them was a close call, but the hit he took isn't immediately lethal. If the hospitals here are as efficient as you claim them to be, he'll survive. And if the Police are as stubborn about their independence as is believed, there will be no support from the outside. They'll have no choice but to turn to the so-called 'Guardian' for help if they want to counter as broad a threat as us."

"Mr. Mocha's pet unicorn was unharmed. She was nowhere near any of the places that were hit," #4 confirmed. "She's still dead-set on leaving the city in a few months once she has everything she needs. Will everything be finished before she goes?" Ignition nodded, and the agent leaned back in her seat. "Then there were no problems on my end."

"I am a dainty sugarplum," #5 warbled, sounding out of it. She paused and glared at everypony, then put more emphasis on her speech. "I... am a dainty sugarplum."

It was hard to mistake the sound of hooves--or hands, in the case of #3--hitting their owners' faces. "Of all the places to find recruits," #3 complained, "you had to pick an asylum?"

"Mr. Mocha believes that her skillset is worth the trouble of keeping her around," Ignition told her. "Though what she means by that, I don't understand..."

"She said that she got away clean with everything she stole," #6 said. She shrugged when everypony turned to her in confusion. "What? You just have to know how to talk to her."

"You know her?" Bastion wondered.

"Not as well as the boss." #6 propped her head up on the desk. "But sometimes a little 'crazy' goes a long way."

"Well, that explained diddly squat," Gates grumbled.

"Deal with it, soldier-boy," #6 grunted, idly scratching an itch through her armor. "That's all you're getting."

"I trust you'll be more informative with your own report?" Ignition questioned meaningfully.

6 waved off the veiled warning. "Is Ignition the Lord of the Dance? I took advantage of the chaos and bought every sapphire I could get my hooves on before the patrollers caught on to my presence. The shopkeeper was so eager to close up shop in favor of hiding that I was able to get a very good deal. I don't think I even spent half of what you gave me to use."

"I scoped out my entire district," #7 finished proudly. "The safe houses that Mr. Mocha procured are all in good shape. I made sure that all of them were well-stocked, up to code, and locked up before I left to begin my part of the plan."

"Well done, all of you." Ignition didn't hide how impressed he was. "I was expecting at least one of you to be met with difficulties, but you all pulled through."

Most of them smiled or leaned back in satisfaction. "So when do the two of us get our armor?" Gates inquired, being one of the two that didn't.

"Right now. #8 and #9, please follow me." Ignition turned and left the room, the thieves quick to obey.

"All of our equipment places emphasis on our capabilities," #2 remarked idly. "#1's deals with mobility, mine on hunting... wonder what theirs will do."

Idle conversation befell them all again for a time, which was a sign of how well they got along. For a group as diverse as theirs, that was surprising but welcomed. They wouldn't be willing to throw any parties for each other, but they could at least be counted on to support each other in the field. While they may have been completely different, they all had the same thing in common: respect for Mr. Mocha and his goals, and a desire to see them carried out.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and drove them all to silence. The two thieves entered the room first, now covered from head to hoof in armor. With as dark as the room was, nopony could discern any major details. Ignition followed them in, shutting the door.

Gates made his satisfaction known as soon as he was seated. When he spoke, his speech possessed a tinny overlay. "This... is what it's all about. And you're positive we're allowed to wear these full-time?"

"For the third time," Ignition sighed tiredly, "yes. In fact, I recommend it."

"Sweetness in a can."

"Just like you never left the Guard at all," #1 joked.

"Except this armor provides better protection than anything we had before," Bastion answered, his voice having gained the same quality as his partner's. "Enchanted steel isn't as durable or flexible as dragon scales, and it doesn't provide full coverage."

"You can thank me later," #3 rumbled, self-satisfied.

Ignition shook his head. "Don't get so sidetracked by your defenses that you forget why we're here. We still need to discuss where and when you will be deployed. We don't have all night, and I'm sure most of you are tired from your work today."

"You say that like I'm ever going to be distracted. Fairy Leviathan is going to die," Gates promised. "We both know it, no ifs, ands, or buts. And you wanna know what we think the best part is? With her out of action, there's going to be nothing stopping me and Bastion from carrying out our original job."

"We were hired to savage the Pyre of Fears and put one Salamandra out of business," Bastion reminded everypony. "Nothing has happened to nullify our assignment. Our eyes are on the target. And no matter where she's hiding, Alexandrite will pay us what she owes once we are finished."

"So let's quit gabbing about trivial tripe and get to the good stuff, shall we?" Gates leaned forward, both hooves resting near each other on the table. "All my pockets are still empty."

"...I'm not the only one hearing a very ominous guitar right now, am I?" #6 uttered, unsure.

"It fits," #1 stated. "And it's indicative of how all of us feel. All of us want to see two things: Celestia off the throne, and the robot rusted out of reality."

"But for the first victims of an extra-terrestrial machine..." #5 started to say, her usual dazed words temporarily stabilized.

"...this is very personal," #4 continued.

"The machine ruined what passes as a successful track record for thieves..." #7 joined in.

"And they want to fix that error with force," was #3's addition.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" #2 finished. "Different motivations, same end goal. No point in delaying anymore."

"I'm happy that we're all on the same page." Ignition gestured, and a diagram of the city appeared on one wall. "Moving on..."

...

And thus Bastion and Gates, ex-Royal Guardsponies and admitted criminals, set themselves on a course that would inevitably lead to them clashing blades with the lost Guardian once more.

From: G. G.

To: The Crown

Problems have arisen here. Multiple facilities have gone up in smoke to distract from a jailbreak. Two of the thieves that Leviathan captured have escaped, and it is sheer happenstance that the rest of the gang couldn't follow. No knowledge as to who is responsible. More information to come in tomorrow's edition of the Minutes.

Due to circumstances revolving around me, my family, Leviathan and my current employer, I am unable to act openly as a former Officer. Everypony in my apartment is frowning, Princess. And if my family's not happy, I'm not happy.

From: The Crown

To: G. G.

Cheer up, my little pony. Trust in your former department, and trust in Leviathan. I am sure they will be able to make you all smile again.

An hour and a half after everypony else had gone to bed, Gray lay awake atop the kitchen counter. This wasn't due to the surface being uncomfortable, as she'd slept peacefully on it plenty of times. Rather, she was waiting just a few moments more for the sake of nopony realizing that she had someplace she needed to be.

Eventually she climbed down and quietly drifted through the apartment, checking on her family. All of them were sleeping peacefully, though it stung her heart a little to see Ocean Guard's hoof stretched out towards her often-unoccupied spot on the bed. She stopped in the living room to pet Echo, who was meditating on life as only a cat can, then slipped silently through the kitchen window.

...

Decades before, there was a quaint little eatery known for its excellent soups. Its owners did a good business, its customers loved eating there, and everypony was happy. This came to an end when it was discovered that the building was home to a massive rat's nest. The eatery was closed down, the building was condemned, and the property went on the market.

To their credit, the owners were incredibly stubborn. They did everything in their power to try and salvage their reputations and the property, claiming that they were willing to clean everything up, take steps to exterminate the rats, and resume their life's work. In the end they were able to clear out the vermin and clean up the restaurant as thoroughly as possible, but it was too little and too late. Ownership of the property was transferred to Hay's Pizza the day they finished their tasks.

The disappointed and upset former owners were left with no choice but to downgrade to a smaller building in order to make ends meet, and it would be years before their reputations were restored. Meanwhile, the new pizzeria joined three others under that name that were scattered around the Manehattan area.

There were only a few individuals in the city who knew the truth behind Hay's acquisation of the establishment. One of them had just slipped into the building's cellar unseen, having understood the hidden message in Celestia's letter.

"Black suit, white shirt, this little pony's gonna bring the hurt..."

Gray hummed near-inaudibly as she donned said clothing items, a catchy little song from years earlier scampering through her brain. And as most from her generation were prone to do, she created lyrics that were only distantly related to the song's original topic.

"Smooth hat, sweet shades, it's a crime to have them maaaade..."

She adjusted her hat and tie, trusting that they were on straight. Finished, she claimed some sunglasses out of a pouch and placed them on her muzzle. Ready to protect the city solely with the methods that were available to her, she turned to leave the cellar while the song came to its end.

"Giving monsters far more than they can bear, while stallions go crazy for the sharp-dressed mare..."

Author's Note

Song links for this chapter include: Michael Walthius's "Millenium Dawn", Depeche Mode's "Agent Orange", and "Soul Clef XI", from the soundtrack of Red Vs. Blue. If there were any questions as to who I based Bastion and Iron Gates off of, consider them answered.

The chapter title might seem strange to you, but consider this: what do it and "Soul Clef XI" have in common?

One of my weaker chapters, I feel, but necessary. This is partially to begin a plot point that's going to increase in importance in the future, thus necessitating the involvement of the Mocha twins, and partially to remove Gray from the picture temporarily so that Leviathan doesn't have too much of an advantage.

Estimated Chapter Deadline: May 25, 2022

Trifecta - Part Two

I'm starting to feel that something's off.

Since I discovered the basement, I have not been attacked by a single drone. From what my guide told me, I got the impression that there should have been more of these lurking around. The only ones I've seen since I arrived were the ones on the ground floor. Where have they all gone?

One of the rooms had a chalkboard detailing some complex mathematical equations, which I more or less understood. They were linked to magical formulae and runic symbols, which I didn't. Included on the board was a diagram of those butterflies I'd been seeing, with the label "Magifly" stenciled beneath it. At the very least, I have a name for those now. In addition, it offers some proof that whoever it was that orchestrated the Police Station attack, the scientists have connections to them.

That's the only worthwhile evidence I've been able to find. Any paperwork that could possibly disclose additional details has vanished. Either those ponies at the jail had something to do with it, which seems unlikely due to some of them being willing to talk, or Trifecta stole it when nopony was looking. Either way, this has been a disappointment so far.

Connection established with Headquarters. "Officer Coffee, this is General Leviathan with a status report." The chain of command back home would have fits if they ever heard that sentence. It must be why I'm smiling. "I found some design specs for one of those drone types that attacked us yesterday, but the basement's otherwise looking sparse. No sign of Trifecta yet, so I'm suspecting he's not ready to be found. Over."

-"Confirmed, General. Have you searched Sub-Level #2 yet?"-

Huh. "I wasn't aware that there was a Level #2."

Some papers rustle over the connection. -"There was a case involving the Institute thirty-five years ago,"- Coffee informs me. -"According to our files, there should be two sub-levels accessible via hidden passages. Almost half the arrests the Police carried out during that case were beneath your feet. Over."-

Unless it was completely blocked off between then and now. It's still worth checking out, though. This is why it pays to have someone on Mission Control. "Thanks for the tip, Officer. I'll see what I can dig up. Out," I say, ending the connection.

I know what to look for now.

Timing is everything.

Trifecta had been lurking upstairs since before Leviathan had arrived at the building. Through a crack in one of the boarded-up windows, he had witnessed her arrival. With his ears, he had listened as she destroyed all of the drones on the first floor. And with the radio that had still been in his possession, he had eavesdropped on her messages back to the Police HQ, remaining completely still so as not to make his presence heard.

As soon as the transmission had ended, Trifecta was on the move. He trotted to the room where, just yesterday, he had blasted a hole through the ceiling as part of his distraction. The Torchounds he had brought with him gave him cursory glances, but ignored him otherwise; they were designed to recognize him as an ally, and to follow his orders if need be.

Gathering himself, he jumped as high as he could... and at the height of his jump, air bursts exited out of his armor's hooves and launched him higher. Catching himself on the roof and pulling himself up, he hustled over to one of the building's A/C units. It was part of the first wave of "modern" air conditioning, having been installed clear back when the Institute was built. Slightly more efficient units had been developed since then, but it would still do what Trifecta had in mind.

Making life in the Institute more comfortable wasn't the only thing this particular unit had been designed for, after all.

Trusting that the Torchounds he had stationed in Sub-Level #2 were still in position, he pried open the A/C unit's cover and got to work. All the while, Trifecta scanned the skies just in case any random pegasi noticed what he was doing. He would prefer not to harm any innocents, but if he had to choose between that and his allegiance to Cocoa Mocha, his reservations would just have to go.

Coffee was right. Now that I knew there was an extra floor, investigating the area near the stairs revealed the next flight going down. There wasn't anything to accessing it, just looking for another X-shaped crack and pressing against it until the wall slid aside. I suppose those who implemented it decided that if anyone was able to reach the basement at all, trying to mislead them further would've been pointless.

Turning the lights on reveals another hallway similar to the one over my head. This one feels a bit more homey, though I only have Drama's residence to go by for local standards. The floor's clean for the most part, and there are a few paintings and photos on the walls. One such painting at the end of the hall shows me a lightly-armored black alicorn sneering at something in the distance... it's a bit ostentatious, and it stands out compared to the relative cheerfulness of the other decorations.

Walking as quietly as I can, I open doors and look around as I go. There's no evidence of the pony I'm looking for, and checking the cabinets and desks within turns up nothing of note. The few pieces of paper and parchment scattered around don't have details that would help me or the Police any.

Would anything of import be kept in the upper stories? It doesn't feel like there would be. I was told that the building was abandoned, suggesting that the general public believes this. If the staff got in the habit of trying to sneak upstairs to store anything, they wouldn't be able to keep the secret forever. Those determined enough to investigate suspicious activity wouldn't be stopped for very long by locked doors or barred windows.

Trifecta might be hiding up there, though. I'll have to go back outside and get in through the windows if I want to find him. Annoying, but nothing I can do about that.

...

Last room on this side. Let's see what it's hiding, if any.

I turn the knob and push, but the door won't move more than a millimeter. Something inside the room is keeping it from opening. Knocking on it a handful of times in various places and listening for where any sounds are coming from... ...Here we are. There are locks near the bottom and top of the door.

Earlier, I had been concerned about causing damage to the building. This was in part because I didn't want to have to pay for anything I didn't need to. Now, I can rationalize what I did when I give my report to the Police: those responsible for the basement's construction likely didn't have the betterment of ponykind in mind.

So with this in mind, I place one hand near the top of the door and activate my ice generators. My plan here is to channel sub-zero temperatures through the wood and into whatever lock is being used, weakening both to the point where a strong enough shove will break the locks. The nice part is that at my best I can reduce temperatures to as low as -60°F, so even if the locks are made of cold-resistant metals, that's far more than the wood itself can take.

Somewhere and somewhen, a few are probably saying: "Why don't you just use that pointy stick of yours and slash down the door?", or "Why don't you just kick it down?". To which I respond: "Because I'm not a brute." There's always the possibility, however slim, that the door's destruction would damage something worthwhile within the room. The average pony's not going to use a harpoon gun to eat a standard lettuce leaf, is he? Well, I'm not going to use overwhelming force unless there are no other options, or if I have nothing to lose by doing so. I like using my brain.

Alright. Going to give these a few more seconds...

...and that's good enough. I turn the handle and push, this time applying a bit more strength. Once, twice, thrice, four times, five---

And there we go. Door's open, and the only parts of it damaged were where I worked my stuff. I see what's left of the locks get swept aside by the door as I enter.

This room is like most of the others on this side of the hall: a bed made for a full-grown pony, a small cabinet meant to hold personal effects or what have you, a wastebasket, desk, and a wall-mounted hook. Unlike the others, there are three additional items: an empty cardboard box, an old, threadbare lab coat hanging from the hook, and a box-like bed sized just right for somepony like Zig-Zag. There's a thick layer of dust on everything, which lends credence to my belief that this room has not been used in a very long time.

Note to self: go for a swim after I've finished with the traitor. I feel unclean just standing here.

There likely isn't going to be anything here that can help me, but I should at least check anyway. For all I know, a unicorn could've just magicked something out of sight. Since that was probably how they locked the door, I wouldn't put it past them.

Let's see, checking the desk... assorted writing supplies and a binder labeled 'D.Z.I. Regulations'. Ix-nay.

The wastebasket... empty. Don't know why I looked.

The cabinet... just a glasses case with nothing in it, along with the usual array of toiletries. And a ball of yarn, of all things.

Nothing hidden in the twin-sized bed... or full-sized, depending on your species.

That just leaves the new items. The lab coat has naught but a few paper clips, and the box just as barren. The child's bed, on the other hand, is concealing something beneath the mattress. This seems promising...

And I was right. There's a book here. This doesn't look like anything a foal would read: no pictures. The word "Journal" is stenciled across the cover plain as day. The pages seem to be in fairly good condition, surprisingly. The text is all in Equish, but the cursive is very messy: I can't read it. I suspect that if I took this to a pharmacy somewhere, I could probably get a prescription filled.

Now, this could have been written by the bed's former owner, but the feeling I'm getting from looking at the text is that it was hidden away for a reason. This room's the only one on this floor that was secured in any way, and the book's the only thing that stands out down here. The pony that locked up the room was trying to hide this for some reason. Why, I don't know, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me. If there's a simpler solution given the context, it's not coming to mind.

I don't have time to make sense of the book now, though. I'll wait until after Trifecta's apprehended.

...

You can still tell that somepony had been living and working here recently. As I walk, I'm detecting the exact combination of air particles that are synonymous with hair spray. As voluminous as most ponies' manes and tails are, it doesn't surprise me that they would want to keep them in pristine shape.

And having seen photos of Celestia, I won't try to imagine how much upkeep her mane requires.

Though it can't be normal for them to use this much hair spray, can it? There's enough of it in here that I could've choked on it—or poisoned myself, even—if I needed to breathe. Isn't the ventilation system supposed to deal with that? I can hear it working, so what's the problem?

I've been looking around the rest of the floor, not trying to find evidence against Trifecta but instead seeking out any surprises that might have been stashed down here. Beyond a nestful of those spider drones that required some fancy footwork to destroy—took long enough to find—there hasn't been much. What's your game here, rogue? If you're not going to populate the basement with those drones and overwhelm me with numbers, then why are you hiding instead of confronting me?

I stroll past a nice-looking mirror with an even nicer-looking reflection (if I do say so myself), pushing open a door and entering a decent-sized break room. As the door closes, I take in my surroundings. The room's big enough to hold a pair of circular tables with six chairs each, cabinets and a countertop that span an entire wall, and an icebox like the one Drama owns. Two more spiders and a newly-indentified Magifly are squatting in the room, but my Javelin takes umbrage with that and evicts them permanently before they can attack.

As the debris clatters against the tiled floor, I give the room one more glance before turning to leave---

What the...?

The rustling of wood and the clicking of metal against the floor is making me freeze up, and I slowly turn around. Three of those fire dogs are climbing out of the cabinets nearest the icebox, dislodging a few cans as they go. They line up next to each other and stare across the room at me. They're not moving or trying to attack. They're just staring.

I smirk at them. "You think you can take me? Go ahead on. It's your move."

Banter is wasted on the brainless. The dogs don't react to my words in any way other than their lifeless gazes continuing to bore into my consciousness. Even a few mechaniloids I know of would've taken the bait.

Well, alright. If you're not going to attack, I will! My Javelin points at them as I prepare to fire—

Caution: Flammable materials present.

Flammable? In here? If it was a furnace room or similar I'd be worried, but...

Wait. I know what my systems are warning me about. The scent of hair spray is just as heavy in here as it is elsewhere in the level. While it helps with beauty, it is also combustible. The canisters' standard printed warnings tell the user to keep away from high heat and flame.

And with a virtual mist in the room, if even one of those wolves decides to attack---

X help me, that spray couldn't have been here yesterday! There's no way Trifecta didn't know I was going to be the one sent after him! He planned this! No wonder the ventilation isn't working properly!

Okay, so maybe spelling out my weaknesses in that interview wasn't my best move, but come on—!

The drones have noticed my anxiety. Their eyes are developing a dim glow, which I'm taking as a danger sign. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare---!"

They dared.

No time to destroy them before they fire, don't want to drop the journal and lose it in the explosion, just RUN! Out of my way, door! I don't have time to open you, so I'm going through you!

There's hissing above me. It's that same scent flooding into the hall from the air vent! Not safe yet, Levi, now GO!---

The room's walls are blown apart by the explosive conflagration, much like how I believe the drones were. Even without it directly touching me, being this close to a source of intense heat isn't helping my systems. More and more of the air lights up as the fire comes into contact with the spray. Move move move, stairs stairs stairs stairs stairs---!

The hall behind me is a sea of fire. My coolant is all but boiling as I jump up the stairs, clearing them five at a time as I hurry. I think this is the first time I've had to try outrunning a fireball instead of just dodging it! So help me, if I trip even once going up these blasted stairs---!

My radio crackles. -"Leviathan-are-you-picking-us-up? Come-in!"-

Part of me's happy to hear her voice. The rest of me isn't, and not just because she's talking so fast that her words are running together. "Officer Coffee!" I snap as I reach the next floor. "Whatever happened to radio silence?"

-"Never-mind-that!"- Coffee barks back. -"We-just-received-word-that-the-upper-floors-are-going-up-in-flames! Are-you-okay?"-

...What?! "When was this?! I've been scouring the basement this entire time!"

-"Just-a-minute-ago!"-

...Wait, so that would mean that they began torching the upper floors just before I discovered those fire-breathers...! "Trifecta's trying to bring this building down on my head and trap me in the flames!" I shout, channeling my power through the Javelin. And if they're banking on me burning to death before all the air runs out, they might actually do it unless I start getting creative! "Quiet a moment!"

Now that I'm not so focused on finding a way through like I was earlier, I can see a vent at the top of the passage. I have to focus a little to hear anything over the roar of flames, but it doesn't sound like it has started spitting out hair spray (another one for my list of strange sentences). I aim the Charged Slash at the vent and let it rip.

Good. There's a thick coating of ice particles covering most of that wall now. It's not going to last long with the incoming fire, but it will slow down the spread a little. That should be long enough for me to get out of here.

Though if the splintering overhead and the rise in temperature are any proof, admiring my handiwork right now would be a lethal idea. My mad dash continues as I resume funneling energy into the Javelin, spinning it one-handed as I go. Another door becomes a casualty of my boot in my haste to leave. I'm proven right an instant later as the ceiling in the room collapses, blockading the passage I'd just left with fire and debris.

The floor beneath me is warm, and the ceiling in the hall is becoming more unstable. My vision's tinted red from the "Danger: High Temperature" warnings that are blaring at me, but I force myself to ignore my discomfort. I hold the journal close to my chest and bring the Javelin down once more... though this time it's not a Charged Slash I'm unleashing, but the dragon-headed form of my Spirit of the Ocean. I jump onto its back as it materializes, coming mere centimeters from hitting my head on the ceiling, and point in the direction I'd entered the building from. "Fly!"

The construct doesn't need encouragement; it's not sapient, but it is just cognizant enough to know what needs to be done. With an icy howl it jets off down the corridor. When it reaches the bend in the hall, it smashes through the corners instead of properly navigating the turn. A section of the ceiling crashes down behind the Spirit, adding to the urgency I'm feeling. It's just enough to offset the tiredness I'm suffering from being in close proximity to the flames.

Recall that swimming pool I wished I had after I'd caught the thieves? I could really use it right now.

Two more wolves are blocking the exit. I don't care, just add them to the debris... though I will take that little crystal that the Spirit just sent flying into my teeth, thank you---!

My ride slams into the wood-and-glass doors at full throttle, shattering them into a thousand pieces; the Javelin is leveled so that the blade blocks anything from reaching my face, but from the looks of things the Spirit took the brunt of the damage. I leap off the dragon and direct it back into the burning building, letting it dissolve in the flames as I make a mad dash for the fence. One jump and I'm clear of the property, while another takes me clear of the road.

-"Leviathan?"- Coffee's voice calls in my ears as I slow to a stop. -"Leviathan!"-

"I'm... I'm alright," I try to assure her, leaning against the Javelin for support. I can hear the Officer who escorted me to the Institute rushing up to me, requesting his own status report. I watch as the building continues to go up in flames, thick smoke billowing from the windows; the stonework will survive, but the wood won't. Somewhere nearby, there are fire alarms ringing. "I think we can safely scratch one Institute. That building's going to be gutted before the locals can put it out."

-"What-happened-in-there?"-

"Let's just say," I answer after a deep breath (sort of), "that I'm very happy that I can keep my hair looking nice without any spray."

The Officer with me sniffs. "Huh. Explains why you smell like marmalade."

That's what that was? I wish our sense of smell had been more refined.

-"But-why-did... ohhh,"- Coffee realizes. Her voice slows down towards 'normal'. -"Right. Hair spray's flammable. Must have been a ton of it to get that kind of reaction. Have you apprehended Trifecta yet?"

"Not yet, but I did recover a bit of history from the lower levels before my escape. It doesn't have the look of anything recent." I hand the miraculously undamaged journal to my guide, who is regarding it curiously. "Can you make any sense of it?"

The Officer sits up and takes it in his hooves, looking it over and checking the first few pages. "'Property... of Juniper Leaf... YoC 964'," he reads, closing the journal. "Pretty sure that's what it says. The writing's some of the messiest I've seen. Reminds me of my doctor's."

Suppressing an amused snort, I repeat the words to Coffee. As I hear her scampering off to check the Police's archives, I run a quick scan to see how badly that fire affected me.

Coolant Levels: 88%. Please replenish at your earliest convenience.

Current Power Output: 79% of capacity.

Recommended Course of Action: You are tired. Take a rest.

Not as bad as it would've been if I'd been in the midst of the fire. Getting hit by one of Zero's Fire Chip-enhanced slashes has done worse. It's still something I wish I could have avoided, though. Trifecta's somewhere nearby, and I'll need all the energy I can spare.

There's a crowd trying to gather around the property, though they at least have enough good sense not to get too close: pony noses are fairly sensitive. Some of them are murmuring, wondering what I had to do with the burning Institute.

-"Alright, I've found something,"- Coffee speaks up. -"Juniper Leaf, born in YoC 937. Was arrested in 964 for multiple counts of illegal experimentation and being a willing party to a foalnapping. Pleaded guilty to all charges and was sentenced to 27 years, but was released on good behavior a few years early. Last check says that she's working as a babysitter to make ends meet."-

Was a willing party to a foalnapping... and she makes a living as a babysitter. There's something about this that doesn't make sense, and I think it's Equestria---

INCOMING CLASS-B THREAT! "Everypony, clear out of the way! NOW!" I warn, swinging the Javelin above and to my right.

A pony-shaped form strikes the flat side of the blade and rebounds off of it. The attacker alights on the road, six meters away from me. I meet his stare--or what I'm assuming is his stare--as my warning sinks into everypony's minds, 'encouraging' them to get away from the confrontation.

The armor Trifecta's wearing shimmers with a blue-green hue in the light. From the looks of things, it consists of several sets of overlapping scales that are straining my eyes just to view, and it covers everything between his neck and tail. There are some metallic pieces around the neck, chest, and hooves that offer proper protection, but otherwise his defense seems low. He has some goggles and a breath mask equipped to protect his face and conceal his visage, though his short mane remains visible.

A sealed cylindrical tank half the size of his torso is attached to his back. Even without the warnings buzzing, it doesn't take a genius to guess what's inside. Which makes me curious about something...

Before he can say anything, I raise a hand to stop him. A time and place for everything, yes, but this has to be answered now. "One question. Don't feel you have to answer this. Of all the things you could have tried to immolate me with, why did you choose hairspray?"

Trifecta's silent for about ten seconds. Just when I think he won't react, he finally shrugs minutely. "There wasn't any propane on-site," he explains, his speech muffled but understandable.

...Fair enough. He had to make do with what accessories he had available. I won't ask any more questions.

"In exchange, I'd like to ask a question of my own." Trifecta gestures at the journal that my guide's carrying a safe distance away. "Where did you find that book?"

"The locked room in Sub-Level #2," I answer without my hesitation. Not like it matters at this point: the room's probably in the same condition as the rest of the facility by now.

His headwear's making it very difficult to judge expressions, but his speech is doing a fine job of telling me his mood. "The one place I couldn't get into without making it obvious..." he's muttering. "More sleeping quarters?"

I nod, but offer him nothing else. In my peripheral vision, I see some pegasi moving clouds into position over the blaze. The distant rumble of fireponies galloping reaches me from down the road.

“Well, then. As if I needed another reason to destroy you.” He gestures at the street, and I move to the center of it obligingly. “My name is Trifecta, and before I take that book I'm going to reduce you to slag.”

“I'm single and uninterested,” I rebuff him.

“I can't tell if you're deliberately misinterpreting that word to get a rise out of me or not. Either way...” The muscles in his legs visibly tense, discernible even past the scales. “Burn.”

Author's Note

Music links for this chapter include: "Smooth and Easy", from Psycho Waluigi; "Ambience", from the same; "Da Vinci Overdrive", by Ockeroid, and "X, the Legend" from the Mega Man Zero series. If you're wondering why I picked that last one, trust me when I say that it'll make more sense after the story's events run their course.

Yes, she used a "Final Justice" reference. Yes, she used a "King of the Hill" reference too. No, she isn't aware of any of that. Moving on.

Due to length, I decided to split it into two more parts. The next part will up tomorrow after I get back from work. At that point, I'll go back and take another look and see what needs editing, because my lack of timing is getting ridiculous. :moustache:

Trifecta - Part Three

As the warning sirens signal the beginning of the battle, I don't waste time waiting for him to come to me. I go to him instead. Against somepony who knows what he's doing, trying to fight at range won't help me. If I'm going to claim a victory, then I'm going to have to use the same tactic that got me my few wins against Fefnir: get in close, strike, get away before he can pulverize me, repeat.

A meter appears on the right side of my HUD, and I get an answer as to what it's measuring when Trifecta raises his forelegs to block my first strike. That armor is more durable than it looks: the Javelin did what amounts to scratch damage against it. Yet it's still better than no damage, so I'll take it anyway--

Trifecta wins the brief struggle, slamming the Javelin against the road. One of his metal-covered hooves aims at me, and I'd be a fool to stand still--

My instincts save me as a gout of flame whooshes through the space I'd just been in. I dash-jump again, angling myself so that I'm charging towards him at his 8 o'clock. He predictably jumps out of the way, and I shift to a one-handed grip as I swipe at his breath mask with my free hand--

Ooh~. Surprises, surprises! Is that somepony ripping off my Double Jump that I'm seeing? ...Alright, “ripping off” is a stretch, since I doubt the armor was designed specifically to counter me, but this is still an incredible coincidence. Trifecta just did a little backwards flip in mid-air that took him away from my grasp, and I wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the buck to the back of my head (ow) that he delivered.

So, yes: I can confirm without a doubt that I shouldn't let trained earth ponies hit me againnnn---! Almost got burned there, he tried to ignite me before I could stand back up, managed to duck and roll out of the way and back onto my feet, move move move!

Fired off a few spearheads just now. They won't stall him for long, but they won't need to. Just need to keep him from turning me into a briquette!

That scaly armor's already demonstrated that trying to batter at it with the Javelin is going to be a waste of time. I'd get wreathed in flames long before I did any worthwhile damage. But what's going to happen if I attack the parts that aren't scaly?

As Trifecta's strikes smack the spearheads away, I dart in and swing at the metallic chest piece. He's not quick enough to evade, and the Javelin rips a gash right through it. I jump backwards away from his retaliatory swing while the entire suit roils, like the ocean beneath a steady breeze. The energy meter is outlined in green now, where previously it had lacked any sort of definition. Does that mean what I think it means?

I'm going to have to wait to see for myself; he didn't like me damaging his armor. Trifecta punches the air twice, three times: more fire exits his hooves, not as waves but as misshapen spheres. A simple matter to slash the fireballs into embers--

But while I'm doing so, Trifecta double-jumps into the air and slams his hooves together, pointing them at me. As my scanners warn me of a power buildup and everything from his shoulders forwards glows with an orange light, he speaks one word and one word only:

"INCINERATE."

A storm of flame, much like the one Leviathan had fled from within the Institute, bore down on her at speeds she couldn't escape from in time. A wail of agony, much like that of a pony's, tore through the air as the storm struck home. For a few moments, Trifecta lost sight of her within the fire as he landed a safe distance away.

I wish I didn't have to do that. My fuel tank was thoroughly exhausted from that stunt, and the suit's flare emitters are overheating. It'll be a few minutes before I can make use of either again... the tank's going to need time for the runes to refill it.

It's for the best. She was attacking too quickly, too aggressively. That 'Zero' fellow from the paper... how fast was he for her to have gotten accustomed to it? ... Meh, no point speculating. Even if she survives that attack, this will be enough to give me some breathing room--

No, it wasn't.

Leviathan shot forward, leaving the conflagration behind her. She was looking tired to be sure, and her body was scorched in more places than Trifecta could count, but she was both still active and nowhere close to giving up. And--

Why in blazes is she smiling---?!

Trifecta didn't waste any more time thinking, instead letting his combat training take over. With his ranged options temporarily exhausted, he ducked beneath a Javelin swing and went low, trying to sweep Leviathan off her feet with a kick. His movements were a hair slow (cursed age) and she easily evaded it with a backwards hop. The Javelin--which he finally noticed was glowing and making a strange sound--descended again, this time at an angle where he couldn't evade; he twisted into position to block it, much like he did at the start of the fight.

Unlike her first try, Leviathan had a Charged Slash backing up the impact. A shockwave of icy cold air completely enveloped Trifecta, searing everything that wasn't protected with a bone-deep chill. Giving in to instinct, he tried to shield the few parts of his head that didn't have any protection from the cold. The dragon scale mail that he wore shunted aside most of the blast, leaving him relatively unscathed.

But as soon as the first slash struck home, he knew that he'd lost this fight.

While he'd acted on instinct, Leviathan had acted on experience. Not waiting to see if he'd weather the attack, she did what Zero would have done and pressed the assault. Slash after strike rained down on him, keeping him from gathering his strength for jumping and systematically wearing down his armor. He tried his best to dodge and counterattack, but with the emitters in his armor's hooves still overheated, the mobility he loved was limited. He was able to connect with his attacks only once more before Leviathan's aggression fully paid off.

A Water Circle cleaved his fuel tank into pieces, scattering them about the road. The attachments around his neck and chest met the same fate, and the belt containing his backup Reddocite was slashed apart. With the embedded metal and their enchantments gone, Trifecta felt every hit dealt to him despite the scales themselves withstanding everything. He continued fighting, of course, but it was when Leviathan got a firm grip on his mask and goggles and tore them off his face that he was finally forced to admit that he'd been bested. He did not want to deal with the noxious odors caused by the fires he had started.

The former law enforcer and secret agent might have gone through a lot throughout his storied career, but never in his life had he gone up against somepony quite like the Siren General. From the opening charge to his final surrender, it took two minutes for the fight to run its course.

So. Tired.

When Frame met Flame, I was able to stay intact... mostly. But that scream you heard? That was the sound of me experiencing my coolant being forcibly evaporated. If I hadn't found the strength to get away from it... well, the burns I'm sporting should give you a good idea. I'm counting myself fortunate that Trifecta only had enough fuel for one of those firestorms.

It probably says something about me that I still enjoyed that fight, as brief as it was. I know it's not healthy, but I just can't help myself. At least the cheering I'm hearing not far away is telling me that it was worth it.

As things stand, my levels are pretty close to the danger zone. I'm in no condition to continue battling, not after the dregs of my willpower just gave out. Not saying I didn't have to if I needed to: I just don't want to. Something that surfaced towards the end should be able to fix that, however. "Coffee?" I say, glaring at the subdued Trifecta to make sure he doesn't try anything. "The fight's done. Tell them they can send their squads to the Institute now. Over."

-"Roger that. Out."-

Forcing myself to stay standing, I drag myself over to where I saw a chunk of Reddocite go flying during my final series of attacks. I'm keeping my eyes and weapon trained on Trifecta the entire time. Even if he must be a walking bruise beneath his armor, I don't want to give him any opportunity to flee.

Picking up the ore, I take a few long steps away to keep its effects from restoring Trifecta's equipment. Satisfied that he's not going to escape and that he won't regain access to his arsenal, I crush the Reddocite in my hand.

I can feel my energy returning to me, my damage fixing itself, and my stores of coolant replenishing. It feels so, so wonderful. Have I ever said that before? I think I have. It can't be exaggerated enough: I needed that after what Trifecta did to it all---

-Analyzing data for Incineration Cannon. Auto-Repair Systems undergoing reconfiguration. Adapting weapon for current user. Estimated time: unknown. Please wait.-

...Huh? What's going on? My hands are tingling! "What's happening to me...?"

Trifecta's outwardly curious, but I ignore him. There's one more message incoming:

-Scanning... unable to absorb. Ability designated 'Double Jump' is already activated.-

...What.

...On Earth.

...Did you say? Care to run that last one by me again?

-Unable to absorb. Ability designated 'Double Jump' is already activated.-

That's what I thought you said.

"Leviathan?" I can dimly hear my guide calling out. Must be feeling brave enough to approach. "Why is your face turning red?"

His words are irrelevant.

Somewhere in Diarchs, a tea kettle whistled.

You mean to tell me that I didn't even need to set up that subroutine in the first place? That all I had to do was fight an opponent who had a similar ability?! That is pure nonsense! I wish I could have known that back when I first put it together! And why haven't I received anything like that from Phantom and the others?! Why wait until now?! I know I've sparred with them enough times!

-"I don't know, but whatever it is you have, wouldn't that be a good thing?"-

"Kya! Officer...!" Did Coffee just hear all of that? Please tell me she didn't!

-"You sound like somepony different when you're angry,"- she comments. -"What was that about?"-

A very slight scuffling sound reaches my ears. I point the Javelin in its direction, and the sound stops. "I'll tell you about it shortly." Coolant, get out of my face, get out. X in cyberspace, I can't believe I said all of that out loud.

I'm serious, though. I've taken part in my fair share of fights. I've won duels against Harpuia and Phantom, and as I said earlier, I've even managed a few very close victories over Fefnir. A couple times to keep my subordinates from getting too ornery, I've had to bring them low. Never once have I automatically learned a new skill or unlocked a new ability after a win.

So why start now? Why are mysteries being thrown at me?

...

You know what? I can work out my frustrations on something that's not going to break in a little while. I'll piece things together once I'm done being flummoxed by ever-loving magic.

MISSION COMPLETE

MISSION - 100 - 20p
CLEAR TIME - 23'17 - 8p
ENEMY - 35 - 20p
DAMAGE - 35 - 12p
RETRY - 0 - 20p

TOTAL: 78p
AVERAGE: 75p

LEVEL: C
CODENAME: EDGE FLAMBÉ

Oh, shut up.

While the blaze at the Institute is being contained--and after I extinguish the leftovers from Trifecta's attacks--the Royal Police show up to arrest him. All of them are either angry that they'd been working with a traitor, or distressed that somepony they'd been working with for years was never really on their side. One of them reads Trifecta his rights, slaps some cuffs on him, and loads him into one of the carriages to be taken back to Manehattan.

Instead of defeat, the expression on his face is one of defiance. It seems like he's going to fight this one to the bitter end. Maybe he's thinking that one of his co-conspirators will succeed where he failed and discover some way of killing me, or that the one who set all of this up will. I'm not sure.

They're not unbeatable. Unorthodox, yes, but they can be defeated. I've bested one of them in combat, and I'm fully recovered. It's time for me to move on to the next.

While some of the Police go about questioning the locals who witnessed our battle and collecting the destroyed armor pieces for evidence's sake, my guide from before walks up to me with the journal. "Excuse me, but I've been deciphering the writing since your battle ended..."

I nod at him in thanks. It beats having to do it myself. "And what did you discover?"

...

This... this explains so much. A little cliché, yes, but it all makes sense. Coffee, still listening in, agrees with me with a bit more surprise in her voice: unlike me, she didn't see it coming.

"So, what do you intend to do with this?" I ask my guide.

"Normally this would be taken back to the Station as evidence," he answers. "However, the case this pertains to has been closed for over thirty years."

-"That journal's author confessed her crimes long ago. There's nothing in that book that isn't already in the archives,"- Coffee adds. -"And from what Codger just told me, the victim's name was stricken from the records to protect their privacy."-

"Journals by and large are private affairs," the guide continues. "But given that there's nothing private in this book anymore..."

"Lend it to the one who needs this information most," I finish. "And trust that the right thing will be done."

"Exactly."

...

I offer a fistbump to my guide, which he accepts before turning to join the rest of his squad for the ride back to Manehattan. "Officer Coffee?" I speak, watching the weather team and fireponies at work. They have things under control here, so it's time for me to go. "I need information. As long as I'm on this side of the bridge, I'm going after that dragon."

-"Roger that, General."-

I have some irritation that needs to be expressed appropriately.

Knock knock knock.

Gray's ears twitched, and her eyes opened a sliver. She was greeted with nothing but darkness, her blankets hiding everything but her muzzle. Her forehead felt like it was burning. Wonder who that is...

The clip-clop of hooves walking across the floor, and the door opening. "Hello?" Ebony's voice was heard saying. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, young miss. Officer Spindle with the Royal Police. Is there a Mrs. Gray Ghost at home?"

"I'm sorry, but Mom's not feeling well today," Ebony answered politely but firmly. "Is it important?"

"In a way. I'm told you're acquainted with a 'Leviathan'?"

"Y-y-yes."

"She was doing some work for us this morning in Diarchs, and she discovered something to pass along to Gray. Something about a 'solved mystery', from what I'm told."

"Is... is that a journal?"

"Yes. I haven't read it myself. It's for her eyes only."

Hmm? What's-it? A journal?

"Alright. Sure, I can give it to Mom. Want something to drink? We don't have much, but I can make some cherryade."

"No, thanks. I'd better get back to my beat. Got to make sure nothing else crops up around here. Tell your Mom that we all wish her a speedy recovery."

"Thank you, sir. I will!"

The apartment door closed, and Ebony was heard relocating to the master bedroom. A moment later, the inquiry came: "Mom? Are you awake?"

"Technically, I'm a pony," Gray managed to groan.

There was a stretch of silence. "...Take that as an 'I'm awake', Eebon," Fiver murmured close by as she continued to play her games. "Stop making that face."

"Right, sorry. I have something here for you, Mom. Somepony from the Police left this here. Said that it was important that you look at it."

Gray reached out from under the covers, fumbling around. She was rewarded with the sensation of paper and cardboard against her hoof, and she dragged the item beneath the blankets. "Thanks, sweetheart. I've got to at least try to focus on something other than this stupid cold," she groused.

A few moments of silence. "...You might want to try moving the covers off your eyes," Fiver suggested only half-sarcastically.

"I knew that," Gray claimed with all the innocence of a foal who told their parents they're not stealing anything while their hoof was still in the cookie jar. She worked her head free from the blankets. "I was wondering why I couldn't see anything. Ebony, could you please go and make that cherryade so you all have something to drink at lunch?"

Ebony cheerfully agreed, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Gray raised her head so she could see Fiver past the edge of the bed. "Do you mind stepping out for a bit? I think I want some privacy for this."

"...Recover from your cold first," Fiver muttered. "...I'm not leaving."

"Fiver, I---" Gray whipped her head away, coughing. Once she was sure the fit was over, she turned to address her child again. "Look, if it's from the Police, I'm not going to want anypony else seeing it, alright? The last thing any of us need are gossipy hens not knowing when to stay quiet."

A soft sigh. "...Mom, think very carefully about what you just said."

Puzzled pony was puzzled. "Huh?"

A four of diamonds moved to a seven of spades, and the both of them to a ten of hearts. "...First, I can't see what you're reading from the floor. Second, even if I could, you have me confused for somepony who loves to talk."

Gray's addled mind took a little time to process that reminder. A hoof was massaging her forehead at the end of it. "Sometimes, I wonder how much you actually inherited from us."

"...Didn't Grandma and Grandpa say the same thing to you?"

A snort just as soft as her sigh. That runs in our family, at least.

Making herself comfortable as Fiver went back to her game, Gray took her first real look at the journal's cover. Property of... Juniper Leaf? Why does that name feel so familiar? She took note of the date. Year of Celestia 964...

Trepidation settled like a shroud over her. That was the year I started kindergarten. She remembered what she'd told Leviathan recently about her state of mind, and how it had been influencing her "from kindergarten on". And that Officer had mentioned a "solved mystery" in connection with this book that concerned her personally. Is... is this it? Am I finally going to get the answers I've been wanting?

Gray nosed open the journal to the first page, immersing herself in her reading material. She knew it was the only real way to find out for herself.

The filly that we've asked for has been delivered. She's old enough that in theory, the experiments won't have any adverse effects on her growth, while still young enough that she isn't fully aware of her circumstances. Best part is that she doesn't have her Cutie Mark yet, so whatever her talents will be won't be affected. She'll be perfect.

In addition to my current duties, I'll be seeing to it that all of her needs are cared for. Our boss was very clear on that. He said that if the experiments are successful but the filly is malnourished or unhappy, he'll be holding me directly responsible. As if that warning was even required. I've wanted to have a foal of my own for the longest time, so this will be good practice for me.

I've already gone ahead and set up a bed for her. With the locks I have installed on my door, she'll be able to sleep peacefully without outside disturbance. I'm glad they agreed to have those put there; I hate having ponies barge into my quarters when I'm trying to get my work done.

Additional entries will be made as time warrants.