The Beginnings of a Plague

Chapters

Chapter 1: Unknowns
Chapter 3: If Thou Wouldst
Chapter 4: Enter Dreams (Re-Perspectived)
Chapter 5: Painful Morning
Chapter 6: Visitor
Chapter 7: Push and Shove
Chapter 8: Horror from Another World
Chapter 9: Hell in Canterlot Castle
Chapter 10: Behemoth
Interlude 1
Chapter 11: Antibody
Chapter 12: Fifteen
Chapter 14: Organization
Chapter 15: A Prelude to Dinner
Chapter 16: Dinner and a Show
Chapter 17: Hole in the Ground
Chapter 18: No More
Chapter ██: █████
Chapter 20: Negotiation
Chapter 21: Working it Out
Chapter 22: Tulip
Chapter 23: Developments
Chapter 24: Deal
Chapter 25: Ritual
Chapter 26: Control
Chapter 27: Cogito, Ergo Sum
Chapter 28: Native Interference...
Chapter 29: ... To An Alien Threat
Chapter 2: An Interrogation
Chapter 13: Knowledge and Power
Manehattan Herald, June 15th, 1001
Interlude 2

Chapter 1: Unknowns

Unknowns

February 5th, 20██

The vast majority of night shift tends to be monitoring and measuring containment cell conditions, passing along information for day shift researchers to sort through, figure out. Most testing happens during the morning, something I'm grateful for. Not having to deal with the horrors we've got locked away here is a blessing, even if my colleagues disagree. Truth be told, I'm not certain why I'm here. I made the mistake of voicing that to someone I considered a friend, so after this shift, I've got an appointment with the facility psychologist. Amanda Torrez, resident shrink and head of personnel.

I know what she's going to say, and I know I'm not going to pass the eval. Watching 939-19 tear through Doctor Peterson during last weeks containment breach saw to that. I lied and said I was okay to her then. Before that, I was borderline. It's a hard job to undertake, harder to cope with.

You can't share job details with family, Hell, they even disappear you sometimes. Your family probably doesn't remember you exist. They don't let the staff read all the different catalogued SCPs on the database, you have to have specific clearances and authorizations. I get the impression that there are far more dangerous SCPs than 939 or 165 out there, things I can't even conceive of. Not that I'd want to, but the entire concept is enough to make me rethink my line of work.

The containment cell window appears the same as it did last night; an empty room, save for the pylons in each corner and a mound of sand in the middle. I reach over to my coffee mug and take a sip of the lukewarm coffee within, staring at this unmoving pile of sand before me.

I know what I'm really looking at, but when you're assigned to watch an unmoving mound of sand containing an innumerable amount of unseen flesh-eating mites in a room for nine hours straight, things tend to get boring. I look at the clipboard to my left and set it in my lap.

Has the sand shifted?

No. I tick off the plainly printed NO box. I check the clock. 5:31 AM.

Maybe it'd be better to be amnesticized and work at a Burger King, or something. The work I do here is hardly more complex. I barely qualify as a epidemiologist, and even when I got the job, they have me looking at termites. Murderous, flesh-hungry termites, but termites all the same. I re-read the page.

Has the temperature exceeded or fallen below 20° Celsius?

Again, no. I look over at the thermometer just to be sure, then tick off the box.

My eyes wander over the clipboard, reading the various prompts and questions regarding the prevalent nothingness going on. I suppose I should be thankful they're not feeding it cattle tonight, nothing is better than something in this line of work. I lounge back in my chair and look at the gray-paneled ceiling, inspecting it for any sign of something interesting.

I wonder if Claire is going to be free before her shift? I've got about three hours or so before the appointment. Maybe I could grab breakfast with her, dinner for me. I look over to the empty seat beside me, then stand to stretch my legs and pace the room a bit. The walls are still that incorrigible off-white, off-putting and sterilized in all perception. Painfully boring, just like that sand, just like this room, just like this shift.

I look back to the clock.

5:34 AM.

Something's on my face.

I push myself up onto my knees in a panic and grab at my face, pulling at the foreign object. The mask comes up and off and I inhale deeply. I stare at the mask in my hands, black leather, speckled with... best not to think about it. I'm outside. The sun's in the sky. My gear is still on me, and my AK is... it's over there.

What happened? I pull on the rig and my hand burns. I look to my hand and see the bloodied bandages still wrapped around it. The window. Torrez. It hurts, not as bad as it did when it happened. There's grass, beneath my knees. A forest. I'm in a forest. I close my eyes and breathe. The air is fresh, I'm outside, in a forest. Animals, birds. Chirping. Okay. We're okay. I'm okay. I'm hyperventilating. My chest is tight, too tight. Breathe. Breathe! I'm okay.

I'm okay. Am I?

I start crying uncontrollably. I don't even know what's causing it, but my body isn't responding. I slump forward into the dirt. The cries turn into laughter, then back into sobs. I punch the dirt and dig into it with my nails. I'm biting deep into my lip, and I see blood dripping down into the soil as I squeeze. I scream. I stand and I scream. My vision is blurry with tears. I must have done that for ten minutes, at least. The grass is so green, the forest is alive around me. Blue sky, white clouds... a mountain in the distance. It's peaceful. I focus on the chirping, the smell of dew on the grass. The sobs stop and I just sit there, looking at the trees. I see a butterfly move from one flower to the next. The earth beneath the blades, a slight breeze, cool against my skin.

My skin. Mine. I'm still me.

"It's me, see?" It's in the back of my mind. It's not real.

I take my face into my hands and shake my head. I pull them back to look at them. Worn, dirty. Damaged. Look at my hands. What I've had to do with these hands, just to survive. I should be dead. I wasn't cut out for this. Oily, greasy... blood, sweat.

I'm sure I smell awful. My shoes have seen better days, dark brown leather torn in some places, the shell scraped off and discoloration near the soles. I wipe my eyes and fish the crucifix out of my pocket. I press it against my head in wordless gratitude. Relief, pain, despair, joy. I'm feeling all of it, and I don't know how to sort through it. If Torrez was here, maybe she'd have a plan. Maybe I should start praying. But what God could do this? No atheists in foxholes, but no holy men in the craters.

My mouth is dry, my body and head ache, my hand's banged up... but I'm alive.

Is that a castle hanging off that mountain? Waterfalls. Blue. Am I in Switzerland? If so, how did I get here?

That castle isn't obeying the laws of physics. I'm too far away, can't see much detail, but the way it's hanging there shouldn't be possible. I see gold, white? There's no support columns, but I'm no engineer. It doesn't look feasible, but maybe there's an explanation. If not...

It occurs to me that I have no clue where I am. I have no idea if there are biological hazards here, contaminants, hallucinogens. I better keep the mask on to be safe, find civilization. Maybe there are still survivors out here? Contact with our European facilities dropped in April, but maybe there's someone out here. GOC?

I'm not going to find out sitting on my ass. I've come too far to sit on my hands in the middle of a forest, dirty as they may be.

I sniffle and stand up, taking inventory of what I've still got. I grab the rifle and check the magazine. Empty. My jaw tightens and I remember why. Stop. I can cry later. I swallow with my painfully dry mouth, take another magazine from the vest and replace the empty one. Okay. I have one flare left, the Beretta is... missing. That's fine. Alcohol's gone, that's right. Dad's watch isn't ticking anymore, and that crack on the glass looks worse.

"One thing at a time," I mutter to myself.

I sling the rifle over my shoulder and my hand throbs in response. Need to disinfect it, need medical attention. I'm not a doctor, but I can tell I need sutures. Likely dehydrated, head hurts. Vision swimming. Come on, Webb, you've got this.

I walk unsteadily towards the edge of the clearing, turning back to nothing.

There is no going back, only forward. I push through the brush.

These woods are dark.

It's only mid-day, but it feels like night walking through this forest. The canopy above is thick, trees stretch high into the air. Every now and then, I catch movement in my peripheral vision. First few times I almost shit my pants, but it seems to be normal woodland critters. Deer, rabbits. Not infected, no mutations. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I don't know if I should keep this mask on. If this is some European country, it'd explain the castle, but it could be anomalous. I haven't done much research into dimensional SCPs, but they all seem to have more drastic differences from this place. Mushrooms as tall as men, trees that walk around, etcetera so forth. There's a stream here, but I know better than to drink from it, at least for the time being. I don't want to die of dysentery before I see another face... if I see another face. One that isn't a mask for a dash-two or dash-three.

I walk into another clearing and spot camping supplies. They are fairly rudimentary from outward appearance. I hesitate to touch any of them, but find myself a canteen. There's liquid in it. I have no idea how long any of this has been here, but the fire must have been put out this morning. The grass here is tall, but the campsite seems well-traveled. Everything's dirt and sand here, must be a routine spot. There's a trail heading through the woods, and the forest seems to be thinning somewhat. The old trees are petering out in favor of younger bark. I look back to the canteen and open it, experimentally pouring some liquid out on the ground.

Looks like water.

Fuck it, if I die, I die.

I pull my mask up and take a swig. It's cool on my tongue, crisp. My shoulders sag in relief and I take greedy gulps. I pull it away from my lips and wait. A minute goes by. No adverse effects? Another. No adverse effects, I'm keeping this canteen. I bring the canteen back to my lips when I hear the brush move behind me, tree-line. My heart leaps. I instinctively pull my mask down and stuff the canteen into the front pouch on my vest. I slide the sling off of my shoulder and I spin around with the rifle raised.

That's an SCP if I've ever seen one. A chicken with reptilian features, tail and spines. Red accents, blue coloration, scales. It's got the ugliest look on it's face, pure malice. It screeches at me and expands its wings. It flaps a couple of times and takes some sort of stance. I think it's expecting something. It almost looks confused for a moment, then it flaps it's wings again. I'm not taking any chances and squeeze the trigger. I even remembered to put it on semi-automatic this time.

I get it right in the neck. It fills me with a morbid sense of satisfaction to watch the thing get thrown back into the dirt, legs kicking in the air wildly for a few moments. It twitches, and I don't know if I should get any closer to it. It looks dead. I look back to the campfire and over to the chicken-monster. I take a few steps forward and look down at it's headless form. I glance back to the campfire.

"... yeah."

It's some time in the late afternoon. I'm pulling pieces off of this dead chicken-thing and cooking them over the fire. Using some roasting sticks I found in a bag by the stool I'm sitting on. Looks like whoever was here was roasting marshmallows before they left.

Peeling the scales off is a bit of a task. They're almost like fish scales in thickness and structure, kind of reflective up close. This is the first real meal I've enjoyed since... June? They had us eating MRE's when we initiated lockdown, but the vending machines were still stocked. Guess they had a lot in storage, just nothing good.

Sure enough, it tastes like chicken.

I wonder what designation it would be assigned, but it's more-so just to keep my mind occupied. It's hard to keep myself from thinking back to what's happened. Maybe I should be thinking on a more practical level. The sun will be going down soon, and I don't know if I should setup for the night here or keep going.

That castle is at least two days, maybe three days away. I never joined the boy scouts, but I can tell the thing is far.

I need to get out of this forest. I have no clue if there are any predators in these woods that have yet to show their faces. This tasty avian is a testament to the fact that the ecosystem here is different. I look down to the decapitated head of the creature and inspect it more closely, but it's surface observation. Inside the beak are sharp teeth, so it must have been a carnivore, or maybe omnivorous. Red eyes, reflective film over them. It's an ugly damn bird. I lose my appetite the longer I look at it.

I hear something. It sounds like... hoofbeats? A woman laughing. Someone on horseback? A group. Talking, it's in another language. Okay, this is it, I guess. I stand from my position at the campfire and hang the rifle down near my chest.

I can't eat much more anyway.

Whoever these people are, they're getting closer. They come around the bend, or maybe it's just their horses.

Horses. Not horses... what's the word? By themselves, on the trail. They don't look normal. I'm much taller than them. They come up to about my stomach. No owners to be seen anywhere. There are saddles on their backs with bags attached, no riders, they look more like vests. Rigs? Blue, yellow, orange... the orange one's wearing a hat. Blue one's mane is all sorts of colors, yellow has a pink mane. Their coats are colored in pastels, so maybe they've been dyed. Blue and yellow have wings.

Wings.

Their eyes are huge, and I can spot that emotion anywhere. Fear.

Anomalies? Pegasus. Pegasi?

The blue one and the orange one whisper to each other. They don't look away. They must have been the ones talking. If they're talking, they're sentient. If they're sentient and they're talking, they have a society. The ramifications are mounting. This entire situation feels like a failure of a joke, but here I am.

The yellow one is staring at me, frozen in place.

No one blinks. Someone has to do something and it might as well be me.

I start to move my hand when the orange one moves forward. I stop. It stops and its eyes narrow. She says something over her shoulder to the other two. The yellow one is still staring at me. No. It's staring at the chicken, what's left of it, next to me. Its eyes creep to me. The blue one takes flight and hovers in place. I'm covered in dirt, blood, viscera and other dried bodily fluids I don't want to think about. There's a carcass next to me, and if these horses are herbivores, I likely look like a massive threat.

I don't think this is gonna go well.

Orange moves steps forward again, hoof stomped in the dirt hard. I raise my hand and she stops again. She snorts and says something. Blue is on edge. Yellow is terrified. I didn't read the first contact manual, but I can tell this is all kinds of screwed.

"Stop, wait," my voice is muffled. Holy shit, I'm wearing the gas mask. I must look like a God damn monster.

Orange tenses at my voice and glances at the Yellow. Yellow whispers something. I raise my other hand slowly, then gently grab the end of the gasmask. Yellow takes a step back. I move my hand again in what I hope is a disarming gesture.

No one moves and I gently pull the mask up onto my forehead. The air is chilly against my sweat-covered skin. No one moves, but they can see my face now, and I'm hoping that does something for diplomacy. I'm sure the gas mask is as creepy as I think it is. I let in a breath nice and slow.

I speak slowly and calmly.

"I mean no harm. I need help. Help."

They speak with each other. From what I can gather, they're all females. At least, they sound like it. The yellow one seems downright horrified, but the sheer terror has diminished somewhat. She says a few things. The language they're speaking is almost like English flipped on it's head, interspersed with soft whinnies and general horse noises.

It is mildly off-putting, to say the least. Let's try again.

"Help?"

Based on their reactions, they definitely recognize that as a question.

Orange says something quickly to Blue and she flies off over the trees. I step back in surprise at the speed of it, Orange and Yellow both tense. I shake my hands slowly, side to side. I bring a hand to my chest and inhale, then push it outward with an exhale. We're all stressed here, please understand what I'm trying to communicate. I repeat it twice, then I point to Orange.

Her eyes narrow. I do the breathing again.

She... follows along. She takes a deep breath in, then releases it. I nod, and do it with her. She makes an exaggerated show of it, but I can't tell if it's agitation or stress. I look over to Yellow, and slowly point to her. She breathes in raggedly and exhales in a shudder. She's shivering.

Okay, time for a gamble.

I raise both of my hands again, slowly, and make a show of setting one on the ground. They're both staring at me intensely. I slowly shift my weight back and sit. My arm shakes when I put my weight on it, my hand is screaming at me in protest, but I can't afford to mess this up. They watch me intently and I bring my trembling hand back to the ground, setting it on it's base. I remove my mask and set it on the floor. The yellow one is looking at my hand, blood seeping into the dirt.

They watch. I wait. Yellow sits back on her haunches like a dog, a horrified and shivering dog, but a dog. Okay.

I look to Orange. She looks at Yellow, eyes narrowed. Does the same. The sun is setting soon. If I can communicate, even simply, I might be able to get shelter for the night, maybe even a horse doctor to look at my hand. It's still shaking.

Monkey see, monkey do. Monkey teach...

I hear a low growl far behind me.

Monkey screwed.

It's deep, reverberates in my chest. It sounds like it crawled out of hell just to slither into my ears, and I know the other two heard it as well. I can see it in their eyes. I turn my head slowly over my shoulder. I see two eyes glowing in the shadows of the tree-line, green. Predatory. Another pair, and another. There's one out of my vision, somewhere in the back left. Wolves. Green-eyed wolves. A howl.

I'm up on my feet at that, facing the pack. I can't see them in the dark. The horses are moving behind me, no idea what they're up to. I was right; this didn't go well. Not at all. Flare. Last flare. They don't like fire, right?

"... MTF teams highlight fire as an effective measure for removing infestations on the ground level."

Not now. I thumb the fire-select. I have a feeling fully-automatic is the way to go in this scenario. They're creeping forward, whatever they are. I reach into my pouch for the flare and grab it tightly in my left. My right hand shakes when I pop the cap. Bright red fire, and I see them.

They're made of wood. Twigs, logs, branches, twisted into the shapes of wolves. What?

Are these... timber wolves? I'd laugh if I wasn't so fucked.

They recoil at the light and regroup. One of them tries circling around my right and I yell at him. He dashes back into the shadows. I start walking backwards. They're advancing. One of the horses says something, she says it with urgency. I look to Yellow, her eyes wide in terror. She shrieks.

I hear it before I see it.

The fucking wolf went straight for my left arm. Bit down deep. I turn and I hear something crack inside. Agony rockets down my spine. I scream and it tries to pull me down to the ground. It's tearing my arm apart. I swivel the rifle under its head and pull the trigger. The gun explodes into its chest five or six times and the grip loosens significantly. The light in its eyes disappears and it falls from my arm, leaving wooden teeth embedded in the flesh. Claws scrape down the back of my right leg, ripping deep into the muscle. I groan and kick at it, pushing it back. I shift my weight onto that leg when I spin and collapse.

It's there in front of me, fangs dripping with green ichor.

His head shatters with a burst from the AK. My vision is blurry. One of them grabs the rifle in it's teeth, trying to yank it away. My left arm is in tatters but it's what I've got, and I punch at it, screaming. It holds on through my assault and another one jumps over it to position itself near my legs. It bites at my feet but my shoes take most of the damage. I kick at it with my good leg and send it back in a daze. I feel like I'm going to vomit.

It's all happening so fast.

The one on the gun won't give up. It's gaining ground, but I see the red glow beside me. I grab the flare from the ground and jam it into it's eye. The inside of it's skull is illuminated, and the structure is loosely put together. Fire spreads out it's maw and into the lower chest cavity. It lets out a sound like cracking wood and it frees the rifle. It wheezes and whines and collapses into an inferno. The one I kicked is back.

It bites deep into my calf on my good leg. I go to shoot it but it dodges my fire. I miss again and it repays my mistake with gouge in my thigh. Jumps on my stomach, tries to rend my guts but it's on the vest. I drop the gun and grab the wolf by the ear. It snaps clean off and the thing yelps, jumps off, then dives in to bite my throat. I roll over and it pounds into the dirt.

It has me now, I'm on my belly with sand in my eyes. I roll onto my side and try to defend myself, but I'm out of gas. It growls, lumbers forward. I see the fangs, my blood in its mouth. Claws sharpened to points scraping up dirt as it closes in.

"F-ffuck y-you," I gasp.

Then, Orange kicks apart its head in one blow. The skull fractures and explodes into tinder. I'm certainly dying, mauled to death by these fucking wolves, but the sight is welcome. I'm bleeding out. I have to be. Everything feels faint, distant. Time doesn't seem to move at the same pace anymore.

The fire's going out. Flare...

Orange and Yellow are speaking to me, at me and to each other. My vision is fading in and out and they're conversing over my soon-to-be-corpse. Yellow is panicking. Orange is frightened. I must look like a mess. There's blood on Yellow... hope it's mine. They've got big eyes. Their voices are getting quieter. Yellow is crying.

I just remembered the word.

"Ponies... you're... p-ponies..." I whisper.

It's cold. I feel the ground shake under more hoofbeats. Lots of them. Light is coming over from somewhere. Blue. Ponies in armor, plate armor... one is taller. She's looking at me with bright eyes. They glow in the dark. She says something and I...

Princess Luna stands vigilantly beside the human, a myth made flesh, scanning his features intently.

The various wounds he has suffered are grievous, and the staff informed her that survival is an unlikely outcome. She trots towards the edge of the bed, her eyes drawing in the strange shape of the legs, the cast upon the arm and the bandages encasing much of the flesh. They have yet to wash him, having only had him for two nights. He smells, a bitter and disgusting scent heavy with iron, fire and smoke. Blood and sweat, the dirt of the Everfree and the vapors of the wolves.

'What struggles hath this creature endured in his travels?' She thinks to herself.

The rags he arrived in, the tunic and the trousers, they have been set aside on a nearby table. They are strange in design, but have notable features not too dissimilar from what she had seen of modern fashions. She looks them over and they are in worse condition than he is. They are torn and tattered, frayed cloth at the edges. The tunic is a tan garb with opal-like buttons in the center, thin and lightweight with a collar. She imagines that the attire would look pleasant, were it not in the condition it is in now. The trousers are black, a silky texture. They hide much of the stains that the tunic shares.

The hospital wing is near silent, dimly lit with frosty white light. The creature is foreign, unlike anything she has ever seen. Vague ideas of minotaurs and primates come to mind here and there, but they are all shallow comparisons. The doctors, informed of the potential danger of the creature, had insisted on restraints for the limbs.

From the signs of battle and debris of the timberwolves, he was certainly capable. There is no doubt in her mind, however, that he would not be alive now had it not been for Rainbow Dash returning to Ponyville for help. A strange creature, with armaments foreign to ponykind, adorned with a mask for an unknown purpose.

No dreams wander into his mind for much of the night. Luna had hoped to glean some information from his mind, something to unravel of his nature. She sits upon her haunches and looks out upon Equestria, bathed in the pale light of the moon. Her moon. She sighs softly, and stands to leave.

Then it comes. Not a true dream, a fragment... loosely constructed in his mind. His wounds are too severe for his mind to create complex dreams, but Luna can take the chance to see something. Maybe a framework for a translation spell, at the very least. She moves closer to him, slowly, and gently sets her horn upon his forehead.

Then she sees.

Luna is dizzy from the entrance. The thoughts come together loosely within his head. They do not form true dreams, but fragments of information and memories. Much of what she sees does not make sense. The strange pendant within the pocket of his trousers, sitting in his hand. Gloves. The mask.

Screaming. It endures and seems to come from everywhere at once, all from nowhere. She recoils in surprise and attempts to stabilize the mind. The screams wind down, shushing into a faint breeze. There is a lot of red, before the plane becomes a tranquil darkness. She heaves a deep sigh of relief.

She can see a memory forming together, the pieces creating an elaborate stage before her. She watches intently.

It is the creature.

He walks slowly in-between shades on the floor. They do not have much detail, but the closer he approaches, the more becomes visible. They are humans, like him. They are not alive. Their flesh is sickly, pools of crimson on the tiled floor. Water drips from the ceiling onto these tiles, not unlike the tiling in the hospital. Some bodies move and twitch, even buried under others.

She feels his fear, the adrenaline coursing through his body.

Small metal shells litter the floor where he walks. They are smaller than the ones at the campsite. She smells smoke, and a doorway arises from the shadows. He leans over and peers through the doorway, where two figures are obscured by the fog of his mind. They are facing away from him, twitching and shaking. One is crouched above what appears to be a body. She can hear an unnatural gagging noise, the crouched figure pulling handfuls of vague meat from the corpse. It appears to eat them.

"What are these horrors?" Luna whispers in terror.

There is a bottle of clear liquid on a metal table, flanked by two glasses.

'Fire is good for putting these things down, right?'

Luna jumps at the voice, and realizes it must be coming from him. These are his thoughts from this moment. He sounds scared, tired. His voice is raspy, even within his own mind, like rolling gravel behind a carriage.

He knocks something to ground accidentally. It clatters against the floor and drowns out the sound around them. She can feel his heartrate quicken as hers does as well as the one in the distance turns to look at them. The closer one, standing bipedally, does not turn around; the head lulls back and distends downward, looking at them upside-down.

Luna screams.

Author's Note

Hello everyone, hope you enjoyed the read! If you liked it, give me a bookmark and a like if you're feeling generous, I have more on the way so sit tight! If you didn't like it, let me know why! Criticisms are appreciated, I'm kinda rusty at all this stuff!

Have a good day/night!

Chapter 3: If Thou Wouldst

If Thou Wouldst

They refer to the aura emitted from their horns as magic.

I briefly considered radiation of some sort, maybe some strange combination of energies to manipulate objects from a distance, but I have no means of testing that theory. To make matters worse on that front, they claim that the translation between us is a product of this magic. Questions about the range of the spell have revealed that it's not a permanent solution to the language barrier. Apparently, it's localized, distance is unknown. The Princess transcribed the formula for the spell for any ponies without the knowledge beforehand. She collaborated with another Princess, Luna, to build the spell.

Supposedly, magic works in-tandem with the very societal structures of these ponies. They receive some sort of brand or mark that denotes what they are best at, and the conversation explaining what I meant by brand was... awkward, to say the least. Their society is composed almost entirely of herbivores, and the Princess wasn't too keen on learning the condition of the cows back home. Before it all went to shit.

From what I've gleaned in conversation, Princess Luna took a look at one of my memories, the method of which I don't fully understand yet. More of this magic, I assume.

She's been hesitant to see me since, and according to Celestia, is deeply troubled by it. I can understand that.

It's been a week since I woke. The doctor, a Miss Cherry Orchid, told me I've been unconscious for three weeks. That gives me some degree of comfort, because supposedly, they've been using that magic on me to accelerate my healing some. That also means that if it is radiation, it's not a lethal dose. Perhaps they've given me some form of cancer, but I'm not going to look that gift-horse in the mouth. Not until I start showing signs of radiation sickness, anyway. I can't question the effectiveness, because I've already begun to show improvements in mobility. My legs have healed first, so I assume they directed the majority of their efforts there. The pain is minimal. My left arm is still broken, according to the doctors. I still have it in a sling.

Princess Celestia had me jot down my alphabet. She said it was going to be processed for a more permanent solution to our language difference, has a pony named Twilight Sparkle working on it. From what she's told me, this Sparkle girl is very excited to meet me, accompanied by another named Lyra Heartstrings some time later this week. Taking it slow for now.

I can tell the Princess isn't quite sure what to make of me yet, and her conversations feel more like mental battles than a flow of information. I still have to earn her trust, but given what she's told me about the people that were here before, I don't blame her in the slightest. Still, she's been accommodating enough.

Being completely naked save for the sheets they've draped over me... the novelty has worn off. The patient's gown they've provided me won't cut it, and I've made a strong effort to keep my backside positioned away from everyone who's come in so far. They obviously have no qualms with nudity, but I've got some dignity to maintain here, little as it is.

I've requisitioned some pants and a shirt, using what I had on me as a template. They had a seamstress named Rarity working on it in a small town south of here, Ponyville. Silk shirt, white, collared with only two-buttons. I suppose it's more a blouse. A little too fancy for my liking, but I can't complain. Black slacks, plain but smooth. Despite the lack of measurements, they fit well. I'll have to speak with her at some point to commission more clothing. I'll need new shoes and a fresh pair of socks as well. For some reason, the staff won't touch the socks, and Princess Celestia refused to explain why. She had a good laugh at my expense.

This hospital, Enduring Flame Medical Center, is situated in the capital. Canterlot. The names aren't really creative, but maybe that's the translation spell failing to process words that are only in Equiish. Princess Celestia claims that she's speaking English, but that might be another failure of the translation spell; these ponies sure as shit aren't speaking English.

They unshackled me not long after that initial meeting, and I gave the doctor a hell of a fright, shambling around the hospital room. I got a stern talking-to after that, but I gotta get these bones moving again. I have to focus on something, or my mind wanders. Not good for my soul.

Tomorrow, Princess Luna will be returning for a visit. She has some questions about what she's seen.

I hope it goes well. As well as it can, I guess.

The night is beautiful. Stars twinkle in a deep navy sky, the moon a center-piece in the tapestry, large and bright. The moon here is larger in the sky than it is back home. There's no breeze tonight, but the air is cool in the room. Doctor Orchid left me some flowers, but I couldn't tell you what they were called. Never been much into botany. They gave me an oil lamp on the nightstand and furnished the room some, made me feel more at home. Chairs, another table. I moved the table closer to the window. The lamp burns dimly there, and I've positioned the chairs at the table for our talk, whenever that happens. I also have a quill and inkwell, some parchment there for notes.

These ponies have a very strange blend of pre-1900's implements and modern technology. The parallels between our worlds are mind-boggling, but they give me an odd feeling of hope. With all these different realities, there might be a way to go home. It won't be my home, but a home of mine maybe, to another me. My thoughts are interrupted with a sound.

Knocking at the door, muted, a tentative series of thuds. Must be her.

"Come in," I call, and realize that I can't feel that buzzing around my brain. The door doesn't open. She probably can't understand me. I shuffle out of my beds and the sheets over them.

My feet slap against the cold floor as I walk over, my right hand wrapping around the doorknob. Odd that they insist on handles despite having no hands. I pull the door open.

She's shorter than me, an irregularity considering the other ponies I've seen so far, but her horn makes up for that. Looking at her... it's like looking at a goddess, an aspect of some unknowable being beyond reality. Where her sister was radiant like the day, strong and imposing, Princess Luna is far more gentle. She is an inversion of her sister. Her mane, like her sister, has celestial formations within but vastly more complex. It has an ethereal halo about it, transparent and ghostly. Her coat is a deep blue, not unlike the sky outside, and her eyes glow in the darkness. Those cyan irises surround deep pools of black, dark as space. I notice there are bags beneath her eyes. Her face, if that's the right word, looks shocked. Her lips are darker, slightly pursed on her muzzle, and she blows a wave of warm air through her nose in surprise.

I recoil slightly at the sensation and step back. She does the same, likely due to my reaction.

"I'm sorry, I should've-" she cuts me off with that pony language, quick and hastily spoken.

There's a degree of confusion in both our eyes, and embarrassment. I point to my mouth and she's already ahead of me, casting a spell. I can feel that fuzziness on my mind, followed by a buzz, and everything seems to get sharper. We stare at each other, but look has a tinge of fear to it. I decide to speak first.

"I'm sorry, I uh, should've said something," I say abruptly, feeling like an idiot at my delivery. My guts are twisted up in embarrassment. She paws at the floor with a hoof subconsciously, nervously, and speaks fast.

"'Tis no fault of yours, Liam the Human, mine own nerves betrayed common sense. We should have cast the translation spell, I..." she teeters off uncomfortably. Speech patterns of late middle ages. Something to talk about later, maybe. For now, defuse this bomb.

"No, really, the fault is mine. Um... would you like to come in?"

I awkwardly shuffle and allow her in, stepping to the side. She walks past briskly and inspects the room, letting out an anxious horse-like snort. I gently close the door behind her and step forward. She turns to face me, but her eyes do not focus on me for long before they find somewhere else to look. I clear my throat and her gaze returns.

"Perhaps you'd like to sit?"

"Indeed!" She exclaims.

We both approach the same chair and pause, I move forward to pull the chair out and she steps back. The whole situation is awkward as all hell. I gesture to the chair with my hand, and she slowly approaches to sit. I move to the other chair and sit down with a sigh. With both of us seated, she's taller than me, her eyes looking down into mine across the table. She rests on her haunches, which presents an odd question regarding the purpose of chairs in such a world. Okay, be inviting, friendly...

"Would you like some water?"

She shakes her head, eyes the quill in the inkpot, then looks to me. I decide to take a backseat on the conversation, hoping I've done my share to alleviate the tension. She flips her hair to the side and looks out the window, quiet again. We stay like that for a few minutes, just sharing a painful silence. God damn it. My turn, again.

"It's a beautiful night out there, huh?"

She nods and smiles slightly, looking at me with earnest eyes. She barely seems tired.

"Yes, We are quite proud of our night, 'twas a great effort. We are glad thou art enjoying it."

That... is interesting.

"Excuse me, Princess Luna, can you explain what you mean exactly? Not about me enjoying it, the effort part."

She looks down to the table and back to me, confused. A realization settles on her.

"We art Princess Luna, We keepeth our Moon and stars, tasked with their rising for dusk and falling for dawn," she says softly. She notices the shocked look in my features and glances back outside. How the fuck does this place work?

She must see the incredulousness of this, right? Is she crazy, or does she actually control the moon of this world? The stars?

"Surely thou art familiar with the movements of the sun, the moon and the stars?" That seems accusatory.

I clear my throat nervously, unsure of how to respond.

"I... I am, but it's clear that things work differently here."

"Explain," she says tersely. Have I offended her? Shit.

"Well, on my world, the moon and the sun are celestial bodies removed from the influence of people. They kind of just operate on their own, where my world orbits the sun and the moon orbits the Earth."

She goes silent at that, eyes wide. They narrow slightly.

"Thou art jesting, yes? A foolish pleasantry to share with the Princess of the Moon," she says rather aggressively. Angry Shakespeare is a lot more intimidating than one would've thought.

"No, I'm not joking, it's... that's how it worked. I mean no offense, truly. If that night sky out there is your doing, then I am grateful for your work. I'm sure everyone else is, too."

She digests that information for a moment and seems to relax some.

"Thou speaketh of a world without anypony to raise the Moon, nor Sun? Wherein my Moon orbits thine home, and thine home orbits my sister's Sun?" This feels like a conversational deathtrap and I'm no diplomat. Bring it back to her.

"Not your moon, and not Princess Celestia's sun. This is an entirely different world, from what I can tell. I take it the sun and moon here orbit the planet, and not the other way 'round?"

She nods, unsure of where I'm going.

"And the stars, they are also your responsibility?"

"Indeed," she seems calmer.

"Your world, dimension, universe... it seems more centered on the life here. Everything is connected. My world had no magic, only technology. From what little I've heard, you and your sister are revered as god-like figures, right?"

"Aye, however, 'tis a misconception. Gods we art not."

"But practically speaking, you are. You're both are immortal, from what I've heard. You can move celestial bodies around in the sky... my people had none of that. This place is very different. We had religions, many different faiths, but none of their primary divinities were walking around in the flesh. At least, save for some SCPs."

She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, but the silence is less tense. I'm hoping I steered the ship clear of any icebergs.

She says, "these SCPs... they art what, pray tell?"

The big question.

"That's hard to answer, but loosely speaking, anything that is an anomaly to common everyday life."

She doesn't seem satisfied with that answer. She huffs then says, "give an example, Liam the Human."

"Well on my world, you would be one," I say with a joking tone, "Luna the Pony."

She looks shocked that I would refer to her in such a way.

Oh, I fucked up.

I swallow and hope I haven't just thrown myself into whatever serves as a dungeon here. A few moments pass and I see it. The corners of her muzzle begin to turn-up, her tired eyes beginning to relax. She giggles, and it almost sounds like music. It's sweet and soft, light in the air. A great relief. She looks at me with mirth in her eyes.

"And thou wouldst beest one to ourselves!" She exclaims heartily.

"Probably, yes," I chuckle. Thank God.

After her laughter dies down, we both take some moments to compose ourselves. She has relaxed her guard a bit, and I can see more clearly the fatigue upon her. We bask in the most comfortable silence of the night, the diplomatic nightmare having been avoided. I know why she's come, and I don't want to speak on it, but I feel I have to.

"What you saw in my memory," she tenses and her pupils narrow, "that was also an SCP. The effects of one." My tone is rather somber when I say it, and the mood comes down. Her lip trembles for a moment and she takes in a sharp breath.

"I see," she says tightly.

"Before we speak on that, I'm going to get some water. Would you like some?" I stand slowly.

That seems to catch her off-guard. She nods and smiles, though it's fleeting.

"Yes, if thou wouldst."

I walk to the nightstand in the corner and pour water from the pitcher into two glasses. I take one, walk back and go to hand her the glass when I realize she has no hands to take it. I awkwardly pause and she notices my hand outstretched. I feel a coolness settle near one of my fingers and the glass is gently pried from my grasp. She hovers it before her lips and takes a sip, the glass enshrouded in a blue glow.

I walk back to get my glass, then I get seated. I take what I hope is a polite sip from the glass.

"Did it have a name, the SCP?" She whispers.

I clear my throat.

"No, they typically don't, but they have designations. The ones you saw, I'm willing to bet they looked like horrible versions of me."

She takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That, Princess Luna, was SCP-2480... specifically, 2480-2 and 2480-3."

It's dark out here. At least they gave me a pistol. Nine millimeter, semi-automatic.

The helicopter dropped us off about a mile away from the town. I managed to get some sleep on the ride over, but it wasn't much. We met with what's left of Psi-9 at the Sandcastle Resort. The moment we touched down, I could tell that this entire town has been forgotten. This resort is a shell, a rotting carcass of a building. The pool water is stagnant, covered in algae. I'm walking with one of the guys, he was pretty nice to me on the fly over. His 'name' is Bootstrap. He asked me my name, and I told him, but he keeps calling me Doc.

I don't even have a PhD.

We're headed down the highway now, and there's burned out cars everywhere. One of the MTF soldiers, I think her callsign was Frostbite, keeps taking pictures of every single car we pass. I'm not sure what purpose that serves. Another MTF soldier kicks over a jerry can near one of the cars. I notice something on one of the cars, though.

"Hey, Doc?" he says beside me.

"Yeah?"

"Y' think Jesus was an SCP?"

The question makes me pause, and I stop walking. He stops walking alongside me, staring towards me in what I assume to be an expectant posture. I think about it for a little while longer. Considering his miracles and if he existed, and attempting to scour my brain for any mentions of a Jesus SCP I might've read somewhere. I opt for an easier answer.

"I don't know, Bootstrap."

There's a strange vine-like growth on one of the tires, seems to go up into the engine. I squat down to take a look and see that it's moving. Pulsing. They gave me a set of gear for atmospheric monitoring, some medical gear as well. Combined with the hazmat suit, it's all fairly heavy. I'm not really in shape, but this stuff is really pushing the limits. I feel sluggish and slow. I set the medical kit down and, despite not being trained in the field, I can take samples at the very least.

"Well, I think 'e might've been."

It's hard to see the vine-thing in the dark, so as I'm getting out the vial and the syringe, I call over to Bootstrap.

"Hey, can you shine your light on this?"

"Sure thing, Doc."

He waltzes over from the middle of the street and crouches down beside me. He fumbles with something on his gun, an AK of some sort, and the car lights up. The 'vine' is not a vine, it's some sort of organ. It's alive, and it looks like an artery, a red and purple coloration. I gasp and fall back onto my ass. It's pulsing faster now, growing in size along the side of the car. Bootstrap stands and keeps his light pointed at it, and he says something over his shoulder the Captain.

'Pickaxe', the Captain, swipes at it with his combat knife. Deep crimson liquid spills out onto the ground and soaks into the pavement. The artery pulses, weaker, weaker, as whatever organ is supplying this... blood is running out of energy.

I remember what I'm supposed to be doing, and I go to collect a sample, but my heart is going crazy.

"You okay there, Doc?"

"I-... I'm fine. Just..." I sigh nervously. "I'm not a doctor, you know that, right?"

"Title don't matter to me, got all the strappin's of a Doc," he drawls.

I scoop some of the matter into a container and seal it tightly, wrapping it in a plastic film. I get some drops of blood into the vial as the vein peters out it's last supply.

"Webb," Pickaxe says over my shoulder, "what are we dealing with here?"

I take a shaky breath, and slot the sealed vial into the hardcase. It emits a small beep in response, and a green light comes on. I turn over my shoulder.

"Truth be told, I have no idea. Hardcase will give me a reading in a sec. I can't say anything just yet, but I have a feeling you don't want any of that red stuff on you."

The device prints a small prompt on a receipt, and the LED screen shows various chemical components. The database is limited in the field, without an internet connection, but there's just enough data to come to a conclusion.

"Well?"

I take the receipt to be sure, and read it again.

"Uh... it's uh, thirty-five percent foreign material... the rest is..."

"Human?"

"... yes."

"Captain! Movement, East!" I hear Frostbite yell.

The world becomes a swirl of flashlights as they turn back to the road into town. I stand and the hairs on the back of my neck do, too. Towards the town, down the highway, where the lights have all gone out, someone is walking towards us. There's fog on the road, details obscured. I don't want to see it, but I need to. Whatever it is. Two more MTF soldiers move into position on the other sides of the road, weapons pointed towards the figure.

"Help... me..." a weak voice calls out.

"Stop right th' fuck there!"

I move forward a few steps to see better.

"Captain?"

The person is still moving towards us, slowly. I can't see, the fog is too thick. I walk just a little bit closer.

"Hee-eelp... me, help..."

"I said stop, god dammit!"

I see now. A woman, face ripped to shreds, blood caking her dress. Her legs are shaking as she approaches, eyes wide in terror. Her skin is pale, bloodless, her hands mangled and her soles are torn up. She's leaving bloody footprints with every step. Her dress drapes off of her stomach, one hand cradling the bump.

"Oh my God, she's pregnant," Frostbite says faintly.

I have medical supplies. I move forward without thinking.

"Doc!"

"Webb!"

I am three steps away from her, then I am thrown backwards. Bootstrap is in front of me, arm outstretched in my direction, his weapon aloft in the other hand. He threw me back. He's still looking at me when she moves towards him, her belly swelling up and fresh bloodstains dotting her dress. Her face has changed, her mouth tearing open in a scream. The flesh of her lips rip apart as her mouth stretches and her jaw splits beneath the skin.

"Help meeEEE-!"

She explodes, and something whizzes by my head when she does. Bootstrap is thrown back beyond me, the force of the burst sending him at least ten feet behind me. I hear ricochets on the ground and against the car. Red mist hangs in the air where she once stood, her feet planted in place, upright. There's something embedded in the ground beside my head, it's red and tan, and I don't want to know what it is.

Pickaxe helps me to my feet, but behind his visor, I see rage in his eyes. He looks towards Bootstrap, lying on his back and coughing. I can see, even from here, his suit was penetrated. Two spikes, shards of bone maybe, sticking out of his chest. There's blood everywhere.

Frostbite gags and moves to help Bootstrap, but Pickaxe extends a hand. She stops, and turns to us, then back to Bootstrap. Pickaxe raises his rifle. The other MTF soldiers do so as well.

"Fff... ugh... I'm... I'm hit. God dammit..." He wheezes.

The shards sink inside of his chest cavity, disappearing within the punctured hazmat suit. I feel the urge to vomit. He props himself up, looking toward the stumps in the center of the road. He shakily tries to stand, but fails, and Frostbite moves forward again.

"Stop." The Captain's tone is ice. She stops. He trembles and stands unevenly.

"Y'all... I'm... I'm okay," His voice is uneven, uncertain. He pats his chest, "I think the plate caught it."

"It didn't, Pete," Pickaxe utters somberly.

He looks up at us, his visor reflecting the flashlights. The fog seeps in from behind us. He shifts his weight and puts his hands up. He coughs lightly, and shakes his head. He coughs again.

"Guys, I'm okay! I'm good!"

"Don't move, Pete."

"Captain, what if he's not-" a woman chirps up beside me.

"He is."

Bootstrap shuffles and his hands shake. He looks toward Frostbite, "remember Qatar? I made it out! I was fine!" He looks back to the group, weapons pointed towards him. "Have the Doc check me! I'm me! See?" He gestures down to his body.

"I can check him, if he's..." I start to say, but the Captain gives me a look over his shoulder.

"I'm not-" He coughs and his head tilts. His shoulders tense up and his arms hang limply in the air. Frostbite raises her weapon. "I'm..." His head tilts to the right, and keeps moving. His arms shake, his knees bend inward. "I'm not..." His head turns with a muffled crack. His head hangs limp and he stands there, unmoving. He twitches, then stands upright, his head lolling back and something crunches in his suit.

No one moves. His head rolls back down and he looks at us. He says it hoarsely,

"I'm me, see?"

His respirator shatters. Bone fragments and brain matter go airborne, wetly slapping the pavement behind him. Then, I hear the crack of a rifle shot behind me. He plods down onto the ground not long after. Pickaxe goes over to his body and retrieves something from it. He shouts something to one of his men, then approaches me. I'm still staring at the corpse when I'm roughly grabbed by Pickaxe.

"Do your fucking job and stay out of our way," he growls. I don't look at him.

I'm still staring, and he slaps something in into my hand. I look down to it.

"Squad, on me! Someone grab that piece of shit and let's get moving."

There's a bloody crucifix in the palm of my hand.

I tell her where we found it, what happened. I don't go into too much detail, for her sake. I don't know what she saw inside my head, but anything relating to 2480 is a nightmare in of itself. I tell her about Bootstrap. Pete. Show her the crucifix. I don't share what happened afterwards, the specifics and the horror of watching the world slowly crumble. She asks me questions about the gear, the weapons. She makes specific mention of the rifle, tells me it's been locked away for the time being.

Fair enough.

She asks me about my colleagues, the facility. I give her what information I can. It doesn't matter anymore, now that it's all over. She enquires about other SCPs, but she wants to hear about safe ones. I tell her about SCP-999, how I ran into it on a transfer shift and it bounced all over me, stole my bubblegum and got stuck to the ceiling. She laughed about it.

After that, she asked me what happened in the end.

I tell her the world died, how fast it all got out of control. By the time I've finished recounting much of what's happened, I can see we're both drained, emotionally and mentally. The information, even without the visuals behind it, would be enough to terrify someone. But she lived it through me, even if for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Princess Luna," I say quietly.

She tilts her head at me.

"What about, Liam the Human?"

"That you had to see that. That you saw..."

She stops me and trots over to my side of the table. She looks at me with those massive eyes, cyan painting the world before me. My breath hitches and she lunges forward for a hug. It takes me a second to realize what's happening, but I find myself hugging her back. She has one of her forelegs draped over my shoulder, my face is in her mane. She smells like a flower, my mind can't place it, and there's a distinct earthy musk on her coat. Oddly enough, the mixture is comforting.

"No apologies art necessary from thee. 'Twas not thy doing, nor thy fault," she mumbles against me.

I hug her tighter. After a few moments, I break away and lean back in my chair. She smiles at me, soft and sad.

"We regret to say our duties call. We thank you for the conversation," she speaks gently. I nod back.

"Rest easy, Liam Webb. We hope to visit thee once more, shouldst thou wish it. We would endeavor to have you as our friend."

"Of course. I share that sentiment. Goodnight, Princess Luna."

She pauses before the door, looking back to me. She opens her mouth to say something, but stops. She smiles again, a little more happy, then leaves. I wonder what that was about.

Author's Note

Chapter 3! Been writing like crazy lately, not sure what's up.
Haven't really done much editing, if y'all notice anything wrong, lmk!

Chapter 4: Enter Dreams (Re-Perspectived)

Enter Dreams

March 1st, 20██

They've been talking for ages.

Blacked-out talking heads on screens, save for the squirrely face of Doctor Eriksson. I tune in every now and then but find that my mind is elsewhere. They haven't directed a question towards me, nor referenced me in any form since the meeting started. Ino sits off to my right, the far edge of the table. The papers before him are copies of my papers. They illustrate just how dire things have become, how hopeless our situation is.

It's been about a month since Operation Teaparty, but it feels like it's been a year. Between psych appointments and the internal meetings, I haven't seen Claire for longer than moment. We see each other in the hallways, sometimes. She used to have a light in her eyes, even when working under asses like O'Donnell.

Now?

"... Sarkic infiltration on a scale unprecedented..."

I know this is all weighing on her. She had family in Atlanta.

"... unable to retaliate effectively..."

I've been fiddling with the crucifix for the majority of the meeting. I set it beside the coffee cup and sink my head into my hands.

"... we have any countermeasures that can be deployed? Utilize any SCPs to combat the spread?"

"Do you have any suggestions?"

It takes me a while to figure out that question is directed at me. I look up from my coffee to find that woman, "Elizabeth", is staring through me. These types of meetings are way beyond my paygrade. I don't even have clearance to talk to these people, and I've been pulled into meeting with ALL of them.

Directors, present on screens around the conference room. Some screens are dark. Sites all along the Eastern seaboard have been unreachable. Reports of on-site nuclear weapon detonations in at least three. They don't tell us which ones. The upper staff is sticking to the narrative that these are just rumors, but we all know what's really happening out there. The United States Government is in the midst of total collapse.

The geopolitical climate has become a geopolitical battlefield. Nations are blaming these outbreaks on each other, some using it as an excuse to go to war, some just trying to find someone to blame. The entire world is descending into anarchy, and there's no stopping it. I pick up my papers and read aloud what I was instructed to share with the council.

"Our research shows that the infection is not airborne. Transmissions are predominantly physical contact, access to the bloodstream. Water can be a transmission vector. Reports from MTF teams highlight fire as an effective measure for removing infestations on the ground level. Conventional firearms are effective against individual SCP-2480-2 entities, but as a greater whole, small arms will not be able to combat hordes of the infected."

Combat my ass.

We're months behind them. By the time Provincetown was secured, there were outbreaks in Boston, Providence, Birmingham, Nashville, Atlanta and Charlotte. We were waiting on lab results from Site-234 when we heard they went dark. No idea if there's anyone still alive there. The entire situation had evolved several times before we could even see what was happening.

Elizabeth opens her mouth to speak, but I speak first.

"The infected that show symptoms are problematic, but it's the asymptomatic infected that present the biggest issue."

Elizabeth glares at me. I look down to my papers. A moment passes.

"Go on," a male voice speaks suddenly. I inhale sharply.

"It's better for Doctor Eriksson to explain," I force the words out under the glare of Elizabeth.

"Well, SCP-2480-2 identifies the common outcome of infection, being the seemingly mindless... drones, if you will. They're easy to dispatch and handle. While the pathogen is anomalous, the common infected are easily identified, and some of their behaviors can be explained by biology. Aside from the odd chance at mutations related to the spread of the disease."

He takes a long, strained breath and adjusts his glasses.

"SCP-2480-3 identifies infected that have a higher intelligence and creativity compared to the 2480-2's. They are capable of planning, infiltration, problem-solving, speech... they can effectively recall information from the host brain, even when that brain has mutated to significant degree. They are the root cause of the infections in Boston, New York, Los Vegas, Los Angeles. To have one of the upper staff succumb to the infection would be catastrophic."

"Our working theory is Site-234 went offline because of them," I say.

The room goes silent again.

"Are you implying that both Directors of Site-234 were... SCP-2480-3?" A female voice quietly asks.

"Maybe... one, or both, it could have been the head of security, or someone with sufficient clearance. According to the information I have available, on-site staff were not permitted to leave the site after the 'initial' infection in Birmingham. No reports or documentation came from Site-234 regarding any infected in the weeks prior to their blackout. I think it's highly likely. I can't think of any other possibility."

"Is it possible to determine if someone is hiding an infection?" The male voice asks again.

Doctor Eriksson raises a hand on his screen.

"According to the limited testing we've done, SCP-2480-3 instances seem to be unable to produce white blood cells. They also have a significantly colder body temperature compared to baseline, but that is information gleaned from four total subjects. Approaching a 2480-3 instance with this information can cause a Class-3 Mutagenic Event, wherein they will immediately become hostile and drop the façade. Rapid mutation results in combat-ready structures emerging from the host body in both field and limited lab trials."

"What about SCP-2480-1? Do we have any information on that front?" The woman says.

"He revealed that this is not any effort on his part. He endorses the actions carried out by his followers, but claims he has no knowledge of the plan, nor of the contagion," Elizabeth finishes.

There is a heavy silence that descends on the room. No one has any answers for why this got out of hand, or how they all missed it. I'm glad to say that this fuck-up isn't mine, but it's a fuck-up all the same.

Elizabeth clears her throat.

"I've spoken with the rest of the Council. Project Prospero is underway. You will each receive instructions when the materials arrive."

Council? The O5 Council? Who is this woman? The screens go black and I'm left in the dark with Elizabeth. Slowly, the fluorescent lights kick on and bathe the room in a sickly white.

I look toward her, a question on my tongue.

"Above your clearance level, Liam Webb."

She collects her things from the table and walks out, leaving me alone. Odd how she didn't want me revealing the whole truth of the situation. Is it internal politics? What would she have to gain from keeping us in the dark? Is there more to this thing that we don't know about? Could she be-

"You know, Liam," Ino speaks, "The stake that sticks up gets hammered down."

I had forgotten he was here. I look towards him and I see him rifling through the papers. Somewhere in that stack was the Operation report, no doubt. He looks over to me and gives me a small and sincere smile. He looks much older than when I first saw him in the hangar. This entire debacle has certainly put a great deal of stress on everyone. I'm only twenty-seven, but I feel like I'm thirty-five.

"You have done good work, Liam, even if they do not appreciate it."

"You know this is the end, right?" I ask Ino.

"I know. The work should not be overlooked, however, nor the good people who have worked."

I sit there in silence for a few moments, contemplating his statement, this plague. I stand up and grab my mug, as well as this cheap suit jacket around the back of my chair. I look to Director Ino and give him a small nod, standing in the doorway.

"Thank you, sir," I say, but my heart's not in it.

Liam's biological clock was still skewed from his time at the Foundation.

He felt more awake during the night than the day, but he'd always been something of a night-owl. The fatigue of incessant questioning from various castle staff was weighing down upon him. Physically, he was tired, likely a part of the healing process. Sleeping was also a department in which he had little luck. When he did, the nightmares came. He don't bother trying to voice his mental health concerns to them, that may be a bridge too far.

The translation crystal worked like a charm, and indeed it was one, the only issue being that the creator had pestered for the past three days, a torrent of endless questions flowing outwards from her mouth with no end.

"What the buck do you mean no magic?!"

Their conversation earlier in the day ended with her screaming in his face. Lyra Heartstrings seemed nice, but made odd faces every time he took something or demonstrated the mobility of my hands. She was noticeably sweating, something Liam found strange to see on a furred creature, and she excused herself. She took lots of notes, moreso than Twilight Sparkle did.

Nothing here made sense. All the locations tended to be pony-related puns, which made sense in English, but do they operate in that manner in Equiish? And what the hell is a weather factory? The question brought Liam anxiety.

Liam flexed his newly freed arm, the sling now a reminder. The dull throb had disappeared entirely, but Liam waited until Doctor Orchid gave him the all clear to remove the cast. They gave him temporary accommodations in the castle by order of Celestia herself. While it had been said to him that the sisters rule together, it was clear that one has a much larger portion of the duties. Princess Luna had some sort of ability to enter dreams, that much he know, but the full extent of her capabilities was still beyond him.

It was clear to Liam that magic was something he would just going to have to accept as a part of his life now, despite his inability to quantify it or understand it for the time being. Princess Celestia, from what he had seen and heard, had a mastery over magic that few others possessed; she raised the sun. With power like that, he was not certain what was stopping her from global domination. She stopped by to speak with him earlier, still stand-offish, but he was not sure if that was just the family in general. He had yet to see Princess Luna since we spoke last week, a combination of his own disinterest in seeing much of anyone and her own royal duties.

He had set to work writing down notes for Sparkle. He thought it best to have minimal interaction with her face-to-face. At the moment, he was writing about Earth's infrastructure, doing his best to let her know that he had very little information regarding the intricacies of the system, but providing enough to hopefully get her off his back for the time being. Power grid, dependence on electrical energy, plumbing, water and just about everything else he could think of. It occurred to him that she would send him a letter back asking him to go into detail about every little thing. She was not going to like his reply, but he could only answer to the best of his abilities, and in his mind, those abilities were insufficient to satisfy her.

The geopolitics of this world were also equally confusing. There were many different sentient species that were all sharing the planet, establishing their own governments and going about their business. Some were off-shoots of equines, like zebras, some are "fucking dragons," he writes. He stares at the text on the page for awhile longer before sighing and striking through the line. It was surprising, but then again, there was already so much that defied expectations in Equestria. He needed to learn how to take these things in stride. He cast the pen to the side, looking over the desk and his notes. Anything to keep him occupied.

A knock at the door, a small bang. It shook Liam out of his skin, and he took a second to evaluate if it actually happened. If it wasn't another one his nightmares, come to haunt him awake. Such a thing shouldn't be possible, but all bets are off in this new world. The knock comes again. He took a deep breath and walked over to open it. A guardspony stood there, Flash Sentry. Most of the guards tend to break their composure when he loomed about, but this one's a professional. He had kept the horror contained for the most part. He has an orange coat and blue hair beneath his helmet.

'These color combinations aren't natural, are they?' Liam thought.

"Mister Webb?" he asked pensively, looking up at him.

"Yeah, what's up Sentry?"

He looked down the hall and then back to Liam.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Liam nodded and let him inside. The room was very nice, marble flooring, a dark red rug in the center. White walls with ornate paintings on them, golden trim around the room. The shower had been a godsend as well. He took a seat on one of the couches in the far side of the room near the window, a spot of moonlight splashing down onto the cushions.

"All I'm good for is answering questions, so go ahead," he said.

Flash stood on the rug and looked at the walls for a moment before fixating on Liam. He coughed and removed his helmet, tucking it under his wing.

"Do you have any friends on your world?"

Liam's stare went blank as he internalized the statement with no small amount of hurt.

"Well... lemme contextualize my answer before I give it. Do you have friends in the Royal Guard?"

He nodded his head slowly after thinking on it for a second.

"Before you joined as well, right?"

He nodded again.

"I was part of an organization called the Foundation. It wasn't a country with borders, but for all intents and purposes, it was a global superpower. The Foundation was responsible for keeping things locked up that were too dangerous to be exposed to humankind, and as a result, you weren't allowed to have friends outside the business. Lot's of cases where they make them forget you ever existed, family too."

"Really?"

Liam sighed and leaned back some, rolling his cast on the armrest.

"Family, friends, they were considered a weakness that could be exploited. If the wrong people knew you had ties to the Foundation, they would do bad things to get an in. Happened too many times to be allowed. They assessed it based on how important you were to Foundation operations, how much you knew."

"By Celestia... did they...?"

"They did. Sent me a memo when they did it, like it was all routine. I didn't have much family, but the guys from school, my mom..." he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"Anyways, why do you ask?"

Sentry readjusted his grip on his helmet, "well, you seem sad, Mister Webb. Everypony needs friends... if we could get you back to your world, would you be able to see them?"

Liam's vision tightened and he couldn't find his way out. There was a ringing in his ears, sirens pulled from memory, echoing off the walls of his skull. His breath hitched and he could not hear much, save for his own heartbeat. There was an icy frost spreading through his chest, freezing everything it touched.

Gnawing, clawing, scraping, burning.

"Mister Webb, are you okay?"

He cleared his throat and remembered to breathe, gently bopping his cast against the couch. He looked out the window and then back to Flash, forcing a half-smile. He could feel sweat on my scalp, the back of his neck. His body felt heavy and his heart pumped faster.

Killing, screaming, crying, shouting.

"No, Sentry. I wouldn't be able to see them. I'd like to, though."

Flash rubbed his hoof against the marble, looking apologetic, "sorry, Mister Webb. Well, if you need anything, I'm stationed outside, just give me a holler, my shift ends in the early morning."

"Okay," Liam murmured.

"Call me Flash, Mister Webb," he said with a smile, then trotted out.

Melting, rotting, breaking, bleeding.

When the door closed, it felt like all the warmth had left the room. The whole world got a little bit darker. That lump came back and Liam stared at the crucifix on the desk. He took the bottle of wine stashed in the lower drawer, standing to collect it. He stared down at the silver cross, thinking on death and sacrifice. He moved by the window and put his back to the wall, sinking lower and lower to the floor. The moonlight bounced off the silver and he lost himself in it. The weight was crashing down on him again. He was losing it, but it had been a long time since he'd had it together.

'Go back to the desk. Write something, put your head into work. Don't do it,' he thought.

Gnawing, clawing, scraping, burning.

'Please, get up and get your mind off this... maybe just one sip to calm the nerves.'

He dropped the cross into his lap and took a swig of the wine; red, fruity, old. Not at all something he'd drink. He hardly drank at all, but he felt like a beer would be appropriate. He would drink gasoline if it made him feel any better. The wine went down his throat is greedy, burning gulps, broken up by curses. It wasn't long and he lost himself in the wine, half the bottle's down his gullet.

Killing, screaming, crying, shouting.

It tears him in half. I can't save him. Richards. I pull on my hair.

The world was swimming and the moonlight on the marble seemed to be the only thing he could see, that he could hold onto. Not for long. The bottle found his lips again. The bottle again, and again, and again. Every drink numbs his body, but his mind doesn't quiet. Not when the tears come, not when he prays. Never was a godly sort. The bottle felt light. His lips again. The window. His guts were twisting up and his breath was ragged. He had never been good with heights.

"You know this is the end, right?"

He stood and pressed his hands against the cold glass. Equestria, sprawled about before him, a foreign land. The trees are dark blobs against the gray hills. He looked down to see a river, far below, down underneath the suspended castle. The waters were clear, a dark riverbed beneath with silhouettes darting around almost invisibly. How quick he would join them, letting this window swing wide and falling. How quick it would be, painless. Maybe the waters would sweep him along, down that current, away from this place. How quickly would he be forgotten? He went for another drink and closed his eyes as the last drops go down his throat. It's just a jump, just a little fall.

Melting, rotting, breaking, bleeding.

His fingers grasp at the window latch. Just a jump. Dying.

Nuclear detonation, estimated loss of life-

There's a rapping at the window, and outside, Princess Luna flying there. She could see the bottle in his hands, eyes looking into his with concern. He fumbled with the latch in his drunken state and let her in. The curtains blew into the room with a great breeze and he stumbled his way over to the opposite wall, slumping against it, sliding back down to the floor. Luna flew in and her hooves tapped along the marble floor in her landing. He turned head away and felt the bottle drift from his grasp, pulled away by her magic.

"Liam?"

"It's all over, all over for me," he babbled. His mind couldn't keep up with his conscience, something his body definitely noticed.

"Liam, what art thou-"

"What's it fucking look like, Luna?! Huh?" he flailed his arms about in a wild drunken gesture.

Luna turned away towards the door, finding Flash watching the scene in concern.

"Leave us, Guard," she said quickly, then turned back to Liam. The door shut quickly.

She approached slowly, eyeing his limbs. Her wings twitched and withdrew. She set the bottle down on the desk and he can't stop the frown spilling across his face. He could hardly feel it, but he knew he was a wreck. He pulled his legs inwards and pull them tighter with his arms, sinking his head into the safety of his knees. He took in a shuddering breath.

Gnawing, clawing, scraping, burning...

"Liam," she said softly. He looked up to her through his fluid vision, but her eyes were locked onto his. That much he could see. They could see the truth of it, what he had become, what he couldn't help but be. It threatens to rip him apart. That she has to see him like this. He looked away and sobbed, what composure he had left melting away. She moved closer, hoofbeats drawing nearer to him. He didn't want to look. He felt her hoof touch his shoulder with a gentle shake.

"I'm al-one, Luna, I'm so a-alone," he rasped.

"Liam, look at us."

He could feel her breath on him.

"I-I can't... I don't deserve to be here, Luna."

"Look at me," she said quietly.

He looked up from his knees, tears clouding his vision, but he sees her sitting there in front of him. She hovers a hoof before him, to touch him, and he is destroyed when it does. He collapsed and went limp, sobbing uncontrollably and painfully. She draped her wings over him and embraces him as he lied there and cried. He turned and sank his face into her chest, his tears soaking her fur.

"It should've been anyone else, why did everyone else have to go? I'm no one, I-I..."

She rubbed his shoulder with her hoof and shushed him as he shook in her grasp. Her breath spilled across his back, down his neck, and he grabbed at her desperately. He needed her. He needed her to be here, he needed her stay. His arms wrapped around her midsection and sank into her coat, hugging her tightly. His legs kicked out with sharp jolts, shoes sliding on the floor, unable to get any traction. He twists and weeps, her wings folding closer, pulling him deeper into her embrace.

He was broken. He knew it, and now she did too.

"Don't leave, please," he whimpered, "don't leave me alone. Please God don't leave me alone, I can't..."

"We art going nowhere, Liam, shhh, shhh..." she whispered, holding him.

She was so warm, and in that moment, she was the only thing keeping him alive.

"Please," he gasped.

She stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, trying to calm him, then she breaks away. He reached out like an infant, searching for comfort, security. She shushed him and brought her horn down to his forehead, and the world seemed to fade away into blue and black warmth.

"How is he, Luna?"

The plane of dreams can be a treacherous place, doubly so for the creature Luna has in her grasp. She makes his sleep a dreamless one for now, keeping him tucked safely away in the embrace of her wings. His mutterings and murmurings cease and he goes still, breathing slowed. She breathes an unsteady sigh, looking over to her sister standing in the doorway. Celestia stands with her head dipped under the doorframe, looking in with a sadness across her face.

"Not well, sister. He hath nightmares during his waking hours, unable to rest. What We've seen within his mind would be enough to drive anypony to madness," she says lowly. The effects of the visions upon her were enough to keep her in her room for days, and it was only a glimpse. Celestia had not pressed her sister for details, but from what Liam had said, she took comfort in the fact she had not seen it for herself.

Celestia steps into the room and closes the door behind her. She breathes deeply and notices the bottle placed on the desk. She tuts to herself and sits beside Luna, draping a wing over her. Celestia probes her cheek with her tongue and looks over the human, scraggly and unkempt, eyes swollen from tears.

"Dost thou believeth he still presents a threat?"

She sighs, looking over to the open window. Spilled wine on the floor nearby.

"He certainly has the potential, but at this point, that's a question I should be asking you, Lulu. I've already told you what the humans were like when you were a filly... but this one does seem different. Father wouldn't take the chance."

Luna looks over him and he unconsciously squeezes her hoof, much like a foal. His face is serene, his palms are damp. He smells like wine and sweat, ink and parchment. She looks over to the desk to see scattered notes across the tabletop and the floor nearby.

"Father was a cautious fool, Tia. 'Twas his undoing, thou hast said so thineself."

"Perhaps."

Luna hums. She flips her mane from her face and prods Liam's hair with her muzzle in a comforting gesture. She turns back to look at her sister with tired eyes.

"How was thine meeting with the delegation from Griffonia?"

Celestia chuckles and says, "it's called Griffonstone now, of the Griffon Kingdom." Luna sticks her tongue out at her and Celestia giggles. She closes the window with her magic, stifling the chilled breeze in the room. She hums herself. Soon, she should have Luna take some lessons on current affairs in the world, catch-up on the history gone by.

"It went rather well, all things considered. They wish to extend their borders to the East, and they want assistance on an expedition further into the Graymourne ruins. They will not like hearing that Cobblerock is under our protection, but I pledged some forces for their expedition. I'm having tea with Ambassador Greatbeak tomorrow evening to work out the details."

"... 'tis good news, then?"

"Aye," Celestia says, wiggling her brows. Luna pouts.

Celestia rises and stretches her hind legs, bowing forward much like a cat. She cranes her neck to look down to her sister, a small smile on her face. Her protection of the strange creature was fascinating.

"You said he wanted to be your friend?"

Luna nods and smiles softly, then her smile drips away into a knowing sadness, her eyes tinged by the familiar feeling.

"Liam is alone, much like We were, upon our Moon."

Celestia's smile falls and she feels guilt settle in her stomach. She lets in a short breath and walks to the desk to inspect his notes. Upon first glance, all of the symbols seem jumbled, but they are written neatly upon the printed lines. She casts the translation spell over the room, finding that the parchments are pieces of a letter composed for her pupil. Information of his world, a world without magic. There are details of buildings built deep within the earth, mention of electricity responsible for powering all that magic normally would... it is a world completely alien to her.

A world that is now lost.

"We art weaving a dream for him, a memory, if thou wouldst like to see it," Luna says gently, snapping her from her thoughts.

She turns back to face her and nods. Luna's horn glows with her magic and the world around them both dissolves into realm of dreams, where the sound of children's laughter pierces the black silence, and a motherly tone follows sweetly. Celestia's eyes widen when she sees a human child, playing in the park, running about on stubby legs. A boy. He's wearing a shirt that's too big for him, blue, with a pair of khaki shorts and pale blue shoes

The boy turns around and faces Celestia, smile growing bigger. She gasps as a shadow passes through her, moving to the boy and kneeling down. From where she stands, she can't see the phantom's face, but she knows what it is, who she is to him. She feels a sadness growing within her.

"Come on, Liam, let's get lunch!"

Author's Note

Sorry for the relative wait on this one, I've been plotting where the story goes and I'm hoping you all like the direction! Let me know what you guys think, and if you catch any spelling or grammar issues, comment below or PM me! I also decided to complicate things for myself by making some music (Ableton does not like me much, sorry!) but again, hope you all like it!

EDIT: Rewritten into third-person past for Liam. Luna's section remains the same.

Chapter 5: Painful Morning

Painful Morning

Someone shakes me awake and the entirety of existence shakes with it, threatening to throw me overboard into a sea of nothingness.

The whole world comes to me all at once. I feel like I'm detached from my body, just lights and sounds and smells all flushing inward around my senses. Someone made waffles, smells like. Eggs. Bacon? God damn I'm hungry. My stomach turns at the thought, protesting. The lights are bright and painful, and only a glimpse of the blinding display brings a headache flowing inwards. I'm in bed, I think. The assault on my senses earns a defeated moan, followed by a wave of nausea. My mouth tastes like sour wine, but I know that's not going to last long.

Oh boy, here we go.

Bile hits the back of my throat and I sit up abruptly, trying to stop it with gravity. It works for the time being. I open my eyes and see Flash Sentry staring forward, doing his best statue impression. An eye turns over to me beneath his helmet, but no words to be spoken. What's up with him?

"I see you're awake. Somepony partied a little too hard last night, hm?"

You bitch.

Princess Celestia is sitting at a dining table set right in the middle of my room. Set before her is a plate with something on it, I can't really focus on it from here. My vision is still muddy. I moan at her and wave a hand at her in dismissal, immediately regretting the decision when my stomach does backflips in response. All of the furniture has been placed against the walls and out of the way, with two elaborate wooden chairs placed at each end of the table. One for her, and I'm assuming one for me. I rest on one of my arms and twist by body, looking for a bucket. I can't find one, and I think she sees my panic, given her amused expression.

"Perhaps a bite to eat will settle the stomach? Come join me," she says, sipping from a teacup.

"I'm going to puke, can't move," I groan, breathing deeply. Her magenta eyes widen some, but I still see she's having a grand old time over there at my expense.

"Sounds like humans can't handle their wine," she smiles behind her teacup.

I'm going to fucking vomit and she's taunting me, let's see if she likes puke all over the comforter and the-

Her horn glows and my stomach feels fuzzy, eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. Almost immediately, the crashing tidal waves of nausea break and I sigh in relief. She smirks and sets down the teacup, horn still glowing.

"You could do that the whole time?" I speak breathlessly.

She inspects her teacup and adjusts the position of a fork beside her plate, then looks back up to me.

"I can, now do be polite and have a seat so we can talk. The spell is only temporary, and requires some effort on my part to keep everything calm," she says with a hint of that royal authority. Let's see if my legs still work.

I gently pull the covers away to the side and swing my legs over. God damn this cast feels heavy. My bare feet touch the floor and it's cold. Marble does that, I guess. A shiver runs up my spine and I experimentally push myself off the bed. The rolling in my guts troubles me for a moment, but disappears, and I find my balance after a few moments of standing there with my arms outstretched. I swallow and take very slow steps towards the table, careful not to give too much trust to my wobbly stance.

By the time I reach the table, Princess Celestia is struggling to hold back laughter. I sit as slowly as I can and the headache pulses deep within my skull. The chair is nice and comfy, safety in an ocean of turbulence, and I want to sink inside of the cushions and forget I exist.

"I thought I needed to request an audience with you prior to... whatever this is," I mumble, gesturing to the table.

She lets out a soft hum and has a drink from her glass of water, levitated at her lips. She sets the glass down and places an empty bottle of wine on the table. The sight of it makes my intestines hurt and my headache flares. So that's what this is about.

"Before we speak on what happened last night, you should eat. I waited for fifteen minutes before I woke you up, and the food is cold."

"You could've woken me up, Princess. I don't know how you got all this in here quietly, but there was no need to wait."

"And spoil the surprise? No. I quite enjoyed your show of getting to the table. Now eat," she commands with a smirk.

There's a glass of orange juice, an empty tea cup beside a kettle, a pitcher of water with an empty glass, a plate of eggs and waffles. Then I see what troubles me so. Bacon. My body craves grease right now, and I know that bacon is going in.

"W-what's with bacon, aren't your ponies herbivores? The eggs?"

Princess Celestia leans on the left side of her chair. Her nose crinkles looking down at my plate.

"We have a Griffon Ambassador in for the week, so we've stockpiled some fish and meat for his stay. Ponies do eat eggs here in Equestria, so long as there's no creature within them."

"So I could have been eating meat for the past few days?"

Princess Celestia sips on her teacup in response.

"Why the fuck- you know what, forget it, this makes up for it," I reach out and grab a piece, stuffing it into my mouth quickly. The savory goodness, the grease, my mouth sings and my shoulders slump. I crunch and chew in delight, nearly collapsing down onto the counter. I let out a satisfied moan. When I look up to Celestia, her face is a mixture of mild disgust and amusement.

"Sorry," I say, mouth full and completely unrepentant.

She shakes her head and eats her waffle slowly. There's an immodest serving of syrup drizzled over her meal, including the eggs. There's syrup on the eggs. I turn away before my stomach can process that information. I take a bite of the eggs, over-easy, easy to go over my tongue and down my throat. I prefer scrambled, but I'm not sure I'd like any milk at the moment.

"Um," I begin, tongue working under a bite of my eggs. I swallow and find Princess Celestia's magenta eyes looking at me intently, a fork with a good hunk of waffle sitting on the end of it frozen before her open mouth. Syrup drips from the piece, down onto her plate. I clear my throat and set down my utensils.

"You have any coffee?"

She lets out a small snort and levitates the fork down in front of her chest. She looks over to Flash.

She says something in a different language, not the pony noises, but... French? He nods and leaves the room. I look down to the crystal around my neck. Is this thing broken? Did I break it last night? I look up and open my mouth to speak but Celestia beats me to the punch, swallowing her food.

"Pardon me. That was Prench, I have all my Guards learn two languages atop their native tongue, that way they can communicate with any foreign allies we have in the Castle," she says.

"That's fucking ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" She looks mildly surprised.

"Back home, we had a language that sounds exactly like that, it's called French."

She cocks her head to the side, her brain working behind her eyes.

"From... France?" I nod. We both sit there in amazement.

Time for a gamble.

"Omelette du fromage," I say with grave seriousness, looking Celestia dead in her eyes.

A moment passes. Then two.

Her resolve breaks and she laughs wholeheartedly. I can't help but join her in chuckling at the complete absurdity of it all, despite the pain in my brain. There's no room for coincidence anymore; this whole world is a mirror of my world, flipped on it's head, with magic and horses running around. After her laughter dies down, neither of us dare to eat anything more, both formulating questions in our heads, though mine come slower. Canterlot is Camelot. I recoil visibly at the realization and she quirks her head, her ears facing me. I need to look at a map as soon as possible.

This is some Twilight Zone level shit, and it's not doing anything for this headache.

"I'm willing to bet our two worlds have a lot in common. Well, had, a lot in common," I finish somberly.

She looks to the side and her right ear twitches almost imperceptibly. She prods her eggs with her fork and looks back to me, a carefully constructed neutrality on her muzzle, eyes serene. Diplomat mode. After a moment, the fork is set beside the plate and she opens her mouth to speak. Before she does, her right ear flicks towards the door and she closes her mouth, giving me a polite smile.

Flash Sentry opens the door, allowing a pony servant to walk into the room, a tray with a full coffee pot balanced on her back. She has a beige coat and a dull orange mane, an Earth pony with golden eyes. She walks over towards us, and upon seeing me, jolts slightly with a yelp. The coffee pot teeters but she readjusts her balance and keeps everything onboard.

"Sorry," I say gently. She blinks and looks to Princess Celestia.

"He doesn't bite, Miss Cream," she says in a motherly tone.

She swallows and approaches the table slowly, then in a rather practiced motion, slides the tray and coffee pot atop onto the table smoothly. Center of the table, far away. Too far. She expediently dashes out and says something to Flash I can't make out. He chuckles and shakes his head, then goes to close the door.

"Guard, if you would, please stand outside," Princess Celestia says with a rather serious cadence. He nods, smile disappearing and promptly dipping out into the hallway, pulling the door closed with his wing. Her horn glows again and the tray is pushed along the table surface towards me. I fill the teacup provided with some much needed bean-water and get to drinking. It goes down bitter and hot, just the way it needs to be. I cup my hands around it and siphon the heat into my bones. The headache seems to pulse less intensely now, only a faint reminder of my debacle.

I look up to find Celestia looking at me rather intensely, watching me, reading me like a book. She doesn't shirk away from our gazes meeting, only leaning back into her chair some and bringing a hoof to her chin, resting upon it like a human would prop themselves against a fist.

"My sister found you in quite a state last night, Liam," she says neutrally.

I have another sip of coffee and set the cup down on the saucer to my right. I'm not sure what to say, what I could say. I bring my hand to my face and gently squeeze the corner of my mouth with my thumb. I opt for silence as an answer and look down at my untouched waffle, a sprinkling of powdered sugar atop with a slice of butter melted in the center.

"I must apologize Liam," she says and I snap up, her eyes much softer than before, "I haven't been treating you fairly since you've arrived."

I shake my head and sigh.

"No, it wasn't the most warm welcome, but you needn't apologize."

"But I do, as Princess Celestia of Equestria, I haven't conducted myself in a fair manner towards you, nor shown you kindness when you needed it," she leans forward.

I take the cup back into my hands and have a sip, a silence descending over us. I look into the murky blackness of the coffee.

"What you've gone through is something... unfortunately unique. It is not a position I would ever wish for upon anypony, and you have to contend with a world unknown on top of that. The stress of it all," she says quietly. I heave out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, that shiver returning. Haunting.

"When you arrived, when I saw you... I had centuries upon centuries of time to bury those memories, to come to peace with them. I assumed you were like them; an omen. I was waiting for you to slip-up, to reveal your true nature, but you already had," she utters. I look up to see her still staring, a frown upon her face. Her teacup tilts back and forth within her magic.

"You attempted to communicate with my pupil's friends without knowing they weren't a threat to you. You tried for peace, when I wouldn't have done the same for you. You said to me, that if your kind knew ours, you would like to consider us friends. I have been distrusting of you, hostile to you, and for that," she bites the corner of her lip and stops.

She sighs and looks to the window, a spot on the ground near it, her mane billowing in an ethereal wind. Does she know why I was at that window? Gnawing, clawing, scraping, burning. No. Not now.

"I am sorry, Liam, truly," she states, looking back to me. Focus.

I smile at her, a brief and pained smile, and look back into my coffee. I look back up to her.

"Water under the bridge. Friends?"

"I would like that very much, Liam," she says with a kind smile.

I glance back at my plate, surveying the damage. At least I got some food down, even if my appetite has waned. There's still a little bit of coffee left, hopefully enough to tide me over for this headache. I take the cup in my hands and sip with my eyes closed. It's a bit cooler now, not quite lava-tier, but still enjoyable.

"You were going to jump, weren't you?"

My heart plummets into my stomach and the nausea rushes back. My head pounds and sweat builds on my brow. I look at her in shock, but find she's looking at the window, expression soft and serene. Did she just ask me that? Did I imagine that? She turns to look at me, eyes soft and gaze penetrating. I swallow anxiously and set my coffee down. My eyes water. Killing, screaming, crying, shouting.

"Um-" my voice breaks and my throat constricts. I swallow again and set my palms flat on the table.

Get a fucking hold of yourself.

"Someone grab that piece of shit and let's get moving."

I turn to face a voice that isn't there. My knuckles whiten. Melting, rotting, breaking, bleeding.

"Liam?" She asks with concern in her tone, her magenta pools pouring over me.

"Water please," I force out.

A glass finds it's way to my hand and I take desperate gulps. My eyes screw shut and I feel tears going down my cheeks. The room is terribly cold now. When I get some sense of myself back, I see her still looking towards me, an answer already given. Her eyes are sad, lips downturned slightly. I wipe at my face with my hand and dip my head down in shame, burning shame.

"Liam," she begins.

"Don't say anything," I say tightly, my words echoing in my head. I snap, and I don't mean to.

Come on, Webb. Heart's beating like a cannon in my chest. Calm down.

"Sorry. Just... just give me a second, alright?"

I feel like I'm backed into a corner, everything trying to get me. I'm not safe. I don't feel safe.

Watch the fire spread.

I hiss through gritted teeth. My eyes are scrunched tight. This fucking headache.

"Liam?"

"What?!" I roar, eyes wide in terror and fury.

She jumps in her seat and Flash comes charging in through the door. I stand unsteadily in response. He looks at me, then Celestia. She shakes her head and stands from her chair, nodding towards my hand. I look down at my right hand and see that the glass has shattered in my grip, blood dripping onto the table. I don't feel it. I release my grip and try to steady my trembling hand.

It doesn't stop. I sit back down again.

"Liam, it's safe here," Celestia coos.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..." my throat closes up again. I bring my other hand to my face and pull down on the flesh, pushing into my eyes.

"Mister Webb?" I hear Flash say from the doorway.

"Liam, breathe," She whispers, close to me. Somewhere behind my hand.

The pain reaches me from my palm. It's sharp and it's raw, deep gouges in my skin. I look up from my hand and see Princess Celestia standing beside me, looming over me, head lowered down near mine. She moves forward, slowly, and nuzzles the side of my head. She breathes on my shoulder, calmly, soothingly. I instinctively reach up and cup her neck with my bloodied hand. It if bothers her, she doesn't make a show of it.

We sit there in an awkward pose for several minutes, Flash never leaving the doorway. This close, she smells like confections, sugar and sweets, alongside a distinctly sweet musky smell. I breathe deeply through my mouth and unwind myself, decompressing. She pulls away and looks down at my wounded hand.

Easy now.

"Thanks, Princess," I breathe, "I'm sorry, I'm... I bled on you."

"It's okay, I'll have the castle physician look at you immediately," she turns to Flash and he immediately darts out, rushing down the hall. The nausea returns, but it gives me something to hold onto.

My hand stops trembling but echoes of pain ricochet down my arm. I look to Celestia and find her touching her neck with a hoof, then bringing it in front of her face to look at my blood. She looks to me and smirks.

"You have a habit of getting hurt, don't you?"

I laugh half-heartedly, "yeah, I guess I do."

I take a shuddering breath and rest my head on my cast-covered arm. Celestia sits beside me and I lean back into my chair, staring at the ceiling. Wooden boards stretch across the length of the room, painted white, a network of structural support above.

"I need help, Princess," I say quietly. Guilt washes over me like a cold wave, and I struggle to keep it down.

Her hoof touches my arm gently.

"I know."

Author's Note

A bit of a smaller one this time, but hopefully enough to scratch that itch until the next! Leave comments if you want to, if you catch any errors, if you just wanna let me know how you feel! And if I don't see you in the comments... good afternoon, good evening and goodnight!

Chapter 6: Visitor

Visitor

My hand hurts. The castle physician, Neat Stitch, told me it shouldn't take too long to heal upon repeat visits. He looks old for a pony, the oldest I've seen. I'm not sure how wrinkles manifest in fur, but they sure did on him. He kind of reminded me of my old man a little bit, not that I knew him that well. I told him about my issue... issues, and he told me that was outside of his area of expertise.

"I can fix your skin, son. Not your brain," he said.

I have a suspicion that's going to be a long and drawn-out process.

It isn't all bad news. The cast is about ready to come off. I haven't divulged the fact that I should not have mended my bones that quickly, but then again, there's a lot of variables to consider. Magic can't be understated as a big influence in my recovery, and I'm not a doctor, so I'll just have to roll with what the x-rays say.

Guards are to be put on rotation throughout the day and night, one inside and one outside. There's very little privacy in the arrangement, but the guard here does his best to pretend I don't exist when I'm looking. Princess Celestia says it's for my protection, but that's a flowery way of obfuscating the truth; I'm my biggest threat at the moment.

Stitch said that he's contacting a specialist in 'Philly' this afternoon to talk about my condition. I can't imagine the guy will be here in the immediate future, so I need to maintain some sense of order amongst all the chaos in my head. Or try to. My ego is bruised, my hand is cut up, and my brain feels like it has the consistency of a bad batch of brownies.

The only thing I know for certain is that it's never going back to normal, that I'm going to be addressing the symptom, not the sickness. It's a little more pervasive than that. I sigh and creak back into my chair. The sinking sun is baking the land, the room is getting a little too warm for my liking.

I'm writing another note for Twilight concerning what I remember of the totality of human history, right until everything went to shit. I've glanced at a few files here and there that indicate there's a lot of ambiguity in our distant past, but nothing comprehensive enough to put down a timeline. I'm just going to put down what I can remember from the history books.

Well, when I get these stitches out, anyway.

I look over to the guard, a pale blue pegasus with gray hair and gray eyes. That gold armor looks heavy. Isn't gold really malleable? It must be decorative. I awkwardly grab at a paper cup on the desk and sip some lukewarm water from it, the cast hinders my hand movement considerably. He's staring at a position on the wall, stark and unmoving.

"Hey, uh," I say lamely at the guard. His eyes shift over to me, inspecting me clinically. I clear my throat and lean back again, chair shifting beneath my weight.

"Would it be possible for me to leave this room," I sigh, "get a tour of the castle or something?"

"Not without an escort, sir."

"Well, you'd be my escort then, right?"

He shakes his head.

"No. I'm under orders to keep you here, sir."

I stare at him blankly.

"Look, I'm... I need some fresh air. I've been isolated to this room and the hospital room."

He stares at me for a minute, then opens his mouth to speak. For a few sharp moments, no words are uttered. He seems frozen in place, stopped in the midst of speaking.

"No," he says flatly.

I frown.

"Sir."

"Can you not call me that? Call me Liam."

He says nothing and I huff.

I drum my cast-burdened fingers on the desk as well as I can and he turns to stare at that same spot on the wall, pretending I don't exist. I push out my chair and stand, stretching with a groan. He does not shift his eyes. The idleness is getting me antsy. I can't really do anything with my hand just yet.

"Would um," he turns to look at me, "would I be able to get a book or something?"

He regards me silently and nods. He knocks on the door twice, and the door opens a hair. Another guard outside. He murmurs something and looks over to me. The other guard nods and the door shuts quietly. Silence resumes.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

Silence prevails.

Okay, then.

The minutes pass by slowly, but eventually, a book is slid through the door. The guard presents it to me almost ceremonially. The entire exchange is oddly formal and I finally get the book down onto the desk and flip the blank gray cover open. The pages are yellowed slightly from age, but the work on the spine and the handling of the book has left it in good condition.

It's been a very long time since I've held a hard-cover book in my hands like this. Written in a big bold header at the top of the second page is the title, it takes a moment for the letters to rearrange themselves in magical fashion into something legible. The effects of this amulet are insane to think about, and I have a few moments to afford to the possibilities of such a device back home, the amount of anomalies that could deciphered with the help of this magic.

The History of Equestria
Fourth Edition
by Starswirl the Bearded
edited by Clover the Clever
modernized by Page Turner

Well, this ought to be interesting. A lot of unfamiliar names and a compiled history of a fantasy land. I just hope the whole thing doesn't read like a fiction novel or something. I had a hard time getting through The Lord of the Rings, so I imagine a similar experience will yield similar results.

Let's do this.

This...

This is some of the craziest shit I've ever read in my entire life.

Three disconnected kingdoms of ponies warring, the three subspecies, unified by an alicorn named Astral on an unrecorded date. Information passed down by word of mouth for centuries upon centuries beyond that date, wars sprouting up with unknown aggressors in disjointed and brutal campaigns far to the north, the Frozen Lands of the Crystal Empire.

It seems, though a fairy-tale land, Equus shares many of the same struggles of Earth. It's honestly kind of unsettling. I don't know how much of this has been censored, but God damn there's a lot of brutality in some of these tales. The Griffon-Pony War, the Yak Rebellion, the Caribou Crusades...

The sun is floating just above the horizon by the time I've cleared the first few chapters, and I've still got quite a bit to go. There was an exchange of guards during the read, got a new one with a white coat and blue eyes. He doesn't talk much either. Is there something on that wall that they're looking at that I can't see?

There's a knock at the door. I look up from the page and turn over my shoulder to see the guard shimmy aside as the door opens slowly.

"You have a visitor, sir," the guard says neutrally.

Through the doorway trots Orange. She's still wearing her cowboy hat, golden hair pulled back into a ponytail and green eyes shining at me. She stops a few steps into the room and narrows an eye towards me. I push my chair back slowly and stand cautiously, doing my best to keep my movements as transparent and unthreatening as possible. When I stand at full height I notice one of her hind legs instinctively plod behind her.

I raise my hands just above my shoulders and open my palms. My right hand doesn't like that very much and I grimace and grunt, breaking my posture.

"Yer still hurt?"

The hat, coupled with the drawl and the thickness of her accent is almost make me laugh on the spot. I do my best to withdraw that humor deep inside and instead give her a pained smile.

"Yeah. This time it was my fault, though."

She takes a few steps forward, analyzing and inspecting me. She narrows both eyes and tilts her head to the side.

"So yer a hyooman, huh?"

"That'd be me," I say with a nod.

"Are ya dangerous?" she asks, eyeing the guard nearby. He's a statue.

She knows I can be. She saw for herself in the clearing. I notice that her stare seems to be reaching deep down into the depths of my eyes. She's searching for something in my answer.

"Not to you," I say calmly, "would you like to sit?"

That seems to be good enough for her. I notice some of the tension bleed away from her.

I take in a breath and reorient the chair, sitting in it with sigh. She trots forward a tad and looks around the room, inspecting the various items and objects of my abode. She looks over the chair by the window and ultimately decides to fall back onto her haunches before me. Her green eyes flit about over me for a few moments and we sit there quietly, just looking at each other. I purse my lips together.

"Thank you, for saving me I mean."

Her head tilts in the other direction. Her eyebrow quirks beneath her hat.

"I wouldn't have survived all that if you hadn't... you know," I gesture.

Her lips pull towards a corner and she nods, "well, nopony deserves ta go like that. Not even scary hyoomans eatin' critters out in th' Everfree," she ends with a playful smirk.

I give a small smile at the pronunciation but decide against saying anything.

"Sorry about the whole meat thing, I probably gave you guys a scare with that."

"Don't worry 'bout it, plenty'a creatures in Equestria eat meat, ain't fair to deprive Winona of what she'd eat in th' wild."

"Winona?"

"Mah dog."

"Ah."

She stays quiet a moment, then rises from her seated position and approaches slowly. Uncertainly. I eye her up, trying to understand what's happening. Slowly, she lifts her right foreleg towards me, extended.

"Mah name's Applejack. Pleasure ta meet'cha."

A... handshake? Fistbump?

I awkwardly raise my injured hand and gently take her hoof into my palm.

"Liam."

A strange sensation splays out against the back of my hand as I feel a pressure sink into the skin, like a giant unseen thumb pushing against my knuckles. We shake for a second but my gaze is fixed onto her grip.

"Uh... ya okay there?"

"Yeah, just... what was that?"

"A hoofshake?"

I shake my head slowly, staring at her hoof in my grip. She retracts slowly and I sit there befuddled.

"No, it felt like you were holding my hand."

She stares at me like I grew an extra head.

"... 'cuz Ah was."

What?

"Was that magic?"

She laughs, short and uncertainly.

"No, sugarcube, it weren't any magic. Ah just took yer 'hand' and shook it!"

The confusion must be spilling over my face because she laughs again, more loosely this time. I chuckle at the absurdity of it and lean back in my chair some, focused on her hooves. I look back up to her and blink away the odd sensation. How strange.

"Huh. Guess that's why you have doorknobs."

"What?"

"Nothing," I shrug, "just talking to myself."

"Ya sound like Twilight," she says with a smirk.

"Maybe. We're both 'scientists'," I say with air-quotes.

She laughs.

"The others... they're okay, right?"

Applejack nods and pulls her lips inward. She dips her head a tad and looks back up with a sincere stare.

"Yep, you had 'em occupied pretty well on yer own. That noise-stick ya had kept 'em focused on you," she says, probably referring to the rifle, "ya gave Fluttershy a heck of a fright, though. Pretty sure ya scared Dash as well, never seen 'er look like that before."

"Sorry about that. I wasn't exactly at my best when all that happened."

She smiles warmly.

"Ain't got nuthin' ta apologize for. Ah'm sorry we didn't do more ta help," she says with a more somber tone, eyeing my cast.

"It's alright, the whole thing was a blur, for both of us I imagine."

She nods. We sit there in that emptiness for a few moments.

"So, where'd ya come from anyway?"

I take a breath and bite my cheek. I let it out slowly. I need to get used to these questions. I'm a stranger in a strange land, and everyone is going to want answers about home.

"It's a long story."

"Ah got time."

Author's Note

Sorry for the short entry, I've been feeling a little pooped lately. :ajsleepy:
Hope you all enjoy!

Again, love to see comments, good or bad! Let me know what you all think!

Chapter 7: Push and Shove

Push and Shove

The evening air is cool, too chilled for personal comfort, crisp and sharp.

Not cold, but a hair's width away from being entirely unpleasant. The coat of a pony does well to insulate, but the breeze, the draft can still penetrate the outer defenses. Luna should soon be dominating the night sky, painting a tapestry above the sleeping bodies of Equus, then retreating to her chamber to patrol the dreamscape.

She herself has had trouble sleeping of late, not that she would betray that to her sister. Princess Celestia hums softly to herself and glances over to the window, pouring out onto the balcony and giving way to the most breathtaking vista of Canterlot. How intriguing their lives must be, how normal, the ponies of her city. Each with their own story, beginning and ending with resounding notes of normalcy.

How she wishes she had the same comfort; heavy is the crown.

Celestia sits relaxed upon her chair, a wooden thing, simple and easy. A far cry from the troubling emissary of The Griffon Kingdom on his way to the suite. Her experiences with Ambassador Greatbeak had often been verbal sparring matches, diplomatic chessboards with which she fought many battles, but Greatbeak was not a good sportspony.

Often, Celestia was left with the impression that Greatbeak found her company a nuisance at best. He did well to disguise his emotions and his facial expressions, but the movements of his body were not so practiced. The best cards players in Equestria could not hide their intentions, nor their feelings from her gaze.

Despite the utility of the skill, she found the application to be a frustrating process.

Princess Celestia stands with a knock at the door, a calm and graceful rise. Guards usher within Ambassador Greatbeak, a retired general of the Imperial Claw, now an old and unfortunately familiar face. His long plumes of feathers have grayed with age, the old lion coat now faded and brittle, papery and frail. His beak is indeed quite great, the long dull yellow taut and firm in a mask of neutrality. His striking golden eyes remain vigilant and sharp, even in his age.

He nods to her Guardsponies, then looks to her. He says nothing, but Celestia predicts the outcome of this conversation will be similar to others shared. She beckons him in.

"Good evening, Ambassador," she says warmly, bowing her head.

"Good evening, Princess Celestia." Little wiggle room for warmth in the old generals speech, curt and formal. His voice has a quiet sharpness, like a blade drawn from a scabbard.

He walks in, his claws tapping against the polished sandstone flooring. Celestia glides back down to her chair, adjusting items upon the table. She takes the teakettle and heats it with her magic, inspecting the ambassador as she does so. He fidgets about in his chair, plush with deep red cushions, built to seat a king in relentless comfort.

A king he is not.

"Tea?"

"Yes, please," Greatbeak nods slowly.

It's been a few hours since the shots stopped. Every now and then, something will thud against the security door. I'm sitting against it, trying not to fall asleep. The plexiglass is covered in a layer of... something. Viscera. I don't want to attempt looking through it. I don't know if anyone made it on the other side. I've stopped crying. I can't bring myself to cry anymore. The power came back on briefly, went out again about five minutes later.

I've thought about shooting myself. I don't want to turn into one of those things, but I also don't have the constitution to put an end to it. At least, not here. Not alone. What time is it? The watch is cracked, I must've hit it against something in the struggle. It's still ticking. 4 PM. I must've fallen asleep at some point. I guess adrenaline can only take you so far when nothing's happening. I shift my weight and feel something in my pocket. I fish it out and I see Bootstrap's... Pete's silver crucifix. The strangest sense of déjà vu descends over me.

Why?

Enough is enough. The sound of my own voice in my head and I can't remember. I can't remember what I was thinking about. But I remember that I have to get out of here.

The nuke should have gone off by now, at least, according to what the facility manual stated regarding full containment breach. That means that either the situation is under control, or no one is around to activate it. Maybe that's what I'll do with the time I have left, before they find me. If I'm right, I'm somewhere in the East Wing of Gamma. I might still be able to make it out. But what does that mean? What does life mean when most everyone is SCP-2480-3? Whatever. It means nothing until I can find a map, and the evacuation route is on the other side of this door. I stand sluggishly and push forward. I guess that's all I can do. I stuff the crucifix back into my pocket.

I dig through cabinets and drawers, searching for anything of use. I think this wing of Gamma was devoted to SCP-940 files, considering all of the documentation I'm finding about this spider. It's frustrating and I hate spiders. I'm going cubicle to cubicle, none of the terminals are powered and none of the desks have anything of importance on them. I pull out drawers and throw them to the ground to keep everything in-sight. I manage to find a water dispenser and some paper cups, so at least thirst isn't an issue at the moment.

I take a cup and fill it, sipping as I review the carnage of this formerly neat office space. I loop around a few times to see if there's anything I've missed. No maps to be found. Look's like everyone knew their way around. I try the door at the other end of the hall, past the offices, but it doesn't budge. I look at the scanner and realize that my ID was still attached to my coat down in Delta. I slump against the wall and rest my head against it, breathing deeply. Even if there were a way out of Gamma, maybe even outside, I can't get to it.

Then I see it. There, on the wall, there's a small crease. It's almost invisible in this lighting, but I see it. I feel the air is cooler in this corner. Sure enough, there's a draft by my fingers. I try to pry the wall-door open, but it won't budge. I can hear the humming of machinery within. Then I push, and it recedes into the wall slightly. It stays there. I pull on the wall again and it slides open, revealing a dimly lit maintenance hallway. It's almost pitch-black in here, but spaced service lights illuminate a walkway. I put my mask back on.

I turn back to face the security door and I see something move behind the plexiglass. My heart tightens.

"Alright," I murmur quietly, "let's do this."

Why does this feel so familiar? I've said this before... what's happening?

My legs push me forward and I walk into the maintenance corridor with my pistol raised. What was I on about?

Following the tunnels for ten minutes gets me back out to the cafeteria, access port. I'm walking over and around corpses. There's bodies everywhere. Some still move and twitch, even buried under other bodies, but I figure making any fuss about it is going to draw unwanted attention. Bullet casings all over the place, guts and grime on the walls, the doors. The floors are wet. Blood, and lots of water. Was there a fire? I creep into kitchen and see someone standing there. They are facing away from me, twitching uncontrollably. I hear a painful gagging sound from the corner, and I see another figure pulling handfuls of... something, from a corpse. It slaps the handfuls against it's mouth and burbles incoherently.

I see a bottle of vodka on the counter, flanked by two glasses. Fire is good for putting these things down, right? What...

I'm backing up when I knock a soap dispenser off the wall. It clatters against the floor and makes the loudest sound I've ever heard, and it seems they've heard it too. The one in the corner looks at me like a frightened animal and chitters. The standing one doesn't turn around, it's head lulls back and distends down to it's lower back, looking at me upside-down.

It's McKay... McKay. I'm sorry.

All hell breaks loose.

The blend is from a Zebrican tribe, specifically requested for the fine smoky grape undertones, a rich presence with a pleasant tang. The aftertaste is better than the sip, a rare quality in tea, and a rarer blend she has yet to find. Greatbeak may not appreciate the sentiment and the thought behind the selection, but she will. Princess Celestia pours her tea into two teacups, ornately crafted, gold inlays and striking white porcelain.

"Canterlot is quite nice at this time of day, cooler. Not quite like Griffonstone, but nice," Greatbeak says with measured cadence.

"Indeed. Our weather teams work hard to ensure a comfortable climate," Celestia agrees.

"Hm."

She sets the two teacups gently down upon their trays and pushes his across the table with her magic. It slides and stops near his hands, a well-practiced maneuver over many, many centuries. It appears the theatrics do not register to Greatbeak. His tongue taps the top of his beak.

"You seem troubled, Greatbeak," Celestia says quietly.

Greakbeak pushes his saucer to the side with a talon, eyeing the Princess.

"I am," he begins with a similar volume, "deeply troubled."

Here it comes.

"Griffonstone needs to expand and we need your support in the matter. We need the territory to the East, Sugar Maple Grove," his tone grows more demanding as he finishes. A challenge of sorts.

"You forget, Ambassador, that Cobblerock is under protection of the Crown," Celestia says, then sips her tea, carefully watching his face.

In the most miniscule of motions, the feathers distort and shift, before once again blending into the mask.

"I will be upfront, I don't like this politics shit, and I don't like asking for things I know I won't get. I must ask that you cede some territory. The Empire needs it. Our farms are not producing enough for the winter, our hunters struggle to find good meat. The best we can do now is plan for the next."

Celestia sets her teacup down carefully and rotates the cup until the handle's shadow is cast over the side. She looks back to Greatbeak.

"I will not go back on my oath to the ponies of Cobblerock, Greatbeak. I can provide some of our harvest to alleviate the strain on your Empire, however," she says smoothly.

"You understand that King Galbeck won't accept it, your Highness. He's..." Greatbeak struggles to find the word.

"A stubborn old fool," Celestia finishes with a small smile.

The feathers of his neck rise imperceptibly, his claw tightening just a fraction. His eyes widen less than a centimeter. What was a mere observation has become a lance, striking at the heart of Griffon Pride.

"Do not speak of my King in that manner," he says tersely.

"Do you disagree? Galbeck has not-"

"I shan't besmirch his name, and I won't tolerate it of a pony!" Greatbeak shouts, his old voice breaking with passion, claw slammed down onto the table. The guard in the corner brandishes his gladius, the guard in the back charging his horn pre-emptively. He glares at her, an awful blade of a glare, and keeps his posture for a few moments. She nods to her guards to calm themselves.

"If you won't give it, we'll take it," he says, confidence draining, the bluff transparent.

Celestia's eyes light up and burn through him, down to the barest nub of his being. The challenge is open. He realizes quickly that he has treaded unfamiliar territory, that he has broken a core rule of the diplomats tenets. His eyes soften and his beak twists up, the mistake plain to see.

"I am sorry, Princess Celestia. I... have misspoken," he says quickly.

It is not enough and Celestia stands, chair thrown behind her.

The realm of dreams stretches on endlessly, a space shared by all creatures of Equus, a domain touched by the minds of mortals and built of their fears and aspirations. The work of the Lunar Princess was something she took very seriously, and during her banishment to the moon, the nightmares ran rampant throughout the minds of the sleeping. The cold comfort of the dream realm brought relief to Princess Luna, a reprieve from the stresses of the day and the trials of the waking hours. The nobles, the management of the Lunar Guard, the slow trickling of responsibilities from Princess Celestia's work-load.

This was where she felt the most at peace, but one nightmare echoes across the fabric of the domain, rippling outwards and pooling into the dreams of others. Princess Luna frowned. She had seen such nightmares before, but the sheer terror of this event exploded outward into a cacophony of anxious rumblings and fearful whispers. She had never seen one of this scale...

Save for Liam Webb.

Liam did not dream as the rest of ponykind did. Their dreams were vivid, bright orbs floating above their sleeping forms, obscured in the fog of the dream world. They radiated calm blues and panicked purples, while the griffons alternated between yellows and oranges, and the dragons kept golden and green. Their dreams often incorporated the more primal, aggressive nature of their species, the thrill of the hunt and the rush of combat. She often strayed from these dreams for fear of the psychic backlash that often resulted in the taming of those thoughts.

Liam's is a deep red, bright tendrils wrapped around it like vines, constricting and pulsing ominously in the space before him. Never before had she seen anything like this, these strange formations about a dreamer. Luna's heart thudded deep within her chest at the sight. The pulses it released sent tremors outwards, spilling some of that red into the dreams of nearby sleepers. She calms their dreams and approached Liam's orb. As she draws nearer, she feels another pulse wash over her, dread and terror sinking down to the bone. She shivers and shakes away the sensation.

His form writhes in the fog below, sprawled about and taken by his nightmares. She could try to dispel the terror from outside the dream, to calm the storm, but she felt a strangely familiar presence about his orb. Something dark, hungry and terrible, something she knew like a ghost of a memory.

She sets a hoof against the orb and the tendrils slither away from her touch, but flare in brightness and intensity, almost in agitation. They squirm and writhe and she swallows nervously.

Steeling herself for things to come, she inhales shakily, then enters the whirlwind.

The orb expands over her as she enters the dream, waves of red energy pooling and whizzing past her. The sensation is abrasive and uncomfortable, but not until she crosses the threshold does it become too much. Luna nearly doubles over as the waves of fear and stress pour over her. A patchwork tapestry of memories formed about ahead, details missing and blurred lines of areas without Liam's sight. The stench of bodies and the oppressive heat of the complex floats about her. She sees him, running through the hallways of this strange building, shapeless horrors in pursuit, terrible screeches resounding behind him.

"Liam!"

As the words leave her mouth, she feels an oppressive weight settle upon her shoulders, her forelegs rooted and her hindlegs straining under the strange pressure. She gasps instinctively and cranes her head to look over at this force. A shadow moves across the wall and she shudders uncontrollably as it retreats into the floor.

She begins to cast a spell to calm the dream, to dispel the nightmare, but nothing happens. In fact, she finds that the pressure returns, pushing inward against her horn. His fears cannot be this powerful, can they? She outstretches her wings to brush past her horn when a gnawing, scraping feeling permeates about the edges of her mind. Luna's eyes widen in panic. It floods in before she can put up a defense, memories of her banishment, memories of her sister and the Elements of Harmony flash before her eyes.

The isolation, the despair, the hatred and the fury. The heart-wrenching sensations pushes Luna to her knees and she stifles a sob. Flashes of fangs, torn limbs, sinew and bone, blood and gore. Bile rises in her throat and she scrunches her eyes tight.

"P̴̞͘ř̵͉e̴͚͊y̵̬͗."

The word explodes over her skeleton, spoken in a deep and guttural language. She understands not the word, but the meaning, and it burns and sizzles against her skin. Her fur stands and her brow furrows in concentration. She cannot find the assailant, it seems everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Luuuunaaa-"

"Enough!" she screams, sending a powerful flash of magic from her horn, dispelling the presence in her mind.

Something is there with them, spirit or demon, something is here and it is hostile. Luna stands and wipes away her tears with her wingtips, anger burning in her heart, frustration and agony twisting up her features. Whatever resides within Liam's mind must be vanquished.

The patchwork disappears as Liam makes his way further down the hall, the floor and ceiling disappearing into blackness. The shapes of the horrid monsters lumbering after him twist and deform, turning to face her. Her breath stops as vaguely realized, misshapen and cruel eyes settle upon her.

The dream constructs should not be able to see her. They reach out.

Luna charges her horn with a snarl.

"No, you have not misspoken. You have been very clear."

The words seem to reverberate in his mind after they leave her lips. Her mane, colored and tranquil, has become a restrained storm. She steps around the table and her hooffalls seem to crash as they land. Her hard gaze bores deep, and the air seems to grow hotter.

A big mistake. Celestia casts a spell and the sounds of the outside disappear. A show of force is in order, a language that the old general will understand.

"Let me be clear and drop our diplomatic pretenses, you overgrown pigeon. Do you know who I am? What I am?"

Greatbeak goes to stand, but finds no assistance in his legs. His heart tightens. She approaches.

"On my whims, I move the Sun," the word is like cannonfire, felt in his very bones.

His mouth opens, but no words come. She stands before him like a goddess of fire.

"I push and pull upon that star like a teacup. I have seen more wars than any who have lived, strength unimaginable, toppled and crushed empires beneath my hoof. I have watched civilizations rise and fall, grow and die."

Greatbeak can do little but witness the onslaught, see the glow of her eyes and the blinding light of her horn. He cannot escape, he cannot run. He can do nothing but witness. Like a volcano, the flow and current of her speech burns and scathes, a torture of its own breed. He had heard of the Royal Canterlot voice, but he assumed it was an exaggerated shouting. This was something else entirely.

"Who are you, griffon, to stand before me? To listen to the words I speak unto the world? If I wished it, Griffonstone would be ash, your people vagrants. Your arrogance," she booms, "is not welcome here."

The bubble around them disappears. He could hear outside again. He could see her guards now, exposed from their hiding places. They watched on in shock, and they watch now. The light dims again, then candles are relit with a quick ignition by her horn. She speaks softly, towering above him now, face like volcanic rock.

"I understand your position. I empathize, I truly do," she says softly, like a blanket during a snowstorm.

"That being said, if you ever, ever speak like that of my little ponies again, I shall pluck every feather from your sorry hide and send you back to Griffonstone immediately. Do you understand?"

Her eyes betray her exact intentions to follow through on that threat.

"Do you understand me, Ambassador?"

"Yes, Princess Celestia," he says quietly.

"Good. Now you will pardon me for the tone that you have set for this conversation. Cobblerock is under my protection. Cobblerock will cede no land to the Griffon Empire. Sugar Maple Grove is mine. If any action is made against Cobblerock, I will consider it an attack on Equestrian soil. You will have grain sent to you by train in three weeks time, which you will accept or deny, dependent upon your common sense. No more and no less."

She dares him to object with her eyes.

"Very well," he says somberly.

He does not.

"On the matter of your Graymourne expedition, we shall send some members of the Lunar Guard to act as escorts and scouts, alongside some of our own researchers. Do you find that acceptable?"

His defiance surges.

"Does the answer I give matter?"

"No. If you wish to negotiate more, return tomorrow with more tact and decorum befitting an ambassador, otherwise you will make do with what stands now. Leave my sight," she finishes lowly.

He stands briskly and is out the door without any word. She exhales slowly and smiles at her guards with a motherly face, tinged with regret and shame.

"I am sorry you had to see all that."

"I'm just happy I didn't hear it, ma'am," Flash Sentry answers.

She quirks an eyebrow at him and he smiles sheepishly.

The walls are closing in, my heart is thudding in my chest and bodies are rising off the floor. Some reach for me, I'm too fast. One of them turns towards me on the ground and I kick it in the head while I'm running. I can see the burnt-out remnants of the Ethics Committee Boardroom down the hall to my left. There was a fire.

Left. I'm near my cubicle, down the hall to the right is Torrez' office. Bathrooms two doors down from that, security another down from them. They're behind me, not very fast, but fast enough. A lot of them are charred beyond recognition, mutated or otherwise hacked apart by bullets, but I can still see glimpses of people I know in some. I run down the hall and pass Torrez. Wait.

Torrez? She's sitting in the corner of her office with the door locked, but I can see her through the shutters. She has her eyes closed. Is she dead? I bang on her door with a closed fist and see no movement. Her ID card is hanging on her coat jacket. The moans and groans of the infected are getting closer. Fuck. Fuck! I punch through the glass with the bottom of the pistol. The glass tears into the flesh of my hand, along the back and bottom. I'd scream, but I've got no time. I clear what I can from the pane and jump through. I ripped the bottom of my trousers going through, but I'm in here now. I stuff my gun into the back of my waistband and I move over to her body to grab the ID card.

"Liam, hear us!"

What was that?

Before I can yank it off, her eyes open and she grabs my arm. She tries to bite me and I kick her back down to the ground. Her eyes are wide, and now that I'm close, I can see chunks of flesh missing from her leg. She swipes at me, but I'm faster. I kick her again, and again, and again. I lose myself for a moment, the intensity of it all. When I step back, her head is a puddle, hair matted and wet against the carpet.

I swallow weakly at the sight, throat dry and eyes misted.

"Sorry Torrez..."

One of them gets through the broken window. It flails and hits the ground. I grab Torrez' keycard and go through the door. One of them tries to grab me but I club it with the bottle. It falls to the side and I retreat. There's too many of them, and they're getting faster now. Hive-mind? Pheromones? There's no time to think about the science behind it, I need to get to the security office. If I'm right, the security office is connected to the North and South hallways, meaning I can take the North hall back to the evacuation route.

I get to the door and use the card. I get in and shut the door. I don't have to worry about them getting through the plexiglass. My hand hurts, bad. I rip my sleeve on my left arm and wrap it up, tying it as tight as I can against the skin. There's already a lot of blood on the floor; I'm leaking. It's going to hurt worse in a second, I'm going to pour the vodka on it. It has to be done. The sharp heat in my hand becomes molten when the first droplets hit my makeshift bandages. I have to stop myself from screaming. I'm sweating like crazy, shaking.

I sit down for a moment in one of the free swivel chairs and rest my head in my left hand. I set the bottle down, the pain is intense. I'm breathing too fast. I take the mask off and lean back into the chair. I look over to the plexiglass and see them staring at me, some are trying to break through. They can't seem to figure it out. A-plus for effort, you bastards. One of them turns away from the glass to look down the hall, then looks back to me. It's eyes are different, terrible and knowing. A mutant? Red and black. Melting, rotting, breaking, bleeding.

"Begone, Demon!" The words, the scream, it echoes throughout the floors and shakes the very foundations of reality. That voice... where have I heard that voice? My gun slips and falls to the floor, falling through it. The fear stays, the heart working away, but the pain withers away into nothingness. The room, the walls, all bleeding away.

She's there, in that darkness. Her dark blue coat and her billowing mane like a beacon in a void. I run to her, but my legs begin sinking in the black. I writhe and shout, punching at it, sinking further and further.

Her horn illuminates the darkness with a massive explosion of light, and behind her, I see Hell itself.

I scream out, and the darkness bleeds away in a flash of panic.

Author's Note

I have not edited this at all, so sorry if there's mistakes! Hope you all enjoy!
:D

EDIT: Comments, as always, are welcome here!

* EDIT 2: Original chapter ending has been moved to the beginning of the first chapter!

Chapter 8: Horror from Another World

Horror from Another World

I hit the floor in the dark, lying on my side. I stand and pull some trousers up off the ground, the ones I wore yesterday. The siren is still blaring, socks and shoes. Belt, gunfire. I pull on a button-up and start on the buttons when I open the door. The lights out here are blinding. There's no one in the hallway, but I can hear sounds down the way. Footsteps, running, shouting.

I close the door. Fuck. We can't possibly have a containment breach now? Can we?

I put on Dad's watch and grab the pistol. Never shot it before, hopefully I won't need to change that. I open the door with the pistol in-hand when the lights go out. The emergency power lights come on, bathing the hallway in red light. I need to find Claire. I'll be damned if I leave her behind. She's my only friend down here. More than that...

There's a loud bang down the hallway. Metal scraping the floor, and fleshy wet slaps against the tiling. I raise the pistol and back away from the noise. Whatever is over there is coming towards me. The smell in the hall has changed, and I notice a slight haze creeping along the floor.

The door nearest to the corner opens, and I see a terrified maintenance-man, Richards, look out towards the sound. He starts running, but doesn't get far. One of the 939's is loose. It lumbers with terrifying speed towards him, pouncing on his back. He screams and thrashes, trying to push it away, and it screams back at him in his own voice. It brings its toothy maw down to him, sniffing at him. Richards screams and protests have died out, lying on the floor silently.

Fuck! What do I do? I look at the pistol and I hear a sick crunch. It tears him in half. His upper body hits the floor with a loud thwap, eyes staring towards me in shock. His mouth opens and closes silently, murmuring to himself. I could've saved him. Maybe I could've...

A sound down the hall makes the 939 turn towards me. My systems get a horrible shock and I know I can't sit around and grieve. It knows I'm here. I turn on my heel and run for my life. My footfalls echo against the walls as I run towards the elevator to Sector Gamma and get the hell out of Delta. It's behind me. I can hear it sprinting after me. Fuck, fuck fuck! As I turn the corner to the right, a hand grabs my shirt and throws me to the ground.

There's a gun in my face, specifically the barrel. MTF, Nu-7. I can't tell who it is. I put my hands up. Two more MTF units move around him, rifles raised tight against their chest and then leveled forward past him. They immediately fire down the hallway, bursts. A third comes around with a rocket launcher, shouts something and fires, deafening me and filling the entire area with smoke. The MTF agent grabs me and hauls me up, pushing me in the direction of the elevator. He turns around and begins firing through the smoke with his comrades.

I throw myself into the elevator and punch the button for Gamma. The doors close and I have a few moments to think. The siren is faint now, muffled. That might just be my eardrums ruptured. Richards... No. Focus. Claire's going to be working a shift somewhere in Gamma today. She should be. She's got to be there. Or...

The doors open before I have time to doubt myself. There are two MTF soldiers watching the doors as I exit. They are shouting something at me and point in a direction. The entire corridor looks like something straight out of a horror film. There's blood splattered against the walls, some dripping from the ceiling. I don't look at it for too long. Other staff members are being ushered along by a security officer. His faceplate is pushed upright, and he has a gas mask on, too. Another is giving out gas masks ahead of him, down the hallway and through the next door to the security junction. The next hall is absolutely filled to the brim with people shoving and pushing their way forward.

I shuffle about in the line. My ears are ringing. I can barely hear. The security guard is shouting at me, "ID! ID!"

"I left it behind! 939 in Delta! No time!" At least I can hear myself somewhat properly.

He nods in agreement, "No time! Mask! Forward!"

"Have you seen Claire?!"

He shakes his head, and I don't know if he even knows who I'm talking about. Maybe she got out first?

I stuff the pistol into my waistband and take the gas mask from the other security guard. I tighten it around my head. My peripherals are not good in this mask. We are ushered forward towards a metal security gate, bright LED lights shine through the opening. Three more MTF are standing there, weapons at the ready. They're watching us intently as we shuffle through. Hallway to my left is empty, save for the occasional staff member running to meet the crowd. Down the hallway to my right, more MTF... they're burning the offices. There's a leg sticking out of the doorway.

Jesus Christ... It's not Claire. It's not Claire. That's not Claire. It can't be...

"Liam!"

"LUNA!"

The world comes to me in a flash and I bolt upright, sweating. The room spins, blues and yellows colliding in explosions of color, a breeze sweeping past damp skin and matted hair. Two solar guards stand in my room, muzzles hovering above me, a pegasus and a unicorn. They watch with hesitance and uncertainty as my chest rises and falls quickly. That wasn't real. None of that was real. Just a dream, just a memory. But something's wrong.

"Sir?" The beige pegasus says.

"Don't..." I gasp. My heart is pounding. Breathe. I take a few moments to calm myself.

"Should we fetch the doctor?" the pegasus asks, green eyes filled with concern.

"No!" I shout.

"Sir, calm down," the gray unicorn says sternly, blue eyes narrowed.

The adrenaline is still coursing through me.. His eyes are focused, and I notice a slight glow of his horn. That same glow is wrapped around the handle of the sword at his side. The twitch of his nervous foreleg tells me to take it easy.

"I need to see Princess Luna," I rasp.

"You can see her in the morning, Sir."

I let out a raggedy sigh and slump somewhat in the bed. I look over the nightstand for my water and take anxious gulps. It does little to calm the nerves and I rest on my elbows. The two guards relax some as I take a moment for myself, chest heaving. Fuck. I sit up proper and rub my face.

"Okay, sorry," I say tiredly.

Guess I'm not sleeping tonight. Figure I can try at writing that letter-

A wall of blue light bleeds through the walls of the castle, passing over us and beyond the castle. The world shakes, trembles. The walls groan and the floors quiver. Paintings fall from the walls and items topple from the shelves. Both of the guards look around in alarm and watch the world rattle. My blood pumps faster. They draw their weapons, the brown pegasus flexing his wings to reveal sharpened metal tips at the bone.

The pegasus nervously asks, "what was that magic?"

"I don't know," he says to the pegasus and turns to me, "stay here, do not leave under any circumstances."

"No, something's wrong. I'm coming with you."

"Stay here, Sir," he stresses.

The world trembles again and the paint on the walls boils and bubbles, bloody pustules exploding underneath the coat on the wall close to the door. My chest tightens. They vanish after a moment, the paint warped. No. It can't be. It couldn't have followed me... The glaring hole in my memory burns at the edges of my brain, melting my resolve. Doubt floods my heart. I brought it back with me? It followed me?

"Keep away from the walls," I whisper.

The unicorn guard rounds on me, eyes alert. His jaw clenches.

"Did you do this?"

I swallow weakly.

"Maybe, but I didn't mean for it to happen, I need to come with you. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

The guards look between each other in silent debate. The pegasus rolls his shoulders. I don't wait for an answer and throw my sheets off the bed, stepping up from the sweat-soaked fabrics. I begin fixing my shoes on and grab the crucifix from the nightstand.

The unicorn opens his mouth to protest but I quickly make my way to the door. I swing it open and see the hallway in disarray. A lone earth pony stallion wearing a butlers garb looks about the hallway in terror, then runs into a nearby room, long black mane flapping in the air behind him.

Shouts ring out across the castle, chaos and terror. Why? Wasn't one world enough?

The pegasus moves first, flying to the door and out into the hall.

"We need to find Princess Luna," I say gravely.

"We need to rally with the other guards," the unicorn says, ignoring me.

"Listen to me! I don't know how, or why, but Princess Luna is in danger! If you can't help me, point me to someone who can, you dumb bastard!"

He shifts and turns to me in anger, his posture raising aggressively. It doesn't intimidate me, given our height difference. I don't have time to argue with him as another pulse reverberates throughout the world. The hall shifts and turns, tile becoming flesh, chandeliers blending into grotesque sacks of meat hanging from the ceiling. A foul smell of rotting flesh permeates the air, the guards both recoiling in disgust. I swallow back the sickness and blink away the tears.

"I need a weapon!"

"Absolutely not!"

"God damn it, listen to me! There's no fucking time to-"

A groan echoes across the disgusting tunnel of malformed meat. It shakes the bones and heart, multiple voices lay upon each other in a horrifying call. The groan becomes a wail of agony, and we see the creature responsible. We wish we hadn't.

No time.

It looks like a pony at a passing glance, but the coat is gone. The flesh is inside-out, bulging bony protrusions cutting through the flesh. Its hooves are warped and angled awkwardly, a ridge of bones splaying outwardly in painful spires. The head, lopsided, heavy, a mane of tendons and sinew falling over its face. We stare in horror when it shambles, unsteady, uneven placement of the hooves against the fleshy floor beneath it, before looking up at us.

"What in Tartarus..." the pegasus gasps.

The eyes are missing, in their place, mouths with bloody tongues tasting the air like a pair of snakes. Its maw opens and a broken, twisted arm reaches out, a frail and pale limb. In the center of the palm, a reddened, oozing eye. It screeches and charges, hooves splitting apart into a series of spider-like legs.

"What the buck?!"

"Don't let that fucking thing touch you!" I shout.

The unicorn screams in terror and charges a spell while the pegasus brings the bladed wings up defensively. The unicorn fires a spell, some kind of magical bolt, and the creature evades with uncanny speed. The arm retreats within the creatures maw and it gnashes broken teeth when it collides with the pegasus. He uses the blades to swipe at the legs and shouts in surprise as it lunges towards him, sending them both to the ground.

No...

I grab a nearby vase and throw it at the creature. The ceramic shatters uselessly against the fleshy hide of the beast, but I have its attention. It hisses, maw opening and a tendril of flesh shooting out towards me. I gasp and fall to my knees, the appendage breaking through the wall behind me. It hangs there above me, embedded into the wall, the white paint flecking off to reveal a horrible sac of rancid flesh bubbling underneath. The appendage is cut in half as the unicorn brings down his sword upon it, the tendril hanging limply from the wall, red liquid dripping out onto the floor.

The pegasus stabs at the creature while its distracted, his wings dipping in and out of its torso. Blood flies everywhere, dripping onto the guard. It howls in pain and lunges down to bite at him. He keeps it at bay as best he can, but he's getting tired, on his back and pinned by the monster. Not again!

"NOT AGAIN!"

I spring up and rush forward, slamming into it with my shoulder and sending it into the wall. It screeches and the sinew parts again, revealing those horrible mouths. The pegasus scrambles to his hooves as the mouths scream in unison. I kick the table over and grab at one of the legs, breaking it off. I grab at it firmly with both hands, my wounded hand flaring up in anger over the tight grip. It spreads its forelegs wide and prepares to charge us. I grit my teeth and ready my makeshift club. It runs forward recklessly and a fiery bolt of magic strikes the creature in the head. The flesh immolates, as does the gore upon the wall, arteries pumping crimson liquid burning up. The wail it makes sends shivers down my spine. It staggers forward, fire consuming the flesh, intent on killing us in its final moments.

The world shakes and the horror disappears, the creature vanishing, along with the meaty manifestations on the walls. Now we're standing in the hallway, ragged and scared, a curtain nearby alight with flame. The unicorn pulls down the curtain and stomps on it, putting out the flames. I relax somewhat, bringing the club to my chest. My heart's beating a thousand miles a minute. More cries and shouts echo from deeper within the castle, bouncing from wall to wall.

"I brought it back with me..." I say, an icy fear settling over my brain. Another world doomed, all because I survived. The thought brings me to the edge of collapse.

The pegasus looks himself over, the blood gone, the only reminder of the fight being a bite on his shoulder. A bite. My blood runs cold. He paws at it and looks to the spot where the creature once was. I tighten my grip on my club. I failed. Again.

"You're infected," I whisper.

"What? Infected with what?" He's scared. I am, too.

The unicorn turns back to me and pushes me against the wall with his magic. I have no time to react before I'm hoisted up off the ground, a pressure on my chest and shoulders. He seethes, rage splayed across his muzzle.

"What the buck is going on, human?!"

"He's infected," I say gravely, pointing to the pegasus, "he'll become like that unless we kill him first."

"What?! N-no, I-" the pegasus stammers.

"Infected with what?! What are you on about? What sickness is this?"

"There's no time. It takes a few seconds for it to set in," I say, shaking my head slowly, "I'm sorry."

The world shakes again, blisters appearing on the floor and bone jutting out at odd angles through the walls. The groaning and tearing noise makes my knuckles tighten.

"Like that? I'm gonna be like that? Oh Sweet Celestia, no... Steelheart, don't let me-"

Steelheart stands in front of me, sword pressed to my throat. His eyes burn into mine, then he looks back to his companion.

"Shut up! You're not infected!" He shouts over his shoulder, then turns to shout at me, "Sunny's not infected with whatever the buck you're talking about!"

"He's FUCKING INFECTED!" I roar, "NO ONE WAS IMMUNE! NO ONE MADE IT!"

Steelheart looks unsure, glancing back at his fellow guard. The pressure on my throat lightens. I can't tell if the tears are from the lump in my throat, or the pressure on my chest.

"How long until..." Sunny begins to ask, but can't find the resolve to finish the question. His legs shake.

"Not long."

"Don't... I don't want to be one of those things, Steel," Sunny says calmly.

"You won't! This is bucking crazy! Don't you listen to him Sunny!"

"I can't be one of those things, Steel. I'm sorry," he says as he brings his wing blades to his throat. Steelheart drops me from the wall and turns back to his friend. The sword clatters against the floor. He grabs the wings with his magic, struggling against them.

"No! Don't you do it you-"

They struggle. Something's off.

"Wait!"

Tick tock. Red lights bleed into existence on the ceiling above. Some of the flooring becomes that gray, sterile tile that I've walked before. The guards notice the castle changing, deforming in unfamiliar ways. We stand there in silence, save for our labored breathing.

It's still not real. I point to Sunny.

"He should have turned by now."

"W-what?" he stammers.

"He should have turned... but he's..." I turn to look up at the spinning red lights. Security lights.

"I'm not sick?"

"Make up your mind! What's happening?!" Steelheart shouts.

"It's not real," I say calmly, approaching the window. I place my hand on the cold glass and gaze out, then look back to Steelheart. Steelheart rubs his muzzle with his hoof.

"Seemed pretty real to me!" Sunny exclaims.

"No, it's... ponies don't have arms."

"What?"

"The creature had an arm, a human one, sprouting from the mouth, right?"

They nod, unsure of what I'm getting at.

"These... creatures are from my nightmares."

Steelheart gasps and Sunny paws at his bite wound.

"What kind of nightmares do you have?" Steelheart says fearfully.

"Memories." I say, gesturing to the window.

"We're in your nightmare?" Sunny asks, teeth grit at he prods his wound.

"No, it's out here," Steelheart says in realization.

"And it's not just mine," I say, gesturing to the window. I take a deep breath and slump my shoulders.

The two guards approach silently, staring beyond the castle with me. Neither speaks, neither breathes. Steelheart removes his helmet and sets it down on the floor, running a hoof across his golden cropped mane. The cold, cratered landscape stretches on for eternity, Equestria wiped away, exchanged for the rocky surface. The stark white landscape is contrasted with an endless black void, no stars to be seen, with a reddened planet hovering in the distance.

Sunny breaks the silence.

"Sweet Celestia... we're on the moon."

Author's Note

I know where I want the story to go but MAN am I having a tough time sitting down to write it. Hope you all enjoy the chapter, wish it was a bit longer, but I have more on the way!

Have a great morning/day/evening/night, and leave a comment telling me what you think!

Chapter 9: Hell in Canterlot Castle

Hell in Canterlot Castle

It's been a few hours since the shots stopped. Every now and then, something will shift behind the security door. I'm sitting against it, trying not to fall asleep. The plexiglass is covered in a layer of... something. Viscera. I don't want to attempt looking through it. I don't know if anyone made it on the other side. I've stopped crying. I can't bring myself to cry anymore. The power came back on briefly, went out again about five minutes later.

I've thought about shooting myself. I put the gun barrel beneath my jaw and let it sit there for a while. I couldn't do it. Couldn't bear it. The cowards way out.

I don't want to turn into one of those things, but I also don't have the constitution to put an end to it. At least, not here. Not alone. What time is it? The watch is cracked, I must've hit it against something in the struggle. It's still ticking. 4 PM. I must've fallen asleep at some point. I guess adrenaline can only take you so far when nothing's happening. I shift my weight and feel something in my pocket. I fish it out and I see Bootstrap's... Pete's silver crucifix.

Why'd it have to be you? It should've been me.

The nuke should have gone off by now, at least, according to what the facility manual stated regarding full containment breach. That means that either the situation is under control, or no one is around to activate it. Maybe that's what I'll do with the time I have left, before they find me. If I'm right, I'm somewhere in the East Wing of Gamma. I might still be able to make it out. But what does that mean? What does life mean when most everyone is SCP-2480-3? Whatever. It means nothing until I can find a map, and the evacuation route is on the other side of this door. I stand sluggishly and push forward. I guess that's all I can do. I stuff the crucifix back into my pocket.

Enough is enough.

Never really been a fighter, but I'll be damned if I'll let the base fall into the hands of those Sarkic assholes. I'm going to turn this facility into a big fuck-you fireball we can all burn in together.

I'm taking you all with me, you sons of bitches.

"Watch out!"

I throw myself backwards as the beast lunges towards me, a horrible amalgamation of equine and human features, tendon and muscle and meat soaring above me. It crashes against the floor behind me, sobbing and screaming. I spin around and advance, club in hand, then bash the damn thing in the face. It warbles out a cry and jabs at me with broken hooves.

The world shifts and the creature disappears. The smell of sulfur still hangs in the air. I tighten my grip on the club and retreat towards my pony backup, scanning the walls. When realities aren't merging and nightmares aren't manifesting to kill us all, I'd bet this dining room would look pretty fancy.

The ground shakes again and I space my legs out for balance. Steelheart yelps and a screech follows. I spin around to see Steelheart put up a shield and stop the beast midair, colliding against the energy barrier with a hum. A familiar pegasus dives in from above the shield and cuts at the creature. Human lips peel back on one of the forelegs and a whip-like tongue strikes at him, knocking him from the air with a grunt.

I charge around the shield and swing upward, colliding with the lower mandible. It's knocked upwards and away, the shield drops behind me. It's open, lying on its back. I advance and that tongue lashes out at me, I try to dodge, but I feel the razors cutting me across the stomach. The hot, searing pain spreads around my abdomen.

"Grgh..."

Sunny gets back on his hooves, unsteady, wing-blades limply dragging on the ground.

It goes to stand and bares an ungodly row of unaligned teeth, wet with blood and bile. I push through the pain, throwing my weight behind a sideways swing. The blow connects with the side of the skull with a sickening crack. The creature drops again and it starts to fade away, disappearing with another magical tremor.

"Liam, you're-"

I raise my hand up to silence him. The gesture works. We breathe hard, ready for another attack. Waiting for the nightmare to return. I gently touch at the fresh wound. Pain, blistering heat. Bleeding. That needs to wait. Wait until this thing's dead.

The smell comes first, then the creature. It appears in front of me, charging. As it comes closer, I kick towards it, making contact with one of the forelegs. It bends backwards and snaps. The creature lets out a human-like scream. Steelheart runs up and impales the creature with a levitating gladius. It writhes and hisses and I hit it again, blood splattering out across the marble floor. It sprawls out on the tile.

"Die you sunnavabitch!"

I throw myself on top of it and bring the club down again. Again! Again!

"Liam!"

I look over my shoulder at Sunny Skies. He eyes the body nervously. Or maybe me. I breathe out with a snarl and cave in the skull, bone and brain matter on my shirt. I grimace in disgust and the wound on my stomach flares up. Red light filters in through the windows, the foreign planet sitting in the darkened sky outside.

Gonna have to get this sewn up. A new shirt wouldn't be so bad either.

"Can never be too sure. They look dead, always make sure," I grunt and stand, wobbly and tired.

Steelheart and Sunny are at my sides. The latter looks like he wants to bolt, but he swallows that down. Look on his face tells me he's in a bad way inside. I'm surprised that he still trusts me after what we've been through. After everything we've seen.

"How can you... kill... like that?"

"Necessity," I utter. A half-truth.

"That's not necessity! That's..." Say it then.

Sunny looks disturbed and prods the corpse with a hoof.

"This is worse than the Changeling Invasion. We never had to... never had to..." Steelheart gags as he looks over the body. Sunny averts his eyes, then focuses on me.

"You're hurt, Liam," Sunny says in concern.

"I know. There's no time. We keep going."

His green eyes betray his worries. We've been fighting almost non-stop for the past hour, and he can tell that I'm going to have trouble moving soon, especially with this cut. These damn ponies do cardio or something.

"We need to keep moving. The nightmares are impermanent, no telling when we'll be fighting again," I say and groan as the wound stretches.

They lead me down the hall and into the doorway at the end. We come to a large circular room with an enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the center. The room seems untouched from the distortions. My head spins a tad and I brace myself against the wall.

"Is this the... grrnn... the atrium?" I mumble.

"Yeah, everypony in the guard should be nearby," Steelheart says as he rushes forward. "Come on, let's find them!"

I take a step forward, but I stumble and fall to my knees. Fuck, this is bad.

My eyes water and my tongue feels dry in my mouth. I feel my heartbeat thump in my chest. I'm falling apart. Fuck, I wasn't cut out for this, body isn't working right.

"Liam!" Sunny shouts. It sounds far away.

I put my hand up and look at the floor.

"I'll make it," I whisper. "We keep going. No stops."

He frowns, "we're getting you a healer as soon as we can." I nod.

I get to my feet and stumble forward, breathing hard. I approach the edge of the stone floor. I glance at the others.

"Try not to lose your head, Sunny. That's what they want."

Sunny moves ahead to catch up with Steelheart. I take a second for myself, panting and groaning in pain. My vision is blurry. I reach the doorframe and lean against it. The air is cold and stale, the light dim. I pant and close my eyes. A high-pitched whine fills the room and my ears ring. The air before me ripples like water and a growl rumbles from the fabric of reality.

I turn. There stands a nightmare, taller than me. It has three sets of arms and a single set of legs. A hideous maw opens in its chest, revealing rows of sharp fangs. Its skin is pale, transluscent, and seems to shimmer. The eyes are red, ooze flowing from the sockets. Intestines drag on the floor behind it as it leaps towards me.

I get the club up in time, just barely, and manage to embed the table leg within the horrible mouth. I cry out as my belly burns. The tableleg shatters to splinters and the creature grumbles. My heart thuds in my chest. It shifts against me and pushes me onto the floor. The intestines drag on my pants, slimy tendrils wrapped around my leg. I punch at the creature, breaking its feeble jaw. The beast chokes back a shout and disappears.

I get back to my feet unsteadily. My legs burn, lactic acid in all my muscles. I feel heavy. My vision's blurred. Sweat runs down my forehead, a feverish chill spreading over my skin. I breathe deep and hard, scanning the room. I try to call out to the others, but my voice gives out. I hear it behind me.

I whirl, expecting it to jump out at me. But it's already gone. The air shimmers and it reappears, only feet away from me. This time I don't move fast enough. The monster grabs me by the throat and lifts me off my feet, choking me, bony digits on one of the arms looking around under the barrel of the beast. Needle-like fingernails dig into my flesh. Another hand clasps over my throat.

I scream and thrash about, but it's no use. I'm lifted up and the thing's hands are on my neck, squeezing tight. I gasp for breath and tears stream from my eyes.

This is it. This is where I die.

"Marble! We can't keep up with the wounded, anypony that can fight needs to be out there!"

An ominous red light pours through the stained glass windows of the infirmary. They had only just retaken it from the creatures, and they still appeared in territory captured. This wasn't war, this wasn't a battle; this was slaughter. A gray earth pony with a white mane and brown eyes bites her tongue. She wasn't trained for this.

'Too many injured, but too many monsters. If this doesn't change soon, we're all going to Elysium', she thinks gravely.

She turns to Neat Stitch, forelegs doused in blood, the blood of her comrades. Ponies lie in stretchers around the room, candles lit beside them as Stitch hovers from guard to guard, treating their wounds. HIs face, emotionless and professional, is only a mask for the unbridled horror and stress of the situation.

"You want me to turn them back, Stitch?"

He looks up with a grim glance. The unicorn beneath him writhes in agony, a long laceration across his midsection.

"You have to," he says, "we're running out of space and Nurse Plunger..." he dips his head towards a body, covered in a white tarp, blood seeping through the fabric. "I can't keep up by myself, and everypony who can fight needs to keep this infirmary safe. Can you do that for me? Please?" His tone wavers.

She swallows back a lump in her throat, then nods.

"Say it then," he says aggressively.

"I can."

"Good, get to it then!"

'Celestia help us all,' she thinks.

I kick at it, but it's no use. My screams are muffled. Steelheart and Sunny...

No, now is not the time. The thought makes me furious. I struggle in vain, fists slamming into the creature's gut and face.
And then it disappears with a horrendous screech, flesh flaying outward and bones cracking outwards. The blood and gore dissipates in the air like steam.

I drop to the floor, gasping for breath. My vision is darkening. Every breath feels harder than the last.

My heartbeat is slowing, or my brain can't keep up.

"Keep going."

A woman's voice. The voice is cold, tone scolding, demanding. A frosty wind passes over me, stripping away all heat. I grab at my throat and look up to see two teal wisps set in a black puff of smoke, cerulean eyes gazing out from the abyss. The vague form vanishes in an invisible wind. I find my stomach no longer hurts.

I look down to see my shirt, torn and tattered, bloody, but a long bright pink scar where that wound was. It feels taut, tight in my skin, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Up. I get on my feet and feel... rejuvenated.

"Liam, we've found-..." Sunny runs back in with a dark green unicorn mare and Steelheart in tow. They stop when they see me standing.

"You shouldn't be standing." Steelheart glances at me, looking confused. I shake my head.

"I shouldn't, no. Where's everyone else?"

Steelheart brandishes his sword. He levels it at me in fear.

"Stop wasting time," I growl, "where is everyone?"

He lowers his sword and the mare steps forward.

"Mister Human, eh... sir, everypony is scattered. Only a few made it out to the courtyard, and then..." the green mare trails off. Blood reaches up past her forelegs. That stays; that's pony blood. She looks to Sunny and her lip quivers. Poor gal.

I take a deep breath. This is all going to hell too fast for my liking.

"Where's Princess Celestia?" I press.

The green mare steels herself and recomposes. She looks at me with renewed resolve.

"She's in the Ambassadors Suite, lots of ponies are there, they're working on a defensive position. Casualties are mounting, but we're trying to get everypony back to safety."

"Addressing the symptom, not the problem. Princess Luna?"

"I... I don't know. The Lunar Guard should be with her."

The ground shakes again and the chandelier swings violently. We all dive away as it comes crashing down, glass and diamond scattering across the floor. The corruption spreads out over the surfaces of the walls, a sickly sweet smell, decay, permeating the air. We get our bearings.

"I don't know how much more of this I can handle!" Steelheart cries.

Sunny runs a hoof up and down his back. The green mare takes a step back, scanning the room in fear. It's all going to hell again. I can see them breaking down. I can feel their hearts sagging in their chests.

The cold darkness seizes my heart. They will all die. They will all die and it's my fault for not dying where I was meant to. They will all die because I failed to stop it on my own world. Now I can't stop it here. My own memories, a weapon against those that took me in. Gave me a second chance, and they suffer for it.

Gnawing.
"Someone grab that piece of shit and let's get moving."
Clawing.
"... unable to retaliate effectively..."
Scraping.
"Webb!"
Burning.

I shake off the feeling. No more. Do or die.

"Listen up," I say tightly. Their eyes turn back towards me.

"I don't know how to stop this, but I know where to start and I need your help. I don't know much about magic, but these things are made of it, right?" For a moment, I think my rally falls on deaf ears, but I see their postures change ever-so-slightly. The mare stands taller and moves towards me.

The mare nods. "Illusion magic," she says, "very advanced illusion magic. They aren't dispelled by our counter-magics."

"Then we need to find Princess Luna. She's casting it. We need to find her and stop all this. Where is she usually around this time?"

"The throne room, probably," Steelheart says, sniffling.

"Are you saying she's doing this?" The mare's words burn with anger.

"Not intentionally. Is it possible to stop a spell someone is casting?"

"Yes, every spell can be unwound."

"Do you know how to do that?"

Her face registers the importance of the request. Her purple eyes look over Steelheart and Sunny. Her lips contort into a grim line. She nods.

"Good. Then I know where to go." I glance around. "Sunny, you and Steelheart, find everyone you can and get them to the ambassador suite. If you see any other monsters coming, run and hide. Fighting is a last resort. Don't let them corner you. Sunny, I need you to protect Steelheart if something happens."

"I don't need to be protected!" Steelheart shouts.

"You're shaken. You need a break and we need range against these fucking things, everyone of you with a horn is damn important to keep these things back. You're going to get everyone you can out, then get back to Princess Celestia."

"But-"

"No buts. Do you understand?"

He nods.

"I'll do my best."

"Don't die," I snap. They take off, hoofsteps echoing down the hall. I turn back to the mare.

"You, what's your name?" I ask the mare.

"Peridot Beam," she replies.

The castle shakes again and I brace myself against the wall. Peridot splays her legs out for balance. It feels like this thing is going to slide down the mountainside. Every tremor is worse than the last. The castle lurches to the side and furniture slides out of place. This needs to stop and fast, or the nightmares will be a secondary issue.

"You're coming with me, Peridot. You're going to unwind the spell."

"I... I can try."

"You will unwind it. We are fixing this, alright?"

She takes a raggedy breath.

"Alright."

I get an idea.

"Where's the armory?"

Author's Note

So, this isn't the length that I wanted, BUT! I wanted to get something out to you all. Didn't want to keep you waiting, but funny enough, you're going to have to wait again. Road to hell is paved with good intentions, huh?

Comments are always welcome, lemme know what you all think! Have a nice day, whatever time it may be!

PS: I made some music for ya! It'll show up in the next few chapters, somewhere. 🤷 Got Ableton working how I wanted it, but it doesn't work exactly like Logic does. Anywho, catch ya later!

Chapter 10: Behemoth

Behemoth

"Let us begin. Start with ze basics, state your name for ze record."

"I am familiar with the procedure, I was SAS. Lawrence, J. Specialist, MTF Nu-7. Callsign Sawtooth."

"You were a part of Operation Teaparty, yes?"

"That is correct, ma'am."

"Your report mentions dimensional distortions. Elaborate, please."

"The place was not what it seemed to be, ma'am. Reports regarding SCP-2480 prior to Incident Gamma indicated the presence of anomalous, invisible structures and creatures at Site 13."

"... you were a part of Team 2, correct?"

"Squad 2, but yes, that is also correct, ma'am."

"Have you previously encountered zese... distortions before?"

"Not of the same nature. Incident Gamma was different."

"How so?"

"Previously, the anomalous structures were visible only when under the effects of narcotics."

"And zey weren't this time?"

"No, ma'am. They became visible in periodic bursts... like earthquakes, maybe heartbeats is the right word."

"How did zis affect your mission?"

"Well, we were equipped for basic reconnaissance. We were not given any solutions to see our targets beforehand. It made target acquisition significantly easier, though we certainly did not see it that way when it all unfurled. I believe Command was under the impression that the Containment Breach was not as serious as the previous. We all know how that turned out."

"Mmm, and ze creatures, when did you come into contact with them?"

"Shortly after we encountered the initial infected. The burster put us all on edge. We ran into further resistance, most of the civilian population had been compromised. Those that were not infected were armed. Our VIP was ███████████ and we █████████ he was possibly ████████. Command ordered us to-"

"Sergeant, stay on topic. Please."

"Yes ma'am. Not sure how Site 13 could have missed this."

"Neither are we, Sergeant. Ze creatures, how close were they to ze ground zero?"

"I would say approximately two kilometers."

"And ze structures appeared shortly after that?"

"Yes ma'am. Almost immediately."

"Describe ze structures. How did they appear before they manifested?"

"Before they manifested, they were completely invisible. Just spots of dirt on the ground. When they were revealed, it was a series of tunnels digging through the soil. Fleshy. Dirt became meat and trees became bone. Some were like sandstone, but the material was... it was skin, pulled over something. The entities came out and we... fuckin' 'ell. Sorry."

"It is understandable. Foul language is hardly offensive given what we've seen, ja?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How were ze distortions different?"

"..."

"Sergeant?"

"Sorry, thinking of how to phrase it. Doctor, have you ever had a dream that suddenly turned? Spontaneously, randomly? Things were going one way, then another?"

"I believe so, yes."

"That's what happened. One minute, they were organs, the next... this will sound crazy, I believe."

"Continue, Sergeant."

"It was... it was like I was home again. Chips shop on the corner had the same walls. The bricks were identical."

"What bricks?"

"Exactly. What bricks? We all saw different things, things from our pasts. That's when I knew we were buggered."

I throw the doors open with a loud bang and usher Peridot inside. Sweat glistens on her fur, her breathing hard, too. It feels like the castle is warming up, and the feeling isn't great. The armory is almost untouched. Seems no one got here when everything hit the fan. Peridot's helmet bounces as she bounds around the room, grabbing spears and stuffing them into a some sort of quiver. The light in here isn't great, but I can still see it in the corner of the room, a small lamp on a desk with a familiar set of gear sitting atop it.

Bingo.

I move over and take a look. They seemed to be in the beginning stages of trying to disassemble the rifle, but according to these notes on the side, have no idea where they would start. Funny, neither would I, didn't stick around long enough to grab the manual. Aside from the back-cover of the rifle, the AK seems intact. Not sure if the exposed spring is a problem, but we'll find out. No magazine loaded. I hear her sling the quiver on.

"Mister Human?"

The vest sits a few feet away on another worksurface. It's beat to shit, but it looks like they cleaned most of the blood off. I undo the buckles and slide it over my shirt, damp with sweat, pressed tightly against me. I buckle up and tighten the straps, then take the magazines out of my pouches and set them on the table.

Three magazines, two full, one empty. Two magazines are missing.

Fuck.

It'll have to do. There's a banging at the door.

"Mister Human, we need to get moving," Peridot says behind me, her voice rising.

"I know!" I say over my shoulder. I fit the magazine into the gun and pull back on the charging handle.

I turn back to Peridot, her purple eyes scanning me. The door bursts open and a nightmare comes charging forth, more human-looking than the rest. I flip the fire-select and take the gun into my arms. Peridot shifts to my left and I open fire. The rifle kicks back under my armpit, spent cartridges plinking on the floor around my feet. There's a ringing in my ears. Forgot how loud the thing could be.

The flesh of the upper abdominal is torn apart, two rounds rip through the chest. The thing throws an arm back to catch itself before the fourth round disintegrates the head. It falls back with a wet slap against the tile. The smoke from the barrel creeps up in the light of the lamp, and for a few seconds, all is quiet. Save for the ringing, of course.

"What the buck was that?!" Peridot sounds like she's in the other room, but a quick glance over shows the unicorn staring at me in surprise.

"A gun," I say, barely able to hear myself.

"What?!"

"Too complicated," I shout, "we keep going, yeah?"

She nods and we step over the body, out of the room. Going over, the nightmare has shifting details and colliding memories, SCP nametag, GOC armband, what's left of the face is nothing more than gore. God knows I've seen enough of that. We get to running, moving through the halls of the extended wing. Peridot runs ahead of me, her quiver of spears hopping up and down on her back as she gallops.

Four rounds, twenty-six in the magazine...

A crash to our left, moving around a gallery, a nightmare stands over a dead Solar Guard, tearing into his throat unnaturally. I aim at the creature and fire one round. Peridot jumps beside me. I shot wide, hits the wall to the left. The nightmare turns to look at us, disheveled gray mane and unfocused eyes settling on our direction. I fire again and land on the muzzle, blowing apart the jaw. The creature falls backwards away from the body, lifeless.

"Is... is that-?" Peridot begins, moving towards the fallen Guard.

I set a hand on her shoulder and shake my head.

"We can find the dead when it's over, or more'll join 'em."

"Right," she says and takes a breath. "Head for the throne room."

I nod, watching the hallway. Three more nightmares in the hallway to the left, staggering about aimlessly. There's shouting down the hallway and I see magic begin flooding the area. We continue to run, and a loud explosive boom deafens us. Air rushes out of that hallway and behind us, shrapnel and dust filling the hall. Peridot begins to slow down and cough but I give her a shove and we keep running.

Before we know it, we're in the main atrium. It's a massacre. The entire length of the grand staircase has been ripped open, rubble and bodies littering the floor. Peridot slows to a stop and I pull her along. The doors to the throne room stand wide open, but a bright wall of light ripples across the doorway, hiding the interior. Peridot charges her horn for a moment, a lime-green aura about the bony protrusion. It dissipates in a fizzle and Peridot slumps somewhat.

"A shield spell," Peridot breathes out.

The bodies are in various states of disarray. Some have limbs missing. Flesh is torn away on many. Another tremor hides the fallen nightmares from the Guard, and it's clear to see that the dead are mostly ponies. The wave of magic returns, and so do the nightmares, bodies shifted slightly. I look to Peridot with a grimace.

"I take it we can't go through there?"

"No," she says grimly.

I run a hand through my sweaty hair. Never easy.

"Any other way in?"

Peridot thinks for a moment and shakes her head.

"I could try and break through, but it will require a lot of-"

A deep, rumbling growl emanates from behind us, scaring us out of our skin. I whip around, weapon at the ready, and ice settles over my heart. Stalking towards us, big and ugly, something I saw a long time ago.

Veins pump black ichor about the length of the primary set of arms, mold-colored flesh pulled tight over grotesque muscles. Another set, behind the first, scrape along the ground with a hissing noise, bloody claws twitching against the floor. Human palms extend outward from the torso, contorted and broken, slapping the floor as it moves towards us. A crocodilian-esque head, three eyes of different colors, pitch black teeth pouring out over the bottom and top mandibles. A smoky darkness falls between the teeth and out onto the floor, pooling around the massive hands pulling the beast forward.

"Oh God." I swallow hard.

"It's the size of a dragon," Peridot whispers.

"Yeah," I reply, looking squarely at the monstrosity. "We should run."

It roars and we charge away from it, leaping away from the stairs. The monster slashes at us with its claws, and Peridot takes the brunt of the hit. She screams as she lands, stumbling in front of me, clutching her flank. I scoop her up with my free arm and bolt. She screams again, watching as the beast follows us. I hear a noise almost like a chime and a green flash, then a loud popping noise. I can't turn around to look.

"Run! RUN! SWEET CELESTIA, RUN RUN RUN!" Peridot shrieks.

Already on it! My shoes clap against the tiles as I run, Peridot tucked under my shoulder and firing some kind of magic at the behemoth. It's tearing apart the hallway as I run, stone crumbling under the massive power behind those arms. It lets out a series of barks, almost like laughter, as it tears through the building. This hallway branches off at a tee, left and right, window ahead. It's gaining on us.

No time! I spin around and shuffle backwards, rifle pressed against my hip.

"Peridot, the window!" I shout and fire the rifle, finger pulled tight against the trigger. The gun yelps in my hands as the entire magazine empties, and I get another look at walking terror.

Peridot flashes behind me and I can barely hear the glass shatter over the sound of the rifle fire. The rifle clicks empty and I turn back around, running and jumping through the newly opened window. I narrow avoid the stained glass shards and fly over the bushes, landing unceremoniously in a garden of sorts. Peridot slips out from underneath my arm as we roll on the grass for a few feet. My rifle is still tight in my grip, somehow. Thank God.

Lying face down in the grass, I hear the beast slam against the stone archway, screaming. My body hurts, landed wrong. Chest tight. Gums hurt, lungs burn. I scramble to get my bearings and see Peridot lobbing spears at it with her magic. They harmlessly collide and fall off the flesh. One lands before me, and I see the tips are blunted.

They're ceremonial spears. The sight almost robs me of more breath.

They're fucking useless. I push myself up onto my feet and grab at a new magazine on my vest.

"Mister Human-" she says as she lobs spears at it.

"It's Liam!" I shout back, loading the rifle and releasing the bolt. It thrashes against the archway, demonic head wildly whipping against the stone. The spears fall into the hedge below after making contact.

"Liam, how do we stop this thing?!"

"We can’t! It's a Dash-Four! We had to carpet-bomb the last one!"

She looks confused and scared. It breaks through the archway and falls into the hedge before us. The massive arms slam into the ground with enough force to feel it in our chests. I see a doorway over Peridot's shoulder, leading to another side of the garden.

"Never mind, run! There!"

We take off, Peridot hobbling forward and chucking more spears at the thing. I grab her with a growl and start charging forward when the beast leaps over in front of us. I skid to a halt and bring the AK up, firing at it in bursts. With one of it's clawed arms, it swipes at us, striking me in the shoulder holding Peridot. I feel something shift in my arm before I'm launched across the garden. I don't feel pain as I careen over the bushes and flowers, over the tree, and through a window.

It's only when I hit the ground that it all comes to me.

I slide across a wooden floor and collide into a bookcase, smashing it to bits and sending books down on top of me.

The molotov explodes on contact with the wall nearby. The entire room is aflame and I'm running the hell out of there. The orange glow cascades down the hallway. I slow to a stop down the hallway some to watch the fire spread. I heave a deep sigh and crouch down to look at this rifle. There's a sling dangling from it, might be a good idea to wrap it around my chest. Make it harder for me to lose it. I find the charging handle and give it an experimental tug. The magazines are heavy, orange. I don't think it's an AK-47. I don't know much about guns, but it definitely looks like an AK. I pull my mask up and look back to the flames. They're creeping out of the doorway now, some of the ceiling is alight.

The smell of burning flesh fills the hall slowly, smoke is climbing across the ceiling. I guess I need to go. I stow the keycard in my pocket, and head down the hallway. I'm approaching the first of the security doors. I know she's on the other side. I should have said something before all this. Anything. I should've helped her, tried harder. I look back to the fire. That's all it is now. That's all this will be.

There might be more of them on the other side, I better be ready. I pull my mask down and I take another flare from my pouch, ignite it, and hold it in the air with my left hand. I press the card against the reader, and the door slowly slides upwards with a hiss. I step back and set the card back in my pocket. I raise the rifle in my right hand, braced against my hip.

The room is hot, humid, sticky against my skin. I force myself to look upon the carnage. The infected must have gotten in before the doors closed. There are dead MTF stacked against the walls, weapons and magazines scattered around the room. Lots of the dead are burned. An incendiary grenade? The sludge of the floor almost makes me lose my footing. I wade through the bodies, trying to keep from throwing up. I'm glad I can't smell it. I press on to the door in the far side of the room, knocking away a charred arm reaching up towards the card reader. I press the card to the reader and the door begins opening.

Everything feels sluggish. The pain in my arm comes to me in delayed bursts. I can taste blood in my mouth. My vision is coming in and out, and there's a ringing in my ears that makes it all worse. There's a wetness on my face. Tears? Blood? I dumbly touch at it with my hand, pulling it back to see crimson on my fingers. I prod and probe my forehead and my head for a cut along my hairline, but don't feel one.

The crashing waves of pain are dulled for a second as a breath of fresh air explodes across my lungs. Peridot.

She's slumped over nearby, next to the rifle. I hear the thing roar outside, but it sounds underwater. I can feel the vibrations as it hammers around below us.

"P-Peridot..." I say numbly. The creature lumbers away from us, the vibrations getting weaker.

I crawl over to her, her back facing me. She doesn't move. I knock away the tip of one of the blunted spears as I reach her.

"Peridot?"

I pull her up into my arms and I see what's done. A large gash, running across both of her eyes. They're little more than puddles, now. Bloody off-white puddles. Her muzzle opens and closes, swallowing down gasps. She's alive. She let's out a wheezing noise and her hooves reach up towards me, feeling over my chest and body.

"Peridot..."

"Liam, I can’t see! I can’t see Liam! Help!" She rasps, struggling to take in air.

I hold her close, trying not to cry. Trying to stay strong.

"I'm here, Peridot," I whisper into her ear. "Just calm down."

Her hooves paw at my chest, thumping against me. She squirms in my grasp, trying to get away, trying to get closer.

"It h-hurts! L-Liam I-I... I’m blind! I can’t-!"

"Calm down, shhh, shhh..." I say to her and myself. I stroke her mane.

"My eyes-" she cries out.

"Hang on..." I whisper.

I sit up as best I can and rip my shirt sleeve away. I wrap it around her head as she sobs and gasps, tying it over her eyes.

"L-Liam-m-m..." she babbles. My lip quivers uncontrollably for a moment and I swallow back my grief.

"I know, I know, we’ll get you patched up, I promise. I’ll take you back, just stay calm, okay?"

"My m-mom and m-m-my d-dad... I’ll never s-see them again~"

She hiccups and gasps. I hold her close and stroke her mane, looking out the window to the garden. The beast is gone.

"Don't think about it. Not now, okay? You've gotta be strong. Gotta be strong for me, okay? We're going to get you to safety."

"R-right..." she says weakly, gasping and sobbing. I look over the wound on her flank. It's not deep. Okay. Okay okay okay...

If I had to guess, my shoulder is dislocated. Or broken. Adrenaline is numbing a lot of this, I think. I grunt and get the rifle, setting Peridot aside gently. I rub her shoulder and go to check the magazine on the rifle, only to find it's gone. Gone.

Fuck.

FUCK!

I start hyperventilating. Both of us are going to die. Both of us are going to die because I played hero. Can't do anything God damn RIGHT! I hit myself in the head with my balled fist, then again. And again. I drop the rifle and pound both fists against my forehead.

"L-Liam?"

Calm down. I take some deep breaths. I look back to Peridot to see her facing me, her ears trained on me, teeth grit and shoulders heaving, sitting on her haunches. I move over to her and set my hand on her shoulder. I need to get her safe. As safe as possible. I grab the spearhead and put it into one of the empty pouches on my vest. I sling the rifle over my back and put both hands on the sides of her head.

"I'm here, Peridot, are you okay to pick up?"

She swallows loudly and nods. As I grab her, she wraps her hooves around my midsection and pulls towards me. Her hindlegs and forelegs wrap around me in a koala-grab. I rub her back and kick away the rifle, holding her tight.

"I'm getting you out of here."

We walk for a moment, her clinging to me for dear life, out into the hallway. This must be one of the upper floors. We got knocked high into the air, looks like. Enough to clear a story, at least. The pain in my shoulder is mounting. Keep moving forward. Out in the hallway, there's a stairwell leading back down to the main floor, entrance to the gardens. Okay. We can backtrack easy. That should be that left turn there.

Okay.

We're silent, save for heavy breathing and her stifled cries.

"Liam," she whispers.

I turn my head down to her.

"I can smell it," she says quietly, seemingly looking up at me through her blindfold. "It's here."

I crouch down low and let her down easy. Looking up, I see it. It's standing at the end of the hallway, a mess of conjoined torsos and unsightly limbs, lifting a body into it's maw. It crunches down, facing away from us. It's right where we need to be. I gently push Peridot into the next room and creep behind her, closing the door. As I do, I hear the Dash-Four moving towards us, slowly, lumbering through the hall. The arms scrape against the sides of the already ruined hallway.

"We can't go around," I hiss.

I look to the little blindfolded pony. I run a hand through her brown mane. A terrible plan runs through my head. My breath hitches for a second as I consider the consequences. It has to be done. It scrapes and moves further away, into the intersection. I hear it through the wall as it makes the left. Just a little longer.

"Is this it, Liam?" She asks quietly.

"No," I whisper, "I told you, I'm getting you out of here. Listen to me very carefully."

She bobs her head up towards me, ears sharply focused on me. I look to the door and gently push it open, pulling up on the handle to take weight off the hinges.

"I’m going to point you in a direction and you’re going to run, okay? You keep running and don’t stop, no matter what. When I say go."

Her muzzle turns down in confusion and fear.

"What are you planning?"

Your getaway. Goodbye, Peridot.

"When I say go, okay?"

"Liam-" I cut her off as I grab her and move out into the hallway. I set her down, pointed towards the atrium, straight as she can be.

It hears us. It stops, somewhere behind this wall. I run out into the intersection and look towards it. It turns and rips light fixtures off the wall as it does, stone grinding and floor cracking. The maw opens, three hateful eyes settling upon me. I open my arms wide and grin at it. Come on, big guy.

"Come on you motherfucker! Run, RUN PERIDOT!"

It charges. I don't stick around long enough to see her takeoff, but the sound of her hooves clopping against the marble floors is enough of a sign that it's time to haul ass. I turn and jump through what's left of the window arch, hitting the grass on my feet this time. Something pulls in my leg and I hobble forward, pain shooting up my thigh. The Dash-Four is already moving, roaring as it hits the ground behind me.

"RUN!" I shout after her, unsure if she heard me.

I hobble, limping forward, looking for the magazine. I know in my heart that it won't work, that it won't stop the thing, but I'm not going down without a fight. The beast stalks towards me, toying with me. It's not hunting me seriously. Playing with it's food. Evil fuck. It snarls and lunges towards me, massive arms raised above it's head. I throw myself to the side, watching as those massive cannons slam into the ground. Dirt gets launched up into the air and rains down on me.

It's going to be painful when it hits me like that, assuming I survive longer than a few seconds. I crawl behind a hedge in the chaos.

It roars and spins around, looking for me. Those eyes scan the garden, looking for me. I muffle my breath as best I can, then I see it. An orange crescent, sitting beside the stone railing of the garden. The overhang, looking out onto the now-lunar landscape. There's no cover over there. Nowhere to hide. I feel a rock beside my palm as I shimmy along. Big old thing.

Another distraction, maybe. Limp for the magazine while he's rampaging, get some shots in before he kills me. I hope Celestia can fix this, 'cause I sure as shit can't as a stain on the ground. This is it.

I throw the rock over the hedge and manage to hit something on the other end of the garden. A pot, maybe. It crashes in the way ceramics do, and the Dash-Four spins around with a bark. I launch myself upwards, ignoring the pain in my leg and sprinting towards the magazine. As I approach, I notice all of the bullets are scattered in the grass, save for one still left in the magazine.

Damn.

I hear it roar behind me and I shove the mag into the gun, pull back the charging handle, and take aim. It's already charging towards me.

Sorry Celestia. Sorry Flash, Peridot and Sunny. Steelheart.

Luna.

I fire and hit the beast in the eye. It shakes its head and charges and I shut my eyes. The pounding on the floor stops as it leaps, and I instinctively crouch down, ready to die. It roars.

I'm sorry.

I hear a tearing stone crumbling and a gravelly wheeze, then the sound of flesh tearing apart. I hear deep, alien breathing. But...

I'm not dead? I open my eyes and can't find the thing. The garden is empty. Did another wave pass over? Is it going to reappear?

What happened?

I look behind me and see that the railing has been destroyed, absolutely removed in a big circle where I would've been standing, soil missing too. I stand and walk over to the edge. Below... is another garden. It's a multilevel garden. In the center of my view, the Dash-Four is hanging limply, impaled on a statue of a serpent, or chimera. The body hangs from the statue, the strange stone chimera poking through one of the many conjoined torsos of the beast. The arms twitch and spasm for a few moments before finally stopping. I watch as the life bleeds from the creature, and a dark red pool forms around the base of the statue, fluids running down the stone crevices.

The facial expression on the statue, maybe the circumstances, surviving despite everything... I don't know what it is, but I can't help but laugh. I don't know how long I've been laughing. Tears are streaming down my face and I fall to my knees, then rest on my hands. My laughs eventually turn to sobs, wracking my whole body.

A massive flood of emotion, pouring through me and out into the world.

Jesus Christ.

I pick myself up after everything is out, wiping my face and nose on my sleeve. My legs feel so heavy. Probably have a concussion, on top of every other thing that's wrong with me right now. I limp through the garden quietly, through the destroyed hallway, back to the atrium. My footfalls are heavy.

Bodies everywhere. All of this...

I stop in the carnage, scanning the forms of the ruined ponies. Their bodies are ripped and torn, shredded apart by demons from my past. This is my curse, brought to a world undeserving, and only the memory of it was enough to completely dismantle the seat of the Equestrian capitol.

Maybe I'm too numb for proper guilt. Maybe I'm too tired. The sadness washes over me still. I keep going.

As I pass the doorway to the throne, a magical wave spills outwardly and envelops the room, the ruined stairs replaced and taking on an ethereal appearance, as though remembered with magic.

I stop, staring at the wall of light. The hue changes from a deep blue to a cerulean. I step closer, setting a foot experimentally down on the translucent step before me. It's solid. I take another step upwards. Something gnaws on the edges of my mind, like a word at the tip of the tongue. Something you remembered but forgot.

And I feel it, then I know it.

Claire.

"What are you doing, Liam?"

The voice seems to echo around my skull. The atrium grows colder. The red carpet behind me seems to turn into a river of blood beneath my feet. I breathe deep.

"Ending this."

I hear her laugh behind me, but I dare not look. The hair on my neck stands up and I feel a breath next to my ear.

"This is only the beginning, Liam. You didn't think you were the only one to make it through... right?"

"I can't trust you, you're not real. Part of the nightmares," I snap, shouting over my shoulder. She's not there.

"Maybe. Maybe you're wrong," she says behind me, above me.

"Maybe," I nod, "it won't stop me." I turn around and see she's not there. I take another step on the ethereal staircase.

"You think this will change anything? How you failed?"

I stop.

"No. It won't change a damn thing about that, but I have to stop this madness."

I start back up the stairs again, renewed purpose in my steps. The pain in my leg seems to ebb away, and with every step cleared, my nerves settle. I feel grief settle over my chest and realize, even though she's not real, this is my last chance to speak to her. To commune with a ghost. I stop again, and turn back to the atrium. She's not there.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry Claire. I should've been there... for the end. I should've..." I say to the empty room.

I feel a breath on my neck again.

"You were, remember?"

I grab the spearhead in my vest by the base. My grip tightens over it.

"Are you going to kill me?"

I turn to look up at her. She's the same as she was, all that time ago. Before everything fell apart. Before the world came undone. Her eyes bore into mine.

"No, I already did."

I see here, looking at her, that it isn't really her. Her facial features seem to blend together, one moment they are clear, the next... they've changed. Just another memory, slowly bleeding away. She fades into nothingness, leaving me alone upon the stair.

I press forward to the highest step, feet away from the rippling wall of light. As I draw nearer, I extend my hand to touch the wall. As soon as I make contact, the world washes away and is replaced with blinding white light, then inescapable darkness. All save for me. A voice bounds across the endless void. The same voice I had heard before. Two wisps of teal appear in the dark, before becoming eyes with narrow vertical slits.

"Greetings, Liam Webb."

Author's Note

I have not edited. WHEW that took a lot out of me. Hope you all enjoy, I'll catch you probably around two weeks from now. Want a break from this for a lil bit! As always, comment below and I'll see about spending the next week or so just replying! I know I didn't do too good of a job on that last chapter with replies but that's what the break week is for.

Good afternoon, good evening and goodnight!

P.S. I hope you enjoyed the song, not very long but wanted a mood piece! See you later!

EDIT 25/5/2022 - Changed "Type-4" to "Dash-Four" to clear-up inconsistencies.

Interlude 1

Author's Note

Hey everyone! These interlude chapters will serve as foreshadowing for future events, so while it's not necessary to read them, it does set the stage for some coming plot points. It also gives me an opportunity to get some stuff out faster and with less stress of making a 3000+ word chapter.

Thinking about doing one of these every ten chapters or so!

Hope you all enjoy!

Interlude 1

"An' when Ah tell ya Ah fuckin' hate yer guts, know that Ah mean that, Ah really do!"

Laughter explodes across the comms. Specialist James Davenport leans forward in his chair, stroking his stubbly chin with a wide, toothy grin. His dark eyes look across the cabin, a joyful mirth gleaming within, staring at the subject of his amusement. Private Aimé Decuir sits beside him and tilts her head back, restraining her dreadlocks with a band, smiling all the way. Sergeant Frank Gaines moves down the middle of the cabin, holding onto the grip above, checking on his troops. His movements are smooth and sharp, his eyes of the same quality, grey orbs peering down at the men and women serving with him. His questions to his individual soldiers are heard by none but them, the music and the humming of the helicopter drowning out most of his words.

Specialist Davenport adjusts the microphone attached to his headset, bringing it closer to his mouth with a cheeky smirk. He leans back and inspects his target, readying his counter-attack, his pale lips pursed in anticipation. Gaines walks past them to speak with Lieutenant Andre Abioye and Captain Miranda Sho.

"I think I'd be a good step-daddy to you; I'd love your mom just right, in all the right ways too," he declares.

Private Matthew Haddock shakes his head, bringing a palm up to his mustached face. He looks surprised as he inspects his palm. He looks back up to Davenport and his mouth drops open. Davenport leans forward, his smirk disappearing.

"Whut..." Haddock says, looking at his hand. Slowly, all fingers save for one fall down, and the hand is brought forward with a rigid motion. He inspects the finger with a look of faux-surprise, and shows off the finger to Davenport. Decuir laughs and Davenport can't help but grin at the antics. He leans back.

"Everyone shut it, we're over the bayou now, check your weapons." Gaines growls over the headset.

He looms over Decuir, "turn off that shit." She nods and flicks off the radio.

Everyone aboard the Sea Stallion, save for the two officers, goes over their gear. Various implements of long-range combat, infrared laser attachments, night-vision goggles and magazine checks. The sound of clicking, racking and jingling fills the cabin as all of the soldiers check over their equipment.

"Uh, Sarge, ain't we got better shit to do than fuck with the swamp people? Like fightin' off the infected?" Haddock asks.

Gaines looks back two the two officers and gives a nod before perching himself above the seated Haddock. The poor private tries to squirm away but can't get very far, Gaines propping up a leg over the man. He leans down, scarred face and set jaw threatening to lunge forward and snatch away the life from the Private. He kicks off from the Private and looks to the rest of his team.

Their expressions betray they feel the same way regarding the situation. Gaines knows that every one of them would much rather be fighting elsewhere, that they have families and friends in danger at this very moment.

"We've been given orders to assault SCP-4476. Weapons free, search and destroy. That was in the briefing. What they didn't tell you is that we're looking for someone in particular. Enitan Sabatier. Lieutenant?" He turns to the African man.

Abioye pulls a small photo from his vest and hands it to the Sergeant. Gaines holds out the photo for the team to see.

"This man is the reason we're here," he states quietly, scanning the group for reaction. "Karcist Enitan Sabatier. He's mostly kept to The Darkwater Lodge in New Orleans, but disappeared during 2480-Incident Gamma. Doesn't make sense that the Karcist would flee the city now does it?"

The cabin stares back to him, watching intently.

"Joining us on this operation are Captain Sho of the GOC and Lieutenant Abioye from MTF Nu-7."

"Nu-7?" Davenport whistles, "shit, I don't like the sound of that."

"We have approximately two hours to grab this guy and get him back to Site-93A."

Decuir leans in and pulls up her neck gaiter over her mouth.

"Sergeant, ehm, what exactly is happening in two hours?"

Gaines stands up straighter and takes off his helmet. He feels over the cover, the tough nylon and the velcro straps. He looks over to the GOC Captain, who then stands from her seat and takes hold of the grip above. The team turn over. Abioye's head dips. Haddock whispers something to Decuir.

"Deployment of a tactical nuclear device, sanctioned by both the Global Occult Coalition and the SCP Foundation."

Everyone goes silent.

"Fuckin' toldja."

Davenport blinks and swallows, then looks at the panel beneath his feet. His leg starts bouncing. He looks back to Captain Sho.

"A nuke...?"

She nods solemnly, hazel eyes pointed to the floor. He looks back to the Sergeant.

"How... how bad are things getting out there? I-I thought we were containing-"

"There are at least two SK-BIO Type 005 structures in Louisiana that we know of," Abioye says calmly. "one more in Arkansas, two more in Mississippi. It is unknown how deep the Sarkic influence goes. There were three Type 005 structures outside of Atlanta when it fell. We know the infected congregate to these areas. Our intel suggests that these structures serve as a command post of sorts."

"Which is why we're burning the thing ta the ground," Haddock deduces.

"Fuck," replies Davenport.

A silence descends upon them. Decuir shifts in her seat. "It is good you are not here, mama," she murmurs.

Davenport opens his mouth to say something, but the lights shut off in the cabin. A red light settles over the troopers as they do their last minute preparations. Davenport takes a photo from his wallet and pushes it against his face before stashing it in his vest.

"Arrival to LZ ETA thirty seconds," the pilot says over comms. "Seagull-2 to Blacktower, we're approaching Landing Zone Bravo now."

A moment passes. The pilot thumbs his microphone button twice but doesn't say anything. Everyone undoes their harnesses and slings their gear on.

The light goes green and the ramp begins descending. The rest of the team stands.

"What are we looking at in terms of resistance? I thought Neo-Sarkics and Proto-Sarkics quarrel, no?" Decuir asks.

"No idea," Gaines states, "stay frosty." He slaps his helmet back on and brings his night-vision goggles down.

"Ah'm ice-cold, baby," Haddock drawls.

Davenport shoots him a glare. Haddock smiles back.

"What can Ah say? Ah'm made fer this shit."

They exit the helicopter and charge down the ramp. The ramp closes and the Sea Stallion lifts off, its rotors whirring to life, turning and rising into the air. Gaines steps forward and motions for everyone to follow him. He raises his rifle, motions forward with his left-hand, then he and his team disappear into the muggy bayou.

Chapter 11: Antibody

Antibody

"Lee-am..."

It's broken, barely recognizable, but it's her voice.

"Leee-am. Norm-al Leeeeee-ammmmm."

I turn slightly and see her silhouette standing against the orange fire. Strands of flesh hang from her arms, her hands split down the middle between her middle and ring fingers. Webs cling to her body. Her head is skewed to one side, her hair hanging limply. She staggers forward, but I swivel and bring the AK to face her. The light of the flare reflects in her eyes, but she's still in the shadows. She stops, and makes a choking noise. It repeats, a harsh grinding noise. It takes me a moment to realize it's laughter.

Horrible, horrible laughter.

"What's u-p, Misssster Webb?"

The light from the next room crawls up her form. Her legs are spotted, gray, lesions and bruises up her calves. Droplets of crimson.

"I'm sorry, Claire," I can't fight the tears, and my voice breaks when I say her name.

"Lee-am, Webb," she says almost sweetly. I see the split widening down the length of her right arm, and a snake-like appendage slides from the gap. It hovers above the ground, like a whip. She shifts her weight to her left. Her dress is stained, various shades of red and brown. A lovely blue, ruined by blood. My finger tightens around the trigger.

"That's right, Claire. It's Liam," I whisper. I feel sick to my stomach.

She lets out a giggle, but the gurgling behind it...

The light reaches her face. Her face.

"Lee-am-"

I squeeze the trigger down until it stops firing.

Her words echo across the infinite darkness. They cascade over peaks and valleys unseen, washed away in the inky black. The predatory eyes stare down at me as they rise in the darkness, a head above me. My breath hitches and I falter. The eyes narrow slightly, amused.

"What are you?" My words seem to echo and dissipate all at once, expanding and retreating against the infinite plane, colliding and clashing against unseen walls and forcing themselves back into my throat. I fight back the urge to gasp.

The being laughs, eyes disappearing in the darkness, cackling darkly. Suddenly, the void at my feet swirls away, revealing gray rock and dust. The darkness pools about before me, the black drifting to one location, revealing a lunar horizon... and a large figure before me. She blends into the space behind her, and were it not for the moon beneath us, I wouldn't be able to see where she started and the void began. Slowly, ornaments of a pale blue materialize at her hooves, jewelry and armor pieces appearing from nowhere and everywhere all at once, swirling together like grains of sand given form.

An amorphous mane of stars erupts from the darkness, small pinpoint pricks of light within an aura of royal blue. Her eyes flutter open and settle upon me, a fanged grin of pearly white upon her muzzle. Her cerulean eyes focus, the cat-like vertical slits narrowing. My fingers probe around the base of the spearhead at the sight.

"Quite the question, human. I am many things, but an enemy is not one of them," she says with a devilish smile.

I narrow my eyes. She certainly seems the type to be an enemy.

"Who are you?"

She laughs again and disappears from my sight, leaving me alone on the moon. I spin around and find nothing but endless horizon, before I notice the reddened planet in orbit above. I assume it's meant to be Equestria, but I haven't got the geography down yet. The sight still freezes my blood. The threat of another world undone is blatant.

"Have you no guesses? You have no inkling of my identity?" I hear behind me. I spin around but find no one there.

I'm being toyed with.

"Who the fuck are you?! Where's Luna?!" I shout out at the void.

I feel something shift behind me, and turn to find her there, head tilted to the side.

"How rude. Does your kind speak to your saviors as such?"

Those eyes... I remember you.

"You're the one who healed me?"

She nods and closes her eyes, more ornaments appearing across her figure. She stands much taller than me, about as tall as Celestia. An armored helm of blue bleeds over her head, revealing a dark horn extending upwards into the sky. A very long, very sharp horn. Purple spots manifest in the darkness, as well as some sort of insignia on her flank. A tail explodes outwards in the same color as her mane, with little stars twinkling within.

"Indeed, ingrate. Though, do not mistake my assistance for generosity, for you shall repay your debt in-kind," she declares. She stands straighter.

"Who are you?" I repeat forcefully.

A look of pain flashes across her face. She tilts her head to the other side.

"Do you really have no idea?" She asks quietly.

Despite her appearance, or perhaps because of it, I realize that offending her may be the wrong move.

"No, but I'm new here." I speak quickly.

She huffs and looks to the rocks below. She kicks a small, rounded pebble away into the void, watching it float away. She looks back to me, face serious.

"I am a soul, split apart, a name spoken in hushed tones to scare foals in the midst of my night."

That sounds... familiar.

"Your night? Luna?" I guess, unsure.

"No, but once, I was." She says sadly.

"Alright, cut the shit. Who are you?"

She takes a breath and adjusts her wings.

"I am the Mare in the Moon, the Bringer of Night, Commander of the Thestral Guard and Rightful Queen of Equestria. I am Nightmare Moon. Know my name now, Liam Webb, for I know yours."

"Do you know where Luna is?"

"Indeed."

"Where?"

"Wait, we must speak first."

I turn on my heel and pick a direction to begin walking, praying silently it takes me to Luna. She splays her wings and seems to teleport before me.

"You will hear my words, human," she says authoritatively, the words sinking down into my chest, the timbre of her voice splashing over my flesh.

"I need to stop this and you're wasting my time. Equestria's time. Luna's time."

"You have a debt to repay! You shall stop and you shall listen, or I shall take back the magic I bestowed upon you! This terror will endure without my aid! You have no clue how to stop this."

She's... not wrong. I turn around and grunt, looking into space. There are no stars in the darkness.

"What do you want?"

"Your... help," she spits the word out. "I need you to speak with Luna Astra," she finishes.

Astra? Is that her last name?

"W-... what about? How? Have you not noticed that-"

She raises a single wing abruptly.

"You must convince her to allow our reunification," she says.

"I know they say don't judge a book by it's cover, but... considering how fucking malevolent you seem, I think that's a bad idea."

She snarls and her wings shoot outward, dust and rocks sent flying in all directions. I raise my arms to defend myself, but the dust and rocks phase through my body. Upon seeing that I'm untouched, she screams into the darkness, firing bolts of energy from her horn and blowing apart part of the landscape. After taking a moment to compose herself, she turns back to me, her voice rising.

"Do you not know our history? How our sister banished us to the moon? How they cleft our soul in two?!"

What?

"I don't... I don't, no. Didn't get that far in the book. What are you talking about?"

She swallows and bows her head, then tucks her wings back in. She fixes me a strange look, then gestures towards the expanse. Slowly, a hole begins forming within reality before us, revealing a long stone corridor.

"I shall show you as we go deeper within. It is the only way to safely reach the throne. Come with me, Liam Webb, and stay close," she says as she walks through it.

Not sure I have much of a choice. I look back to the lunar landscape and follow her.

Moonlight filters through old stone archways on my right, painting the ancient corridor in pale light. The stone is cracked and worn, moss growing out over much of the structure. It looks like ruins in a Tolkien book, or a fantasy movie. She walks ahead of me, hooves making no sound as they land on the floor. Elaborate paintings hang on the wall. They seem to glow with light as we approach.

"One-thousand years ago, we were one... Luna and I. We ruled alongside our sister, Celestia Astra," she hisses.

On the wall, a painting of the two royal alicorns stand, overlooking Equestria. The artwork is simplified, but elegant, the two standing at equal height and watching over the land, an icon of the sun and of the moon both sitting in the sky. Nightmare Moon continues moving along, not stopping as I do to examine the paintings. I jog a little to catch up as another painting illuminates itself.

"Our ponies adored her and her sun, while we were left for the night, our Thestrals discriminated against by her day-trotters. We began to resent her, but we approached with peace. We wanted peace. We wanted the love she had. When we made our case, she denied us our rightful place, our ponies suffering alongside us."

She huffs and stops to look at this painting.

The painting shows a multitude of ponies with fluffy ears and darker coats, wailing upwards. Celestia and Luna are engaged in an argument, a dark shadow cast by Luna onto what I assume are the Thestrals. The colors in this one are more reserved, less saturated. Icons of the sun and moon stand behind Celestia and Luna.

She snorts and continues walking. I follow.

"We rebelled, to raise the moon indefinitely, to make them pay for their arrogance."

The final painting depicts Luna, now Nightmare Moon, in some sort of magical combat with Celestia. She doesn't stop to look at the painting.

"We fought. We lost," she murmurs, walking along.

"She banished us, using the Elements of Harmony," she says over her shoulder. "In the infinite wisdom of the Elements, we were exiled, isolated for one-thousand years. Upon our return, her protégé used the Elements to tear our soul in-half, to leave only 'Luna' behind in the corporeal realm."

"I imagine having half of a soul is something someone would notice. Not that I would know, I don't even know if there's an afterlife... or that souls are real."

"They are very real in Equestria. Celestia has noticed that something is amiss, but she does not understand what they have done to us."

I stop following. She notices and stops as well.

"You understand that everything and everyone would have died if you had left the world in eternal night... right?" She digs at the stone floor.

"We... were not thinking rationally... at the time." I nod and rub my chin.

"A child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." She flares her wings out and rounds on me.

"Explain yourself, Liam Webb. I am no foal. I was a Princess."

I bring my hands up. She bares her teeth at me, fangs exposed. I tilt my head down and stare her in the eyes. The moonlight bounces from her armor onto the walls, her cerulean orbs staring deep into my own.

"I'm trying to say that I understand where you're coming from."

She stamps a hoof down.

"You do not! To be betrayed! You do not know what it means to be alone! To be-" she snarls, but stops. I guess it's something in my eyes. Something in my face. I feel my teeth clenched and undo my jaw. I take a moment to steady my heart.

"I do. Circumstances were different, but I do," I say sharply.

We stand there, staring at each other, frustration and emotional angst hanging in the air.

"I'm sorry, Nightmare Moon. Let's keep going."

She regards me silently for a few moments, then she turns and begins walking down the hallway. We clear some obstacles, fallen pieces of old architecture littering the hall. We spend the next few minutes in silence, me following Nightmare Moon to an unknown destination. She finally speaks.

"I have been a spectator to Luna since, what is left of her," she says quietly.

We breach a large wooden door, old and rotten, into a room made of thatch and straw. Hay covers the floor, and in the center of the hut, a dark flame of blue and purple with gray stars inside. It lashes out uncontrollably at the floor of the hut, but nothing catches aflame. Beside her is Luna, seemingly asleep, transparent and still. Dried tears have left lines down her matted fur.

"She created a creature within her dreams to torture herself, to punish herself for becoming us. But we were always her, and she was always me. This creature, the Tantabus, is partially responsible for the chaos outside. It is also why we can convene."

The magical flame lashes out towards us, but the flame does not burn me. Nightmare Moon, however, steps back and avoids the lash. I look to her and see... fear.

"Why haven't you tried to wake her?"

"I cannot, we are unable to speak, to interact. I could only watch, and even now, I am unable to connect with the living world. You are capable of doing what I cannot. I have done what I can to keep back the tide, however, your assistance is needed in another matter."

The flame ebbs slightly, and underneath I see it. A red, festering mass, veins and organs pumping into the body of the magical entity. It pulses and shakes, beating like a heart. Inscribed within the flesh are runes I am familiar with, having seen them myself, but the when is lost to me.

I know what this is, somewhere deep inside. I've seen it before.

This was my monster, whatever it is.

"It followed you to Equestria, a foreign invader within your mind, I presume it is from your world. It has fed the energy of the Tantabus, allowing it to cast these spells through Luna. Through me. It is the catalyst for all of this."

Great.

"From what I could gather, it is responsible for the gaps in your memory. You will wake her, and I will join our minds. When we join, we will be strong enough expel it from our mind and place it back within yours. There, we will contain the demon."

So I'm the bait.

Her horn illuminates. The straw hut is washed away, as is the hay floor, and most everything else. It's just us, the Tantabus, and Luna within another endless void. I take a steadying breath and swallow. She looks uncertain, nervous even. Given how powerful she must be, the sight doesn't do much for my own nerves.

"And you want me to convince her to let you... what, rejoin minds? Souls?"

"Yes," she nods.

"And what are you going to be doing?"

She grins, but the confidence is missing.

"I shall be fighting back the illusions in the throne room."

I already don't like this plan.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then you will have to kill us. It is the only way to-" I shake my head.

"Absolutely not. That's not an option. We've lost enough already."

She opens her mouth to argue, but either can't find the words, or doesn't have the energy to fight me on it. I walk over to the transparent form of Luna. I kneel beside her and I reach out to her, but my hand moves through her. She stirs slightly, horn alight. She must still be casting the illusions on behalf of the Tantabus. I look over my shoulder to see Nightmare Moon staring at me, a strange emotion in her eyes.

"I have to know that Equestria won't burn when you... do your thing. I can't trade one crisis for another."

She straightens up and fixes me a determined glare.

"You have my word that I shall not embark upon the conquest of Equestria. Banishment was not a crueler fate than this. To know that the Elements of Harmony would be capable of such a horror..."

"Don't seem too harmonious, do they?"

She nods and glances back to Luna.

"Moon?"

She looks at me with a bemused expression.

"I'm not saying Nightmare Moon every time I want to address you. Too wordy."

"Very well. What is it?" she huffs and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry. For all of this. You didn't deserve this. I hope you get a chance to speak with Celestia again, in better circumstances," I say. For a moment, I see what looks like hope flash over her eyes. The vertical slit seems to widen, almost to a rounded pupil. She smiles sadly.

"As do I. You... I thank you. Are you ready?"

I grab the spearhead in my vest and run a hand through my hair.

"No, but let's do it anyway."

She nods and her horn begins to glow.

"For what it is worth," her voice echoes in my head as she disappears, "I am glad to have finally met you, Liam Webb. I see what she sees in you."

"What?"

She doesn't answer, disappearing into the darkness around us. Slowly, Luna disappears, as does the flame, and the monster beneath it. I feel a cold chill wash over me as the darkness begins to brighten. Slowly, the world turns and changes, and I find my footing in a meadow somewhere far away from the castle.

The smell of dew on the grass, a faint breeze through the trees whistling past. It's enough to forget the hell I've been wading through. Then it's all washed away with a violent, unnatural scream.

Author's Note

Hey! Writers block lifted, but I'm not sure the quality is the same. Rushed to get this one out while I still had the creative juices flowing! Let me know what you all think in the comments!

Have a great day!

EDIT: I know we've also got a lot of dialogue here, but it's all necessary. Next chapter is going to be more action-centric.

Chapter 12: Fifteen

Fifteen

The grass beneath my feet rapidly dissipates, replaced by cold stone slabs, a path stretching forward towards a collection of obsidian pillars. They shine and reflect the moonlight above the clearing, dark trees flanking the site with imposing and unnatural height.

In the center, I see three small creatures, with ponies flanking them on all sides. Their features are blurred, hidden, save for one. This one pony has a gray coat, and a mane of black, fashioned into different beads and knots. A plume of black fur shoots downward from his muzzle, coming to a point below his chin. He grimaces and turns to face the smaller creatures in the center.

What is this? What am I seeing?

"We art without time. Be'est not afraid, little ones. Thine power shalt be'est ev'r greater, heroes, champions of our kind!" His voice carries in these woods, stretching out over the plains and clearings, into the forest beyond. His voice lilts and his eyes don't share his enthusiasm. When he turns back over to me, I see in his face that he doesn't believe a word.

I try to approach, but my feet are locked to the floor. I can't move. My neck refuses to move. All I can move are my eyes. I don't think I'm supposed to see this. This must be a memory of Luna's.

"Shall't hurt, Papa?"

That voice... small, frail. The voice of a child. What's happening?

"Nay, nought a dram, little one."

A wave of nausea crashes over me. My skin goes cold, my head pounding. There's a pressure at the base of my skull, like a thumbtack pushing into the back of my neck. I struggle, trying to whip around, but nothing happens. My breath is held down in my throat, every heartbeat felt across my veins. Pump. Pump. Pump.

In the center, surrounded by these faceless figures, I see... Luna?

The world sinks down below me, gurgling and bubbling to a point unseen. Where is Nightmare? Who is that? God my fucking head!

"Thank you, Liam."

The voice is coming from behind me, a cacophony of overlapping voices with one taking the stage. The voice sends shivers down my spine. It sounds familiar.

"Guh... sss... stop... w-who..."

"Without you, none of this would be possible," he coos, gravel and grime roiling underneath the silk. It's my voice.

I hear his footsteps. Like walking down the halls, click-clack of dress shoes against the facility floors. They echo and bounce, leaping inside my chest and shaking my heart.

I feel the skin of my fingers peeling back, the fingernails sinking into the flesh. The stinging pain becomes white hot agony as the bones splinter and crack in my hands, but no sound can escape my mouth.

Veins tear, tendons pulled from the bone, blood running down the length of the arm.

Crushing pain. My teeth chip and my tongue pulls back, painfully twisting and slipping into my throat. My heart seizes and bursts in my chest, my lungs collapse and my ribcage explodes outwards.

"Grrghh..."

Then it's over. I fall to my knees, coughing and hacking. I bring my shaking hands to my face and find they're the same. No wounds, no cuts. My skin's still there.

"To think, another species... just waiting for us."

Click-clack, click-clack. Coming closer. Towards me. In front of me.

"For Father."

I raise my head and see myself, standing there. My pale visage and trimmed brown hair, neat eyebrows and clean-shaven. I'm wearing my lab-coat, my nametag hanging from the pocket on the left side, where I always kept it. My thin lips curled up into a small smile, hazel eyes staring down at me.

"Wh-what..."

I see myself laugh, a short bark. His left eye rolls back into his head, then focuses back on me.

"Come now, Liam, don't make this any harder on yourself."

My brain is burning. Something is trying to get inside.

"Who are you?!" I scream and fall back.

He frowns, and I see my face distort, sagging and lip curling up to reveal decayed teeth in a horrible maw. He clicks. It's as if it was never there. He crouches down into a squat, arms resting on his knees, perched before me. He reaches into his pocket and pulls a glob of misshapen flesh and bloody meat out.

He gazes at it with a smile. My stomach churns and I retch. My vision blurs.

"You know," he says, fixated on the... thing... in his hand, "you've known, ever since .̶̪͇̰͒͠.̴̰̟̽̾.̴̡̘̅̽͝.̷͖̂͊͌;̶̢̼̽̅͐.̷̲̩͋̓ͅ;̶̡̗̮̓.̷̞̪͖͋̏;̵̨͖̜͂̀,̴̗̥́͘.̷̨̡̄̍̉;̴̻͎͔̇̍̊.̸̡̅̏.̶̢̞͔͗̈́.̵̨̝̓̏.̵͙͊͘.̵̟̩͕̈́̈́͂.̷̢̖͇̍.̷͙͍̓̍ͅ.̵̩̾.̶̖̫́;̴̡̙̝̾͂͝.̶̧͑."

My eyes roll back into my head and my teeth come down hard, grinding and clenching. My head threatens to explode, my muscles burning and electricity rocketing down all of my nerves. Flashes of images, memories, going over my mind.

"They've tried to hide it from you, tried to make you forget," he laughs.

I splay out on the floor, limbs twitching and body fighting to regain control. Finally, a breath.

"But we will fix that, together."

"W-what..."

He grabs me by my coat and throws me into a rolling chair. It slides back, going faster and faster, accelerating. It crashes into a reality with a harsh stop, throwing my head forward with a sharp crack.

I jolt alive, sitting in... an office. This office... this is...

I've been here, I think. This is... is...

"Mister Webb, you told me you'd be back here Sunday. Do you know what day it is?"

"T-Torrez?"

I can't see her face. She's spun around in her chair. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

I look at the clock, but the hands aren't moving.

Tick-tock.

The walls of the office fall outwards and explode into a firestorm, consuming the world. My flesh boils and burns away. The fire melts my eyes, my vision sinking and dissolving into flames. I scream and try to stand, but the bones of my legs crumble under my weight, and I plunge into the burning hellfire.

"Administer amnestics and start over."

The world comes back to me in flashes of light, strapped down underneath bright lamps.

"Your pet project isn't working, Director."

Who's there?! I can't... I can't fucking talk!

"It will."

Black again.

"So they much they hid from you, but I remember. Father, remembers," it sounds like it's spoken underwater.

Wait!

I'm sinking, drowning. Something in my lungs.

No!

I can't control it.

I'm alive again, I think. As alive as I can perceive, anyway. It's hard to keep track of things. I know I died... but I don't know how...

Or why.

I'm lying on my side in a cave of some kind, a flashlight beside me. I roll off my back and towards the flashlight, my face tapping the floor. A sticky residue is on my cheek, and a cursory look at the floor tells me that I was better off not knowing what I was laying on.

Meat.

Flesh.

It's so hot in here.

I've been here, I swear. It feels like...

Home.

Home? What kind of sick...

Ugh... my head is falling apart. I feel my brain firing off all circuits. There's blood in my mouth.

A concussion?

Why can't I remember anything?

What the hell was I doing?

Where am I?

The walls, they're... alive. They're breathing. Each exhale, a foul wind passes over me. I retch. Can't stop it.

"Father will forgive you, Liam. Even though you worked against us, Father will embrace you once more."

Vomit passes my lips and splashes on the vertebrae beneath me. The visceral surface seems to absorb it. The sight almost has me back for seconds.

"I don't... know what you're... talking about," I spit.

It's true. I can't... remember...

His shoes... my shoes, standing in front of me. He.. I bend down and pick myself up. But it's not me. He frowns at the predicament. He brushes part of my shirt.

"I will free you, Liam. This mind is more powerful than yours. I will use it to free yours."

Gnawing, clawing...

"Who's mind?" I ask numbly.

Scraping.

"The Princess," he responds matter-of-factly.

Wait. The Princess...

He puts his palm against my head and I feel a thousand worms pouring through my brain. Looking for something, they squirm and writhe under the skin, behind my eyes. I weakly groan. It's so hot.

Princess...

Who...

"We will be whole again, Liam. You will rejoin Father's embrace."

Father.

My eyes roll back into my head.

Luna.

I remember!

The worms go deeper.

NO!

I struggle, try to get myself free, but his grip holds strong.

No...

I can feel my will slipping away.

The worms go deeper.

Then...

Then they touch they're not supposed to, maybe the thing they were looking for, maybe they were trying to avoid it. But I feel it. Deep inside, there's something there. Something waiting. Waiting for a moment like this.

They move away from it, but the words are on my lips. My tongue moves slowly, the worms scour my mind, looking for an exit. It knows something I don't. Something deep.

"Sárka, Metaxý, Ektélesi!"

The voice isn't my own, but the words blast forward. My body falls back, my eyes are burning hot embers. My mouth tastes like ash, and my skin crawls. I lie on my back, looking up. The ceiling bleeds away. It's cold now. Everything's cold and hot and broken. The smell... sulfur... brimstone...

I painfully push myself upwards off of my back. Looking forward, the figure is on the floor. The other me. He's shaking, his mask has come off. Pustules and sacs of fluid bubble and simmer beneath the skin on his neck, his nose angled away and his nostril bonded with the side of his face. Disgusting, ugly monster.

But you? You're the worst of them all.

An indescribable determination overcomes me, down to the core. I know what I have to do. I don't know why, I don't know how...

I'm going to kill you. I'm going to all of you.

Every last one of you.

I throw myself over towards him and crawl. I cough, but all that comes out is a painful growl. I press on. There's blood in my mouth, and all that will wash it away is more.

His sunken yellow eye darts over towards me. A horrible ripping noise slithers out across the void as a spider-like leg bursts from his chest, a sharp spike on the end of it. It slams into the floor of the void beside me, the blade disappearing beneath the black. The ground seems to vibrate.

I growl again and grab at his leg, pulling myself closer. The pant leg dissolves into ugly, pallid flesh.

The thing pulls the spike free of the floor, then lurches towards me. A horrible pain explodes across my back and my stomach as the blade rips through my intestines. I grunt and my mind goes blank, my vision blurring.

No. Not here. Not until...

I grit my teeth and pull myself forward, feeling the blade shift inside my guts. I crawl up the leg and the leg rips itself from my back. I hear a wet splashing noise behind me, but the pain is gone now. Just anger. I crawl up the creature, his sunken eye wide in panic.

"No... gleb... could've... ghhhssss... been so... more..."

The spider-like leg is in the way. I grab it to pull myself forward, on top of his chest. It tries to stab at me. I grab it and break the joint with newfound strength.

It hisses in pain, yellow ichor staining the both of us. It can bleed.

Another leg bursts from the shoulder. I grab it as it lunges forward to stab me. Another bursts from behind me, through my chest. Through my heart. My shoulder. I pull down on the spike in my hands, inching closer to his face.

I can feel my blood pouring out onto him. The pain, the fear, all gone now. Only rage. You won't break me. You broke me once. Never again!

I pull down, closer. Closer! It gasps, a other tearing sound. I've got you. Down! Down!

"You would have... been... so..."

I yank it down with the remaining strength I have left. I pierces that damned yellow eye, the gray bone sinking through down into the skull. He squirms and writes. Another spike into my waist. I can hardly feel it. Down!

"Fuck... you..." I hiss, red misting from my mouth. I pull it out and plunge it in again. And again. And again. DOWN!

He stops moving. After a while, so do I. The spears of keep me suspended above him... above it. My blood pours down freely onto the thing. I've stopped breathing. Everything is slow. No heartbeat. The pain never comes.

He sinks below me, into the darkness, disappearing beneath the tides of black.

I fall over.

"You know, that's gonna kill you one day," I say, leaning against the railing.

Claire either ignores me or can't be bothered to engage. Another one of those shifts, I guess. The hum of the fluorescent bulbs above threatens to incite riots and destabilize the nation. Damn things make so much noise, and for what? To drain all the life out of a room. Claire still looks pretty as ever, though.

Her blue eyes fixate on me, taking a long drag from her cigarette. She blows it at me.

"Hey," I give her a stern look, "I'm more than happy to take these field-trips to the stairwell with you, least you could do is keep that to yourself. I quit, remember?"

She makes a muppet-puppet out of her hand and mocks me.

"Sorry, Mister Webb. Can't all be perfect, normal people like you," she says. I scoff. She sticks her tongue out.

"Nice," I say sarcastically. I pull my phone from my pocket and open up the calendar. I'm scrolling through it when she coughs. I quirk my brows.

"See? You're the smartest person I know and you do the dumbest shit sometimes."

She groans and sinks her face in her free hand.

"Oh, live a little, Liam."

"I plan on living a long time. You on the other hand... if Ino catches you-"

"I'm not that smart."

I grunt in reply. She has to fight me on everything.

"Liam," she starts, looking rather serious now. The look in her eyes... something's different. There's something there I can't nail down, an emotion I haven't seen before. I don't know if I should be scared. I opt for caution.

"Yeah?"

She pulls on her cigarette again and purses her lips away from me. She blows the smoke over the railing, then bites the inside of her lip. She brushes her blonde hair from her face.

"How do you want to die?"

I recoil slightly.

"That got dark fast."

"We were talking about death so, y'know," she waves her hands about.

I rub my brow with a finger and lean back up against the railing. Nothing comes to mind, not immediately anyway.

"Hm... you first."

She looks at her cigarette, burning down to the base. She flicks it over the railing, watching it plummet down the stairwell.

"Falling. It's probably nice to see the whole world below you, then you go splat. Make a big mess," she grins.

"Like all the cigarettes poor Richards has to clean up?"

She laughs quietly and looks down the stairs.

"Yeah, I guess so."

The smile slowly disappears from her face. She looks back to me.

"So?"

"So...?

"How would you die, if you got to pick?"

"Happy."

All that's left is me.

Again.

It's so quiet.

The wounds don't close. A strange sensation to feel your heart ripped apart in your chest, stranger still, feeling it try to beat. I don't have the energy to contemplate his words, to reflect on what I've seen. I feel it giving up, my heart. The twitches are getting slower.

I don't know how long I've been lying here. The pain is gone, but so is all sensation. Time and thought and memory, all blurring together, like a dream. A nightmare you can't wake up from. I can't move. The black void above slowly begins populating with lights, faint twinkles of stars far away. Is it over?

"L-..." I try to speak, but my throat doesn't comply. A terrible pain in my esophagus. I'm in the dark again. The only thing I can see in the void is myself and the stars above. Slower still. A blanket of fog rolls in over my body, over the darkness. The sky above fills with light, the arm of a galaxy splashing over the dark, blending like ink in water. My eyes stop working.

I try again, but no words come forth. I swallow. I have to say something. I must.

"...please," I whisper. I can't tell if I actually say it, or if it's my thoughts.

There's no answer. Nothing, just silence. I can't hear anymore. My heart's quiet.

"Please..." I whisper again. "I don't want to be alone again..."

Nothing. Not even the sound of my voice echoes back into my ears. I lie there, unmoving, trapped in my own body. I can only hope that...

Her name is on my tongue, but it all just ebbs away. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Good luck, Luna.

"He's awake!"

It's so god damn bright. Everything hurts. My eyes can't adjust, and every breath is labored. I hear an EKG. It's somewhere to my left. It feels like I've been thrown off a building. I shut my eyes and try to speak, but it comes out as a wheeze. I'm in a bed. This feels awfully familiar.

"Son, don't move, okay?" That voice, I've heard it before. I know that voice. It's warm and it's fatherly, nurturing.

"The lights... turn them off..." I rasp.

After a moment, the sound of hooves on tile, everything gets a little darker. I'm afraid to open my eyes. I'm so tired...

"Liam?"

I recognize that voice. It feels like I haven't heard it in years. It cracks.

"Luna?" I can't stop my lip from trembling. I try to open my eyes, but everything is blurred. I see a vague shape, dark blue. I'm awake, right? Please, tell me I'm-

Before I know it, I feel her embrace me, hooves wrapped around my neck. Her head pushes against mine and I feel a wetness on my ear. She's crying. Don't cry, don't... God damn it. I'm crying too. I slowly move my arms up and feel around her back, avoiding her wings and wrapping her in a hug.

"You're okay," I whisper, "thank God you're okay."

"Is it over?"

"Yes," Neat Stitch says, "you're okay, son. Just take it slow. Can you see?"

I blink, then screw my eyes shut. Breathe. I open my eyes again, then everything comes into focus. The curtains are drawn shut. Luna is still here, still holding me. Neat Stitch is staring at me with concern, red eyes staring at me intensely. I shudder and sniffle, pulling Luna tighter.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like that?"

He brushes his chin against his shoulder, looking down at his beige coat for a moment. He then looks back to me.

"There's no easy way to put this, Liam... you were dead for three hours, then revived in the morgue. Is that normal for your species?"

I take a raggedy breath and Luna pulls away to look at me, cheeks matted with tears and muzzle pointed downwards. I look over my body, naked save for the gown. Nothing's new.

"Liam?"

I look at Luna and notice she's much taller. As tall as Celestia now. Her coat is darker, that ethereal mane a deeper shade of blue. Her legs have become more slender, her body more agile and powerful, her movements more graceful. I snap myself away when I notice she's looking at me right back. I feel my ears flush.

"Uh... no."

"You died, Liam," Neat Stitch says again.

"I know. I don't know why I'm alive. I can't even hazard a guess. Everything's... muddy."

Neat Stitch levitates a pen and a clipboard over and begins jotting down notes.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

Neat Stitch doesn't look away from his clipboard.

"Three days. You had no brain activity. Princess Luna spent every night here with you since you were found."

I look over to Princess Luna and she doesn't shy away. She nods towards me and places a hoof on my bed. I take it. I don't want to ask this question, but I have to. I squeeze her hoof gently.

"How..." I swallow, "how many died?"

She gives me a grave look. She looks to Neat Stitch and he stops writing on his clipboard. He grimaces. That's not good. That's not good at all.

"Fifteen. Forty-seven injured."

"Fifteen?"

"Yeah, we..." he coughs, trying to hide the wavering of his voice. Luna bows her head.

"Only fifteen... thank God..." I lay my head back and stare at the ceiling.

"Only-?!" Neat Stitch restrains himself from marching forward, and out of the corner of my eye, I see an incredible anger in his features. Princess Luna positions herself between us, shooting me a look. She opens her mouth, but I cut her off.

"If this was the real deal, we'd be looking at a death toll in the upper hundreds, if not the thousands," I say calmly.

"What?" Neat Stitch whispers.

"I don't mean to take away from the tragedy, from the pain of this, but trust me when I say... this could've been a helluva lot worse. It would have been the greatest loss of life in Equestrian history."

He shakes his head, a silent snarl on his features. He turns his head away and continues writing on his clipboard. Luna gives me a horrified look.

"I'm sorry, Stitch. I know that's a terrible thing to say, to find light in any number of dead. It's just..."

He looks back to me, anger simmering beneath the surface. The fur on the back of his neck is raised.

"That was my life, that was my world. When you're dealing with big numbers, anything one or two digits off is good news. I'm sorry. I should've said nothing," I murmur.

He keeps his gaze focused, but I see some of that anger and some of that pain flow away. He shakes his head and turns back to the clipboard. He probes the side of his cheek with his tongue and turns back to me.

"How are you feeling?"

I keep my grip gentle on her hoof.

"Like shit. Everything hurts."

He nods and keeps writing.

"Are you capable of seeing Princess Celestia in your state?"

Oooh... that's the big one. I...

I feel a twist in my heart and a tightening in my chest. I know how that conversation is going to pan-out. I look at Luna and she gives me a reassuring nod.

"We... I think you will be fine, Liam. It was circumstances outside your control. I have spoken with Celestia."

I nod silently, and turn to nod at Neat Stitch. He levitates the clipboard into his labcoat.

"I'll send her a letter right away."

"Okay."

He turns and walks towards the door. Before he heads out, he turns his head over his shoulder and starts to say something, but closes his mouth and walks out. The door shuts behind him.

"I like the new look," I say awkwardly and turn to Luna. She smiles softly, her wings fluttering lightly.

"Thank you, Liam. You look..."

"Like Hell on wheels?"

"I do not know what that means, but I assume it is negative."

"You'd be right, yeah," I chuckle weakly. She smiles.

"No, you look fine, if not a little... unkempt."

I grunt and look at her hoof. Her coat is soft. I rub my thumb over it and I notice her shiver at the touch.

"Sorry, uh... that probably felt weird."

"No, it felt great," she says quickly, then shuts her mouth and brings a wing over it. A deeper blue blush explodes across her cheeks. I laugh.

"You've dropped the Old English speak?"

She bristles and tucks her wing back, teetering on her hooves.

"Old Equish, but yes, is it not better to speak with a modern tongue?"

My smile softens a little.

"I thought speaking to pony Shakespeare was cool, personally."

"Shakespeare?"

"Ah... nevermind. Someone from Earth."

We sit there in silence for a few moments, but it's comfortable. I notice there's something in her eyes, that smile slowly fading. I think I know what it is, and decide to move first.

"Luna?"

Her gaze focuses and she looks at me.

"I... when I died... you..."

I swallow and she leans in slightly, those magnificent eyes trained on me.

"I was afraid I wasn't going to see you again. I'm just... I'm happy that-" my voice breaks and my eyes water. She doesn't give me any room to breathe and is on me again, holding onto me tightly. I bury my face in her neck and hold on for life. The sobs don't stop, not for a long time. I don't know how long I've been holding her like this, but it feels good.

"Liam," I hear someone call.

Luna pulls away gingerly and I see Celestia standing there, an impassive expression on her face, and in her eyes...

"We need to talk."

Chapter 14: Organization

Organization

"It cannot be understated how little faith I have in this plan."

I massage my eyes and sigh. The mirror shimmers before me, Celestia's doubtful visage on full display. The frown on her face makes my guts churn up into butter. I pace before the mirror and straighten out my tie. I look back up to her with a matching frown. Month one, surveying, digging.

"We talked about this, you agreed this was the best way forward," I say rigidly. Month two, digging, rain, delay.

It's too late to back out now. Too many things in motion, too much to lose. We've already hit one-hundred meters in depth... too much work gone into this. Need to defuse her.

"I am well aware, however-" I raise my hands.

"I understand your concerns, but this will work," I reassure. Celestia's breathing down my neck, much like she's doing now. Celestia trumpets an exasperated tone, one I don't appreciate considering the amount of work we've done.

"Why do you believe this will work, Liam? Why will this succeed where your Foundation failed? Tell me again." Month four, digging, building. Lying to her isn't really an option. I tug on my belt and lean against my desk. I can't give her spiel again, might as well be honest.

"Truthfully, I don't know that we'll succeed, but I do know this is the best option across the board. I've done what I can to get us up and running as soon as possible, but there is a technological gap to account for as well. The engineers you've given me are working to close that gap, albeit slowly."

I should've lied to her. Month three, digging, cave-in, two injured.

Celestia's magenta eyes put on a full display of mixed emotions, a bag I don't feel too comfortable with. She levitates the tiara from her head and lets her mane flow out, ethereal wind taking it up into the air. She's distressed, and I don't really blame her, considering I've been stonewalling her for the past two weeks.

"How is construction coming?" Month five.

"We've finished up the base-structure of Levels One, Two and Four. Three and the finishing touches will be completed by the architects and engineers we have on retention. We've met our deadline, and they've made record time considering the setbacks. I'd be hard pressed to find any human engineers that could get this done in the same timeframe with the same obstacles."

Celestia pauses and chews on her lip.

"How many levels do you need?"

I click my tongue.

"Just the four. We'll expand as we need with the staff on retention."

Celestia walks about her chambers, a look on her muzzle I've become familiar with. These past few months, she's let her guard down around me some. Maybe a gesture of goodwill and trust on her part, but one I can plan around. Her emotions, being plainly visible, gives me ample room to navigate our conversations without fear of being played.

The look in her face now is the one she makes when she's about to make demands, a passive-aggressive display of mild annoyance and pleading.

"Have you considered my proposal?" There it is.

"I have, and I disagree. We need to maintain an international presence while remaining completely opaque in our intentions and operations. It will be close to impossible to remain transparent and I understand-"

Celestia scoffs and gets closer to the communication mirror.

"Do you have any idea how difficult that will be to establish in diplomatic channels, if not impossible?"

Her tone takes a hard edge to it towards the end. I pick up the small Equus globe sitting on my desk, turning it over in my hands slowly, rolling it around.

"Yes, I do. With the political environment as it is, it's going to be overwhelmingly hard, but it's necessary. Fortunately for us both, I have another plan." That's month six. It's hard to believe it's been so long. Time flies when the roof falls in on top of you. At least we're not sleeping in those fucking tents anymore.

She recoils as though struck.

"Oh, for...!" She walks away from the mirror, muttering curses I can't pick up in various different languages.

"Yes. Another plan. I'm still hammering out the details, but I have faith it will work." Faith, and a massive amount of pressure.

"And the other architects? The pay is substantial, but you surely do not expect them to remain silent?"

I set the globe down on my desk with a thud, the world tilts slightly on the oak surface.

"They won't say anything, not a word."

"Liam, I must be honest, I am unsure if I trust your capabilities."

I grimace and push myself off the desk. I approach the mirror, hands on my hips.

"That's something you should've said in August, don't you think? We're a little past the point of no return."

If she pulls the plug now, all of this will have been for nothing. Keep your cool, keep reminding yourself that it'd not be wise to piss off the bankroller to this entire thing. Well, anymore than she already is, at least.

"I didn't ask you to trust me, I didn't ask for this job, I told you what needed to be done and how. I'm not a doctor, I'm not a soldier and I'm not a diplomat. I'm a scientist. If you want to see this through to the end, that's your call. Either we do it my way, or we don't do it at all. I'll see you and Luna tonight."

I wave my hand in front of the mirror. The image within begins fading away, Celestia jumping towards me, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Liam-!"

I just hung up on the most powerful person in the country, maybe the world, using a magic phone. I let out a hiss and decompress, shoulders slouched and hand in my hair. I round the desk, tapping on the surface with my knuckles, then sit down on my chair. We ran out of the nice faux-leather ones a little while ago, I opted for wood to give mine up to Doctor Stitch. What a mistake that was. My back has been killing me for weeks.

I lean back over the edge of the chair, trying to crack my back with no success. Can't win 'em all. I imagine I'm going to get quite the ass-chewing soon, and for good reason too. Well, at least Luna will be there. Some good news. Haven't seen her in quite a while now. I look over the blueprint on the wall, wondering how soon it'll all be finished.

Truly finished, every room, every cell and every lab. Only time will tell.

I look at the ceiling, panels missing here and there, exposing insulation and cold hard rock above. Limestone, if I remember right. These walls need to be painted. And finished. I've deliberately placed the mirror against the one finished wall so it doesn't look like I'm holed up in a cave somewhere, hoping that gives me some credibility in these talks with Celestia. I've got a lot of time to kill before the celebration dinner tonight. Going to need to find something to do before then, keep my mind from wandering.

I inspect the tarp over the sign behind me, a dull gray sheet. Underneath... well, that's for tonight.

There's a knock at the door, gently. Almost didn't hear it.

"Come in!" I call.

The door handle jiggles about for a moment before the door swings open, and standing on the other side, a dark green unicorn mare with a lime-green mane. Across her eyes and running over the bridge of her muzzle is a jagged scar, mostly hidden by a purple blindfold wrapped neatly around her head. Her face is neutral when she comes in, head turning about, listening for me. Her movements are slow, careful.

"Hey, Peri."

She smiles in my direction, ears pivoting towards me. She steps forward with more confidence, something I'd planned for, given the tumble over the chair that used to be in front of my desk.

"Hi Liam, whatcha up to?" she ask warmly.

"This and that. Your mirror works perfectly, by the way."

She beams, a slightly darker green blush rising in her cheeks.

"I'm glad to hear it!"

I stand up from my chair and her ears pivot towards the sound of the wood creaking.

"You want a seat?"

"Oh, no thank you, me and that chair have a feud." I chuckle.

"So it would seem," I sit back down. I rub my chin.

"Any luck with the warding spell?"

She groans and falls back onto her rump. She shakes her head and sighs.

"Not really. I've worked with mules less stubborn than this. It just... have you ever tried to read somepony else's cursive?"

"Uh... yeah?" I lie. They didn't teach me cursive in high school. Close to the only thing they got right in my curriculum.

"That's what it feels like. A whole bunch of nonsense and I have to pick it apart piece by piece. It's taken forever, doesn't help I can't see or write down any notes. It's hard to remember where I left off," she complains.

"I believe in you, Peridot. Your cutie mark believes in you, too."

"Ha! As if. I got this deciphering a riddle spell, hardly a qualification for this."

"I'll let you in on a little secret; hardly anyone is. We're all just flailing around pretending we have a handle on things. The best you can do is smile and press forward."

"That's... not reassuring," she grumbles. A loud grumble from her stomach follows soon after. My eyes narrow.

"Have you eaten today?" I ask accusingly. She hoofs at the ground in embarrassment.

"Um... no, I have not," she smiles sheepishly. I sigh.

"You can't do that. Don't push yourself too hard, Peri."

"I just... I'm just trying to be helpful. I know that I'm..." her voice trails off in a familiar fashion. I jump in.

"Stop. You are helpful, more than that. What you did with this transmission mirror was a marvel, same with the power grid. You're an important part of this operation, and without you, I'd be sitting in the closet with my thumb up my ass."

"Liam!" She laughs. It's a marked improvement from her crying.

"Hey, it's true! Really. You've been spectacular. I don't know how I would've managed any of this if you weren't there to keep me sane," I confess.

Her smile softens, her head dipping slightly.

"Thank you, Liam."

"No, thank you, Peridot. Now let's get you something to eat, okay?"

"Alright."

I stand from my desk once more and walk around, setting my hand on her shoulders. We both turn to walk out, my hand acting as a guide to keep pace with me. She trots alongside me, my right side, and we make our way through the door. Limestone rock walls are illuminated by off-white floorlights, glowing and shining on the metal grate floors. Once we get this all dug-out and properly set up, we'll get those damned laminate floors from Area-14.

Despite our work down here, it does still smell like a damp cave. Hopefully, we can get some air freshener or whatever the Equestrians have been using in the castle down here.

"Liam?" Peridot asks.

I stop and she does too.

"Yes?"

She doesn't turn her head, but her ears pivot towards me.

"Do you think that thing, the Plague... do you think it could follow you?"

A pit opens in my gut. Just hearing the proposition makes the blood run cold.

"I don't know," I mumble, "if I made it through, it can too. The best we can do is prepare, and even if it never comes, Equestria has too much dangerous magical shit lying around for my liking. That Zebrican pendant that was in the Royal Vault for example."

She groans.

"Ugh, don't remind me. It took forever to turn those frogs back into ponies."

"Plus, our special guest. Your idea with the clocks was a nice touch, saved our bacon. Uh, our butts."

She nods absentmindedly, probably still hung up on the whole frog thing. Turning an entire squad of too-curious Royal Guards back into ponies was definitely a hassle, more so when we had no idea Celestia was sending us that pendant in the first place. We arrive at my secretary. A solitary plywood desk is situated against one of the finished walls, wooden boards laid underneath atop the metal grates.

Seated at the desk is a white earth pony with a greased-back black mane sits at the desk, half-frame glasses perched on the bridge of his muzzle, jowls hanging low like a bulldog. A small mustache, neatly trimmed, sits just above his lips. He looks up from the newspaper in his hooves.

"Good afternoon, Director Webb," he utters in monotone.

I stop and nod to him, "good afternoon, Mister Treble. Has Daring come in yet?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing interesting to report, sir."

I begin to worry that Daring Do has encountered difficulty with her assignment. Given how naïve and gullible ponies seem to be, I was hoping that her treasure-hunting experience and run-ins with various villains would've changed that. Then, I remember that the villains of Equestria share the same traits. I can only hope that she'll be back soon.

I sigh. "Let me know if anything changes, Mister Treble."

"Very well, sir," he responds in his Trottingham accent. The parallels between our worlds have stopped surprising me at this point. Now it's what we don't have in common I find surprising.

We resume our walk, lumbering over the metal grating beneath us. The grates shift and vibrate as we go, making our way towards the elevator. The elevator shafts were basically the first thing to get built, considering the hassle of using ropes and ladders to descend dozens upon dozens of meters. Given the rather quick nature of our build, the shafts are still exposed limestone with a metal frame embracing the elevator, wires and pipes running down a long concrete pillar in the back. With our skeleton crew, we couldn't possibly afford any injuries or fatalities just trying to get around in these caverns.

I press the button to call the elevator, a small metal circle embedded in a frame of spaces out metal bars and exposed magical circuitry. I need to get that covered up with a faceplate or something. The elevator descends in the open space in front of us, the Victorian-style open-air doors parting to allow us access. A dim orange light sits in the ceiling of the elevator, and I usher Peridot forward. I begin to enter, then lean out of the elevator to call back to Treble Tree.

"I told you to stop calling me sir!"

"Very good, sir," he drones back mindlessly.

Peridot laughs. I grunt and enter the elevator, punching the button up to L1.

"You ponies are going to give me a fucking aneurysm," I grumble. She laughs again, and I can't help but smirk at it.

I love them all to death.

I push open the doors to the mess hall, the most furnished and completed room in the facility, though there isn't much to compete with. Rows of cafeteria-style tables, about ten or so, given the space constraints. One of the only rooms in the whole facility to be painted, white, stripe of green running horizontally along it.

Need to have an interior decorator come in. Maybe I can get replacement lights put in, ones that aren't so cold and lifeless as these.

I guide Peridot over to the serving table, buffet dishes guarded behind thin, rounded glass in a plastic frame. The server, a teal unicorn, looks up at us with purple eyes, pink mane done up in a hair net. She smiles at us, then notices the blindfold. Her smile falters.

Must be new.

"Here we are, what are you having?" I ask Peridot, looking down at her.

"Liam..." she trails off.

"Oh, shiiooot. Right, sorry. They've got hayburgers, hayfries, garden salad..." I look over the limited assortment of food, pretty much all of it catered to the Equestrian diet. I hesitate to introduce meat-based products in a facility of almost only ponies.

"It smells good. Anything else?"

"Lady, we just got the kitchen up and running, would you rather go outside and eat grass?" I sass her.

"Shut up," she jabs me with a hoof. "I'll take a hayburger."

"Alright, one hayburger, please. Any fries?"

"No, thank you."

"No fries, then. Drink?"

She pauses and her lips purse. Her head turns towards me.

"Do we have lemonade?"

"We have water, coffee and Dazzle-Cola," the mare behind the counter says. I look at her nametag. Minty Daze.

"A Dazzle-Cola, please."

"You heard the mare, one Dazzle-Cola, Miss Daze," I say with a smile. The mare smiles back and starts filling the plate.

I turn back to Peridot and ruffle her mane. She sticks her tongue out at me. I chuckle, then remember the nightmares she's been having. How she hardly sleeps in the bunks.

"How have your dreams been, Peri?"

"They're... better. Princess Luna has helped a lot."

Good to know that she listened to me then.

"Have you spoken to the psychologist?"

"No, but you're one to talk. You hardly ever leave that office. Ponies come and go, but you stay. Do you sleep in there?"

"Hardly an office, but you're right. And... not always," I confess.

Minty Daze levitates the plate of food and a dark blue bottle of Dazzle-Cola over the counter. I take them in my hands and nod my thanks to her.

"Why haven't you spoken to Doctor Songbird?"

"I've never been good with therapists. I've got your food here, let's go sit down," I say and start walking towards a table. A few other ponies sit here in the cafeteria, eating, doing their best to not be seen staring at me. Given how rarely I leave my office, I imagine it must be quite a sight.

"That's not a good excuse," Peridot says next to me, snapping me from my thoughts.

You're right.

"That's too bad, that's the one you're getting," I say and set the food down on the table, "here, bench is in front of you."

"Thanks," she mutters, reaching forward with her foreleg. She meets the bench with her hoof, then goes about getting herself seated before I move the food in front of her. I sit down beside her, gently take her hooves onto the table and guide them to the plate and her drink, letting her know where everything is. I pop the lid on the Dazzle-Cola and set it down where I put it before.

"Are you scared?" she asks before taking a big bite out of her hayburger levitating in front of her.

Terrified.

"I'm pretty sure I'd scare him off," I say back. Her mouth twists up some.

"Thar's katchip on dis," she manages through her mouthful. She swallows the bite.

"You don't like ketchup, huh?" I look away from her and over the cafeteria. I turn back and she's holding the hayburger in her magic.

"Hey, don't divert. You need to talk to somepony about it," she says.

"I do, and I know I need to talk to someone about it, so drop it," I snap quickly. She dips her head down a little bit, deflating.

"Okay. Sorry," she says quickly.

"No, it's not your fault. It's alright. I'm sorry, I need to talk to someone about it. You're right."

I take a breath and close my eyes, dragging my finger over my right brow.

"You're right," I mutter.

"Liam?" Peridot starts. I open my eyes and turn towards her.

"What's up?"

"I heard that Zebra from Ponyville joined the team, the one that lived out in the woods?" Her hayburger moves back and forth in her magic like a human might move their hands while eating. The sight robs me of words before I can answer. My brain starts back up.

"That's right. Researcher Zecora, L2 Offices. She's been working on our... well, I'll tell you later. Why?"

She takes a bite of her hayburger and tries talking, but it's garbled muffled nonsense.

"You wanna try that again?"

She swallows and has a sip of her Dazzle-Cola.

"So, anypony... um, anyone can join?"

"I want every species in Equus to be on our team, Peri. This isn't just about Equestria; it's the whole world. I better not be finding out you're a pony supremacist, now."

She laughs.

"Absolutely not! It's just... I was trying to say that it sounds ambitious, but it's good that the doors are open to everyp- everyone. Also, she said everything's ready for the dinner tonight."

"Good. And I better not find any friendship windmills carved into your desk, or I'm gonna smack the green out of your mane," I jokingly threaten. She quirks an eyebrow and laughs, but the smile slowly disappears into confusion.

"Director Webb," Treble says over my shoulder. I turn over and find his mustache remarkably close to my face. His eyes look down into mine with possibly the least enthused look I've ever seen.

"What's a friendship windmill?" Peridot asks quietly behind me, more to herself than me. I grimace.

"You don't want to know," I say back to her then turn back to Tree, "and yes, how may I help you, Mister Tree?"

"Agent D has returned with a report, sir."

"Excellent, have it sent to my office, I want to get my eyes on that immediately. Sorry to cut this short, Peridot."

"It's okay. I'll see you later? Or... hang out, because... y'know."

I awkwardly laugh and she smiles a tad.

"Yes, we'll hang later, have a nice day Peri."

"You too."

I stand from the bench and Treble Tree stops me.

"Sir," he begins, bringing a hoof up to stroke his mustache, "she was insistent on sharing the report with you herself."

The open-air doors part and I step out of the elevator. I adjust my tie and step forward, Treble Tree following close behind. As we walk, I chew on my lip. Why would she need to present this in person? Did something happen? Was she able to make contact? My shoes thud against the metal grates below and I heard Treble break off and have a seat at his table. I grab at the door handle and pause.

Could it be trouble?

I open the door and step inside. Daring is sitting patiently in the chair in front of my desk, but that patience seems to evaporate the moment she turns around and looks at me. She launches from her chair and gives an exaggerated grin.

"I'm back, boss!" she exclaims.

I put my hands up.

"Excited, huh? I take it everything went well?"

"Yessir! Everything should be in the report right here," she opens her saddle bag with her wing and pulls out a folder in her teeth.

"'ere yew go!" she says through her teeth. I take the folder from her teeth and walk around the desk. I flip it open and skim over the papers within.

She found the hive, documented some wildlife in the area, watched from afar. Logs stop after two days of reconnaissance, when she went inside. Scrambled notes about the structure within, nothing detailed. Gave up rather quickly then? She should've stuck around longer.

"Well...?" Daring says.

My eyes shoot up from the folder and over to her.

"Well what?"

"You're not going to say anything? I risked my neck out there!" She throws her hooves around in exasperation. In the motion, I gently sit down in my chair and rub my eye.

"Well, you found the hive, but there were no changelings to be seen. That's not good news," I say neutrally.

She tilts her head and looks at me.

"Never mind, good job, Daring," I say, give her a polite smile and look back at the lackluster report.

"Thank you sir!" Her wings flutter. She leans forward in the chair and my eyes go over to her cutie mark.

Huh. That's interesting. I chew on my lip and feign interest in the report.

"What was the inside like?"

"The inside?" she drags.

"Of the hive," I clarify, a little terse.

"Oh... uh, it was... all slimy... and gross, everything was black."

"Mm."

"Is there a problem, sir?" Her body language is shifting. Defensive, on edge.

"Oh, no. I'm just disappointed you didn't find Chrysalis. Well, these things happen."

"Right, alright, I'm going to head-"

"Why don't you stay awhile, Daring?"

Her rose eyes shoot wide open. Her mouth drops somewhat.

"S-stay?" She stutters. "Uh, why?"

"Let's celebrate," I say with fake enthusiasm. "The changelings are gone! I have a Sweet Apple Acres Cider in this desk here and two glasses. Let's drink to a job well done," I smile.

"Okay," she says uncertainly.

I remove the cider from the bottom drawer of the desk and set two glasses down on the counter. I uncork the bottle and begin pouring the cider, looking up at her while I do so. Her eyes linger on her glass, an uneasy look in her eyes. I cork the bottle back up and set it aside.

I push her glass towards her then take mine in my hand.

"To your health," I say, then tilt the glass to my lips.

"And yours," she says nervously. She take a sip and immediately coughs. Her eyes scrunch shut.

"Blegh..." she sticks her tongue out.

"You don't like it?" I ask.

"Uh, it's a little strong, sir."

I chuckle, then set my glass down on the desk. I rap the ends of my fingers against the felt.

"That's funny, I thought it was your favorite drink."

"Oh, uh, no. I prefer wine," she lies.

I shake my head and look at my glass, eyebrows furrowed.

"Weird, maybe I'm imaging things."

She opens her mouth and begins to push out another lie.

"But then I remember, you gave me this bottle. How weird is that?"

Gotcha.

"Sir, I don't-"

"You haven't called me sir once since we met," I say calmly.

"Well, it's good to be polite," she quickly adds in.

"Hm... maybe so. Sorry, paranoid lately," I wave my hand around.

She's not biting. Oh well.

"That's alright," she says cautiously.

I open my drawer and pull out an item. A small, gray device with a black screen. The power button's stuck in, dents on the outer casing, crack running down the glass. Bits of sand and dirt are still lodged in the top speaker, some in the microphone. Charging port was sealed shut by dirt, no doubt the thing is ruined.

But I need it as a springboard.

"Have I ever told you about this?" I hold the phone up in the air.

"No?"

"Ah, that's right, I haven't." I bring my hand up to my face with a light smack. I look over to her and roll my shoulder. "It's something I brought with me from Earth, lost it in the Everfree. It sat in the mud and the rain and the undergrowth for a few months before I found it, decided to go back out there and see if there was anything else I lost. Now, this cell phone is useless at this point, little more than a paperweight. Maybe I'm just sentimental about keeping it, a reminder of home."

"Well, it's always good to remember where you came from," she says with a smile. She thinks she's in the clear now.

I set the phone down on the table, then reach back into the drawer, producing another item.

"But this? This right here is what I really wanted to show you. See, it sat in that forest for the same amount of time, collected all that dirt and grime, rust and wear. I don't know if it still works," I roll the old bullet across the table towards her. Her hooves shoot forward and catch it.

"What is it?" she asks, holding it in her hoof. She inspects it curiously.

"That little thing right there is called a bullet, well, specifically the end of it is the bullet. Nine millimeter. It loads into the magazine, which is loaded into the bottom of this device here," I say as I produce my old pistol.

"M9 Beretta. I remember when I got this. It launches the end of that bullet upwards of one-thousand hooves per second at a target, usually to lethal effect. Problem is, it hasn't been properly maintained or cared for, like a dulled sword edge, or... a blunted arrow, much like that bullet there. What do you think the chances are that it still works?"

"I wouldn't know," she says cautiously. She eyes the gun.

"That's right, you wouldn't; you're not Daring Do."

I level the gun at her. Her eyes narrow and her wings tense, but aside from that, she doesn't move. Her pupils constrict.

"Now before you do anything stupid, let me tell your options. You could try and fly across this table, maybe smack the pistol out of my hand. That's a bad idea, considering I've already got the drop on you. You could try to run, but again, you're contending with a bullet that travels faster than you could possibly imagine. Or, changeling, you drop your disguise and we can talk. Then again, maybe the gun doesn't work. Maybe I pull this trigger and nothing happens."

Neither of us move.

"What's it gonna be? My gamble against yours."

Slowly, the tension bleeds from her body, peals of energy ripple over her as the disguise disappears. Sitting there before me, a changeling, black carapace and teal eyes staring back at me. The wings at her sides buzz in agitation, an anxious look on her fanged muzzle.

"Smart. Now, where's Daring?"

She pauses, as though unsure of how to continue.

"She's safe, but unconscious. What tipped you off?" she says in a voice not too dissimilar from Daring's.

I smile.

"It was a bunch of things, but number one was you got the cutie mark wrong. It's a compass with four points; you had five."

She pauses again, then sighs.

"Ah shoot."

I put the gun onto the table, barrel facing her, then lean over the desk, propped up on my elbow.

"What's your name?"

"Fronse," she says finally, "what do you want?"

"First, I want Daring back, unharmed. Then, Fronse, I want to meet your queen."

The cafeteria is alive with action. All of the construction crews, engineers and architects, gathered at one ungodly arrangement of the bench-tables into one *long* dining table. Clear Compass, Big Bolt, Stronghoof and more, all talking and laughing with the mares and stallions under their purview.

We sectioned off the cafeteria to all nonessential personnel. Only security and the guests tonight.

I don't want anyone to see this.

I walk through and a few whistles make their way over. I see Peridot, maybe a little overwhelmed with all the noise, sitting there at the table. Zecora, sitting with her hooves neatly folded, not engaged in any conversation. She looks at me with a knowing look. Beside her, Sunny, his scarred visage nodding towards me. I nod back and round the table, patting some of the ponies on the shoulders as I pass.

"I can't wait to show tha boys back home that trick we did with tha power grid, oh hay, they're gonna lose they marbles!"

I take my position at the head of the table, next to the sign placed nearby. The sheet hasn't been moved, looks like. Good.

I clear my throat and speak to the group.

"Welcome, everyone. I'm not going to be here too long, take up too much of your time, I have a dinner tonight with the Princesses that I can't miss. I'll let you get to the food soon enough," I smile.

They chuckle amongst themselves. I stand in front of the covered sign. I reach over to the glass on the table before me, holding it by my waist. The whiskey within sloshes about. The assistant ponies begin moving forward to the table, taking the bottles and pouring champagne into each of the glasses. The ponies watch the spectacle in varying levels of interest.

"I wanted to offer a toast to your work and commitment to this project. Without all of you here, this wouldn't be possible. Not by a long shot. I'd like to give special thanks to Clear Compass and his team from Seaddle; it cannot be understated enough how well Level Four has come together, in part due to the wonderful contributions of Miss Peridot Beam," I raise my glass.

Isolated cheers and whistles echo around the table. Peridot smiles bashfully under the praise, and I can't stop myself from smiling along with her. I take a sip from my glass and continue.

"But it's not just her. It's all of you. It's a tradition on my world to clear your glasses at the end of a toast, so if you'll indulge me, bottoms up!"

Everypony in the room knocks back their glasses, draining every drop. When they finish, they stomp their hooves while the more refined among them tap them together, Clear Compass being one of them. A few cough as the bitter drink goes down, but the more seasoned drinkers hold it together.

"Can I get this refilled? That there's some good buckin' stuff ya got," Strong Hoof proclaims in his heavy Manehattan accent.

"Not yet," I say, setting my glass down on the table.

"Now, on a more personal note," I sit down at the head of the arrangement. All of their eyes stay on me.

"I'm a stranger here, an alien. Without the help and support from the Princesses here... I'd be dead, plain and simple. So I want to take this moment to tell you that you have two very special rulers, ponies you should be proud to have as leaders. Honest and kind, trustworthy. Rare qualities in the leaders of my world."

The ponies take the opportunity to whistle and shout again, whooping cheers and clapping, stomping and smiles all around. A pit forms in my stomach, but I press on.

"I am not them."

"What?" Clear Compass asks, having noticed the sudden tonal shift. The ponies quiet down.

"While I appreciate all you've done, some of you will not be staying onboard with us. It's nothing personal, nor is it meant to offend any of you, but the project simply cannot have all of you."

Big Bolt lurches forwards, blinking slowly.

"What's happening? Director Webb?" he slurs.

"You might've noticed the effects of the serum by now. That's why I've been stalling. Don't worry; it's not poison. You won't remember this meal. You won't remember working on this project. You won't remember meeting me, or anypony else in this room. It's a special ritual amnestic, coating your glasses, courtesy of the newest member of our team," I nod towards Zecora. She nods.

"Am... nest-" Strong Hoof goes down onto the table with a bang, slumping forward in his chair.

"I buckin'... knew... ya were trouble..." Big Bolt utters, fading out of consciousness slowly.

"This is... outrageous!" Clear Compass stands from the bench, surveying the swathes of ponies falling unconscious. He slams his hooves down on the table, his glass falling off and shattering on the floor.

"Sit down, Compass."

"My," he gasps in exasperation, "you've drugged half my team!"

"Sit. Down," Sunny orders, wings extending.

Clear Compass shoots him a glare, then looks to me, fury in his eyes. Slowly, he sits back down.

That might be a problem later.

"Now, before the rest of you pass out, I do want to say that you'll all be returned home safely. You will be paid as per our agreement. I cannot thank you all enough for the work you've done, and I'm sorry we must end on these terms. Not that you'll remember it."

"How could you-..." Big Bolt manages before his eyes finally close.

"Director, what was that?!" Peridot shouts.

"What was necessary," I declare. "Sunny, get these ponies out of here and ready for transport."

Sunny Skies nods and motions over to the security watching the spectacle from the walls. They close in on the table and begin removing the amnesticized ponies.

"Now, as for the rest of you, your packets will be provided shortly. Welcome to the Anomalous Containment Bureau."

Author's Note

With that, Act One is completed!

I'm thinking about switching to a permanent third-person for Act Two between the different characters, but we'll see!

Thank you all for reading up to this point! I hope it's met/exceeded your expectations, and I hope you'll stay along for the rest of the ride. Leave comments and critiques below, I love reading them and it helps me improve as a writer, plus I get to interact with you all!

And, on a final note, welcome to the ACB! We've got dental.

EDIT: Unedited, btw, lemme know if you find errors!

Chapter 15: A Prelude to Dinner

A Prelude to Dinner

Liam stood out in the warm night air, eyes searching the stars above for something he couldn't find. His stubbly face wore a frown, in his eyes were regret, no doubt from the events that had transpired just minutes earlier. His fingers probed and rubbed the rim of his father's watch adorned on his left wrist. The faceplate was still cracked, scratches on the metal bands, but the clock still ticked. This gave him some solace from the guilt he was feeling, a small measure of relief to tide him over to his next big problem.

Celestia.

It was only a matter of time before she found out that her informant had been drugged. One Stronghoof's mares, Cobble Polish, a young unicorn mare with bright green eyes. It didn't take him too long to figure that the information Celestia was bringing up during their conferences was fed to her from the inside. Still, to rob these ponies of their memories felt like a crime. It was a crime, in fact.

Memory removal magic was highly illegal across Equus, Equestria being no exception. Rsearch into possible amnestics quickly ran into hurdles of ethical and legal concern. Liam knew that eventually, he was going to have to break some laws, but Zecora's ritual amnestic would avoid that possibility for the time being. As far as they could find, ritual amnestics were a legal loophole that Liam could abuse. He was afraid that these ordeals would soon come to haunt him, even more so than the overt disgust Peridot felt for his actions. In that mess hall, he could feel the stares upon him, the judgement.

He knew it was part of the job. It didn't alleviate the sting, however. The ponies won't accept it, yet. But he knew better than anyone that sometimes the only way forward was to forget, voluntarily or not.

The buzz of the whiskey was still upon him, cheeks lightly tinted red and movements more fluid. He sank to the ground in a squat, brushing off his black slacks as he descended. His black tie hung limply in the air, waving about slightly in the faint breeze. Soon, it would be winter. Negotiating with the changelings would come quickly, then infiltrating Griffonstone. Their expedition to Graymourne had been delayed after the Canterlot Incident; this gave him time to send agents to the territory ahead of them, but those plans had yet to be initiated.

He did not envy Site Director Ino in the slightest, knowing only a fraction of the responsibilities that fell upon his shoulders. Liam sighed. These would now be his responsibilities. Liam stood and approached the cliff edge before him, staring down into the ravine below. Ghastly Gorge. He looked over his shoulder back to the surface elevator, then over the cliff once more. The smell of dew on the grass hung in the air, crickets chirping unseen, frogs and insects calling out into the darkness. Below, the whistling of the wind through the gorge.

They didn't know why he picked the gorge. Dreams are a funny thing, especially ones that give you glimpses at a past that two alicorns deny. Liam looks to the clearing behind him, memories of stone slabs and a path through the grass drawing themselves before him. Liam was going to find out what happened here; maybe it was unrelated, maybe it was a dead-end, but he had a feeling that it could be a key to defend against SCP-2480.

He only hoped that there was some evidence left behind for him to find. He set his eyes back on the gorge and took in a deep breath.

"Director Webb," he heard Sunny call out to him, "are you ready to go?"

Liam turned back to see Sunny waiting for him twenty meters away, a human-tailored black suit jacket draped over his wings. The moonlight faintly outlined two ACB security guards behind him, rounded metal helmets with holes for their horns, covered by gray fabric, tactical vests filled with all sorts of equipment developed by the newly started Research and Development wing.

All experimental, and hopefully, field-ready. Until then, he had a dinner to attend.

"Yeah, head down to my office, I'll meet you there in a sec," Liam called back.

Liam considered all of the possible factors that went into the dinner tonight, every outcome of speaking with Celestia. With Luna there, maybe she could defuse the tension. 'Luna,' he thought to himself. Just the name brought a small smile to his face, one he didn't know he was wearing. He looked back to the stars, then recomposed himself and went back inside.

Luna gingerly slipped on her ornaments in her room, a small smile on her muzzle. Her thoughts were on Liam's appearance tonight; a dinner that was no doubt subtext for an interrogation, but she hoped to capitalize on the event by taking Liam to her gardens. Luna approached the standing mirror and stared into the glass. She dipped her head forward to get a better angle of her makeup, a small touch-up of eyeshadow, slight mascara on her eyelashes.

She hoped she seemed pretty enough to impress Liam tonight. Her thoughts had previously denied her affections she felt for the creature, but her reflection upon his acts many moons ago kept her heart aflutter. In modern day Equestria, the fancy of a stallion was held by a steadfast mare, but she was no modern mare. The stallions of old did not enjoy the luxuries of the new, a simpler and harder life, with many more stallions about than now. Perhaps his culture was the same? She worried at the thought.

Luna had not seen Liam in quite some time, the Anomalous Containment Bureau eating up the majority of his time. She hoped she would have the courage to express to him her own feelings tonight, should the dinner go smoothly.

Ah, but Celestia had no such plans in store. Knowing her sister, Celestia would likely try to ease the potential worries of Liam, then strike when his guard was down. Luna scowled and shook her head. It seemed that every day that passed, Celestia was less and less accommodating. The smiles that she wore for her subjects did not follow her to her quarters. She was surely stressed by the ideas proposed by Liam, finding qualms and quandaries in the minutia and the details.

But, the 'cat was out of the bag' as it were. Luna picked up her brush within her magic and set to her mane. The mane was already well-styled previously, but the motions gave her a sense of calm.

Luna shook away the musings and returned to her activities. Would Liam even reciprocate? They both had their shared demons, so maybe that would be a bridge between them? Perhaps that would serve only as a reminder to the pain they share, rather than a bond. She hated that idea. She thought more about the possible conflicts she may face in asking for his hoof.

'Hand,' she reminds herself. Upon his world, her kind were not intelligent; perhaps it would be a taboo for his culture to engage in cross-species relationships. Luna felt a sense of dread fall into her stomach. She had thought of this before and avoided thinking on the subject too long. 'No', she thought, 'we should hear his thoughts on the subject.'

She blinked, and when her eyelids reopened, her pupil had become a small and narrow vertical slit. The cyan of her eyes became a teal color, and she inspected the irises intently. Nightmare Moon would forever be a part of her, for better or for worse. Their union indeed brought Luna back a great deal of relief she didn't know she needed.

Were the Elements of Harmony to blame? Her sister, nor her student knew of the consequences. She herself did not know, but she felt it on the edges of her mind. No matter. All is well now, and lest the mistakes of the past repeat themselves, somethings are better left forgotten. She took in a deep breath and set her brush aside. She quirked her head to the side and stared for a moment longer, then blinked the phenomenon away, turning away from the mirror.

She made her way to the dining hall, where the table was set with fine linens and crystal glasses. A single plate sat at the center of the table, covered with a white cloth which shimmered under the moonlight. Servants removed the silverware and plates, taking with them the table cloth as well. They paid Luna no mind as she walked past. Fresh spots of paint stood out upon the walls, memories and scars of the Canterlot Incident. She stood there in silence as the distant sounds of work flowed from the kitchens beyond.

Luna set out to Celestia's chambers to await Liam. Soon he would walk through the transmission mirror and join them for dinner. Hopefully, dealing with the Griffonian Ambassador would take some more of her time and give Luna ample space to interact with Liam. Just the thought sent tingles through her stomach.

The transmission mirror within Celestia's quarters was a tall, imposing object. The gold frame had several small silvery inlays with jewels of unknown origin that held magical reserves within them. They sparkled and shone in the dim light, then a glow overcame them. The mirror began vibrating ever so slightly, the reflective surface shimmering and shaking like droplets of water on a still lake.

Then, a single hand burst through the liquid, followed by a human body. Liam stepped forward resolutely, before the transmission inertia took effect. As he made it clear of the mirror, he staggered forward and braced himself against the wall, a lesson learned through repeat use, to steady himself of the nausea that would soon come.

Following Liam through the portal was Sunny, watching Liam in mild concern. As far as Liam could tell, the ponies were unaffected by the strange sensation. It may be the result of humans being unaccustomed to Equestrian magic.

"Liam," Sunny began, moving forward.

"I'm fine, buddy," Liam said, "just give me a few."

Celestia's bedchamber doors swung open slowly, a familiar navy blue muzzle peeking through the doorway. Upon setting her eyes on Liam, the door swung open and she readily trotted towards him, bouncing on her hooves. A smile exploded across her muzzle, and when their eyes met, Liam shared it. He stowed away the uncomfortable sensation and pushed himself from the wall.

"Luna," he managed before she threw herself onto her hindlegs and embraced him in a hug, towering above him. He wrapped his arms around her barrel and let out a grunt at the sudden weight. Despite the struggle, the smiles stayed. After a few moments, she dropped down and nuzzled the side of his head. Liam brought a hand up to the side of her head, scratching her ear.

"You smell like alcohol, have you been drinking again?"

Liam grimaced. "Not regularly, no. Tonight kind of needed a drink."

Luna retreated and adopted an offended look, looking into his hazel eyes.

"I hope it is not necessary to see me under the influence," she warned.

Liam laughed. "Of course not, we had a... celebration back at the facility. Well, that and your sister might throw me into the Sun come morning, depending on how the night goes."

Luna smirked.

Through the portal came two more ponies, Sunny's personal recommendations for the fledgling security regiment. Solar Flare and Hard Sell were not friends of Sunny's, nor even acquaintances, but their records and performance during both the Canterlot Incident and the Changeling Invasion had demonstrated a remarkable coolness under pressure and a competence unseen in most of the other Guards. Luna eyed the newcomers, realizing quickly that they were no longer alone. She looked towards Sunny and a dark blue blush crept into her cheeks.

"Ah, right, Princess Luna, meet my head of security. You might've met before."

Luna approached the pegasus and extended her hoof, which he gracefully moved forward to take.

"Indeed, Sunny Skies, I recall speaking with you regarding the Incident."

"Yes, Princess Luna," Sunny replied, eyes trained on the floor. Sunny felt an immense sense of awe and recognition that she had remembered him. One of the two most powerful ponies in the world had remembered such a simple pegasus.

"Hey, look her in the eye. She's a pony, just like you," Liam advised. Luna felt a deal of gratitude wave over her at the statement.

Sunny brought his eyes up to meet hers, then looked to Liam. Liam nodded and turned to Flare and Sell. Luna likewise glanced over, then whispered down to Sunny.

"Good to see you again, Sunny Skies."

"You too, ma'am," he smiled. He released her hoof and stood straighter.

Liam walked over and placed a hand on Sunny's shoulder. His eyes took to the door, then back to Sunny.

"Can you wait for Luna and I in the dining room? We have some catching up to do."

"Yes, Director," Sunny replied, then gestured to the other two guards to take to the door. They departed, but not before Liam called out.

"Sunny! Let me know when she gets to the table!"

"Yes sir," he replied, then went out into the hall, the door shutting behind him. Liam stared at the door silently.

Whatever thoughts floated about inside his brain were immediately torn from him with another embrace, Luna resting her chin on his left shoulder. He chuckled lightly and brought his arm up to cup her head. He pet her for a moment, then she walked around to face him.

"Liam, We... I, have been quite curious as to your activity. I have not seen you in some time," she said carefully.

Liam's smile softened with a tinge of sadness.

"Yeah, it's been awhile. You look gorgeous tonight. I missed you," Liam said, his eyes exploring her face with a serene look.

Luna resisted the urge to embrace him again, but the hammering of her heart intensified at those words. She almost gasped. He believed he misstepped.

"Sorry, I just..." Liam began, stopping when Luna's eyes bore into his own. Something within her gaze told him that he had nothing to be sorry for. They shared that for a while before Liam finished, "I missed you."

"We missed you, too," she confessed through a blush. They both looked to the floor, silence pouring over them. Liam took the silence as an opportunity to claim one of the various cushioned stools in the room as a seat.

"How have you been?" Liam asked.

Luna sighed heavily and sat upon her haunches.

"Our reconstruction efforts have been progressing, yet there is much more to be done. Many of our ponies come to us for aid at all hours, and we have been doing all that we can to meet their demands. Within reason," Luna added.

"How have you been?" Liam stressed.

"I am worried for my sister. She does not sleep nearly as much as she used to, and quite frequently, I catch her staring off at nothing. She seems wrapped in her own thoughts, and when she is not, she is complaining about your project," Luna finished with a small smirk.

Liam stretched with a groan and set his hands down on his thighs.

"I figured that would be the case. Fuck..."

"Language," Luna meowled. Liam gave her a deadpan look in response. She smiled back.

"What about you?"

Liam shrugged.

"Liam..."

Liam put his hands up defensively.

"I'm okay. I've been better, I've been worse. I'm much better than I was now that I've had the chance to see you, though."

Luna scoffed and threw a hoof in his direction. The bracelet on his wrist began to vibrate, the slight hum reaching Luna's ears. Liam looked down to the bracelet and stood slowly from the stool.

"Celestia's arriving, we best get going," Liam said.

Luna did her best not to pout, but gave in.

"Very well, would you escort me to the dining hall, sir?"

Liam's face broke into an embarrassed smile, then he produced himself unto her with a bow, hand extended towards her. The act was greatly exaggerated, a flourish of a most ridiculous caliber, but it elicited musical laughter from Luna. Exactly what Liam wanted. She placed her hoof into his hand and he gently tugged her up off her haunches. They set off for the dining room, walking through the newly refurbished and restored halls.

Luna looked up to Liam inquisitively.

"What of your project? How comes it?"

Liam took in a sharp breath, but continued his stride.

"Well, it'll never really be good enough. Sort of an on-going thing. Someone's gonna have to run it when I'm dead, so hopefully we can get a potential roster of replacements up and-"

Luna gasped and jabbed his leg.

"Ow, what?" Liam complained.

He was greeted by an intense glare from the Princess, her cerulean eyes trained intently on his own.

"Do not speak like that," she said seriously.

"Luna..."

"Don't."

Liam sighed and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Listen, I wasn't fortunate enough to be born immortal. I'm doing what I can to make sure this thing gets off the ground, then stays off the ground long after I'm gone. Part of that is accepting that I'm going to die some day."

Luna could feel her eyes watering.

"Do not remind me, Liam," she said evenly.

Liam gave her a soft smile, his eyebrows knitting together. He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Then I won't."

They continued their walk.

"Aside from that," Liam continued, "we've made great progress so far. I'm hoping to adopt some businesses nearby to use as legitimate means of income; the sooner I can get out of Celestia's purse, the better."

Luna's ear twitched as she digested the information. It seems that there may be some deal of mistrust on his end, too. Perhaps he was aware of something she wasn't. A frown deepened at the prospect. Liam noticed her frown.

"You okay?"

Luna quickly formulated a lie to cover her thoughts.

"Yes, but I must ask again... why Ghastly Gorge? Surely there were better options."

Liam smiled as they walked together.

"Well, the scenery is a bonus, but we've also got a good distance from prying eyes and access to running water. Putting those pipes down was hell, though, let me tell you," he mused.

They passed an earth pony guard with a black coat and blue eyes. He nodded to the Princess and kept an eye fixed on Liam. Liam did not notice, but Luna returned the gesture.

"I can imagine cutting through the stone was not easy," she added.

"Well, some of it was, but with each layer, rock has more pressure on top. Denser materials."

She nodded with a hum. They rounded the central hub and crossed the grand red carpet of the atrium. They walked in silence for a minute before Luna spoke, standing before the doors to the dining room, her heart a reminder of her nerves.

"We could spend more time together," she blurted out. Liam stopped walking and she did too. "A-after the dinner, of course?"

A deep blush exploded over her features and Liam quirked his brow. He gently poked her on the end of the nose.

"H-hey!" Luna exclaimed.

"I think you meant hark," Liam replied cheekily, a small smirk working it's way over his lips.

"Fool," Luna's wings twitched, "thou art a scoundrel and a fool!"

Liam gently slapped a hand against his chest and bowed his head.

"Oh, how will mine heart ever recover," he muttered gravely, looking up to the chandelier.

Luna's tail swished and adopted a harder look in her eyes.

"Prithee, do not mock us..." she said softly. Liam could tell she was still insecure regarding her speaking patterns and quickly changed his demeanor. He splayed his hands out.

"Hey, hey hey hey, it's not like that."

She didn't budge.

"I love the way you talk, I wish you would speak like that more often," he confessed.

Luna pulled the edge from her eyes and looked at Liam with an open expression.

"Truly?"

Liam nodded with a curved lip.

"Thou wouldst prefer us to speak to thee in this way?"

"In whatever way you feel comfortable, Luna. The way you speak... it's romantic," Liam said in his own embarrassment.

Luna had found an opening, a opportunity to attack, to flip the tables and embarrass him. Should she use it? But that word, it made her hooves shake slightly. Romantic.

"Romantic?" she repeated.

"It's... hard to describe. The way you speak sounds... beautiful, artistic almost... poetic. The times people spoke like that on my world are long gone," Liam explained, though his pink blush only deepened at through his praises. Hers followed suit.

"We should, uh..." Liam trailed off, gesturing to the door.

"Mhm," Luna affirmed, eyes avoiding his.

"But yes, I'd love to spend more time with you," Liam followed. They made eye contact again and held it for a moment. Then, Liam broke his gaze and turned to open the door.

Luna's wings twitched silently when he turned, but she restrained them in time to reveal the dining room. A grand space with a long table, a velvety table cloth drawn over it in a sparkling red, chairs drawn about made from the finest Equestrian wood. The entire room radiated formality and oppressive opulence.

Sitting at the end of the table were three ponies; Twilight Sparkle, who eagerly engaged Celestia in a one-sided conversation, her eyes wide and smile exuberant. Across from her, an earth pony mare with an orange coat and a stetson perched atop her head, her green eyes darting over to the pair.

Then, finally, Princess Celestia, a look of restrained frustration and mild contempt upon her muzzle, her eyes laser focused on Liam. Luna heard Liam take inhale sharply.

Celestia adopted a practiced, diplomatic smile, though it did not reach her eyes.

"Welcome," she announced, "please be seated."

Author's Note

So, this is the first chapter of the second act! Welcome one and all! As you can see, we've switched to a third-person past tense, something I feel helps with descriptions and the flow of events. First-person is fairly limited in that I can only use words that I'd feel they'd use mentally, or metaphors/similes that they'd use. If you all don't like it, I can revert back to the first person perspective.

Anywho, let me know what you all think, leave comments and critiques below! Catch you later!

Chapter 16: Dinner and a Show

Dinner and a Show

'Oh Jesus,' Liam thought anxiously at the sight.

Liam approached one of the chairs beside Twilight, who he gave a nod to despite her wide-eyed look, then pulled it out and beckoned Luna over. Twilight immediately dropped her voice to a whisper, and Liam could hear every word with ease. "Princess, you didn't say Liam would be here," she whispered loudly as Luna approached. Liam ignored the statement and seated the lunar princess. Applejack looked over with a deadpan stare at the failed attempt at subtlety. Twilight's ears drooped and a sheepish grin spread across her muzzle. She dipped her face behind her bangs.

Liam couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the absurdity of it all; obviously this arrangement was intentional. Celestia had not disclosed that the Element of Magic and the Element of Honesty were going to be dining with them. There was a plan here, one he wasn't going to like.

Liam then walked around the end of the table and gently seated himself next to Applejack, the warm oak chair creaking slightly and his posture sinking into the embroidered cushions.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked of the orange mare.

She smiled and held out her hoof, "just fine, thank ya." Liam bumped it, and looked over to Celestia. It was time to develop a strategy for navigating tonight. With the Element of Honesty here, he imagined there was an interrogation angle at play. Twilight's part had yet to be discovered.

"Good evening, Princess Celestia," Liam said neutrally.

"And to you, Liam. How was your day?" The warmth of her voice did not seep into her features.

"Stressful," he said. His eyes went over to the wine glass before him. Servants moved back and forth at the edges of the room, moving cutlery and dishes. "You?" he asked.

"Stressful," she repeated, "but that is no surprise."

"Where is my security detail?" Liam asked, his eyes scanning the room. No guards nor his own ponies in sight.

"They are eating their own meal in the barracks," Celestia said, her mane floating behind her.

"Huh," Liam replied.

Luna watched the exchange intently, then felt a hoof against her foreleg. She looked down to her left and saw Twilight looking up at her.

"Princess Luna, you've gotten taller! What happened?"

Luna smiled awkwardly, "the answer is complicated, my little pony. Perhaps it is a question best answered later, yes?"

Twilight's curiosity was not abated, and while she looked away, Luna could see her lips moving in silent speech. Likely, she was memorizing something or repeating information to herself. Luna looked across to Liam, his eyes still trained on the empty wine glass.

"Dear sister, I believe it is time for wine," she said, looking over to find her sister's eyes trained on Liam intently. Celestia snapped from her look and smiled, again, without any mirth.

"You may be right, Luna," she nodded towards a servant. "Bring us a bottle, please."

The mare trotted over and produced a bottle, pushing it towards the center of the table with her hooves. Luna went to grab the bottle in her magic, but Celestia's horn lit up as well, the bottle caught between their grips. Luna relented and the bottle jerked towards Celestia, who fixed her a restrained glare.

"I have it, Luna, let me," she said softly with a tensed jaw.

Luna resisted the urge to slide down into her seat. Liam's fingers traced the rim of his glass.

"Are we going to have a fight here at the dinner table?"

Celestia's warmth drained and she looked at Liam.

"I do not know what you are speaking of," she said coldly.

Applejack's face scrunched up slightly, both Liam's and Celestia's gazes going towards her. At that point, Liam confirmed that Applejack was a walking lie-detector. That might spell trouble. Try to keep things vague, but truthful. Hopefully that doesn't set her off. Twilight detected the slight animosity in the air.

"The castle is really coming together, Princess," Twilight appealed to her mentor.

Celestia gave her a soft smile and fixed her magenta eyes upon her, "thank you, Twilight." Twilight beamed at the response.

Princess Celestia uncorked the wine bottle and began pouring wine in each of the glasses, then moved them over to the seated guests. Luna immediately took hers into her hooves and took a sip. Its aroma was sweet with a light tinge of tartness. The drink itself was thick, but not too much so, not enough to stain the tongue.

"Is everythin' alright? Is there somethin' Ah don't know 'bout?"

Princess Luna shook her head towards Applejack in warning. Applejack's green eyes looked between Celestia and Liam.

"Everything," Celestia started, "is fine. Is something the matter, Applejack?"

Applejack dipped her hooves beneath the table.

"Well, it just seems awfully tense in here, Princess," she said.

Luna's hoof rubbed the table cloth nervously.

"You see, Liam and are having a disagreement of sorts."

"Princess," he warned.

"Just having conversation," she smiled sweetly, "perhaps our moods will improve with the meal."

At that moment, a multitude of servers poured in from the kitchen, bringing with them dishes off all kinds and sizes. A proper feast before a war. Liam grudgingly brought his wine glass to his lips and took a long sip. He rolled the wine over his tongue and set the glass down firmly. Dishes were placed in the center of the table on great silver platters, then uncovered to reveal all sorts of intricately prepared meals, none of which had any meat. Applejack looked deeply uncomfortable.

Luna looked down to Twilight.

"Twilight Sparkle, how have you been since I last saw you? It feels like so long ago that we last saw each other."

Twilight smiled and bobbed her head forward.

"Well, things have been hectic around Ponyville, a lot of business going through the area. We're all doing our part for the Canterlot reconstruction project, Rainbow Dash even turned down her Wonderbolts admission to stay and help raise funds."

Luna frowned. Liam removed his coat and draped it over the edge of his chair.

"I hope she does plan on pursuing her Wonderbolt aspirations. I have yet to see their shows, but I have heard it is quite a spectacle."

"Me too," Twilight hummed.

Servers jumped to and fro and revealed the final plates, then quickly departed from the room on quick hooves. Liam eyed the dishes before looking over to Celestia.

"No meat, huh?" Liam asked across the table.

Celestia looked at him neutrally.

"No, no meat for tonight. I believe it would not be wise to cater to one omnivore when we are all herbivores."

Liam nodded and leaned over the table, avoiding the dishes he knew wouldn't agree with his physiology. He picked a caesar salad and began scooping some on to his plate. No one else moved nor added to their empty plates. Liam paused while holding a clump of salad aloft, looking around the table. Twilight glared at him, her teeth grinding.

"What, do we have to say grace or something?"

"No," Twilight hissed, "but you're supposed to wait for the host to-"

"Go ahead," Celestia said with a forced smile, "after all, it is dinner; why wait?"

Twilight looked to Celestia and balked. Liam let out a hum in response and finished setting his plate. The other ponies in the room followed suit, Luna sharing Liam's pick. Celestia moved no food to her plate.

The moment Liam's fork went into the lettuce on his plate, Celestia spoke.

"How was your celebratory dinner earlier this evening? I hope you left room."

Liam paused, fork still.

"It went to plan, didn't eat, kinda hungry," Liam said eventually. Twilight happily hoofed some hayfries into her mouth, oblivious to the tension. Applejack angled her head towards Liam, something Celestia noticed. Liam sunk his fork into the salad before him and lifted a bite to his mouth. It was pretty good, so far as salads were concerned.

"Another plan then, hmm? Good this one worked out."

Liam's head rotated towards Celestia slowly, a gnawing sense of dread developing in his gut. He swallowed, his hazel eyes stared into her magenta orbs and he chuckled mirthlessly. He leaned back in his seat and tossed the fork onto the plate with a loud metallic ting. The sound startled everyone seated, and all eyes went to him.

"It can't wait, huh?" he mused.

Celestia's head creaked forwards. She did not blink as she stared at him, movements of thoughts behind her eyes. She swallowed down her angst and took a breath. She opened her mouth to speak when Twilight jumped in.

"Is everything okay?" Twilight asked of her mentor, then sent a suspicious glare over to Liam.

"No," Liam said lowly. Twilight glanced between Liam and Celestia. Liam pushed his chair back from the table. Celestia quirked a brow in agitated interest.

"I know why she's here," he said, pointing to Applejack. Applejack's eyes widened in response. "You? I've got no idea, but I know a trap when I see one."

Celestia's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" Liam scoffed.

"You know exactly what I mean," he brought his glass to his lips and took a sip.

"I do not... I do not follow," Luna said slowly.

"Instead of talking this out like adults," Liam stared at Celestia, "we have to resort to this, then. Another interrogation."

"Do not accuse me of deceiving you, this is meant only to be a dinner. There will be no interrogation."

There was a heavy pause and Liam leaned forwards. Liam's heartrate quickened and he felt a pressure behind his eyes.

"It wouldn't be the first time you've lied to me, now would it?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he made an error. Despite that, he remained still, watching her reaction. A brief flash of guilt followed by a simmering anger.

Twilight gasped and Applejack intently watched as spectacle unfolded. Luna frowned.

"You can't speak to the Princess like that!" Twilight said angrily.

"Is that right? She's gaslighting me," Liam responded. He yanked down his tie and loosened it, then unbuttoned his top collar.

There was silence again. Liam could feel a headache building, whether from the wine or the stress, he couldn't tell. Celestia shifted in her seat, her eyes trained on Liam. Her wings unfurled and flexed before returning to her sides.

"You are behaving like a foal, Liam," she said finally.

"Am I?"

"Perhaps it is best that we have this dinner some other time," Luna interjected quickly. Liam's eyes went to hers for a moment, his gaze softening. He could feel his mouth drying up. He began to diffuse.

"You are, and it is unbecoming. I invited Applejack because I know she is your new friend, as well as a dear friend of Twilight. I invited Twilight because she is my student, and I enjoy our conversations," Celestia explained. Liam's anxiety flared up and he rested forward on his elbow, perched on the table. Twilight kept her gaze hardened towards Liam, while Applejack felt immensely out-of-place.

"I don't believe you," he replied.

Celestia's eyes narrowed as she stared him down. Liam's eyes kept on hers as the pressure in his head increased. He broke his stare and blinked his eyes, looking around the room. Celestia's mood shifted from anger to intrigue as he scanned the room, his head movements becoming more erratic. His eyes were wide and his mouth dipped open slightly. His heart began to pound in his chest. His breathing quickened.

"What's that sound?"

Luna leaned forwards over the table.

"What sound?" She asked. Liam's eyes jumped on hers in panic.

"You can't hear that?"

Luna tilted her head to the side, a similar feeling of fear building in her chest. Liam turned back to Celestia, eyes wide. Sweat built on his forehead and he looked down to his bracelet. It did not vibrate. He looked back to Celestia with budding anger, mixed with fear.

"Are you doing this?" He accused quietly.

"Liam? Are you alright?" Applejack asked.

"Doing what?" Celestia inquired, somewhat on-edge.

"Don't fuck with me!" Liam snapped and leapt up from his seat, sending the chair flying back onto the polished floor with a wooden crash. His arm came up in a violent motion and jabbed a finger towards Celestia. Her wings exploded outwards in alarm, Twilight and Applejack likewise rising from their seats and facing him.

"Liam!" Luna shouted. She watched as he seemingly lost his mind.

"That... that ringing! What did you do?!" Liam yelled.

"Liam, Ah think ya need ta calm down, alright sugarcube?" Applejack assuaded. She moved her hooves towards him but he swatted them away rigidly. He swallowed uncomfortably. Celestia began to approach but he took a step back, hands raised in front of him.

They all stared at him in shock. The ringing intensified. The pressure built.

"You don't hear it?" He asked lowly.

"Ah don't hear anythin'," she said slowly.

"Liam, there is no sound. Calm thyself," Luna soothed.

"There's no..." Liam stood still for a moment when a muted pop rang out through the dining hall. Liam's head jerked very slightly to the side and he blinked stars from his eyes. The ringing was gone, as was the pressure. Now, he was alone in his mess. He almost fell over, his hand darting to the table to prop himself up. Their eyes widened as they looked at him.

"Liam, your eye!" Twilight gasped.

"Wuh..." he leaned over the table and looked into the reflection of one of the empty platters. His left eye was now red, blood pooled in the sclera. He brought a finger up to pull down on his lower eyelid, revealing more of the same. Adrenaline coursing through his veins and his heart in his ears, Liam looked back up to their shocked and concerned expressions, Celestia's only outdone by Luna's.

"I-... eat without me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Liam said quickly, his throat closing up in emotion. He grabbed his coat, departing quickly. Guilt, anger, frustration and doubt clouded his mind as he took away from the table.

"Liam, wait!" Luna shouted after him. She began to gallop away from the table when Celestia teleported in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. She flared her wings to shield Liam from view and looked Luna in the eyes.

"Let me speak with him," she said sternly.

"But he's-" Luna began, but Celestia brought a hoof up to interrupt.

"He is clearly unwell. Let me speak to him, I will ensure he is alright."

Tracking Liam was not as difficult a task as Celestia had imagined.

A strange smell began to permeate one of the halls that had yet to be reconstructed, leading out to the gardens that matched a similar state of disarray. He stood stock still, a haze of smoke floating around him, before being whisked away by the night air. His white shirt had been untucked from his pants and loosely clung to him, his jacket draped over his arm.

As she approached through the soft grass and gravel, she could see his body language shift, his posture straightening. The unpleasant smell intensified the nearer she drew. He lifted a hand from the stone railing and removed an object from his mouth, a lumpy paper stick with one end burning, a dull orange glow in the darkness. He turned over his shoulder, his right eye looking at her.

"What is that?" she asked in disgust, her nose crinkling.

"An old habit I quit. Tobacco," he said as he turned back around. Celestia dismissed her distaste for the smell and approached.

"What is the purpose of... doing that?"

He removed the rolled cigarette from his mouth and surveying the landscape for a moment, taking in a deep breath.

"Relieves tension. Gives you a buzz, tobacco has a chemical in it called nicotine."

"That cannot be healthy, to inhale those fumes."

"Oh no, it's not. Not healthy at all, gives you lung cancer the longer you do it, but damn if I didn't miss it."

In that moment, Celestia's brows darted inwards and she took the cigarette in her magic, throwing it down into the river below. Liam stared as it soared downwards, leaning onto the railing. He sighed.

"Nice throw," he said finally.

"How is your eye? Do you require a visit to the physician?"

Liam smirked emptily.

"No, it's a... blood vessel burst in the eye. Nothing you can really do about it."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, I'll be alright."

They stood together in silence for a minute. The horrible smell began to drift away, but remnants of it clung to the man.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly.

"I am sorry for my behavior earlier, Liam."

Liam absorbed the words, but remained completely silent. After a few moment, he spoke, again in muted tones.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm... well... I guess I'm not as put together as I thought I was. It's not your fault."

Celestia frowned.

"No, but my behavior certainly had a part to play, and for that I am sorry."

Liam breathed.

"Whatever."

They resumed their silence once more.

"Why do you treat me with such hostility, Liam?" Celestia pressed.

Liam looked over his shoulder again, his right eye holding some degree of defeat in it.

"It's not hostility, it's... you're all still so naïve. This world is too pure, too friendly. Your enemies have vague ideas about doing you harm, but it's just that; vague. I come to dinner and I assume the worst... because that's what I would do. I'd trap myself there, too. You were right, Celestia... from the beginning. I don't belong here. I shouldn't be here."

Celestia considered her words carefully, then spoke.

"Maybe not, but you are here all the same. We do not have to be enemies, Liam."

Liam let out a quiet snort.

"Don't we?"

Celestia walked towards the railing, looking down at him. In his face, that defeat, a degree of sadness and anger. Celestia used her wing to come close and touch his shoulder.

"No. Am I not your friend?"

Liam shrugged off the gesture and rounded on her with a glare in his eyes. His left eye was a dark red under the moon.

"No, you're not! You don't really care," he raised his voice, then swallowed down some of that vitriol and turned back to the Equestrian landscape. "You weren't when I got here, you aren't now. I'm just a tool to keep Equestria safe."

"That is not true, Liam," Celestia said quickly, a hurt expression in her features.

"Isn't it? You don't trust me and I don't trust you. What do you know about me? What kind of person do you think I am?" Liam asked evenly. He didn't look towards her with his question.

"I think you are conflicted. You are tortured by your past and you let it haunt your present."

Liam smiled to not cry.

"I'm... I'm more than that, right?"

Liam swallowed, his smile faltering.

"Liam, listen to me. You are more than your past. I am sure that you have a good heart, and you care for my... people, like they are your own. "

He shook his head.

"No I don't. I don't have a good heart, Celestia. If you knew what I've done..."

"Then tell me. Nopony... no one is beyond redemption."

Liam chuckled.

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes. What is troubling you?"

Liam took a ragged breath and let it out slowly. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned his head to face her properly.

"It's a long list, but I guess we'll start with tonight. Most of those ponies that were down there building the facility... I betrayed them," he said with an air of finality.

"How so?"

Liam swallowed.

"There wasn't a dinner. It was a setup. Not a word, remember?"

The potential ramifications of that statement were not lost on Celestia. She tried not to assume the worst, nor to let her protectiveness of her subjects show through, but some of that menacing aura made it past her defenses.

"Did you hurt them, Liam? Did you... kill them?"

Liam's eyes widened at the connotation. He opened his palms and shook his hands.

"No! No. I wiped their memory of the project. Right now they're all being shipped out by train back home," he finished with a murmur.

Celestia's anger abated, relief flooding her features, before a fraction of that anger returned. She bore her eyes down into Liam.

"That... I will start by saying that is highly illegal, and for good reason! They will believe they had been foalnapped! And if it were not illegal, it is evil!" she almost shouted.

Liam nodded dejectedly.

"I know. I found a legal loophole about ritual magic, enlisted the help of the zebra in Ponyville. Had her create a magic serum to spike their drinks."

"Why would you need to do that? What were you thinking?!"

"That you were right. That they weren't going to keep quiet about it. They were talking about sharing some of the schematics and using pieces here and there in future projects. On my world, we didn't have all this magic stuff, that I know of anyway. Everything that you'd consider magic was something that we'd lock up. Anyone who saw it was amnesticized to keep the façade going, keep the world from knowing that everything wasn't what it seemed."

Celestia goes quiet.

"The security risk was too high to let ponies know what we're doing, what we have down there."

Liam shook his head and sighed.

"This was standard procedure for your Foundation?" Celestia asked.

"Yeah."

"You are not building the Foundation. Your Anomalous Containment Bureau is meant to be better than that," she said with silent authority.

Liam grimaced and hung his head.

"You understand how precious the mind is? How grievous a crime you have committed?" she said, righteous anger in her voice. Liam turned to look at her, regret plain in his eyes.

"I do. I'm sorry it had to happen, but I'm not sorry that I did it."

They went silent once more, Liam turning his head back to the rolling peaks and valleys below. Celestia wrestled with her thoughts for a moment, eyes shut and breathing slowly. Finally, her magenta eyes focused on him.

"Only the project?"

He looked back to her.

"Yes."

"Can it be undone?"

"Yes, but I can't. I won't undo it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a secret facility and we're going to end up keeping some of the most dangerous things Equus has ever seen. We've already got shit locked up in there that would wreak all kinds of havoc in the wrong hands... er, hooves."

"I... am exceedingly frustrated with you."

Liam bowed his head.

"And what else?"

His eyes jumped to hers, that resignation replaced with hesitance, fear in the eyes.

"Still? I thought you were going to-"

"I told you to tell me."

Liam swallowed. He took in another shaky breath and looked out towards the horizon. The moon shone brightly tonight, illuminating the world, peeking out behind the frailest of clouds.

"I..."

He remained silent for a long time, Celestia's eyes still trained upon him. It was as if he froze in place, before his body language shifted again. He hunched over the railing, his eyes glazing over as memories began to flood forth. His expression changed, from fearful and hesitant to completely cold. His lips folded inwards and he closed his eyes. His eyes opened again and he spoke.

"Montgomery wasn't going to hold. Wasn't gonna hold... we all knew it, but they wanted to run the data," he said gravely.

"Ran the data. It was over. I knew it, they knew it. They just wanted confirmation. They asked me... and I could've lied. Asked me if there was any to keep the defenses standing for just a while longer."

His head dipped slightly and his eyes closed. He shook his head and took a breath.

"I said no."

He turned to look at Celestia, his eyes lifeless.

"I said no and they dropped liquid fire... all over the city. Anyone that wasn't infected was burned alive, melted. I killed hundreds of people, because I thought they couldn't be saved."

The air felt heavier as he spoke. Celestia's gaze did not relent. He fell silent and his mouth twitched.

"I had a friend... I had a buddy named Pete. I didn't know him long, but he seemed like a good guy. He tried to warn me about something but I didn't listen."

His jaw shifted forwards and his eyes watered.

"He died saving me. And Claire... well, I killed her. She turned into one of them, so I killed her. And she was... she was saying my name... over and over... and I killed her."

Liam fell silent and bit his lip. His face contorted and he shook his head. He sniffled and wiped at his nose with his wrist.

"Who was she?" Celestia asked quietly.

"She was my best friend," his voice wavered.

He swallowed and looked up to the sky. They fell silent once more. Celestia broke the silence after a minute.

"Do you understand why I questioned your leadership of this project?"

A tear streaked down his face and he looked at her, grief heavy on his features.

"Because I'm broken, Celestia. I'm broken and I can't be fixed, I go around breaking things regardless of whether or not I want to. People die because of me," he said unevenly, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"No. I questioned your leadership because I believe that you, like the humans that were here before you, could stoop to lows I could not imagine."

Liam's lip quivered and he hung his head.

"Perhaps that is what we need."

Liam retreated further into himself.

"A monster to cage monsters, huh?" he mused sadly.

Celestia touched his shoulder with her wing again. He did not shrug her off.

"No. A kind man to be unkind to those that would do us harm. To do what I cannot."

He swiveled his head towards her and watched her face, looking for deception, looking for a lie. Instead, he found her concerned eyes.

"You're not going to lock me up?"

"Despite your... actions, I shall not. Father knows that my instincts have been wrong in the past, and my sister paid for that. You shall change the organization for the better."

"Change the-"

"I will have my sister join your operations. You will remain as Director, but she will act as a guiding hoof, reporting to me. You will not amnesticize any more creatures without her approval. You will speak to somepony who can help you heal, because you must. You will speak to me whenever you need to, do you understand?"

Liam turned to face her, leaning against one arm.

"I won't let the ACB become a tool of the Equestrian government."

Celestia raised her head.

"It will not be. While my sister assists you, she shall forego her status as Princess of Equestria."

Liam's eyes widened in shock. Shock became anger.

"You can't do that to her! Wasn't it enough to throw her on the God damn moon? Now you're stripping her of her royalty? Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"Liam," Celestia began, but he cut her off.

"Hasn't that poor woman had enough?" Liam asked desperately.

"It was her idea," Celestia said loudly. Liam's brain fumbled for a response, and none came. He turned back to the open air.

"I voiced my concerns, but I know that it is the right thing to do."

Liam shut his eyes.

"Do not deny her this, Liam. She saw what lurks in your memories, and wishes to do her duty to protect Equus against it. When you are ready, return inside that we may discuss it. Okay?"

Liam did not answer immediately, then nodded slightly. She turned around and began to walk inside, but stopped for a moment.

"We must learn to trust each other, Liam. I hope that you can recognize that," she said over her shoulder. Then she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Unbeknownst to him, the lunar princess spied upon him herself, watching from the balcony above. She stared a while longer, waiting for him to withdraw back into the castle.

Author's Note

Writing and rewriting and more rewriting after that! I am not completely content with the chapter, but it'll have to do! Also, I have an itch to rewrite a lot of the older chapters, but we're just gonna have to leave that for later. Anywho, I hope it was worth the wait, sorry for the delay!

Happy 4th of July to my American readers!

Chapter 17: Hole in the Ground

Hole in the Ground

Liam sat silently within his office, resting upon the wall. The cold stone absorbed his body heat, even through his jacket. His head tapped the stone surface behind him gently, muted thuds vibrating in his skull. His eyes moved behind his eyelids slowly, exploring ideas visually through his mind. Despite the quiet atmosphere, save for the faint hum of the air through the vents, his thoughts did not share that volume. The only sounds were those within his own mind, each thought clamoring to be heard over the next. His headache had returned, a faint pulse in the temples, the damp smell of the cavern seemed stronger than before. His hands hung limply in the air, forearms resting upon his knees.

His frown, a fixture he had worn throughout the night, did not dissipate as he filtered and worked through his thoughts. Too many things were happening all at once. Too many issues were on the table, and Daring Do was still unaccounted for. The changeling infiltrator was sent back to relay his message and return with her own, and he hoped, Miss Do as well. Despite the burning of his eyes and the weight of his head, he knew sleep was still a distant prospect. He took a deep breath in through his nose and caught a note of his own odor. His frown deepened at the smell.

He contemplated a departure to the facility showers, a relatively new addition to the amenities, but decided against the idea. He didn't enjoy the prospect of fumbling through the showers so close to the staff quarters, even less so the possibility he would run into a staff member. That, and he had another issue to work through.

Luna.

Though he had accepted the proposition, he felt uneasy at the reality that Luna would be down here with him. He sluggishly brought his hand to the side of his neck and scratched at it. It wasn't physical discomfort, though he could feel the growing tension in his muscles and joints. No, he was more worried about how she'd react to the operations and decisions that had yet to be made. The hard calls to come. They gave him stress on their own, but the notion that Luna would be party to the same decisions that plagued him was a torture of its own. Then, confronting his own feelings on her presence.

'No,' he thought, 'irrelevant. What's wrong with me? We're not even the same species!'

His eyes opened slowly, hazel creeping out from behind his eyelids. It wouldn't be long before she followed him through the mirror, staying behind only for a symbolic gesture of raising the moon one last time as a Princess of Equestria. Not long after that, Celestia would give her remarks and make an announcement at day-court, notifying the citizenry that the newly-returned Princess of the Moon was leaving, albeit temporarily.

Too many things happening all at once. She would be here at six o'clock. He looked down to his watch, reading three-thirty.

His eyes swam over to the notepad affixed to the wall, suspended in the air by string and a nail. A list of events and meetings for the day, though none accommodating the arrival of Luna, nor the complete and total catastrophe his lack of sleep was becoming. Not to mention the logistical nightmare that would be her quarters. That would be a new project in of itself, given he could only guess as to her reaction if she were told she'd be sleeping with the rest of the staff. He bit the corner of his lip in quiet contempt, then uttered a single word.

"Fuck," he declared to no one but himself. Perhaps that shower was waiting for him after all.

Luna slowly strode through the hallways of the castle. She thought it odd how little attachment she had to the structure. It was warranted, however, given that it was not her home. Her home had long since been consumed by the Everfree, her own castle overtaken by nature. Despite herself, she felt that she would miss Canterlot Castle, though she knew she had to escape the ever-present memory of her failings.

Would this castle stand were it not for her mistakes?

Such thoughts plagued the lunar princess as she gave final looks to the halls and rooms. Though the damage was extensive, much of the repairs were completed quickly. The same could not be said for Canterlot itself. Her hooves echoed across the cold floors and she returned to her room, covered in tapestries of gold and navy, books piled to peaks, penned after her banishment.

She gave a resigned smile as she flipped the cover closed on a history textbook on her desk, the warm oak piece splattered with dried ink and the grooves of furious quill marks. The thought of leaving it behind gave her some measure of relief. Doubt regarding her capabilities hadn't appeared during the Canterlot Incident, but from the moment she returned. With a deep sigh, she would close this chapter of her life, and wade into something far more dangerous.

"'Tis is for the best," she heard from within.

Luna's lips pursed and she turned her head over her shoulder.

"We know," she answered the mirror.

She turned to face Nightmare Moon, standing below her in her reflection. Her teal eyes and black coat shone in the candlelight, her cat-like eyes soft. Between them, much was said, but no words were spoken. She remained there a moment.

"Luna?"

She did her best to not leap from her skin as she turned around to face the intruder. In the doorway was her sister, her multi-colored mane drooping low, slowly billowing like curtains in a breeze. Luna recomposed herself.

"What is it, Tia?"

Celestia moved forward gracefully, her hooves almost hesitant to find footing on the wooden floor. She approached her sister and nuzzled her, a short burst of air escaping through her nostrils and against Luna's coat. Luna returned the gesture.

"Is this what you truly want?"

Luna's neck returned her head upward. Celestia broke her embrace.

"Aye. Were it not, it would still be necessary," she said in a soft, resolute voice.

Celestia's magenta eyes met her own and she rubbed one white foreleg with another. An amount of tension found itself in her shoulders with an intake of breath.

"I am glad you have made your choice," she said neutrally, but Luna knew her sister better than that. The way Celestia's mouth turned down slightly in the corner.

Luna nodded, the motion causing her mane to gently flutter.

"As am I," she replied. "I trust Philomena will continue to erupt into flames every-so-often?"

Celestia smiled, "certainly."

"Are you ready?"

"Is it time already?" Luna already knew the hour was upon them.

"Yes," Celestia answered.

Luna stood silent for a moment longer, then nodded. Her horn took a cyan glow and she approached the balcony, the doors swinging open slowly to reveal the night sky; her night sky.

She fixated on the moon and closed her eyes, feeling her tendrils of magic pouring out from within, flowing from her horn. Her hooves planted against the ground, in these moments she felt unmovable, unbreakable. The connection to her moon solidified, and like a mother to a foal, she gently guided the moon down from the sky. It fell slowly from Zenith and descended towards the horizon. She felt the presence of the sun within the sky, inching its way up from the other side of the planet, a neighbor to her moon.

Like a wave of warm water, the sun passed the moon in the sky, and Luna had lowered the moon as a Princess of Equestria for possibly the last time. When all was said and done, she looked to her sister, who quickly moved forward and embraced her in a hug. She knew what that hug meant, what her sister was saying.

She didn't need much else to wrap her own hooves around her.

"You will still visit?"

"Of course, Tia."

She hoped those words would remain true.

One, two, three, four.

Liam's thumb and ring finger tapped the surface of his desk, his lips drawn tight and his eyes leveled to the transmission mirror. He brought his fidgety hand up to his mouth and unfurled his lips before letting out a short breath. He sniffed at the air, but no unpleasant smell befell him. He sighed and and returned his fingers to the desktop. One, two, three, four.

His eyes jumped to the clock in the corner.

A quarter after six. He looked back to the transmission mirror.

Maybe she changed her mind? The thought brought equal parts relief and disappointment.

One, two, three, four.

Maybe he could get in some sleep after all. A faint warble emanated from the mirror, the reflective surface becoming almost like water. Tension built a knot in his gut and he abruptly stood from his chair, a hand darting outwards to keep it from falling. His efforts were in vain, the back of the chair just slipping shy of his fingers. His hand darted further in panic, knocking it further forward, and before long, the chair was against the floor. Liam grimaced and bent down to pick it up, noticing a chip on the top of the backrest.

"Good morning, Liam," Luna said above him.

He pivoted around to see her towering above him, looking down at him inspecting the furniture. His eyes traveled from her unadorned hooves and up her forelegs to her powerful barrel, finally settling upon her eyes. He felt an immense wave of heat explode within his earlobes.

"G'mornin', Luna," he said quietly, eyes still focused on hers.

He carefully moved on his crouched legs to stand, avoiding her inquisitive head. Upon rising, he realized that many of her jewelry pieces were missing, including her crown. Standing before him was another citizen of Equestria. He felt that realization in his throat.

Even now, at full height, she towered above him. He felt the change in posture did little to nothing to change the small feeling within him. She had become even taller than Celestia.

Logistical nightmare.

"Sorry about that," he said quickly, "I knocked it over by accident."

"I would certainly hope so."

Liam smiled. Luna returned it.

"We art quite excited to see your facility."

The statement caused some amount of grief within him, but he calmed the sensation as best he could.

"That's good. Be glad to show it to you," he said, reaching down to pick up the chair.

"We don't have a room for you just yet. For now, you'll be staying in my quarters until we get a place set up for you."

Luna did her best not to blush, nor to jump to conclusions, despite her heart beating just a tad faster. He probably means to stay somewhere else for that duration.

"Ah, very well. Thank you," she said politely.

"No problem."

Luna decided to clarify her theory.

"Where will you stay?"

Liam looked about the office and down to the chair. The damnable chair. He already knew how terrible sleeping in the thing was, opting to go for the ground when he stayed here. When his eyes climbed back to hers, he read a clear sternness within them.

"Absolutely not," she said definitively.

"I sleep here most of the time anyway," Liam defended.

"I do not doubt that, hence your trouble sleeping. We shall share your quarters," she said with finality, only realizing the potential connotations of that statement once the words left her mouth. This blush she could not restrain. She hoped Liam did not notice.

"If that is alright, that is," she added. Her cheeks burned darker.

Liam remained silent, his eyes drifting to the left. Luna feared she had overstepped her bounds.

"Um... yeah. That's fine. I'll get you your own room soon, so we can have that cleared up quickly," he said, then nodded. His eyes found hers again.

"Okay," Luna said, internally celebrating her silent victory.

They both stared at each other a moment, then Liam tore his eyes downwards to the rest of the office. He surveyed the logo, the door, the clock and the desk. He made an open motion with his hands.

"I suppose I should probably give you a tour, huh?"

Luna nodded, allowing him to move around his desk. She stepped aside and he approached her, moving beside her and gesturing to the room. He looked at her and found an expectant look.

"Well, this is my office to start. Not much at the moment," he said.

Luna took the time to take in the details herself, noting that only two of the walls had been erected. The wall beside her, and the wall opposite, both were merely wiped-down rockfaces, odd angles of the stone jutting outwards. On the far wall, a calendar with various notes written upon it in his alien language, suspended by string.

"It is... quaint," she said carefully. She glanced back at him to find an embarrassed look on his face.

"It's okay, no need to be polite. Thing's two walls away from being a cave," he admitted.

"There is room for improvement, certainly, but it is not terrible," she said.

Liam nodded and moved into a rigid position, both arms gently swaying into a locked position, guiding her to the door. It took her a moment before she recognized the act as a mimicry of a butler. She giggled behind her hoof, then held her head higher as he opened the door for her.

Once outside, they walked silently down the hallway, stopping at the desk near the wall.

"This desk right there is typically occupied by my secretary, Mister Treble. I think he's grabbing coffee right now," Liam said.

"Coffee would be delightful," Luna moaned. The excitement of this new adventure was quickly sapped away by her fatigue, and given the look on Liam's face, perhaps he felt similarly.

"Mhm. I'm smart sometimes," Liam smirked. Luna looked at his red eye for a moment, before he caught her staring at him.

"Don't worry about that," he pointed to his eye lazily, "it'll heal on it's own."

Luna nodded, tossing her mane gently to the side.

"How did you sleep?" Luna asked of him.

He gave her a look that told her he didn't. She tutted.

"Hey, I had a very special guest coming, was a little stressed about it."

Luna smiled and looked down to her hooves. When she looked up again, a small metallic bell rung down the hall, and the aforementioned Mister Treble came waltzing out with a tray of coffee and coffee cups worn upon his back. His eyes were not affixed to the two beings before him, only the save haven of his desk, where he would soon be unburdened by this arduous task.

In his approach, he gracefully bowed forward and craned his neck down to allow the tray to slide frictionless atop the desk. He rose in a self-aggrandizing flourish, then realized who he was standing before. The bow returned in a panicked haste.

"Good morning, Princess Luna," he said humbly, in his own monotonous way.

"You needn't bow, Mister Treble," she said sweetly, waiting for him to rise before claiming a mug for herself.

"Thank you for the coffee," she said behind the mug, then sipping the bitter liquid with a contented sigh.

"Of course," he said then looked towards Liam. Liam took his mug and indulged a sip.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"I believe Miss Heartstrings is waiting for you on Level Two," Treble said before rounding his desk and pulling out his chair to sit. His mustache wormed around a moment as he brought his own mug upwards for a sip.

"Ah, shit. That's right," Liam screwed his eyes shut.

"Do we need to postpone?" Luna asked.

"No, no, it's alright," Liam said as he massaged his forehead, "you'll tag along with me, but if you're tired, we can get you settled in my room."

Luna took another sip of her coffee and closed her eyes in satisfaction. The sip became one fluid gulp, and all of the dark liquid within the mug was now gone. She fixed her gaze back on Liam, who looked at her in no small amount of surprise.

"I was fatigued, but the coffee has soothed me. Let us continue," she said with a contented smile.

Liam took a moment to recompose himself and had one final sip of his own. He wasn't even halfway through the mug, but decided more pressing matters needed his attention. He did a half-jog back to his office and set the coffee down on his table, returning promptly. He gave her a polite smile.

"Alright. Well, onwards then," he said, leading the way towards the elevator. Luna followed suit.

When they approached the elevator, Liam noted that Luna had an apprehensive and curious look about the brass gate. Liam quickly jabbed at the button on the right side, the gate doors parting on their own. Luna took a surprised step back, then thoroughly scanned the interior of the elevator, barebones as it was.

"I take it you've never seen an elevator before?" Liam asked.

Luna considered the word and understood the implications, then approached. When her hooves made contact with the elevator floor, she felt it shift ever-so-slightly. A probe with her magic determined that there was much energy flowing through the device. She retreated her exploratory hoof.

"No... this contraption is unfamiliar."

Liam stepped beside her, then into the elevator. He fixed her a smile.

"Hop on in, we're going up."

Luna tentatively walked inside the metal cage. Liam pressed one of many buttons in a panel fixed to the front beside the gate, a small metallic chime ringing faintly above them. Luna looked up to find the source, but had no luck in seeing its origin. Luna flinched when the gate doors jolted, then slowly closed. She watched the metal bars come together and seal before her with great interest.

Her eyes met Liam's, and upon his face was a knowing smile.

"Do we operate the machine manually?" she asked.

Liam pressed another button.

"No, it works on its own. Just relax."

Luna's shoulders began to slack.

"Very well, I- oh!"

The elevator suddenly lurched upwards just a smidge, then began to rise slowly. Luna's hooves splayed out to keep balance, but more than that, to be ready for further surprises. Liam laughed quietly, then set a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, it does that sometimes. Don't worry, it's safe."

Luna fixed him a glare, then inspected the passing rock faces, descending below them as the contraption climbed higher.

"I shall trust your word," she said finally.

The elevator continued to rise until finally, before them was a set of large metal slabs. The elevator jumped a bit when it stopped, but Luna's hooves gave her a solid base for the motion. She inspected these polished metal slabs with great interest, then the chime resounded again. Both the gate doors and the metal slabs parted, revealing a massive hallway of laminated white walls and a painted stripe of green traveling along the floor. She stood breathless at the sight, far more impressive than the office below, and the cavernous hallway that connected it to the elevator. Beset in the walls further on to the right were windows with Penetian shades drawn over them, obscuring her view within.

"This is Level One, the floor we were on before was Level One B. This floor houses most of the amenities and living quarters of the staff here, mess hall's just up ahead, offices down that hall there," Liam said as he strode forward. A set of doors at the end of the hall opened as a stallion in a labcoat briskly walked through them, revealing further rooms beyond. Whatever notions and preconceptions Luna had of the facility were all undone. Level One? Was Level Two above, or beneath?

"This is... all underground?" she asked.

"Yep. About fifty meters deep, give or take."

Meters. She was not familiar with the new system of measurement, but quickly followed Liam as he departed forwards. As they passed the office windows, she could see shapes of ponies moving within, some remained still at their desks, nursing fresh cups of coffee or tea. Others were in the midst of meetings or assignments, furiously scribbling notes down on their desks.

They passed through the double doors, revealing yet another set at the end of the hallway. To the left were two spaced out doors with glass panels set in the upper portions, revealing narrow hallways stretching further on beyond. Doors were set at equal spaces along the wall.

"Here's the facility bunks, this one's for research staff. My room's at the end there," he said, pointing to the further door, planted all the way at the end of the hall. Luna noted all of this information down quickly in her mind.

"Security bunks are down that hall there. Bathrooms and showers over there," Liam continued, moving forward and pointing out landmarks as he went. While Luna did her best to store this information, a nagging question was burrowed in her mind regarding a previous statement of his.

"What are meters in hooves?" she asked him, feeling like a foal in class.

He paused and shifted his gait, scratching his chin with a hand. Luna's ears picked up the sound of his stubble rubbing against his nails. His lips hopped to the corner of his mouth.

"I think... if hooves are the same measurement as feet, one meter is about three point three hooves. We did everything in metric," he said finally.

Luna stopped to do the math in her head. Three point three, fifty times over...

"We are... we are one hundred and sixty odd hooves underground?!" she exclaimed.

Liam fixed her a cheeky grin in response.

Author's Note

Sorry for the late release! Had a hard time piecing together how I wanted this to play out, but I think it's going well so far! I didn't want to split this up over two chapters but I felt like it was going to become a MONSTER of a chapter. Somewhere upwards of 10,000 words. I want save those for the world-ending stuff.

Over 2000 words of dialogue or somewhere up there, spread over this chapter and the next. I decided to block everything out with dialogue first and it all kinda became soup. Hope it tastes good, though.

Anywho, see you in the near future! I'm hoping to release the next chapter either a day or two later, but it may be a little longer than that. Again, already have the dialogue written, just need to write the action around it. We'll see!

Also, I've done little to no editing, so let me know if I've made any mistakes and what you all think.

Chapter 18: No More

No More

"It goes deeper?" she whispered in awe.

"Yep. The infrastructure goes about two-hundred meters down."

Luna stared at him, then back down the hallway, then back at him. Her mind ran rampant with questions, and the ones she wanted to ask were too many to count. How could they have possibly constructed this in mere months?! She did not attempt the math, knowing the number would simply shut down her brain, and instead opted for a blank, if slightly astounded stare.

"You gonna be okay over there, Luna?" Liam's voice shook her from her stupor.

"Yes, I... sorry, that is quite... incredible," she said breathlessly.

Liam chuckled and massaged his wrist.

"You should've seen what we built on Earth," Liam started. He stopped and his face hardened subtly. Pain flooded his eyes, and the minute changes of his expression told Luna all she needed to know.

"Liam?" she asked, intending to snap him from his thoughts.

He nodded and swallowed, then turned to look at the doors ahead of them.

"Yeah, sorry, anyways," he gestured to a familiar set of metal slabs, "here is the central elevator. This'll take you to Levels One, Two and Four, if you have special clearance."

"Clearance?" Luna's asked in confusion.

"Yeah, here, take a look," Liam said, bringing the band around his wrist to the slabs. The metal parted in a faint hiss, revealing a more robust and elaborate elevator within. It was clear that this elevator was designed with more stringent schematics and demanding conditions. The exterior was composed of steel plates, with multiple lines of concealed arcane circuitry running throughout the entire device. Luna could feel the energy of the device before she could see it, and now closer, she could feel the connection to an immensely massive power source. Luna looked down to Liam with clear surprise.

"A magical lock! Did you create the spell?"

Liam shook his head.

"I can't use magic, remember? Peridot Beam cooked it up for us."

"Did you design it?"

Liam shook his head again.

"You're giving me too much credit here, Luna. I just tell R&D what I want, they figure it out. C'mon."

Liam stepped into the elevator and beckoned Luna forward. Her hooves crossed the threshold of the elevator shaft and she boarded. This elevator did not dip, nor shift as she made contact with the floor. Her observations were accurate; this was a much sturdier and stable machine. Liam brought his wristband to the panel set in the right side of the wall, specifically, to the dull yellow crystal. When he pulled his wrist away, the crystal glowed, the light reflecting off of the green crystal above and blue crystal below. The doors closed and Luna felt a slight change in gravity as the elevator began to descend.

"I believe Twilight would be beside herself to know what you have created down here," Luna said in admiration.

Liam's gaze was steely when he looked back up to her.

"She can't know. I don't know if I'd trust her not to take notes," he said coolly.

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten the extent eagerness for knowledge," Luna admitted. Secrecy was the word of the day.

"It's okay. I imagine I'll probably need to consult with her on something soon, project I'm working on," Liam mumbled.

Luna felt the elevator slow and stop gently, the metal doors parting to reveal an open hallway. Liam motioned to the door and Luna walked through, finding herself in yet another hallway. A stripe of dull yellow ran across the white walls of this floor, and ponies wearing gray and black vests stood guard in the hallways. Their helmets did not share the metallic sheen of the Royal Guard, instead, they had a dull gray canvas stretched tight over them. A most peculiar armor. Liam stepped beside her. Before her, on the wall was a strange symbol painted in that same yellow, a vertical stripe with a curve at the bottom, levelling out and stretching to the right horizontally. Beside it was the Equish number two.

"What is that symbol?"

Liam walked towards it and looked back to her.

"It's the English letter L, to denote level. I wanted to keep some things similar," he mumbled.

Sunny Skies, the former Guard she had seen the night before, stumbled tiredly past one of the doors and near to their position, bringing his lifeless eyes over to Liam.

"Mornin', how's it going Sunny?" Liam asked.

"Painfully," he croaked, "didn't sleep well."

"Yeah, we were out late last night," Liam added, "get some coffee in you, mess hall's up and running."

"Mhmm," he hummed detachedly. He looked up at Luna with an unchanging face.

"Hi Princess Luna," he mumbled.

"Hello."

He blinked. He blinked once more. A final blink, then a shake of his head. He stared at her, eyes more alert. The illusion had not departed, this was her. She was her, Princess Luna was right here in front of him! Again! His eyes widened in panic, looking towards Liam in shock. His wings splayed slightly.

"Oh, oh dang it! Princess Luna, I-" he fumbled his words. Luna almost laughed.

"Do not worry, you will find I am a princess no longer. You need not apologize, nor bow," she said warmly.

"Oh, I uh... I'm sorry to hear that," he said with sorry eyes as he rubbed his foreleg.

"Do not be, it was my own choice."

Sunny nodded with a polite smile and looked back to Liam.

"What're you doing on Level Two?"

Liam's head pulled back in mock offense.

"Am I not allowed to be down here?" he asked jokingly.

"It's a free country," Sunny mused, "seriously, you're normally down in Three or up in One. Something wrong?"

Liam rolled his head.

"Nah, need to speak to Lyra, and I'm giving a tour to our political refugee here," he nodded towards Luna. She shook her head.

"The mobility training mare? Researcher Heartstrings?"

"That's the one," Liam confirmed.

"Ugh... my flanks are still sore. Don't tell her I'm up, please."

Liam's eyes narrowed and the smile on his face vanished.

"Hey, Sunny?"

The pegasus noticed the sudden tonal change and went rigid, no doubt recognizing the implications from rigorous training in the Guard.

"Just because I'm your friend doesn't mean I'm not your boss. Go get your coffee and get your ass down there when you're ready," Liam growled.

"Yes sir!" Sunny said as he took off into the elevator behind them. He sheepishly grinned and brought his own band to the crystals, eyes darting back and forth between the panel Liam. The doors closed slowly and Luna struggled to contain herself, snickering and hiding her face behind a hoof. When the doors finally closed, she let out a snort. Liam's sternness and authority all but dissolved into a small smile at the sound.

"What?" he asked, cocking an ear to her.

"We- I did not know that you had this demeanor in you," she giggled.

"You find it funny?" Liam asked in faux-anger.

"I do not know, perhaps," she said with a smile, "but I do find it endearing."

Liam sighed and smiled at her.

"Har har. I'm technically your boss now, too, y'know."

Luna laughed again, her laughter fading to a chuckle.

"I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing."

"A little of both, probably," Liam said with a shrug.

A few of those researchers meandered about, likely off to find their assignments for the day. A corkboard hanging on the wall saw a congregation of many of these ponies, inspecting notes and papers pinned to the surface. She moved forward to see their activities, watching as some tore papers from the board and walked away with them in tow, be it magic, hooves or bags.

"Level Two. Light containment," Liam said as he brushed beside her, "training rooms and a few more living spaces. We've got a few artifacts on this level that are relatively safe, so long as they're left alone. Otherwise..." he trailed off ominously.

Luna looked to him and tilted her head.

"Well, let's just say it's not fun trying to put together a pony who's just exploded into a-thousand puzzle pieces," he said flatly.

"I would imagine not."

Liam pointed in the other direction.

"Down that way there's an elevator that goes to Level Three. Requires special clearance. I'll show it to you later."

"What is in Level Three?" she asked.

"Right now? Not much. We only have one containment cell finished down there, magical nullifiers built into the walls. Occupant is a little feisty," Liam said.

The idea of a magical suppression field raised alarms in Luna's mind.

"Magical nullifiers? Who is this occupant?"

"The Equestrian God of Chaos," Liam said nonchalantly.

Luna paused and reared onto Liam.

"What?! Thou hath Discord restrained down here?!"

Liam recoiled and put his hands into his pockets.

"Woah, easy. Don't worry, he can't do anything. He's not happy about that, but I do what I can to keep him entertained."

Luna mulled over the information as he alarm seeped from her. She hoped that whatever precautions Liam had taken would be adequate to keep the trickster god from doing mischief.

"That is... why does Celestia not know?"

Liam paused, his eyebrow notching upwards.

"She does, she gave him to me," Liam explained.

"He was found in a riverbed North of Canterlot, one of the valleys. Guard patrol sent word to Celestia, and the rest is history. He was... uh... uncooperative at first, but we've played a few games of blackjack and chess since then."

Luna was silent for a moment.

"I apologize for my outburst, it was surprising information."

"You're fine. I'd probably react the same, given the circumstances. If you'd like to talk to him, I can arrange that."

Luna nodded.

"Thank you, Liam."

"Okay," he said simply.

They turned and continued down the hallway, coming to a halt before a large metal door with a small window. Liam opened it and gestured for Luna to step inside. Inside was a small room with a single bed, desk, and chair. In that chair sat an alarmingly sweaty unicorn with an aquamarine coat and desaturated cyan mane. She readily chugged at a water bottle in her hoof, eyes darting over to the opened door as they came in.

"Miss Heartstrings, what have you got for me?" Liam asked of the disheveled unicorn.

Lyra gasped after her last gulp, equal parts shock and breathlessness. She managed a single word.

"Oh."

She kept her stare on Luna, who herself knew her former subjects tendency to prostrate themselves unto her. She braced for the action, but Liam quickly reoriented the situation.

"Hey, enough of that. How's the training going?"

Her wide-eyed stare melted into a wide-eyed grin. She took in a deep breath and stood from her chair, dropping onto her four hooves and moving towards Liam. Luna could smell a slightly minty shampoo in her damp mane.

"Oh! Well, we're still working on sideways movement, but I'm seeing a lot of improvement!"

Luna raised a hoof to interject.

"Improvement upon what, may I ask?"

That unhinged look in the mare's eyes seemed only to intensify.

"Well, ponies typically move quadrupedally, however," she barked excitedly, then launched herself upward as though rearing. However, she never dropped back down, instead finding herself at Liam's height on her hindlegs. Luna restrained a whinny at the abrupt motion.

"As you can see, we can learn to walk exclusively on our hind-hooves! Imagine how much more we can do with our forehooves now! Nopony has to... grab anything with their... mouths. Euck," Lyra's manic enthusiasm disappeared as she gagged, her eyes bulging. Liam folded his lips tight so as to not smile at the cartoonish expression.

"What is the reason for this transition, specifically?" Luna asked with a tilted head.

Lyra fell back down onto her hooves and brought one to gesture into the air at Liam.

"Liam, as a bipedal creature, has a much wider range of motion compared to a pony on all hooves. Upon carefully examining our hooves, he came to the conclusion that we have a similar gripping mechanic, something I too noticed upon my own studies of his hands," her eyes inevitably drifted down to his hands, which he quickly dipped back into his pockets, a lesson learned from past encounters.

"Meaning?" Luna followed.

"Meaning that if our security teams can move on their back legs, weapons like those of the griffons would be easier to wield. Bows, crossbows, that kind of thing!"

Luna eyed Liam with a cautious curiosity.

"Do we have need of those weapons?"

Liam met her eyes with a haunted look.

"Better safe than sorry," he said lowly.

"I see. Thank you, Miss Heartstrings," she said to the eccentric unicorn.

"Oh, please, call me Lyra!" she threw a hoof out towards Luna. Luna hesitantly bumped it with her own.

"It is nice to meet you, Lyra."

"Likewise!" she chirped back.

Liam coughed.

"Anything else, Lyra?"

"Uh, no sir! Not that I can, eh, recall anyway. My written report's not done yet, but I can have it to your office by the end of the day!"

"Good," he appraised.

Liam nodded and looked around her office. He opened the door for Luna and began to head out. He dipped his head back in through the door frame for one last word.

"Make sure you get some sunlight, too, you're looking kind of frazzled. Maybe a shower, too."

As the door shut behind them, Lyra brought her left foreleg up and tentatively sniffed at herself. She winced.

On the other side of the door, Liam and Luna shared a look before Liam's face exploded into a poorly restrained smile. Luna found herself smiling alongside him.

"Does that one seem-?"

"Crazy? Yeah. But she's smart, real smart," Liam affirmed.

"I see. She reminds me of Twilight Sparkle," Luna said.

"Yeah, if she couldn't stop staring at my hands," he replied sarcastically. Luna smirked.

They walked through the halls back to the elevator, some ponies stopping to begin their ceremonies, only to be gently told to get back to work. Luna found some measure of gratitude in that. As they boarded the elevator silently, Luna realized that there was one level unexplored, turning to look down to Liam.

"What is in Level Four?"

Liam paused as he moved forward to activate the crystal to Level One.

"Our generator, and some other things. You'll find out when you get your own access crystal."

Luna moved towards him in foal-like awe.

"I shall have one?" she asked quietly. She found herself staring at the band on his wrist.

"Why wouldn't you?" Liam asked back.

Luna found herself excited about the prospect, but a loud yawn quickly ripped away that sensation. Liam couldn't help but yawn in response, then shot her a glare.

"Don't do that," he yawned in muted anger.

"Do what?" Luna yawned back.

Liam rubbed his eyes and checked his watch.

"Looks like last night is catching up with us. I don't have anything going on until later this evening, so I think I'm going to head back and try to sleep some before I give you the formal intro," he said tiredly. His eyes, semi-closed, widened when he realized he still hadn't shown her where she would sleep. Before he could get onto the subject, she spoke.

"Do you mind if I join you for a nap?" she asked.

Liam felt his heartrate spike for a moment, then attempted to play cool in front of her.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, that uh, that works."

A small, dim room, with only a mattress and a shabby nightstand. The room, by even a smaller pony's standards, was already quite cramped. A small sliver of the exposed concrete floor beneath did little to soothe the oppressive starkness of the small space. And yet, this was where he slept. Supposedly.

Luna found herself staring at the saddest living quarters she had ever seen.

"Well, this is it," Liam sighed. He looked to Luna to find disbelief in her eyes.

"Y-you sleep here?"

Liam nodded.

"You could have designed a larger room for yourself, could you not?"

"I didn't want to take up any more room than needed. Also saved some on the budget, so that's a plus," he said with pursed lips. Luna looked over at the flimsy mattress, only a sheet and a pillow atop it. Liam suddenly burst into action, remembering something. He quickly darted out, leaving Luna to bask in the horror of the tiny space.

And bask she did. She noticed a small closet built into an indentation in the wall, a few spare shirts and pairs of pants hanging among jackets and ties. Brown and black shoes littered the bottom of the closet, socks stacked atop them. The socks made her pause, but she realized that he wore them under the shoes. An odd behavior, but likely not as scandalous as she'd thought.

It was no wonder why he couldn't sleep. He treated himself worse than a criminal. The dungeons of Canterlot Castle were more accommodating than this. He snapped her from her thoughts in his arrival, carrying another pillow and two blankets. He frowned when he saw the somberness of her features.

"Liam, this is hardly a room at all. This cannot be comfortable," she said softly.

Liam's mouth opened to reveal his teeth pressed together in concern, eyebrows furrowed.

"I can find you somewhere else to sleep. I'll-"

"No," she interrupted, "I am speaking of your wellbeing."

Liam paused, his features levelling out.

"I make do. You can have the bed, I'll take the floor," he said as he threw a pillow onto the small patch of concrete.

"No. Do not be foalish, we can share," she chided.

"Luna, it's not that big a bed. It's a twin," he argued.

Luna threw herself atop it, then wiggled and maneuvered herself as close as she could to the wall, leaving a human sized space for Liam at the end of the bed. Lying on her belly, she craned her head back to look at Liam in the doorway, giving him a cheeky smile.

"We make do," she said.

Liam shook his head and grumbled, retrieving the pillow and setting it beside her. She laid her head on the original pillow, taking in a deep breath. She could pick up notes of... coconut, as well as the faint smell of his hair, oils deposited on the fabric of the pillow cover, as well as something else; Liam. She found she liked the smell. She turned an eye back to look at Liam as he fumbled about with his clothes, removing his shirt and tie, placing them in the closet and removing his shoes. Underneath his buttoned shirt was another thin vest of some kind, white coloration, tucked into his pants.

"Liam?" she asked.

His eyes jumped to her and he stopped hopping in place, freezing as he tried to remove a shoe.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to remove all of your clothes?"

Liam immediately blushed and shook his head. He wrenched off his shoe and held it in his hand.

"That's not proper to do in front of a lady," he said, jabbing the shoe into the air for emphasis. He set to work on the other shoe and Luna noticed he was wearing socks.

"Hm," Luna responded, sinking her head back into the pillow. The room went dark with a click as Liam flicked the light switch on the wall, leaving only the faint light creeping in from under the door. Luna closed her eyes and felt Liam eventually settle down next to her, sliding and reorienting on the sheets until he found a comfortable enough position. They were very close to each other, Luna's breath splaying outwards against his back. She muted the stars in her mane so that they might be unbothered by the celestial formations.

They laid there in silence for a great deal of time, and despite Luna's fatigue, she could tell that Liam was not asleep. His breathing had not slowed, nor had he moved at all since he laid down ten minutes prior. She nudged him with her nose in the dark. He looked over his shoulder at her.

"What is wrong?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," he replied.

"I can sleep elsewhere if you like."

Liam sighed, then rolled over in place to face her. His face looked very different in the dark.

"It's not that, Luna," he confessed.

Luna awaited an explanation, and after he closed his eyes and sorted through his thoughts, he spoke again.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Really sure?"

Luna nestled into the pillow deeper.

"I am certain of it. I shan't change my mind," she said.

Liam frowned, the skin around his eyes folding.

"I hoped you'd take a look at me and realize that this job... well, it's my own little Hell. But I guess I didn't explain it enough. Maybe."

Luna remained silent as he whispered, his voice, low and tight. She rolled in place to face him, her hooves at her side.

"I've already told you some about me, but I didn't really tell you about my job. Not in-depth. What kind of mistake it was. I was contacted by the Foundation straight out of University. Studied diseases there, they wanted me to keep doing that, I guess. They didn't tell me I was going to study monsters, too. Didn't make any sense to me, world's greatest and they picked... mediocrity," the last whispered word left his mouth like a whip. Luna felt her heart tighten.

"Liam," she began, but his eyes found hers in the dark.

"Let me finish, please."

Liam quieted and sorted through his thoughts as Luna watched him in sadness.

"Maybe they thought that I'd be easy to forget. Someone that could get lost in the system with minimal effort to disappear me. Worked there for five years and saw things I won't forget for the rest of my life, much as I want to. I've done things that... the logical side of my brain tries to... tries to figure a way out, but there's no escaping it. This is something that stays with you. The choices you make. It's in there," he gently put his finger to her chest.

"That's where you feel it. That pain," he croaked quietly. She could see his eyes glistening.

"I wind up in a new world, a second chance... and it's still there. It drags me back. If there's even a fraction of what we've seen out there in the world? I don't want you to have to hurt like... me. I've lost people, a lot of people, and I was a nobody, but you're a somebody. You're special. Way more than me. I don't understand why you'd do this to yourself, why you'd throw that all away. I'm twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight, and I've... done and... a-and seen things that I'll never forget. That I can't forget. I'm too far gone to go back to normality."

They shared a silence, Luna's forelegs reaching out to touch his hand near her. She rubbed at it with her hoof gently, looking him in his eyes.

"You are only twenty-seven?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he replied.

Luna thought about what to say next. A testament to his character? A professing of her admiration for him, to soothe his worries? All of these avenues did not appeal to her, so she draped a large navy wing over him, concealing them both in further darkness. Her horn glowed ever faintly in that darkness, giving them both light to look at each other. Here, beneath her wing, she could see he was wounded.

Just like she was.

"Liam, We... We already hurt like that. You know this," she whispered, then pulled him closer with her wing. He didn't resist, instead embracing her in a gentle hug, arms wrapped up her barrel and around her back. She shifted to allow his arm to move under her, then settled down, her chin resting above his head.

"Upon our banishment, so long ago, our goals hadst been misguided. We hath failed in our duties, consumed by... a mistake which may never see atonement. Twice over hath Equestria, Equus, suffered by our actions," she whispered. She pulled her head back to look at him beneath her wing, finding he was staring back at her.

"No more, Liam," she said definitively.

"The crown doth not a princess make, but mayhaps, our counsel may mend even a fraction of our sins, our efforts an aid to thine struggle. We feel... We know thou needest aid, that thine fears art compounded, that thine nights art sleepless. Thou... you do not deserve to be left alone."

"You saved me, Liam... let me repay Equestria. Let me repay you," she said softly.

Liam's lips shook and he held her tighter, pressing his face against her chest.

"So you really want to do this?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. If you will have me," she replied and stroked his back with her hoof.

"I will."

They held each other in silence for a long while as sleep slowly overcame them.

"Sorry to get all, like this," Liam murmured in her fur.

"Well, it certainly is not quite as lofty as the 'moo-vees' you have been telling me about, but I enjoy spending time with you, Liam. When you are sad, when you are serious, it matters not," she said softly.

He let out a small huff in amusement.

"Thank you, Luna. It means a lot," he whispered.

"You are very welcome, Liam."

And in that dark little room, the two of them slept.

Author's Note

Whew. That's a lot of writing, and very little editing. I hope it makes sense. Blocking all this out while sleep-deprived doesn't do well for consistent storytelling. Readers, we are nearing some big plot points. Get your fuzzies in while you can, things are going to get hairy soon. Let me know what you all think and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.

I'll see you all for the next chapter!

Caspian

Chapter ██: █████

█████

Orange.

A fiery orange flare danced across the surface of the puddle, the liquid sat dark upon the tiled floor. Within an instant it was gone, and in that murky blackness, a faint light reflected the dimensions of the pool. Wide it sat there, stretched from one end of the hall to the other. A deep rumble disturbed the silence, shaking and distorting the reflective substance, then silence again. The silence endured for a long time, as it was in the beginning, as it would in the end. Only that silence, an eventual reprise of nothingness to bathe in, a puddle of murky blankness to encompass all. The light faded.

Orange flew across the surface once more, though in the mirror of the dark puddle, something moved. There, in that darkness, it moved slowly, painfully, dragging weight rustling against the floor. It stopped and shifted when the orange light disappeared, a sharp squeak against the laminate. When the fire returned, it moved in a broken symphony, a song unheard, despairing and bleeding. Such sounds were its chorus, such torment its soul, but none could hear. It was alone in its song. Lonely its movements, dictated by the passing of the light over the pool. Lumbering and shambling, it moved, then waited. It moved, then waited. Long had it waited. Long. So long.

Upon sundered brick, a ruined hand found purchase. The knuckles tensed, the torn fingers probed with erratic movements at the uneven surface. A soft scraping noise and tattered flesh pulled away to leave behind that liquid, smearing the jagged edge in black. A squeak as it stopped, the light gone again. A throaty rasp punctuated by a dull click, echoing down the hall. It moved with the fire, as it had done before, to continue onwards. A foot misplaced sent a metal tube skittering away into the dark. It followed the sound forwards. Then, it heard something soft, a chirping noise beyond. This noise it had not heard before. This noise did not belong to it, nor to the womb it was born in.

This noise was new. It thundered forward with great purpose, labored movements foregone in way of a jerky gait. Its two legs jolted down, one after another, propelling it forward. It lost balance and fell to the ground suddenly, arm rigid and fingers cracking in sudden flexes. The tortured hand planted itself firm against the floor, legs pulling inwards to its chest. It rose and slumped against the wall beside it, the orange fire spinning slow in a clear bubble above it.

The fire did not make that noise. The fire had long since stopped making noise. Now it watched and teased it, an illusion. It could see now how it had been fooled. It could see now how it had forgotten its purpose. It must find the noise. It must find the noise. The pain must be washed away. A pain it had felt for so long. So long.

It threw itself forward against the door, dull light shone freely beyond the clear portal set within it. It pushed and pushed, feeling the rattle against the hinges. It would not pass. It could not break through. It heard the chirp once more, louder, beyond the door. It pushed and it slammed, but the door would not give the sound. Its eyes trailed down, a faint green light sitting upon a dark box on the wall. Fragments of memories came to it, memories from before, pieces of the one before it. They whispered the answer to the puzzle, and with that hand, it unlocked.

It let out a wet gurgle as the door slide away into the wall, revealing a destroyed room. A bloody sneaker pressed against the floor quickly, an eagerness in its movements intensifying with each moment. There, at the end of the left wall, the gray was undone, and beyond sat paradise. It moved forward, the white light of day spilling onto it, the outside world waiting.

No longer would it sing alone. No longer would it dance alone. What was left of its other arm limply bounced behind it as it lunged through the breach.

The world beyond was bright, lush green strands waved beneath the shambling legs. Grass. Light browns rose into the air and exploded into bubbles of darker greens. Tree. The above was a tapestry of blue and gray, and the warmth radiated from the fire in the sky down onto the world. Sun. No longer was it in the dark. No longer was the above low. Sky. These sensations came fast, overwhelmingly so, and it stood silent. It watched and it listened. No metal, no stone, no dripping. The chirping continued and a buzz sat in the bushes.

It let out a ragged cry, then all went silent. The buzz left. The chirping had stopped. They did not share its music. They did not share its song. They would in time, as all had before, as it would be again. Its jaw chattered and shut with a loud click. It could feel the wind on its teeth, the coolness of the breeze in its matted hair, on its exposed skull.

What was once Benjamin McKay was now free, and it would no longer be alone.

It would become they.

Chapter 20: Negotiation

Negotiation

"Good evening, Liam."

Liam's eyelids remained closed, but the movement behind them communicated with consciousness. His senses returned to him quickly, and he realized that he had fallen asleep within Luna's embrace. Her feathered wing was draped over him still, a softer blanket than any he had felt previously.

"Hey, g'evenin'," he grumbled.

His eyelids peeked open, then his eyes navigated upwards to see Luna with a small smile on her face, her cyan orbs looking down into his. He gave her a small, groggy smile, then released his grip around her barrel. As he departed her warmth, the slight chill of the room met his bare skin. He suppressed a chill and sat up, rubbing his eye with his palm.

He sat there for a few moments, blinking owlishly, then pulled his arms upwards and stretched. A satisfying series of pops rang out from an elbow and his back, a groan escaping him. Luna lit her horn and illuminated the both of them with a soft blue glow. She shimmied closer to him and he set an arm on her back. He looked towards the glow of the lights creeping beneath the door. They were in various states of disarray; Liam's hair a fuzzy mess, and Luna's mane not much better.

"Huh," he sounded.

"What is it?" Luna asked, blinking away the remnants of her own rest.

Liam looked to her and gave her a small smile.

"That's the best I've slept in months, I think. You make a good pillow," he croaked.

Luna blushed and returned the smile, rolling her head about on her neck.

"We share that sentiment as well, on both accounts," she said softly.

Liam debated on returning to that warm embrace and wasting the rest of the day away. Luna shared a similar want. How tempting an idea, and he would have given into that temptation, were it not for a return to that thought.

Rest of the day. His eyes suddenly became a tad more alert. Luna noticed the change in his mood.

"Wait... wait a sec."

His hand darted over to the night stand, fishing a silver alarm clock out from within it's depths. Already he could feel a sense of urgency that ruined the post-sleep comfort he was feeling. He stared at the clock face for a few seconds, holding his breath.

"Fuck," he whispered.

He looked to Luna's concerned visage and shook his head.

"I forgot to set my alarm clock."

Luna felt a degree of relief to know it was simply the passage of time that had him concerned. Then she considered the position he occupied, the potential for things to get out of hoof down below the surface. She wondered if anypony above would know that things had gone awry down here. Luna's ears flattened on her head.

"Ah, are we behind schedule?"

"Very. We were supposed to be in Room L-224 an hour ago."

Liam sighed and rose from the bed, shambling over to the closet and picking clothes out of it. He pulled out a pair of black slacks and a gray dress shirt from the closet, then began dressing himself quickly. He closed the closet to make more room for himself. Luna awkwardly fumbled out of the bed and gave her wings an uncomfortable stretch, being mindful not to encroach into Liam's space. She yawned and flipped on the light with her magic, dispelling her own.

The sudden change in brightness made both of them squint and recoil. Liam powered through the blindness and pulled his slacks up around his waist, fastening the button and pulling up the zipper. He waddled closer to the door and slipped on his socks, then deftly slipped his feet into his shoes.

"Do you have a mirror?" Luna asked.

"Yeah, open that door there," he gestured to the closet. Luna pulled open the door and found a small mirror hanging just below her eye-line, suspended inside the closet. She bent her forelegs slightly and dipped down into a position to see herself better. Liam's eyes wandered over towards her, then darted away quickly, something Luna noticed in the mirror.

Was that a blush? Surely not. Right? She realized then that he had looked over her hindquarters, and the immediate rush of blood from her heart to her head almost overtook her. She dismissed the thought and became very self-conscious of the placement of her tail.

Luna fixated back on her own reflection. Her mane, while still quite cosmic in nature, was rather unkempt. Curls flowed inwards and outwards at odd positions in her mane, frizzy odd strands darting off in random directions. She frowned at the bedhead, and upon further inspection, recalled just the right spell for the job.

In a blink and with a pop, Luna's mane reoriented instantaneously. Liam looked over at the sound and the flash, noticing her appearance had neatened-up considerably.

"Shit, wish I could do that," he muttered, then turned back to his own devices.

"It does make preparation easier," Luna trilled, "do you need help?"

Liam turned over his shoulder with pursed lips, then back to the ties in his hand. Blue, or black? He looked down to his slacks shirt. Black and gray respectively. Black would match the pants, what about a jacket?

"Nah, I got it," he murmured.

He eventually opted for neither, instead doing up his black faux-leather belt and abandoning the jacket all-together. He turned slightly and splayed out his arms.

"How do I look?" he asked. Luna eyed him in the mirror.

"Bedraggled," she said as she turned around, rising upwards. A single small plume of brown hair rose upwards on the back of his head.

"Turn around," she instructed. He gave her a quizzical look and complied.

Liam felt a wetness on the back of his head, pushing his head forward slightly as whatever it was moved upwards and off of his head. He heard a lip-smack follow, then a stroking motion going down in that wet spot. He stood silent for a few moments after the event.

"Did..." he said slowly, "... did you just lick me?"

He turned around to find her pupils had become narrow dots, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Doth thine kind not groom each other in such a manner?"

He blinked.

"Not really, but hey, 'when in Rome' I guess," he said with an awkward laugh. He opened the door and nudged towards it with his head.

"Ladies first," he said.

Luna pouted.

"You know," she said, shaking off a little bit of that embarrassment with mock-indignance, "stallions typically go first in Equestria."

"Tough luck, I'm no stallion. Get your butt out there," Liam smirked.

Luna laughed and marched forward.

Liam walked through the doorway with a cautious eye, quickly setting his sights upon Sunny Skies. Sunny gave him a nod, then motioned to the cell window with his eyes. Fixed in the concrete wall was a one-sided window, revealing within what seemed to be a perfectly normal beige unicorn mare. She pushed her indigo bangs to the side and let out a sigh, her left hoof bouncing up and down on the floor.

"I'm sorry we're late, forgot to set my alarm clock earlier this afternoon. Where's Miss Do?"

"Recuperating," Sunny said neutrally, "they had her in one of those pods. She'll be out of it for a little while."

Liam probed the side of his cheek. This business could be messy. Liam walked towards the window and inspected the mare. Her eyes looked towards the window, and if he didn't know any better, he'd think she was staring right at him. Soon enough, her gaze moved upwards around the mirror.

"That her?"

Sunny sighed.

"I dunno. Hasn't dropped her disguise. She's been getting pretty antsy, that's for sure."

Liam turned his head to the side, still staring at the mare. Luna walked into the room with a curious look on her face. Liam had not divulged anything regarding the nature of this excursion.

"Don't let anyone else in here, got it? I don't want a freak-out, changelings tend to scare."

Luna's eyes widened, then landed on the mare behind the glass, inspecting her hooves.

"A changeling? Who have you brought here?"

"We're about to find out."

Liam depressed the handle and pushed the door into the room. He moved in and gave what he felt was a disarming smile, holding the door open for Luna to move into the room. He stepped away from the door and made the mistake of turning his back to his guest.

As soon as she saw Princess Luna standing there in the doorway, she lunged over the table and pressed her horn into the underside of Liam's chin. The tip of her horn dug into the flesh just enough to force his head upwards at an angle. Luna's eyes widened in terror as now-black hooves wrapped around his chest and pulled him back. The rest of the disguise fell, revealing malevolent green eyes staring over his shoulder.

"CHRYSALIS!" Luna shrieked, her stance widening and her horn charging.

Liam's heart beat fast in his chest, his arms coming up with open hands.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you! I knew it! Lying bucking alien!" Chrysalis hissed in his ear.

"Close that door!" Liam barked to Sunny.

"DO NOT DARE HARM HIM, OR WE SHALT TEAR FROM THEE THINE CARAPACE WITH OUR TEETH!" Luna screamed.

Liam could barely see Sunny's panicked movements behind Luna before the door shut with a bang. The noise drove the horn just a little further into Liam's skin, but he was running out of real-estate to move his head further.

"Hey, everyone let's just relax, alright? We're just gonna talk," he said as calmly as he could. Chrysalis taste his fear in the air, but it was not nearly as powerful as the fear she had sampled during the wedding. Changelings could make for good lie-detectors themselves, but she could hardly taste anything on the creature in her grasp.

"You brought a bucking Princess of all ponies to talk?! Yeah right!"

Luna slowly moved around the overturned table, like a predator stalking prey. Chrysalis reoriented Liam and retreated further towards the corner, using his body for a shield.

"We swear it to thee, We shalt flay thy corpse and pin it against thine wretched hive should harm befall him," Luna whispered. Chrysalis could taste the hatred and the vitriol, bitter and acidic on her tongue. But in that hatred she could also taste... love? Love. The fear and anger that pervaded Princess Luna came from love. The platter was not enough to shake her from the reality of her situation, however.

"You weren't there at the wedding, you have no idea what I'm capable of! How much I held back!" she shouted back. The dissonant undertones of her voice wavered in her stressed. Her wings buzzed against her back, eyes squarely set upon the danger in the room.

"Okay, everyone fucking calm down," Liam said quickly, "Queen Chrysalis, I gave you my word, didn't I? I just wanna-" he grimaced as the horn dipped and found itself back where it was. He could only imagine the reaction Sunny must be having. He didn't much like the idea of security piling in here and turning this fuck-up into a right proper bloodbath.

"You didn't say anything about Princess Luna! How can I trust you?" She spat.

"Well, she's not a Princess anymore, she's working with me, and we're only here to talk," Liam pleaded.

"A most dangerous villain, stopped by for a visit! Thou art mad! What manner of talk may we have?!"

Liam's heart threatened to burst, and in that moment, he decided that he had to do something. Talking them like a negotiator wasn't working, and he'd find himself with a nice little hole in the bottom of his head if something didn't change. He wasn't too keen on getting blasted by Luna either, whatever damage that might do.

Instead, he took a deep breath.

"ENOUGH!" He roared. The horn dug a little too deep into his chin and he felt the sharp point break the skin.

But it worked. Luna seemed surprised at the outburst, shocked at his volume. Chrysalis' grip on his chest had weakened some. He reached up slowly and gently touched at Chrysalis' horn with his fingers. She made a surprised noise at the contact, and before she could move or reposition herself, he grunted.

"Don't you think things would've gone differently if I didn't want to talk?" he asked impatiently.

"Now, I'm going to move this horn away, and you're going to sit, and we're going to talk. Okay?"

She didn't say anything, but Liam felt movement behind him, then he slowly pushed the horn away. He kept his hands open as he turned around and faced the changeling queen, now considerably taller in her true form. Her eyes moved quickly between him and Luna, then the door. Looking for a way out. Liam knelt down, hands still open, and gently righted the discarded chair beside her. She did not move towards it.

"Please. Just... sit," he exhaled, gesturing to the chair.

Chrysalis silently communicated her distrust of Luna, her horn still alight with a charged spell. He turned and gave her a demanding look.

"You too, cool your jets," he said sternly. Her spell dissipated.

"What... what does that mean?" she asked lamely.

He felt like he was going to pass out. His head pounded and he leaned against a wall, exhaling loudly.

"It means relax. Just... fucking relax, everyone, please," he said finally, pulling a trembling hand to his chin. He pulled his fingers away to reveal a red smear against them. Luna smelled the blood from her position, an anger swelling in her heart once more. She wanted to tear this bug apart, piece by piece, for harming him. She wanted to make good on her promise. But yet, Liam had a plan. She soon learned that Liam's plans were deserving of complaints and mane-pulling. They all took unsteady, tense breaths, sitting in the muck of the situation for a moment.

"I'm going to put this table back up," Liam said finally.

No one voiced their disapproval of the action, so he went ahead and set it upright. He retrieved two folding chairs, similar to the one Chrysalis found beside her, and set them opposite her chair. He gestured the to the seats, and slowly, Luna and Chrysalis placed themselves upon their chairs. Liam wiped away more blood before he sat down, and while it wasn't a gushing wound, the small flow was steady in the formation of droplets. One droplet landed with a dull splat on the metal table. He looked down at it, then looked up at Chrysalis with tired eyes.

"Listen, I'm not going to hold you here against your will," he began, "I told Fronse that I wanted to negotiate with you, and that's true. That's all I want to do here."

He swallowed uncomfortably.

"I don't see a monster sitting across from me, I see a Queen who had to do what she had to do for her people... er, ponies... changelings, whatever. I just want to talk, okay?"

Chrysalis had mixed feelings regarding his statement, but notes of truth sat lightly in his speech. Despite the peculiar nature of this strange being, the lack of readily available emotions to pluck upon on his form, she could tell he was genuine from the look of his eyes.

Desperation and curiosity drove her to this meeting. At this point, all options had to be considered, and here one presented itself, albeit in very strange and stressful circumstances. Luna glared daggers at her, but in this strange soup of confusion and doubt, there may be something for her hive. She tried her best to discard her wounded pride and her aggravation, and opted for a nod to the strange being.

A small measure of relief touched his eyes and he looked to Luna. She did not look back. He gently rose from his chair.

"Now, I need tissues, you want water or anything?"

"Water would be nice," Chrysalis murmured.

"Liam, have you gone mad?"

Liam gently set a paper cup filled with water in front of Chrysalis, then turned to Luna, stage-whispering at him. He looked at Chrysalis, who by her own bemused expression, clearly heard the poorly concealed message.

"I'm pretty sure she can hear," he said as he returned to his spot at the table.

"I can," she confirmed.

"We care not," Luna growled.

Liam sighed and took a sip from his own cup. He set it down and threw his arm over the backrest of his chair.

"Well, Luna, what I'm thinking is that the changeling species needs a pick-me-up. They have a raw deal and a great set of talents that this organization could use," he finished while looking towards Chrysalis.

He leaned forwards and set his elbows on the metal table.

"As Fronse may have told you, I want to negotiate a... pact, maybe. An agreement," he said, looking for the right wording.

Queen Chrysalis eyed him intensely, before drawing her attention to the walls and the window.

"What are you? What is this place?"

Liam pursed his lips and rubbed his chin, being mindful not to scrape off the torn tissue-paper stuck to his flesh. He thought about how to best communicate his story to her. He let out a breath through his nose and looked at Chrysalis.

"I'm an interdimensional refugee developing an organization the likes of which Equus has never seen," he said finally.

She remained silent and regarded him with interest, but an eyebrow fell tighter against her eye in suspicion.

"Within Equestria's borders?"

"Yes," he said plainly.

She resumed her silence, then her wings buzzed in agitation.

"Princess Celestia must know about this," she trailed.

Liam nodded and Chrysalis looked to Luna for more insight on the subject. The former princess was stonewalling her. She had been since Liam departed for water.

"She does. I have permission from her to operate throughout Equestria, so long as certain things don't happen," he said evasively. Chrysalis wanted to pry, but the subject of Celestia still hung on her mind.

"So this is a deal between myself and Equestrian royalty, then?"

Liam shook his head.

"No. This is a deal with me and my organization," he said definitively.

She paused.

"What is the purpose of your organization?"

Liam again found himself searching for the right words.

"The capture and containment of dangerous... anomalies. Objects of interest, sometimes people, that left unchecked could spell doom for all of Equus. Capture, contain, control," he explained.

"And you are its leader? A furless ape?" she asked mockingly.

"A human," he responded. That word sounded familiar.

"My world had a similar organization, the SCP Foundation. I worked with them, for them. They failed to contain one of those threats, and as a result, I am the last one left," he said coldly.

"Last one?"

"The last human."

Despite the appearance of emptiness, the sentence held within it fragments of a great pain. Despair. Hopelessness and grief. Chrysalis pressed forward so as to not stay upon it. Then, the word finally clicked in her head. The memories of the hive stretched far into history, and there she found mention of the word. But beyond that, she found images of the North, trauma in the memories of old, destruction brought about by humankind here.

'Interdimensional my flank,' she thought.

After further silence, she leaned forwards over the table, disgust plain on her muzzle.

"Our hive remembers your kind, human. It is good that your race was culled. Eat cotton," she said smarmily.

"Wench!" Luna yelped, but Liam's hand darted towards her to stop her from doing anything rash. He swallowed and his brows knit together, his eyes wrenching shut and the corner of his lip twitching. He recomposed himself as best he could, but the trickle of emotion she had felt on his body became a waterfall.

He took a breath.

"I don't know much about what the humans were like here. I know they were savage, barbaric, and I know they disappeared somewhere in the Crystal Empire. My kind were not those humans, and my kind did not deserve a culling. Eight-billion souls were lost to a horror you couldn't even begin to understand. I recommend you speak carefully from this point forward. I want to continue diplomatically, civilly, so watch what you say next," he finished with a threatening rumble.

Eight-billion? The figure boggled Luna's and Chrysalis' minds. Liam had never before shared the details, the numbers, with Luna before. He had told her of it's mutations, of the volatility of the virus, the rate of infection and time for symptoms. She told him how quickly it spread, how vast populations fell in moments, but never how vast.

"What kind of... what kind of horror was this?" Chrysalis finally uttered in horror.

"A sapient disease, one that defied conventional medicine and science. I don't even know if magic works against it. But I do know that if I somehow crossed over into your reality, it could too. And if it does, if it has, we best start preparing now."

"But your kind is facing extinction," he said softly. Luna looked at him and knew what he was saying, why he was saying it, but she felt the gravity behind his words.

Chrysalis found within his eyes that dreaded common ground. He did not know the specifics, but he knew the same pain. He recognized the direness in her situation as if it was his own, because he had felt it. She thought for a moment she was drowning in pity, when in reality, it was sympathy.

"You have an opportunity in front of you to do right by your hive, Hell, probably every changeling for generations to come. Your people are starving, your prestige is lost, you are defeated. Right now, you're a shell of what you once were, but we can change all of that," he explained.

"How?" she whispered.

"We establish a non-exhaustive and safe way to feed your changelings, help your kind get back on their hooves. Safety for your people, no fear of dangerous wild-life. If it's possible, immigration, integration. A new home," he looked to Luna. Chrysalis felt bile rising in her stomach.

"Absurd!" Chrysalis barked.

"Conquest and domination are off-the-table. The only way forward is coexistence. Don't you want that? Don't you want peace?" he asked pleadingly.

"To be remembered as a coward? To be remembered for failure, then bowing? After all that?!" she almost cried.

"To be remembered as the savior of your species. To remain a Queen over living subjects. Sovereignty and rule mean nothing if your population starves to death. Don't let ego step in the way," he said sagely.

They all remained silent, and Chrysalis waged an internal war against herself. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Certainly not, they would persecute her changelings! They would never accept them! Right? She glanced over to Luna, wearing a doubtful expression and staring at the table.

"Coexistence... is that even possible? Given her look, I see Luna's opposed to the idea," she reasoned.

Luna looked up at her and her eyes softened.

"Do not presume to know our thoughts," she said quietly.

"If we have any hope of survival, if not against that disease, then any manner of destructive forces on this planet, we need to come together. The number of anomalies on my planet was in the thousands, and I can only hazard a guess that thirty percent of them could've ended the world right alongside that disease. If there's even a sliver of that number here, that's still too many."

Liam sighed and turned to Luna. She did not return his gaze.

"Luna, you represent Equestrian political interests here. I know that Queen Chrysalis is an enemy to you, to the state, but I need your support on this," he said firmly.

Luna sat still and buried herself within her own thoughts. She closed her eyes slowly and then flipped her starry mane to the side, looking at Chrysalis with wounded eyes.

"I would be a hypocrite to deny her a second chance. I am upset with this course of action, but I see the logic in it, and the necessity. Queen Chrysalis..." she began, speaking slowly so as to not err. Then, with new-found confidence in her eyes, she leaned forwards to match the changeling opposite her.

"I will do everything in my power to ensure our side of the bargain is met, so long as those are conditions we agree upon, and I hope that the future between our species may be brighter than our present. You have my support, Liam," she gave Liam a restrained smile. Chrysalis could see there was much to be said in that expression, but knew then everything Luna had told her... she meant.

She meant it. She would try.

There was hope.

Liam's voice cut through the silence with a question.

"So... what do you say?"

Author's Note

I feel like my writing is improving with each chapter, but that means each chapter previous is getting left behind in quality. Or alternatively, I'm inflating my own ego. Problem for future me, I guess. Anywho, here you all are! Hope you all enjoy, let me know if there are any errors to be spotted, and give your thoughts/opinions/reactions down below! I love reading your comments.

Catch you either Friday or Saturday!

Caspian

Chapter 21: Working it Out

Working it Out

A dull white, eggshell perhaps, with a ribbed texture for a more tactile grip in hooves and hands. The curvature was perfect for most types of handling, the height and width perfect for filling to different levels. At the top, the lip was curled outwards into a rim that rounded the entirety of the cup for a satisfying and solid tug on the lips. The blue horseshoes sat on one side of the cup surface, with a grinning brown stallion set in the center atop them, staring forward with kind eyes. Beneath his visage, the words "Caramel's Cups!" were printed in blocky, cheesy font.

The display seemed to mock her.

"You're pissed."

Luna did not gratify Liam with her eyes. Instead, underneath the white lamps above, she turned her attention back to the stack of paper cups in the corner beside the coffee-maker. Her hooves slide gracefully through the air, her movements practiced and her face a well-sustained mask of indifference. In her eyes, however, anyone could see the clear hostility. She gently lifted a cup from the top of the stack, floating it over towards the drip-bead beneath the coffee-maker, sliding it into place and turning the cup ever-so-slightly, so as to hide the taunting face upon it.

"We do not know the context for that word," she said icily, fiddling with coffee tray.

She had been enjoying coffee longer than most ponies had lived, but by Discord's ugly rump, she could not understand their newfangled coffee-presses and machines. She looked down into the tray to find two depressions, one far larger than the other. She imagined this gap was designed to fill the coffee pot, while the smaller was designed for single servings. Now only to figure out how it worked.

"You're angry," Liam said.

Luna rounded on him with a deathly glare.

"Furious. We art furious," she stressed. She turned her attention back to the machine and glared at it as well. The glare did not stir the machine into action, nor did it conjure her a warm cup of coffee.

"I can-"

"Thou shalt not!" Luna barked, and Liam immediately went still. She would not look upon him. She would figure out this device, she would have her coffee, and she would do it alone, Liam and his stupid human face be damned. He frowned.

"I shoulda told you, I know," he said with a hint of dejection.

Luna looked back at him, then back to the coffee-maker. She noticed a pipe running from the wall to the device itself, likely a water intake, so she would not have to manually fill the Tartarus-blasted thing. She looked around for some sort of filter, as time had spoiled her against drinking it with coffee grounds directly. As she searched, she repeated his words over in her head, finding them more aggravating with each repetition.

"Quite good! Very good! We art ecstatic to hear as such! Indeed, you should have told us Chrysalis would be here!" she said sarcastically, flipping open cupboard doors with her teal magic.

Liam knew that any further attempt at conversation would lead to a verbal beat-down. He opted instead to sit at one of the tables in the break room, a thumb on one eyelid and his ring finger on the other, massaging the flesh. He had to give Luna credit; she hadn't shown her frustration with Liam to this degree during the meeting. Wouldn't go well diplomatically if Chrysalis could see that there was further turmoil on his side of things.

"What if she had killed you, Liam?" she whispered.

Liam remained silent, and she found what she was looking for. She set the paper filter into the smaller of the two spaces, finding much of the filter sticking out the top. She huffed. She set the filter into the larger receptacle, the abruptly floated the coffee bag over. She poured an alarming amount of coffee-grounds into the filter, then set the tray within the device.

Nothing happened.

"She didn't," Liam said finally.

Luna's eyes widened in fury and an ancient habit came back to the surface. She strode over to him, the muscles of her barrel and her forelegs tightened. Her hooves made flat contact with the floor and she pushed her body against him, invading his personal space. Such a maneuver had been a practice against leaders and generals of her time, cowing them into place when they represented a threat to her authority. He was taken aback by the action, looking up from beneath her, a vague subconscious familiarity with the domineering movement. His breathing quickened. She looked down at him like one would an ant, though that impartial, apathetic look was replaced with something far more fearsome.

"What if she did?!" she shouted down at him. His shocked, scared face only made her more upset, a bloodshot eye looking up at her in terror. A sight she had grown accustomed to, and a sight she had hoped to not see ever again.

She snorted downwards, a wave of hot air washing over him, then she turned back to the device. Her tail whipped about in agitation, her left ear twitching uncontrollably. The device watched her performance, and in her utter frustration, she contemplated how it would look smashed to pieces before her. Then, she noticed a small white button on the side of the machine. A black icon was printed upon it, a worn-out outline of a coffee pot.

Finally.

She pressed the button with her hoof and sighed, letting the hiss of water boiling soothe her frayed nerves.

"Thou-... you do not think of what that would do to me. What I would feel," she said.

No reply came.

The machine continued to whirr and whine, droplets of coffee plodding down into the pot. She removed her cup and set it beside the coffee-maker, whipping her mane back and sighing. It was likely a mistake, a foolish one to be sure, but a mistake all the same. It didn't justify such a reaction, she thought. Stallions quite liked to give the silent treatment when placed in such a situation.

"I am sorry," she said over her shoulder.

No reply came.

"Liam?"

No reply came.

She took in a breath and turned around to face him and apologize again, only to find his seat empty. She had driven him away. Her ears flattened against her head. The door was open.

The door gently slid to a close.

The medical wing was dimly lit, a courtesy to patients who had yet to be interred, save for one.

His eyes scanned over the light-brown pegasus beneath him, her eyes closed and medical fixtures attached to her body. Despite her experience, her physical health was near-normal, but Liam was concerned. She had not awoken. Fleeing from one stressor just put him in front of another. Would she ever wake up? His hand tightened around his father's watch upon his wrist, the metal bands pressing into his flesh. He heard the door open behind him, signaling the return of Doctor Neat Stitch.

"You standing there isn't doing anything for her, son," he yawned.

Liam took in a shaky breath, trying to dispel the gray clouds looming above him.

"Yeah, you're right. That's why you're on payroll," Liam gave him a half-smile.

Stitch gave him a bemused look. Liam shrugged it off.

"Any idea when she'll wake?"

Stitch sat in the chair beside her, leaning forward with a groan. He bit his lip and looked at Daring.

"Can't say, honestly. When the changeling invasion happened, most ponies woke up immediately. As you can see, that's not the case here. Could be anywhere from right now to a month."

Liam's fingers interlocked and he brought his hands to cup the back of his head. He looked to the ceiling.

"What in Tartarus is that?" Stitch asked in muted frustration. Liam unlocked his fingers and brought a few to touch the haphazardly fixed bandage on his neck. He looked to Stitch with a frown, then searched for his own chair to commandeer. Upon finding a blue-cushioned chair with cushioned armrests, he pulled it closer and sat opposite the old stallion.

"A mistake, but it's not serious."

"Not serious? That's your head. Last I checked, a pony has their brain floating in there," Stitch admonished.

Liam nodded.

"Yeah, but take my word for it, I'm fine."

Stitch pursed his lips then rolled his head about. He looked down the way and his features suddenly became sharper.

"Don't touch anything," he said as he got up from his seat. Liam nodded at him, then looked back to Daring Do.

All things considered, this was a brighter outcome than most SCP agents ran into. Despite that, being responsible for sending someone out and having them come back like this? Liam swallowed down his disgust with himself. He found a scowl on his features and did his best to wipe it away with a hand.

"Liam?" came a familiar voice from behind him.

He didn't turn back to face her. His stomach fell and his chest tightened. Out of the frying pan...

"Hey, Peridot."

Slowly, the green mare moved into his field of vision. He leaned back in his chair as she navigated towards him, using all of her senses to find where he was. She hoofed at his arm, then slowly dropped onto her haunches and tilted her head towards him, her ears fixed upon him.

"What are you doing here?"

Liam rubbed his chin, attempting to appear nonchalant.

"Checking in on Do. You?"

Liam looked over to find the blindfold gone, two milky eyes looking in his general direction. The scar was a bright pink, shooting across the bridge of her muzzle. The sight almost made him wince, a gut reaction that would have put him in an even deeper hole than he was in now. He kicked himself for the thought.

"Check-up. Scar itches," she said quietly. Her eyes wandered aimlessly.

"Mhm, everything good?"

She swallowed, then bobbed her head side to side, closing her eyes.

"As good as it can be, I guess," she said.

"Good."

They shared an uncomfortable silence together. Liam feared she would launch into an attack soon, as the mare had proven herself to be no stranger to confrontation. The way her lips turned downwards pre-empted a verbal attack, but Liam hoped that the setting would dissuade her from any altercation.

"What you did..."

Liam sighed. His fingers rubbed at his temple.

"Listen, you're my friend Peridot, now is not the time-"

"When will it be time?" she snapped.

Liam remained silent. He shook his head.

"You've been avoiding me like I have fillypox. When will it be time, Liam?"

Liam stood from his chair and looked down at her, her body jolting slightly at the quick motion. He opened his mouth to shout out a defense, but the sight of Daring Do lying in that bed, sheets drawn over her and sensors over her barrel... all that frustration and hurt was quelled. He looked back to Peridot.

"I didn't want to do what I did, but it had to be done," Liam said tiredly.

"Had to? Really?"

Liam sat back down and set his hands on her shoulders. She flinched at the touch, but remained still in place. He sighed.

"Miss Beam, I'm tired of justifying myself, so I'll say this once. I made a call, one that I don't like, but it was the only one to make. It was the only thing I could've done that'd solve that problem. They would talk, whether I told them they could or couldn't, they'd talk. You know it and I know it. I chose the option that would cause the least amount of damage to all parties involved. You can hate me all you want for making that decision, but it's done now. It's over, do you understand me?"

"You told me that we were helping Equus, Liam. I didn't sign up for this," Peridot said quietly.

Liam ran his tongue over his upper molars and released her. He leaned back into his chair with a grunt, eyeing her. Neat Stitch had strategically placed himself on the other side of the infirmary so as to avoid overhearing this chat. Liam rubbed the back of his thumb and nodded.

"You're right," Liam conceded, "you're right."

Liam looked up to the ceiling and brushed his cheek.

"I want to be better, to do better, but it's not always going to be feasible, Peri."

Peridot stomped her hoof.

"Don't Peri me. What you did was evil, Liam. Plain and simple."

Liam sighed and bit his cheek.

"Yeah, it was. I had to do a little bit of evil to do a lot of good in the future," he justified.

"That's not a defense," said heatedly.

"Maybe not. Maybe it's just an excuse I can live with. I'm sorry it had to be done, but I'm not sorry for doing it."

Peridot screwed her blind eyes shut and winced in pain. Liam moved forward in his seat, but she stopped him with her hoof. Her scowl had turned to a sneer, then she stomped her hoof again.

"I'll... ugh! Colts!" she hissed.

Liam fell back into his seat. She shook her head and let out a huff, retying her blindfold.

"Later, Liam," she said harshly, turning to leave.

"Wait," Liam stood from his chair. His guts threatened to fall out beneath him.

He steadied himself and took a breath.

"I know how you're feeling about all of this. I just... thank you. If you want to quit, if you want to go, I won't stop you. I know it's my fault, and... I'm sorry," he finished, rubbing his arm.

To his surprise, the blind little unicorn lurched forward and caught his legs in a poorly-coordinated hug.

"I'm not quitting you dumbflank. You saved my life, for Celestia's sake. I'd follow you into Tartarus. You're my hero, and you're still my friend, even if you are the biggest idiot I know," she said softly.

"I'm still...?" he welled up with emotion.

"Shut it, I'm still mad at you," she huffed.

"Okay," Liam knelt down and she released her grip, only to be caught in his embrace. She threw her hooves over his shoulders abruptly, but the warmth of the hug was comfort enough. He sank his head down onto her foreleg, misty in the eyes. After a few moments, be broke away and scratched her ear. She did not give into the temptation to lean into the gesture, putting on a stern face.

"Liam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be evil, evil never wins."

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving only Liam, Daring and Stitch in the quiet infirmary. His arms found the armrests again, sliding back into the chair with a sigh. He looked over Daring.

"Wish I could believe that."

Liam's hand was upon the watch, staring out to the evening sun. Though it had yet to set, the fiery golden orb waited in the sky for her sister to take her place. His hand left his watch and his fingers found the bandage on his neck, idly probing it. He heard the entrance door behind him swing open with a great metal creak, and a light plodding in the grass approaching him. He felt a nervousness descend upon him as Luna stood beside him, staring at the sky.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hello," she responded in a similar volume.

They both did not look at each other, instead opting to wallow in their respective discomfort. Liam's hand fell back against his watch and his fingers nervously tapped at the glass. His mind urged him to apologize, to do anything to remedy the situation, but his heart was struggling to pull itself together. He closed his eyes.

This cannot go on. He turned to her, finding her eyes already waiting for his.

"I'm sorry, Luna."

Her hoof dug into the soil and her left wing twitched.

"We know."

She swallowed and tilted her head back, looking to the faint stars peeking through the dimmed sky.

"We art sorry as well. Prithee, do not run away when we art speaking like that. No argument is won through retreat," she responded quietly.

Liam chewed on his lip.

"How art we to resolve it if you flee?"

"I shouldn't have left, but I'd hardly call that speaking," he crossed his arms, shifting to the side.

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but tempered her own flared emotions. She looked to him, cyan eyes carrying notes of sadness and frustration in equal parts, but weighed down by a maturity and civility.

"Maybe so, but was I wrong?"

Liam broke apart his arms and ran a hand through his hair, sighing lightly.

"No, you were right. Wholly and completely," he breathed out.

Luna approached him, looking down into his eyes, her ears tilted to the sides.

"Then why did you leave?"

"You... you did something that reminded me of my dad," he chuckled mirthlessly.

The look on her face told him she wanted to know more. He motioned to the soil beneath him and descended to the ground, sitting with his knees pulled closer in front of him. He rested his arms atop them, watching Luna bend her hindlegs and gracefully sitting beside him. The orchestra of crickets had already taken to playing their song, faint chirping in the grass.

"This watch is his, y'know," he said quietly.

Luna stared at his face, thoughts flying behind his eyes.

"Do you miss him?"

He scoffed, then recollected himself, thinking over the question. His eyebrows knit together and his jaw shifted to the right.

"Kind of. He was a hard man to know, complicated. He was..." he began, waving a hand about from his knee.

He glanced to Luna, then back to the sun, rays of orange and gold shooting above them through the trees.

"Well, he kicked the shit out of me, every now and then. He'd stand over me when I did something wrong, just booming on top of me, real close," he said with a pained smirk, one that rapidly disappeared when he saw her face. He worked his jaw over and then dipped his head forward.

"We art-"

Liam shook his head and splayed his hands, giving her a sad, small smile.

"No, there was usually a lot more violence. Normally the shouting was the start of... you know. But... you got close like that and it... it reminded me of him."

He paused, the hardness in his eyes softening some.

"But there were times when he was... when he was a good dad, for just a few minutes. I think he lost himself every time he flew off the handle. Just... everything goes red. But he tried. Mom filed for divorce and I never really saw him again. I had to be fourteen at the time. Maybe thirteen," he guessed.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

"That doesn't excuse me leaving. I should've told you. I shouldn't have left either, but it's... it just freaked me out, y'know?"

Luna nodded, dealing with her own thoughts on the subject. She did not want him to feel so raw as he did. He swallowed in an attempt to get his own self under control, his body language shifting as he tried to center himself. The display was enough to prompt Luna to throw her wing over him, tugging him towards her gently. He shimmied closer to her and accepted the side-hug, looking up to her face.

"I'm sorry, Luna. I-"

"'Tis okay," she said simply, lightly shaking him with her wing. She smiled down at him and looked back to the sky. She could feel the moment approaching, her sister putting everything in just the right place. Not long until she would feel her sister reach out-

"Three minutes," Liam said, looking at his watch.

"Pardon?"

Liam pursed his lips and shook his head side to side.

"You raise the moon in three minutes. Give or take," he explained.

"You know the specific time I raise the moon?" Luna almost gasped.

He nodded, as though it should have been no surprise.

"Of course, I watch it every evening, when I can," he affirmed.

Luna was taken aback. She found herself grinning at his attention, a blush descending upon her cheeks. Her heart swelled up and she had to keep herself from letting out an excited squeak. She instead pulled him closer, earning a confused look from the human under her wing. Before he could press the matter, she felt the familiar call of her moon, her eyes closing and her horn slowly coming alight.

To Liam, it seemed that time and space had all come to a halt. Here, in close proximity to Luna, the world seemed to vanish, instead, silhouettes of trees and vague shapes of terrain were cast against a fiery canvas. The stars glowed brightly in the dim sky, and the fire began to sink below a blackened horizon. Gradients of blue, orange and pink flowed like liquid through the air above them, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open slightly. Then, a great white light rose in the sky, but the space around it was a deep dark blue. Brush strokes of cobalt and cerulean light rippled across the moon, setting it into position on the canvas.

Luna's blue.

The entirety of Equus seemed to disappear, and the stars glowed with an intensity he had never seen before. The tapestry of the night was laid bare before his eyes, constellations, galaxies, distant planets all visible. A supernova blowing intense fire a quadrillion miles away, almost like it was right there in front of him, casting a warm glow on his skin. His teeth clamped shut and his stare remained unblinking, drinking in the beauty of the cosmos.

He nearly wept, but was stunned in awe. He turned to look at her, but did not see Luna.

He saw her.

Brilliant azure and navy lights exploded from a mane of white light, tendrils of magic undulating in the cosmic wind beyond.

In that moment he knew, despite her own claims to the contrary, he was seated beside divinity, being shown the pure nature of reality. Whether she knew it or not, she was a goddess, trapped in a mortal mind, subject to all the dreams and fantasies of the common people. Subject to jealousy, subject to anger, subject to loneliness. Despite her nature, she was here, with him, showing him the spectacle of the universe.

Beautiful.

Then, it was all washed away, and he was sitting beside her in the grass. His wide eyes found hers as she turned to him, smiling. He still saw traces of her. Then he realized, it was always there. He could see it now, when he hadn't before. He remembered to breathe, finding his hands digging into the soil, holding on tightly. Her eyebrows tightened and her smile left, replaced by a concerned frown.

"Is everything alright?"

Liam nodded, then released his hands from the grass. He let out a shaky sigh and pushed his legs forwards, then stood up abruptly and walked about to release some of the excitement. He paced and trembled, pointed a finger at her, then changed his mind and continued moving about.

Concern built in Luna's heart.

"Are... are you okay?"

Liam looked to her with unblinking eyes and nodded again. He approached slowly and stared into her eyes, his lip trembling and his hands shaking. He bit his lip and blinked, shook his head and nodded to himself. Luna was growing worried with his behavior and stood up, moving towards him. He noticed her approach and went still, then slowly stretched out his arm and placed his hand against her barrel. He could feel a faint pulse from within, her heartbeat steady. She craned her head down to look at him, and his hazel eyes locked upon hers.

"You're a goddess, Luna. I saw it. I saw you," he whispered.

They stood there, under the night sky, and neither of them dared say a word more.

Author's Note

Chapter 21! Finally. As you can see, we're getting to the real meat and bones here! Please, leave a like if you enjoy, leave a comment and tell me what you think! If you notice any mistakes, let me know and I'll jump right on them! See ya!

Caspian

EDIT: Quick note, forgot to add the damn banner. Added now!

Chapter 22: Tulip

Tulip

Orange fur slid and flew around a sun-warmed bedroom, golden rays filtering through thin white curtains, illuminating the speeding filly. She threw her old sheets into a hamper and darted over to her table, a simple and solid thing, clearing up all of her crayons and arranging it as per her mothers instructions. She stopped, holding her breath and firing a glance to the window. The light outside confirmed her worst fears.

It was the afternoon.

She panicked, throwing her red mane back in a gasp and darting towards bed. If she didn't hurry, she wouldn't be able to play! Soon enough, she'd be having supper, then straight to bed! She threw her forelegs wide and dived into the mattress, then zipped about the corners, tightening down her newly washed sheets. Her forelegs carried her as fast as they could, and the young earth filly finally rounded up the last of her chores.

An insurmountable task in her mind, certainly with day light remaining. Chores take forever to the minds of the young, doubly so when it's been raining all morning. But today was different! Today she was going to play! She leapt down the stairs with cat-like grace, landing on the cold wood floor and shooting into the kitchen. Her mother untied her apron with a sigh. She freed her blond mane of her ponytail and braced herself for the ball of energy heading towards her. Her yellow eyes remained steadfast, lifting a cream colored foreleg to grab for her mug.

"Mama, I have done the chores, can I go outside to play? The storm gone!" the young filly cried.

"The storm is gone, Tulip," her mother corrected.

Tulip jumped about, then squared her shoulders and faced her mother with a deathly serious stare. Her yellow eyes wore that same gravity.

"The storm is gone, Mama. Please? Please?"

Her mother's expression softened slightly, her eyes taking on a more understanding tone.

"Alright, alright, you can go out," she relented, "be safe little kukka. Stay away from poison joke, be back before supper!"

Tulip smiled widely and hugged her mother tightly, letting out a happy squeal.

"Thank you, Mama! Thank you!" she shouted joyfully. She grabbed her rainboots in her teeth and raced out of the house, jumping into the mud puddle in front of her home. It took her a moment to realize that she had yet to put them on.

"Do not get dirty!" her mother called after her. She froze.

Tulip's eyes widened for a moment. She was going to be in big trouble when she got home. Then, with a grin, she decided that was a problem for future Tulip. Meanwhile, the Tulip of now was going to have some fun. She threw her rainboots onto the creaky old porch and ran off into the small square of Cobblestone, making sure to hit every puddle going on her way.

The sun was bright and the day was looking up, puddles and all.

She had a goal in mind: the Neighberry Creek. There, she could continue working on her treefort with Bluebar, defending against the griffons. She was Cobblerock's first and last line of defense, and she'd rather be stuck in her room for twenty days than give the birds an inch of ground! Now that she thought about it, the earth filly needed a general's cap.

But first, she needed to speak to Suede, for he had a pair of goggles waiting for her.

An older, teal stallion with a grayed navy mane and beard eyed the little filly approaching him, a soft smile on his muzzle. His cracked horn glowed azure for just a moment as he pushed open the door to his stall, walking into the street to greet Tulip. She drove up to him and came to an abrupt stop, hoof cocked up in the air and jumping to her forehead with a quick salute.

Suede's gentle smile disappeared into rigid stiffness, his body tightening up into his best formal salute, eyes staring above the filly's head. After a moment, Tulip burst into giggles, and Suede fell into gravelly chuckles.

"Hey, Suede!" she chirped.

Suede bowed his head and nodded towards her.

"Hello! How are you, little miss?"

The young filly smiled.

"I am good! How are you?"

"I am well, little miss. Have you come for your goggles?"

"Yes! And, and then, Mama said I can go play! I want... I am going to find more sunflowers for a braid, then go to my fort," she stumbled over her words. Her grasp on Equish was not quite as good as her mother's.

"Punoksille?" Suede hummed inquisitively and moved back behind his stall.

She threw her hooves on the counter aggressively, almost knocking off the pair of spectacles he had been working on.

"Yes!"

He gave her a bemused look and gently pushed the spectacles back into position. He ducked down beneath the countertop to find the goggles.

"Hmm... last I remember, I braided your mane, did I not?" he called upwards.

"You did!" she replied.

He raised his head, a pair of bronze goggles hovering in the air before him. He set them down on the counter and he gave her a quizzical brow, then stroked his beard as though deep in thought. The filly bounced on her hooves and was quickly losing patience with the eccentric stallion.

"So who is to braid it now?"

Tulip was caught off-guard, but quickly pointed a hoof at him.

"Um... you could!" she exclaimed.

The stallion's eyes widened in fake shock and he gasped.

"Is that so?"

The filly nodded eagerly.

"Yes so it is so!"

The stallion flexed his muscles in a determined stance, setting his face in a serious manner. He levitated the goggles onto her head and saluted.

"Then so it is so! Go on, Tulip! Fetch me some sunflowers!" he barked. She giggled.

"Okay!" she started to run off, but then stopped, looking back to Suede, who had already resumed work on the spectacles.

"Do you want to go with me?" she asked sheepishly.

The stallion gave her a sage look and smiled softly.

"An old ori like me cannot gallop quite as fast as you can. Go on then," he urged warmly.

"Okay! Goodbye Suede!"

With her goggles donned, Tulip took off like a bolt of lightning, darting through the town square. Suede watched her with a smile, then called out to her fleeting form.

"Bring back small flowers, Tulip!"

As she disappeared from view, his shoulders sagged. It had been a long day, and these spectacles were still bent out-of-shape. He didn't have it in him to sink in more energy on the ruined pair of glasses, deciding it best to return to that project another day. He brushed the old oak countertop and sighed. Another wasted day.

He absentmindedly looked over to Tulip's house.

"Perhaps the day is not wasted yet," he said to himself. He decided to pack up and spend the rest of the evening with Meadow Breeze. Perhaps Tulip wouldn't be home for some time. The frown on his face turned up into a grin.

Tulip, goggles placed firmly over her eyes, ran through the tall reeds of the southern field while blowing raspberries. She knew that at the edge of the field, and the start of the forest, a patch of tasty wild flowers grew in-between mossy stones. There, she would collect the prettiest flower she could find, tuck it into her hair for safe keeping, then make her way to the treefort. The filly hopped about, dodging the thick underbrush and making a game of finding her way. Soon, a strange and offensive odor came to her nostrils, and she snorted. Holding a hoof to her nose, she cleared the field to find that the flowers were gone, and that strange smell became more powerful.

It was coming from the forest.

Her treefort, despite the fact that it was little more than odd branches placed into a tree with a small board nailed down to sit on, was deep within that forest. She wondered if Bluebar was already there. They had planned to meet there, after all. The smell disappeared as the wind picked up behind her.

"Blue?" she called into the woods.

After a few moments of silence, and no response, she decided she best see for herself what was going on.

She navigated over to the Neighberry creek and past the Angry Stone Wall, a landmark that was neither angry, nor a wall. Her hooves slid on the damp stones, remembering that the stones weren't angry, but slipping on them certainly made her angry. The wetness of the grass and the undergrowth became uncomfortable on her muddy hooves. Her stomach growled, a low grumble that reminded her that she had skipped lunch in favor of her adventure. She found the path leading to the trees and trotted along it, trying her best to ignore the prickling sensation of her legs brushing against the plants. She had a nagging uncertainty bubbling to the surface, but no guard of Cobblerock would ever retreat! Her father had told her so, a long time ago.

"Come on, Tulip," she muttered, "you are a strong filly."

The bushes began to thin, revealing a clearing ahead, tall trees jutting out into the sky above. A large patch of yellow flowers grew near the base of a tree. She decided to pop down for a quick snack, making a note to find other flowers to give to Suede. As she leaned down to take a bite, she heard rustling ahead of her. It startled her, and she went still, head bent down and wide eyes staring up.

She didn't see whatever had made the noise, a familiar blockade of shrubs surrounding the treefort obscured her vision within.

Maybe that was Bluebar?

"Blue?"

No response came, and then she realized, she hadn't heard a sound from the forest since she entered. A pit of dread began to form in her stomach, one that she had never felt before. No monsters beneath her bed could conjure up such feelings. The fur on her neck rose. Something was wrong. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She repeated her mantra in her head. Her father was the bravest pony of Cobblerock! Even though he was gone, she would be brave for him. She would not go back, even if something was wrong.

Especially if something was wrong.

She looked for the narrow gap in the treefort's outer wall, breaching it with practiced ease. She looked about, unable to spot anything out-of-place. Her yellow eyes finally fell upon a familiar figure, a sky blue pegasus colt, his back to her and something in front of him. She couldn't see what it was exactly, only that it was brown. An odd squelch came from him, and whatever words Tulip had to say stopped on her tongue.

This wasn't normal.

His coat was paler than she remembered. Had the clouds returned? She didn't notice that she had snapped a bundle of twigs below her hoof, and noticed that one of his ears turned towards her. He turned his head slowly, looking at her with a dull green eye. He stood on unsteady legs and turned towards her, taking a step closer, wings drooping to the ground.

There was red on his barrel, some on his muzzle, spots of what looked to be jelly at the corners of his mouth. A strand of rubbery gel clung to his chin. Then she saw what he was looking at, and all the carnage about it. It wasn't jelly. It was... red. She saw it in his harja, and on his hooves, and his wings weren't wings at all. Not anymore. Feathers were missing, and at the joints, sharp white objects broke free from his coat.

"Blue?" Tulip whispered in growing horror.

The pegasus colt took a shallow breath, his voice raspy and dry.

"Come... play," he wheezed.

"You are... you are hurt, I will call my Mama-!" she began to turn and run, but a sound caught her attention.

The shrubs behind him rustled, then cleared, and a creature strode forth in an elegant suit. It had a yellow collar and a green jacket, with sleek green pants covering its thin legs. It had a beard, black, and a black swirl of hair atop its head. It seemed to stretch on far above them on its spindly legs, its odd shape and imposing height sent a jolt of terror into her chest, but it was the eyes.

The eyes. Wet scabs rimmed large gaping holes in its flesh, the red flesh beneath slick with tears. The swirling raw meat cascaded inwards to a central point, where two beady black eyes were surrounded by a yellow pus. It had evil for eyes, an unnatural and horrifying visage. On a primal level, Tulip knew she had to run, but she was paralyzed.

Then it spoke, and what it said, Tulip would never know.

Author's Note

...
A smaller chapter, but a painful one to write.
Leave comments below.

Chapter 23: Developments

Developments

Princess Celestia's brow was furrowed.

She did her best to alleviate the concerns of her subjects, but ultimately, word of the missing diarch evolved and warped faster than she could have anticipated. Theories and conspiracy theories and the ramblings of the crazed masses wormed their way through Canterlot, with even an odd servant and Guard asking on the subject. This was just the first day, and Celestia was already quite done with the turbulence.

Princess Celestia's brow remained furrowed.

She had hoped her sister would return, sooner rather than later, and had in fact suspected that her tenure at the Anomalous Containment Bureau would be brief... but this? Within the very same day? Luna was accompanied by the human as well, eyes wide and a tinge of fear in his features. She could feel the bubblings and the churnings of righteous fury building in her heart. Had he done something?

Princess Celestia's brow furrowed even further.

Had it come? She certainly hoped not. Given their faces, she felt thoroughly uneasy. If it had come, she knew that Liam's organization was in its infancy. How effective would it be to remediate such a horrendous possibility?

She had enough of the building anxiety, shifting on her recliner with a sigh. She decided that she did not care if they saw her state, given that they were the reason for it, and no amount of polite smiles would defuse the complete catastrophe that had been her day.

"What is it?"

The pair blinked at one another, Luna clearly having the greater share of bravery between the two, then she stepped forward. Her cerulean eyes jumped back to Liam, an action that seemed to inspire some sort of electricity between them. Celestia could see unspoken words, vague ideas and thoughts flowing between them, hardly realized or properly communicated.

She was growing agitated; her brow could only furrow so much.

"Sister, as much as I am enjoying our rather immediate reunion, I am growing quite tired of this silence," Celestia spoke slowly and authoritatively.

"He sees," Luna said, fixated on the human.

Celestia shook her head, smoothing out the plush red cushions beneath her.

"I do not understand," she said in annoyance, "what does he see?"

Luna looked to her sister with an intense look. Celestia could read the gravity and the seriousness in the gaze, but not the reason behind it. She knew just how serious this subject was, whatever it may be, because she had seen this look before. As she recalled, she had seen it twice, and both instances were preludes to great turmoil. The first had been their relation to Discord, a memory that had been burned away by their father, uncovered through his death. The second...

Well, the second had seen her best friend sent to a cold Tartarus for one thousand years.

Celestia leaned forward and pushed her wings to their sides. She looked to Liam, who under her gaze seemed to wilt ever-so-slightly. She knew instinctively that the human recognized her presence as intimidating, but this wasn't so subtle; she could feel fear beating through his chest. She softened her gaze some, and she brought her eyes down to the white carpet beneath her before settling them back on him.

"What did you see?"

Liam swallowed and squeezed a hand over his mouth. He looked to the floor, recomposing himself.

"It's not did... I do, I still do. I still see it," he said vaguely.

Celestia looked to her sister, then back to him, flitting between the two as though they had joined the madmares in the street. She was having none of the vagueness, looking to her sister intently. Luna's eyes didn't waver. She took a breath and broke her gaze, looking at Liam with a sad expression.

"He can see us."

Celestia sat back in her recliner and her face went completely neutral.

This was unprecedented.

If what Luna was saying was to be believed, Liam Webb could see something that no other creature had seen before. Even they were unaware of their natures for a good deal of time, and that discovery alone had seen them each hide themselves away. Even then, they only had a glimpse, thanks to Discord. Perhaps it had been their ages, but that entire period of Equestrian history was a portion of time best left forgotten in her mind. Their understanding of nature and reality had taken an incomprehensible amount of time to reconstruct and repair, hardly a development productive to the time of coming into your own and understanding yourself.

For the mortal mind, he was handling it quite well, all things considered.

Still, with such a development, Celestia felt suddenly vulnerable to his gaze. If what he was saying was true, what would be a gold-mine to an arcane theorist had become a veritable nightmare for the man in question. There was a reason that worship of the two sisters was prohibited; she had seen her subjects hold only a fragment of the look within his eyes, and that look was enough to introduce legislation strictly forbidding any further worship. Celestia could feel his eyes move over her in quick and fleeting motions, afraid to stay in one spot for too long. Awe, reverence, fear... to stare at a god would certainly be an arduous task for the uninitiated.

Celestia bit her lip and set her gaze on her teacup.

She imagined the warmth of the chamomile spreading over her palate, deciding promptly to bring her idea into reality. She levitated the white teacup from the saucer and pressed her lips to the gold-lined rim, taking a long and cathartic sip. She then levitated her tiara off of her head and dropped it on the coffee table, the golden accessory plodding dumbly against the wood in a uncharacteristically less-than-regal manner.

She fixed her eyes upon Liam once more, examining him with open curiosity. This was certainly a curious turn of events. He could not have concealed this behavior for very long.

"When did this start?"

"Tonight, when I raised the moon."

Celestia nodded and sighed.

"And you still see us both in this manner?"

He nodded. She tapped her hoof on the table as she sorted through her own thoughts. He looked towards Luna and found her eyes already locked on his, and despite the lingering traces of the sight before, he forced himself to keep looking.

"Well," Celestia started, grabbing his attention away from Luna.

"No pony alive can see what you see, Liam. The only other beings that can see as you can are the Immortals of Equus, and even then, it is a rare feat. If I had to guess, your death is the cause. A mishap allowed us to see ourselves as you see us, just one time, and I recall our reaction being similar to yours. Luna would not leave her room for a week," she explained.

Luna grimaced at the memory.

"H-how do I stop it?"

Celestia shook her head.

"I do not know. Speaking with Discord may be fruitful in that regard."

Liam remained quiet for a long time, then rose his head and spoke.

"You're not ponies. What are you?" Liam asked.

Luna and Celestia shared a look, a tinge of hurt in Luna's eyes. Celestia leaned back into the recliner.

"We do not truly know. Over the millennia, I have sought to find an answer to that question. Exploration and experimentation around our... condition has yielded little, an intentional outcome by a third-party."

Liam took an incensed step forward.

"Who?" Liam asked.

"I do not know."

Liam stood there for a moment, then looked down to his watch. He rubbed circles over it, then his finger hovered over the surface. It bobbed in the air as he waded through information in his head. He turned and tilted his head to the side in thought, then rounded in place and faced them.

"But that's not true, is it? I've seen the past, through her eyes," he pointed to Luna.

"You didn't want me to pick Ghastly Gorge as the location for Alpha. Ambient magical readings are three times higher than the Everfree Forest, all along the gorge," he realized. Luna found herself struck by the conviction in his words; that place was odd, and she felt a strange familiarity about it, beyond the proximity to the Everfree and the old castle.

Celestia's eyelid twitched.

"What happened there?"

"I do not know what you speak of," she said coldly.

Luna looked at her sister in confusion. Where was this coming from? He turned in place and looked towards the door, measuring a distance in his mind. He was recreating the surface of Facility Alpha, the top of the ravine, the place he saw in the dream.

"It split the earth open," he parted his hands, "a scar. Something went wrong."

Luna looked to her sister and saw the briefest glimpse of acknowledgement.

"At the hospital, you both told me that it hadn't happened, that she was never a unicorn. That's not true either. Neither of you were born like this, you were made this way. She didn't know, maybe still doesn't, but you knew," he said to Celestia.

"You have lost your mind," Celestia said sharply.

Liam paused, his eyes wide, hands raised at his sides. He dropped his hands and his face relaxed, but a sternness found itself in knitted eyebrows. He suppressed the shivers he felt.

"Maybe, but you knew. I know you did."

Celestia stood and snorted, eyes narrowed, trying to physically leave the conversation.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Celestia turned back like a whip. Her magenta eyes could cut diamonds.

"You are inventing a past that does not exist," Celestia snapped.

Liam pushed forward, finding himself on the plush white carpet. Luna further found herself put off by this display.

"You are hiding something, I know you are," he asserted.

Liam brushed a hand through his hair, budding anger in his eyes.

"You told me to trust you, how am I supposed to do that if you're hiding this from me?"

"You will trust what I tell you! I hide nothing!"

Celestia had nowhere to run. Luna tried to get a word in, but Liam was faster. His voice climbed higher.

"Who made you like this?"

Celestia spun around, wings flared and posture low, her vocal chords tensed and her lungs full. With a snarl and vicious eyes, she let out a booming shout. All sense of regality had dissipated, all composure and tact. The shout echoed throughout the halls of the castle, down the streets of Canterlot, past the hills and valleys. It was the cry of a wounded animal.

"I DO NOT KNOW!"

Liam threw a hand before his face to stop the rushing winds that flew past him. The teacup and the saucer went airborne, soaring across the room before shattering beside the door. Luna's wings flew open and she leaned forward to brace against the force. When the shout had passed, they stood silent in that room, save for Celestia.

Her shoulders heaved and carefully set makeup ran in streaks down her face. Tears began to freely spill out of her eyes, and Liam saw through the fog of divinity; another mortal mare, cursed with immortality, the weight of rule and the pressure of the unknown bearing down upon her.

"I do not know," she said in sorrow, then succumbed to sobs.

Luna's navy hooves sped across the expanse and her wings enveloped Celestia in a comforting embrace. Celestia melted under the attention and buried herself within her sister's warmth. Liam stood in shock at the sight unfolding before him, then turned one foot away to walk outside. When his head turned, he saw Flash Sentry at the door, looking upon the scene with wide eyes. Liam made a decision then, shook his head to dismiss Flash, then made his way over to Celestia.

Luna gave him a look that communicated her whirlwind of emotions flying around the room.

Despite his apprehensions, he moved closer, then wrapped his arms around her upper back. Whatever her reasons, Celestia knew something her sister did not, something she tried very hard to bury. They stood there until morning came and she had fallen into sleep, comforting her. Luna took it upon herself to raise the sun, a feat she had only done once before. When that was done, she lowered the moon.

Liam and Luna left together in a flash of light, each silent and within their own thoughts. Questions and answers remained unvoiced and unspoken, mysteries that would need to be unraveled at a later time.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock...

"Sir?"

Liam shot awake in his chair, spine crying out in agony over his poor sleeping position. With a huff and a grunt, he levelled out and leaned over his desk, propped up on his arms. He blinked bleariness away to find a mustached stallion looking at him with emotionless eyes.

He cleared his throat and dismissed the fleeting embarrassment. He checked his watch for the time. Six-thirteen. His circadian rhythm was something to be worked on.

"What is it, Mister Treble?"

The stallion bobbed his head to the door, a rather tired looking mustard pegasus mare with gray hair behind him. She gave him a small smile and Liam sprung from his chair, suddenly far more alert.

"Miss Do, good to see you back on your hooves," he said in relief.

"It feels good to be on 'em," she said.

Liam turned to Treble and gave him a courteous nod, then gestured to the chair before his desk.

"One more thing, sir," Treble droned, "the phone system has been completed. Your phone will be installed tomorrow."

"Thank you, Treble."

"Yes, sir," he said flatly, leaving the office and shutting the door behind him.

Daring navigated to the chair and, after stretching her wings for what must have been the fifth or sixth time since she had awoken, carefully and strategically slumped down on top of it. Liam's eyes widened and he moved toward her with concern, but then he noticed her rose eyes staring up at him. She blew a raspberry. Liam chuckled and took a seat in his own chair.

"I heard you were checking up on me," she said with fatigued amusement.

Liam's eyebrows went up and he smiled. He lifted up his mug to take a sip of what he could only assume to be room-temperature coffee.

"Of course I did. What kind of boss would I be if I didn't care about my employees?"

She closed her eyes.

"The average one," she said.

There was no coffee to be had. He must have cleared the mug earlier. Liam leaned back in his chair and set the mug back down onto the desk-top.

"Lucky for you I'm not average, huh?"

Her eyes opened with a roll that could flatten mountains.

"Yeah, lucky me, not every pony out there gets a job where they get put in a pod and their emotions drained."

Liam's smile evaporated. He leaned forward on his desk.

"How are you feeling? Aside from the obvious, of course," he said quietly.

Daring Do took in a deep breath and sighed. She adjusted her position in the chair until she was in a seated position, bringing a hoof up to her eye to rub the tired warmth from it, but the action was unsuccessful. She instead opted to close her eyes again and just remain seated there for a moment.

"Have you read any of my books, Liam?"

Liam shook his head.

"Can't say that I have, no. Why?"

She hummed.

"There's a chapter in one of my earlier releases, a griffon by the name of Flyheart ends up drugging me with a Yakistani sleeping toxin. I fought him, half asleep, for the antidote. It kind of feels like that, but there's no cure. I just feel like I'm in between being asleep and awake."

"That doesn't sound too pleasant."

She hummed again, then let out a long yawn.

"Doctor Stitch says it'll be gone in a few days, but I just feel so tired."

Liam got up from his desk and moved towards her. Her ears followed his movements. He stopped beside her and set a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. He gave her a squeeze.

"Take as long as you need to get back up to full speed, okay?"

He broke contact, then turned to sit back down, only to be cut off by a snore. He looked to find her head tilted back and her mouth dropped open, seated upright and dead-asleep. He gave a half-smile at the display, seated himself and set his eyes back on his desk.

There was a report for him from Research and Development, papers that put him to sleep prior to her arrival. He decided instead of a thorough read through to pick up where he left off and skim the rest of the page. Soon, their autoloading crossbows would be ready, various magical bolt-tips available for use in the field. Firearms weren't on the table yet, but the rifle was doing wonders for accelerating their research. Hopefully they could skip past musket-and-ball warfare entirely, and from his briefing on the subject, they already had cannons in service.

The more tools at their disposal, the better.

It would be a while before any findings were passed along regarding that spot in the woods. His earlier talk with Celestia had brought forth a more fervent thirst for understanding; what exactly had happened there? The location made a good spot for construction for a variety of factors, but an unforeseen boon was the wealth of ambient magic soaked into the ground. Surveyors were taken aback by the readings their instruments gave off.

To his understanding, it was harmless, acting as a slight boost to a magical user's abilities. That would play a significant role in Peridot's power-grid. But ambient magic has a long decay time, meaning that those readings had been astronomically high in the past. Who knows what those readings looked like one thousand years ago. Whatever the process was, it was enough to imbue the power to move a celestial object at whim. Who had done that before? Why was that necessary?

Another stack of papers taunted him to the left. Articles about integrating a changeling workforce, ethical concerns, considerations for veterans of the invasion, possible deployment strategies and logistical clusterfuckery. He pinched his eyebrow and forced himself to read through it, then noted a small blue signature at the bottom of the last page. Luna's handwriting.

That inevitably put his train of thoughts on track to her. Her sister has been keeping information from her for reasons unknown and for a duration of time he was incapable of imagining. But that was just a stepping stone to another topic. How was he going to talk to her now? A veritable goddess. His fingers found themselves on his watch, tapping away. He needed to speak with Discord.

Everything was getting too complicated. His feelings about her, the situation with the magic site, the Changelings and handling ACB affairs were coming to a critical mass. Something had to be done, but what? What did he feel about her?

There was a lot on the table. He sighed.

"Whuzzat?"

Liam looked up to find the snoring pegasus was now awake, or at least an approximation of that state.

"Good morning," Liam said.

"Did... did I just pass out?"

Liam snorted.

"You were out like a light."

She flashed him an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, boss. I should probably go back to the dorms then. Can't even hold a conversation like this."

"It's okay, take as much time as you need, alright?"

She nodded in her half-asleep state, and with a yawn, fumbled out of the chair and towards the door. As she gripped the handle, he rose from his chair.

"Daring?"

She turned back to give him a bleary look.

"It's good to have you back," he said.

She gave him a nod and went outside. The office fell quiet once more, and upon looking down at Luna's seal again, decided that he needed to join her for the lowering of the moon. There, he hoped that they would be able to converse a little more freely. He stood from his seat, jacket foregone, and took his exit as well.

The elevator doors opened before him, sliding past with a soft hiss, revealing the entryway to the facility. They had yet to populate the room with any meaningful props, but once it was ready, this room would look not too dissimilar from a forest service station. In the ultimate scheme of things, this was a low-priority task.

He approached the exit door and pushed it open, tall grass sweeping underneath the bottom of the door. He stepped out and felt the tug of the blades against his pant legs as he strode out into the field, the sky an orange and amber canvas above. Luna was waiting for him in the field, her starry mane undulating with the grass under the whims of the wind.

The door shut behind him with a soft thud, Luna's ear shooting towards him. Her head turned to him, cyan eyes fixated on him standing there. He walked through the green field and tried to quell the irrational pang of fear that jumped into his chest, looking to the drifting sun on the horizon. He placed himself beside her.

"Hello," she said him quietly.

"Hey," he responded.

He took a shaky breath as faint lingerings of her aura floated lazily about her.

"Celly will speak with us tomorrow about... about..." she began. She moved her hoof in the air in a circle.

"Good."

They stood there and watched the sun, Luna biting her lip as a frown threatened to spill over her face.

"Art thou afraid of me now, Liam?"

Liam did not respond immediately, glancing over to her. She looked back to him, her eyebrows arching up in the center.

"A little, but it's getting better," he said with a reassuring smile.

It did not change her disposition. She shut her eyes and took a breath to calm herself. She opened her eyes to find a look bathed in trepidation and concern in his eyes.

"We art sorry," she said sadly.

Liam's eyes hardened and his face contorted tightly, muscles pulling together with resolve. He took a few steps towards her and set his hand on her withers, suppressing a shiver upon contact. She wouldn't look at him, but subconsciously moved closer to his touch.

"Don't be, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did," he said.

"Thou reacted as anypony would," she replied, still looking away.

He rubbed her coat. His heart beat a little faster.

"But I reacted that way to you, and I shouldn't have. I trust you more than anyone I know, more than myself."

He moved closer to her face and gazed at her with soft eyes. He hoped she would look to him, and as the seconds passed, the warmth of his smile fled. Her ear remained fixed upon him. His hazel eyes became melancholy.

"I had nothing to be afraid of, and I'm sorry," he whispered.

She finally turned her head to him, her eyes drawn to his. Liam, upon making her gaze, felt the unnatural fear and anxiety lift somewhat. His lips folded inwards into a small, restrained, bittersweet smile. She matched the expression.

"Don't be," she said softly. Liam smiled at the contraction.

Soon, the ritual would repeat as it did the previous night, the sun sinking down the sky. Luna looked away to the sun.

"If thou... if you want to leave, you may. I understand," she said neutrally.

He turned the horizon. He closed his eyes and wrestled with his desire to flee. His heart beat faster. He sank down into the grass and crossed his legs, hands laying palm-flat in the soft grass. The scent of the field hung lightly in the air, and with a breath, flowed

"I won't."

She reached out with her magic, tendrils of azure and blue spilling out from her horn, flying upwards at unimaginable speed below the horizon and through the soil. He watched silently as the two celestial bodies shifted past each other, lights beaming down from above as burning stars became nearly blinding pinpoints of light.

His fingers dug into the soil below and he held his breath, waiting with a nervous glance to the mare beside him.

He watched as the display intensified, and in her element, Luna drove the moon up into the sky, almost as naturally as breathing. Pressure seemed to build within Liam's mind and his eyes screwed shut, his ears popping. His chest felt tight, as though he were falling through the air.

Suddenly, the air lightened. The pressure dissipated, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

He opened his eyes to find webs and arcs of white and blue light retreating towards Luna, folding close to her skin and hovering just above the surface. The lights cast no shadows, nor did they illuminate her, instead outlining her against the moonlit field. She did not look to him, fearing the expression on his face; she did not want to see what she had seen before.

Liam turned to the moon, the distant silhouette of Canterlot Castle hanging from the mountain, vague shapes darker against the tapestry of stars behind it.

"I've been thinking," Luna said softly.

Liam swallowed. He felt an anxious pang.

"Yeah?"

He dared not look to her. Fears and doubts began to surface in his mind.

"Yes."

He sent her a look, and felt relief that those radiant eyes were not already upon him.

"What about?"

She hung her head.

"About me. About my sister and Discord."

Liam let the words hang in the air, waiting for her to elaborate. Her head swiveled over towards him, cyan irises with white flecks of energy sitting within them. He kept her gaze.

"I was a unicorn?"

Liam stretched out his legs and rested back on his elbows, staring up at the sky and pulling the memories from his mind. Obscured details and poorly realized histories recompiled and clarified in his thoughts.

"I think so, yes. I saw you as a child," he said.

Luna paused.

"What happened?" she asked.

Liam probed his left canine with his tongue.

"I don't know. It's hard to remember, but I feel like something bad happened. Something went wrong."

"You think it caused the gorge?"

Liam nodded.

"I know it did, I can feel it. I don't know how, or why, but I know."

They sat there in silence for a few moments, the sound of chirping crickets and the buzz of insects picking up as the world cooled under the white light of the moon. Liam took in a deep breath and prepared to ask her about their change in dynamic.

"I feel... I feel that I am a fraud, Liam. As though I-" Luna started, her voice warbling as she spoke. Liam immediately jumped in, his eyes taking hers once again. The cyan pools held a deep mourning, a hollowing stare. The frown on her lips threatened to rip his soul out.

She was hurting. This whole mess cut deeply, a forgotten memory coming to the surface.

He took her hoof into his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, rubbing his thumb over the thin coat at the joint.

"A fraud? Luna, you're the furthest thing from it," he stated firmly.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

Liam held his gaze, rubbing her hoof.

"You first. How do you see me?"

Luna craned her neck towards him and pushed down the urge to retreat. Her eyes jumped between his, searching within them for something he could not guess. She looked in his eyes for her own conclusions about him.

"I see a stallion with great troubles and a good heart, doing as best he can to protect ponies he owes no allegiance to. He is kind and considerate, and despite his proclivity to making my sister tear her mane out, is an immensely interesting and sensitive creature," she said.

Liam was caught off guard by the statement, his cheeks flushing and a warm glow flooding through his torso.

"I am proud to know his company," she whispered with a nod.

Liam struggled to find his words.

"Luna, I-"

"No need," she shook her head with a pearly white smile.

Liam sorted through his thoughts, sitting in the grass beside her. She broke her gaze upon him and looked up to the stars above, her eyes almost glowing under the speckled sky. Then, her head dipped and she looked to the edge of the cliff, where the soil fell away to stone, her smile falling with it. For a moment, her appearance fell back into place, raw energy and incomprehensible power flowing away.

And she looked so alone.

https://derpibooru.org/images/2719843

"I'm still here because of her," he said quietly. The words left his mouth instinctively, and when she chanced a look to him, he was already staring at her moon. The statement made him feel guilty, but he felt the truth of the it. He paused and closed his eyes.

"A woman grossly underappreciated by those around her, a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul, willing to hear my insane ramblings about old movies if only just to humor me. She has no idea what I'm talking about half the time, but she listens anyway," he mumbled with a low chuckle. His features eased some and the smile he wore faded into neutrality.

He turned back to see her staring at him intently, a blush on her cheeks and her attention hanging on every word. Her eyes were so open, so large. He felt he would lose himself in them, and turned back to the moon. The thudding in his chest picked up pace.

"She listens because she cares. She is more thoughtful than anyone I've ever known, and her kindness keeps me grounded, like she's the only thing keeping me from flying out there. I feel like I could tell her anything about me and she'd understand," he said calmly.

"She knows that I'm broken, but she's still there for me, and she's so strong, stronger than I could ever be. Braver than I could ever be," his lip shook. He didn't notice she was drawing nearer and nearer to him, emotions running high. Every word shook her.

"Every time I learn something about her, I find myself more and more thankful that she's in my life, and she's saved it more than once. She's... well, she's..."

'I think I love her,' he thought.

He found her breath sweet on his face, her eyes searching his once again, but this time... for something more. He was as alien to her as she was to him, but he knew that look. He knew what she was looking for, and in that moment, he knew what he needed to say.

Liam's eyes widened as Luna lunged forward, pressing her lips against his.

She was so soft. He pushed back, his lips parting and coming closed again with hers, his hand cupping her jaw. His eyes shut and he let out an impassioned gasp as they parted for just a moment, then she rushed in again. She moved around and pushed him further to the ground off of his elbows, standing above him. She left his lips, her eyes wide and looking down at him. Her mane fell over him and draped him in it's soft embrace, the smell of scented oils and her natural smell.

They stared at one another for a delightful eternity, their hearts hammering away in their chests.

"Luna," he whispered breathlessly, looking up at her, laying in the soft grass.

She craned down towards him again, wings spread wide, and she gently brought their lips together once more. The loving kissing raised in fervor and excitement, then, at fever-pitch, they parted once again for a break.

That break would not last for long.

Author's Note

It isn't a Caspian fic if there isn't crying at least every three or so chapters. I have also gone ahead and changed the Horror tag to a Drama tag, considering the vast majority of the story so far has been dominated by a dramatic plot. Also, we're finally here: the Liam/Luna moment!

I put a blog post up a little while ago of a conversation I had with Tyrannicide Productions, a brief series of questions he had and answers I gave, available here: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/993086/qa-with-tyrannicide

Big thanks to whippyberryfor uploading what I consider to be a beautiful piece of art. Give whippyberry a follow, she does great work.

Leave comments, concerns, thoughts and opinions down below! If you have anything you'd like to discuss with me privately, send me a PM, and if anyone catches any spelling issues or incomprehensible sentences, let me know!

See you all for the next one!
Caspian

Chapter 24: Deal

Deal

Liam's eyes sluggishly opened in the dark.

As his senses returned, he found a familiar sensation upon his torso and his arms, dark furred hooves wrapped around his midsection. The darkness in the room did not lend much to sight, but he knew by smell and touch just who had wrapped herself around him. He felt a titillating buzz spread through his chest, then realized that another set of legs were wound up in his own. He gently ran his hand down the hoof draped over his stomach, eliciting a melodic hum from the one behind him. A pressure found itself atop his head as Luna set her muzzle in his hair, blowing a snort across his scalp.

"I could get used to waking up like this," he grumbled contentedly.

"Then we will have to make it habit," she murmured behind him.

Liam's eyes fell shut again.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked her.

"A brief, but wonderful nap, despite the small quarters."

He let out a low chuckle.

"Liam, you understand that prisoners within the dungeons of Canterlot are afforded better conditions, correct?"

"I get what you're saying, I just don't want to-"

She blew a raspberry on his head.

"Liam, as a leader, you must also consider yourself. To subject yourself to a tortuous bedchamber will impact your health," she warned.

His eyes opened just a crack and he turned back to get a look at her in his periphery. The movement was not unnoticed, and her lips were quickly against his cheek. She fell back against the pillow and he pushed his body further into her embrace.

"So?"

"I'll see what I can do," he acquiesced.

He fumbled about and turned on his side to face her. Despite the darkness of the room, faint traces of that radiant aura glowed about the edges of her form. The sight nearly frightened him, but he soon found her eyes looking into his own. Fear was replaced by contentment, a feeling of safety and warmth. He pushed closer to her, her muzzle dipping closer to his face, their noses just an inch apart. Her breath spilled over his mouth.

"Luna, about last night," he began, but could not find the words to finish it.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

Liam decided on action and carefully bridged the gap and pressed his lips tenderly against hers, his eyes closing. She pushed back into him, returning the kiss with a gentle sweetness. When they parted, a dumb smile broke out against his features, and a blush rushed into his cheeks. She smirked behind her own blush.

"Noted."

The glow that they shared and the intimate moment was promptly dashed away by a loud metallic ringing, cutting through the silence and the hushed breaths they made. Liam jolted and Luna twitched, her ears shooting down to block out as much of the ringing as possible, her face pulled into a grimace. The small, black, metal-framed alarm clock continued to screech it's horrible song as the bells atop were rung at a terrifying speed. Liam lunged for the contraption and miscalculated the swing of his hand, sending the device to the floor, where it thrashed about in its unholy performance. Liam shot up from the mattress and fell upon it like predator upon prey, deactivating the alarm with urgent fingers.

A small, blue light floated into the room and towards the ceiling, dimly illuminating the two as they looked upon the silent alarm clock. Liam's eyes went to hers with a clear apology within them.

"I see you remembered your alarm. Why must the thing make such infernal noises?" she complained.

Liam rotated on the floor, holding the device to his bare chest with a sheepish look.

"If it scares the hell out of me, then I'm up for sure. No chance of getting back in bed," he confessed.

"Not even while I lay here?" she said invitingly, stretching a wing open.

Liam watched the display and quickly fell red. He shook his head.

"Don't tempt me, you've got a moon to lower," he jabbed a finger at her, then set his alarm clock back on the nightstand.

"Of course."

Liam looked off into the distance as some vestiges of memories came to him. The habit and the routine of his day had yet to start, but given the hour, they had time.

"I need to stop into the office before the day goes into full swing, you want me to grab you a bite and meet you topside?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," Luna said quietly, a small and appreciative smile on her lips.

"What kind of bagels do you like?"

Luna let out a small, contemplative hum and tilted her head back, her mane spilling out over the pillow. She thought intensely on the subject, and with a definitive nod, had her response prepared.

"Two sesame seed bagels, one with creamed cheese and arugula-"

Liam made a strangled sound.

"What?" she asked.

"Creamed cheese?"

Her ears dipped back slightly.

"Is that not how it is said?"

Liam snickered and shook his head.

"No, but it's cute. It's cream cheese,"

Luna pouted.

"But it is creamed, is it not?"

Liam knew she was playing a game. He decided to play along.

"I guess so, but then string cheese would be stringed cheese, and cheese cake would be... well I guess that'd be caked cheese."

Luna pushed back the urge to smile, instead, forcing a larger pout.

"I still do not see your point," she said in mock-offense.

Liam reached into his closet for an outfit to wear.

"Creamed cheese and arugula on sesame?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Yes, and the other, creamed cheese and jam. Strawberry," she ordered.

Liam turned back with a grin.

"Big fan of creamed cheese, huh?"

Luna's composure broke and she stretched with a muted laugh.

"Hush!"

Liam weighed the belt buckle in his hand.

"When does Celestia want to talk?"

The light-hearted mood between them seemed to vanish as the subject was addressed.

"Mid-day."

Liam hummed and looked back to his alarm clock.

"Then we'll have time to see Discord."

Black rubber.

The soles of the combat boots trudged through the thicket and underbrush, the morning sun looming above as the figure strode through the woods. The gray uniform was pulled taut by various straps and harnesses, bags and cases dangling about with each step. The figure stood still in a clearing of brown and golden leaves, the white bark of beech trees stretching high into the air above, and it stopped, gas mask and helmet swiveling around as it scanned the environment.

A gloved hand slowly rose into the air. It turned back to look into the brush, then it gave a quick gesture with its hand. From the trees emerged two more figures, each in various states of disarray.

With frayed jet black hair pulled into a loose ponytail, silver glasses over blue eyes and a nervous look upon her face, the tanned young woman gracefully slid her lanky form near to the gray figure. Her lab-coat was torn in places, tatters and stains across the white fabric. Her baby-blue shirt beneath, while structurally intact, had a similar amount of grime and wear.

Behind her, a pale bald man wheezed and coughed, his eyes red and the sheen of his scalp intensified by slick sweat. Damp spots sat underneath the arms and neck of his button-up yellow tee, his rotund form shaking and heaving with deep breaths. He fixed the uniformed figure a look of disdain, then pulled his green eyes to the sky above, grimacing with a squint.

Their black pants caught upon twigs as they walked out into the clearing.

"Do you think anyone else made it out?" the woman asked.

"Are ya talking ta me, or him?" the figure asked in a deep Scottish baritone.

"You. Y-you have more experience with this kind of stuff, right?"

The Scotsman laughed behind his gas mask, a muffled gravel-like staccato.

"Not with this kinda shite, no. Normally, MTF don't survive when something like this happens."

That was not the answer she was looking for, and when he turned back, he could see as much on her face. The man pulled on his collar, venting his suit. The morning sun was hot, and he turned to see that the plump scientist behind him was fighting for his life against the heat. He would have found the sight funny, had he any idea where they were, or if civilization was anywhere to be found. He looked up to the oppressive sun above.

The brief silence felt awkward as they contemplated.

"At least, not often," he remarked, then pushed forward through the vegetation.

The woman set her eyes upon the man trailing behind her, shallow breaths and swampy gasps catching her attention.

"Victor, how are you feeling?"

The man growled and set his green eyes to the woods. A frown fell heavy on his face.

"Terrible, Anna. Zis is awful," he remarked in a tight German accent. His pitch was higher than normal, due to the circumstances, but had always maintained a higher note. It seemed to be on the edge of gurgling.

He looked at the Scotsman pushing ahead and raised his voice slightly.

"How do ve know zat ze air ve're breazing iz safe? Do you have any idea vhere ve are?"

He did not turn around to face Victor.

"Not a clue, ya whingy quack, but look on the bright side: yer not dead. Now be quiet."

Victor resolved to do otherwise.

"Easy for you to say, you have a gas mask, Gault."

Gault stopped and let out a sigh, the glass of his mask fogging up with each breath. He was cooking.

"Yer breathin', right?" he said in exasperation.

The German fixed him a glare as best he could with the sweat in his eyes.

"Do ya have allergies, Vic?" Gault asked, already knowing the answer.

"Ja, why?" he asked suspiciously.

"We're in the middle of a forest, ya fuckin' goon."

Gault continued walking. Victor almost stamped his foot in frustration. Anna stepped on a branch.

"Zat does not change anysing! For all we know, ze air is corrosive! You have got a gas mask on!"

"So I do, want ta see me take it off? Ya wan it?"

Gault stopped and reached for the straps of the gas mask, pulling the device free from his face. A slight breeze passed on his ruddy, pale skin, just an inch away from the sizzling silicone.

"No! No, you have to preserve my last words! I've already been contaminated! How vill I be remembered if ve all die?!"

Gault removed the mask and took in a deep breath, gray eyes shut in relief. He was free of the damn thing. He'd been wearing it for hours, and now he could breathe fresh air like a fish to water. He opened his eyes and unclasped his helmet, eliciting a gasp from Victor as he freed the cropped patch of ginger hair from its confines.

He smiled with crooked teeth.

"As an arse, in my last moments with ya. Best hope Oh-Eight-Two isnae here, or he'd kill yew fer sure," he said with a grin.

"Oh mein Gott... do not mention ze possibility, please," the German wheezed.

Gault continued walking forward, wiping sweat from his eyes with a gloved hand. He noticed immediately that the trees had suddenly vanished to his right and left, paths cutting through the forest. They were on a trail. Gault went rigid as he heard something in the distance. Neither Anna nor Victor heard it, and the unidentifiable sound disappeared suddenly. His eyes poured over the trees intently, looking for any threats. He heard them coming up behind him.

"Is there any chance we're still on Earth?" Anna asked, peering at a tree.

"Stop. Quiet," he hissed.

He jumped into cover behind a tree, both Anna and Victor fumbling for concealment around him, kicking about all sorts of leaves and making too much noise. Gault's teeth ground together and his heart jumped.

"Someone's up ahead. They've already heard ya, most likely," he whispered.

"Are zey friendly?"

Gault almost rolled his eyes.

"Native?" Anna asked, eyes wide.

"I donno."

"I hope they're human," she said with a creased brow.

Victor's lips smacked together and he dragged his hand across his forehead.

"Unlikely. Vhen Prospero malfunctioned, I got a look at ze-"

Whoever was coming, whatever was coming, it was coming closer. Gault pulled his service pistol from its holster and pulled back the slide a smidge, checking for the round he knew was chambered within. Brass glinted back at him from inside the Beretta.

"Shut the fuck up, they're coming this way."

"Schieße," Victor cursed silently.

They were drawing nearer, and it wasn't just one. The scrapings of their feet against the ground told Gault as much. He grimaced, tuning out the sound of his heart thrumming away in his chest, and launched himself off the tree with his arms locked. He spun out into the trail, pistol leveled at the approaching creatures.

"Oi! Stay where ya are!" he barked.

What he saw was definitely not human. Pairs and pairs of sharp talons sat on the dirt trail, rising into brown fur of different shades, composing bird-like creatures with feline hind-legs. They stood on four legs, cutting avian eyes staring forward in surprise. While the sight was unfamiliar, the armaments they adorned were not, bladed weapons and steel armor on their bodies. Thick avian wings stretched out, five pairs, plumes of feathers shifting in the wind.

One of them, the leader if Gault had to guess, let out a cawing noise and a huff. Its eyes narrowed, a talon reaching up and resting on the sword in its hilt.

"I don't think they speak English," Anna whispered.

The others adopted similar stances. This was getting worse.

"I forgot ze first contact manual!"

"Shut him the fuck up! Stay! Where! Yew! Are!" Gault shouted at the bird-like creatures.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and there, in the woods was another one. Then he saw another, and another behind that one. Their eyes were predatory, tails hanging low to the ground as they crept upon the ragged group. Victor and Anna hadn't heard them sneaking through the tree behind them. They spun around to find swords pointed towards them.

"Maybe they're friendly?"

A shrill cry, followed by a deep chirping, and they moved closer. They were everywhere. He didn't know how fast they could move, what kind of combat capabilities they had, if there was a variable unaccounted for. He cursed silently. What he wouldn't do for his submachinegun right then. The sweat on his brow trickled down into his eyes, a light sting. His vision was clouded by the perspiration.

They were surrounded. Gault glanced to Anna and Victor, their fearful eyes darting between the creeping trio approaching. He thought about asset denial. There would be no one to interrogate if they were all dead. All he had to do was turn his gun on them.

Anna's blue eyes locked on his. He clenched his jaw. He knelt down and placed his pistol in the leaves. He rose and put his hands in the air, praying that they understood the gesture.

"Arright, we surrender."

"If it isn't my favorite monkey!"

Discord's chaotic form shook with excitement as Liam entered the cell, his brows falling slightly. Discord's fanged grin grew as he spotted Luna following close behind, yellow eyes widening as he suppressed a giddy laugh. When they made eye contact, one of Discord's brows quirked and his exuberance morphed into mild distaste. The inner door closed behind them to keep everything contained. Luna immediately felt as though a pressure pushed within her horn. She attempted to use her magic, only to find that nothing came of it.

"Oh, on your guard now, are you? Is there a good cop, bad cop routine in the works?" he said.

"You have not changed, I see," Luna said with a frown.

"She must be the bad cop," Discord rolled his eyes.

Liam looked over the white toilet in the corner, then to the bed. The sheets were piled up into a clump at the edge of the bed and the pillow was on the other side of the white room. Small etches were made on the concrete wall beside the pillow.

"How'd you sleep?" Liam asked.

Discord slithered to them with a groan, putting his paw to his head in a dramatic flourish.

"Like an ursa minor in a cage. You must be the good cop, to be oh-so-concerned with a poor draconequus like myself," Discord batted his eyes and pulled his paw and talon into a tight lock on his chest.

"We just have some questions we'd like to ask you," Liam said cooly.

Discord suddenly recoiled and adopted a defensive posture.

"It wasn't me! It was the one-armed man!"

Liam blinked.

"Was that a... did you just reference The Mask?"

"The what now?"

"Never mind. Can you just listen for a second?"

Discord gave him a deadpan look, then found Luna staring at him with her own.

"Oh fine. If I had my magic, I'd grow five ears to listen. What is it?"

Liam bit on his cheek for a second. He gestured to the bed and waited for Discord to sit. The draconequus complied, then crossed his legs and gripped the frame. He noted in that brief silence that the room smelled oddly of mint.

"How did you become Discord?"

Discord's excitement returned.

"Oh, oh ho ho ho, someone knows something they shouldn't. What do you know already?"

Liam and Luna shared a look. Liam perched himself against the wall near the bed with a sigh.

"I know they aren't natural-born alicorns, I saw it in a dream," Liam answered.

"Hmm, what else?"

"Some kind of ritual. The details are hazy."

"I thought you'd never figure it out. My turn to ask a question," Discord purred.

Liam nodded to him.

"How long have you been sleeping with her?"

Liam went red immediately, heat on his ears and neck. Luna, for her part, managed to restrain the sudden urge to lunge at the trickster god. She fixed him a murderous glare.

"Discord-" she started.

The draconequus frowned.

"What? It's completely natural, Luna! Though, I will say, your snoring can move-"

His eyes widened and his mouth dipped open.

"That was rather rude of me wasn't it? I did not mean to offend," he said apologetically.

Luna knew better. This was a trap. She could see the beginnings of a devious smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

"I rescind my question and present another: how long have you been rutting her?" Discord waggled his brows.

Luna let out a squeak. Liam's eyes hardened and a sneer formed on his face.

"Just joking, boring as all you law-and-order types are! Ask your questions," Discord rolled his eyes.

"We have not rutted," Luna said firmly, thoroughly embarrassed. Liam dropped the friendly pretenses.

"Where did you come from?" he asked abruptly.

"When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much-"

"Come on," Liam said sharply.

"Oh, fine!" he groaned, "I was right there with them. Are you happy?"

"Not yet. What happened exactly?" Liam pressed.

Discord's joviality and mischievous nature ebbed away and his eyes found the floor, disdain on his features.

"Father tried very hard to keep that one a secret, and while I despise him to the very core of my heart, you should ask our sister. She's got his diary, you know," he finished with a glance at Luna.

"Diary?" Luna asked. This was news to her.

"Journal, diary, logbook, whatever," he waved his talon flippantly.

Luna suddenly welled up with emotion, her throat tightening.

"Discord, how long have you known?" she managed to push past her lips.

"If you're going to cry traitor, I'd recommend against it. I don't have any napkins."

He rubbed at his frumpy horn for a moment, watching the two. Something in Liam's posture changed as he looked at Luna, and there in his eyes, he found a familiar glimmer.

"You can see her like I do!" he shouted.

Both Liam and Luna jumped at the sudden sound. Discord launched himself from the bed and wrapped around Liam like a snake.

"That is quite novel! I didn't even have to get my mirror out! Fascinating!"

Luna quickly pulled him off with her hooves, an angry frown on her muzzle.

"Was it frightful?" he asked behind her grip, "I imagine it would be! What a treat! How can you see their auras?"

"My turn. Why do you look the same? Is it the cell?"

"Mm, I not suitably eldritch enough for you? Feeling a bit disappointed, are we?" he asked with a smirk.

"Relieved, honestly. Why do you look the same?" Liam continued.

Luna released Discord and he straightened up considerably. A somber look fell over his features, fanged tooth digging into his lower lip. He gave Liam a hollow look.

"Because I was the mistake. Father almost succeeded too, the bastard. Thankfully, you can always count on little ol' me to cause a little mischief," he said with resentful sarcasm. Then, the look in his eyes seemed to intensify, then abruptly brightened again.

"You almost made me forget, their auras! How do you see them?"

Liam took in a sharp breath.

"I don't know. Celestia thinks it's because I died and came back," he forced out.

Discord gasped.

"You died?! Oh, you're just brimming with secrets, aren't you? You don't even know half of them!" he laughed.

Liam's head dipped slightly and he looked to the floor; the maddened chimera was right. There was too much about his situation he was unaware of, and he had yet to finally piece together how he had gotten there in the first place. His research into his revival was also fruitless, in-part due to his hesitance to test his mortality. At that thought, his eyes landed on Luna as she approached Discord.

"Why did you not tell us of this sooner?" Luna asked.

Discord immediately seemed to deflate, then implode, a bitter growl pouring from his throat.

"Don't you think I didn't want to," he said venomously.

Luna stayed silent and Discord rose from the mattress. His features softened as his sister recoiled and retreated into herself. His shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh, reaching towards Luna. Liam felt a brief bout of panic before he realized that Discord was comforting her, his paw resting on her shoulder.

"You don't even remember a time before, do you?" he whispered with wounded resignation.

"I do not. Why would you not tell us?" she looked at him with open eyes.

"Would you have believed me?"

She was silent and dipped her head.

"That's what I thought," Discord broke away and sat on the mattress.

"Celestia never told you, and for good reason, too. Not that she has many of those. Father cursed us, Luna. These aren't even our names. I have chaos to cope with all this, but you two..." he sighed and rubbed his temple.

"You two are walking emotional catastrophes. You got a little too sad one time and nearly plunged the world into eternal darkness. How do you think you would have reacted if I told you about dear old dad?"

Luna remained silent, stewing in guilt and remorse, contemplating his words.

"I suppose we should be thankful no one has stripped Celly of her cakes, otherwise we'd all be burnt to a crisp. How would you like sunbathing forever?"

His half-hearted joke did not lighten anyone's mood.

"Anyways..." he scratched the back of his neck.

Liam's head suddenly jumped up, drawing both of their eyes. His finger and his thumb stroked at his stubbly chin.

"You three aren't biologically related. Parents don't often rename their kids, unless there's some cultural thing I don't know about," Liam speculated.

"Correct. We are family in shackles only. But, I've said all I will on the subject. Until I am released from my cell, I will yield no further answers," Discord declared.

"Give me some more information, please," Liam rested himself on his knees.

"Why should I?"

"Do me a solid, Discord."

A hint of joviality returned to the trickster's face.

"This relationship is strictly professional. How would the other inmates feel if they knew the warden was so close to me?"

"How about a trade? I'll tell you what I know after you return and tell me what you've found out from our completely transparent and totally honest sister."

Luna thought about jumping in to Celestia's defense, to dissuade Liam from making a bargain with the chaos god, but her own questions burned ever greater in her mind. Her sister demanded trust, but offered none in return. She demanded honesty, but hid away so much from her. The familiar sting of betrayal scrubbed at her brain, and when her eyes landed upon Liam's, she decided for him.

"Deal," she declared.

Discord shot a questioning look to Liam, a schemers smile on his face.

"Deal," he answered, hand outstretched to Discord.

Author's Note

I am absolutely drowning in dialogue at the moment, so we're going to cut off the chapter. There's a lot of juicy story waiting in the next chapter, but hitting you guys with a 8,000 word or 10,000 word chapter felt a little over-the-top. Writing in brief bursts also doesn't help with releases, so we'll just call it here.

A few notes:

We're nearing the end of Act 2. Things are going to get pretty hectic, and we have a lot of plot threads that need to be addressed and wrapped up. I hope to do a good job of it, but we'll see. Don't want to turn this into a Game of Thrones Season Eight-type situation.
I'm going to resolve to take a week long break in-between releases up until Act 3 starts, mostly because I have some stuff in my personal life that I want to sort out. The next chapter will be exempt from that rule, releasing whenever it is finished. Given my problem with taking a break from things in the past, we'll see if I actually adhere to that.
I've started a group that you can find here, and the blogpost announcing the group can be found here. I don't know that many of you will take interest in writing or contributing to it, but I thought I'd open the doors up anyway.

That's that.

If you notice errors, have comments or just generally want to share how you're feeling about the story, be sure to leave your thoughts below!

Catch you all for the next one,
Caspian

Chapter 25: Ritual

Ritual

Luna was the first to leave the room, indignation and fury in the corners of her eyes. Going round and round in circles, no definitive answers and even more questions levied against the situation. How many more to come? Why would Celestia hide so much from her?

Her hooves shook against the floor. Her whole life. Cursed? She tried to have compassion for her sister, lucid and aware during all these years, watching all of her friends and comrades wither away and die... but the omission was so substantial she felt she was going to vomit. She was shaken by Liam's hand resting upon her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

He moved around her and looked up into her eyes.

She threw her head over his shoulder, a sudden heaviness descending upon her. Her eyes watered, but she did not shed any tears, holding back the flood with a determined anger. She pulled him closer with her jaw as he embraced her, her pupils constricting into narrow turrets.

"Nay, but We shall have our answers," she said as she pulled away.

She quickly turned around and her horn began to light. Her fur rose slightly, as though pulled up by static, and a glow grew in her eyes. Her scowl lengthened as the power in her horn intensified, and in a flash, both she and Liam found themselves within Celestia's bedchambers. The plush carpet sat where it always did, and sunlit curtains wafted in a breeze unfelt by either of them.

She was not there.

Luna took in a deep breath to calm herself, but the sensation of that blasted coffee table against her fur quickly derailed that plan. She drove her hoof through it, snapping the wooden surface in-two, sending table legs flying. Liam flinched at the sudden crash, swallowing back the nausea of teleporting.

"Find the book," she ordered of Liam, staring down the poor guard that came to investigate.

"Princess-... er, Miss Luna, y-you're not permitted he-" she began.

Luna strode forth with a hellish look on her face, approaching the mare with an unstoppable gait. The mare quickly bolted from the door with a yelp, legs fast upon the ground as she ran for her life. The sight of the small pony fleeing filled her with a guilt, but it only served to fuel the fire within.

She turned around to find Liam looking down at the coffee table. He knelt down to pick up the remains of a teacup on its surface, movements slow and hesitant. Luna flew further into her rage and found her sister's dresser, set upon tearing it apart. She felt fangs fall upon her lower lips, and as she moved forward, she could see her fur darkening.

Luna took the drawer handles on the dresser, grabbing four at a time with her magic, and threw them across the room with reckless abandon. The small wooden boxes crashed and exploded against walls, clothing and jewelry flying through the air with the violent speed. She caught her own eyes in the mirror for the briefest second, and the face she wore was one familiar to her. It was familiar to Liam as well, having seen it during their talks with Chrysalis, but it was different this time. There was no concern in her irises, no fear nor love tethering this anger, not like before. It was free, and he could feel it eating away at her heart. It was betrayal, the degree to which he could not imagine feeling himself.

Her entire life was founded upon a lie, and now in this bedroom, she was trying to exorcise that demon. Nightmare Moon and Luna together, thrashing out in wild fury.

Though he knew she needed to let this out, he also knew that if she approached Celestia in this manner, all hell might break loose. He approached slowly, flinching and recoiling as errant pieces of furniture found themselves in splinters and fragments around him.

"Luna..." he said quietly.

Her smoldering eyes landed upon him. The expression upon his face tempered her anger briefly, but it flared once more, cat-like pupils tightening again. This was all Celestia's fault. Liam saw her like this because of Celestia. She growled and levitated the whole dresser, the few drawers that survived the initial onslaught fell freely to the ground. She let out a shout as she surveyed the ruins, no sign of any hidden journal in sight. He recoiled at the outburst.

"Luna," he said quieter. His resolve was diminishing as childhood fears bubbled to the surface.

She ignored him, frustrating mounting and blood boiling, cerulean orbs fixated on one of many bookshelves lining the walls. They would be next. She grabbed at the spine of an old, gray book when she heard a slight pop near the doorway. Without looking, she sent the book threw the air in that general direction.

Celestia was unfazed as it slammed against the wall behind her, magenta eyes locked upon Luna. Her royal adornments glinted as she walked forward underneath a few sunrays.

"We do not share the same blood!" Luna roared.

Celestia stopped. Her brow furrowed.

"So you have spoken with Discord," she looked to the diminutive Liam, arms crossed and pressed tight to his chest.

"Indeed," she declared.

"Luna, I-" Celestia started with an apologetic look.

Her hooves impacted the floor hard enough to shake the room.

"Thine lies and omissions pervade our deepest memories, sister. Should We even address thee as such, given thy duplicity?"

Celestia threw a hoof forward against the ground in a lesser stamp.

"I am your sister, do not ever say otherwise!" she shouted, tears in her eyes.

Luna would feel pity, maybe guilt, had circumstances been different. But here, and now, Luna could not feel the particular warmth she felt for her sister. Luna brought down the bookcase, not turning to watch the carnage, and instead advancing on Celestia.

"We had thought We knew thine honesty, but now, all is cast in doubt," she spat. Liam feared this was all set to explode.

Those magenta eyes widened in pain and threatened to spill over. It brought her a warped satisfaction to see her sister in pain, when just a day earlier she sought to comfort her, and that sensation only made her angrier.

"Tell us then, tell us our true origin. What past are we robbed of?" she sneered.

Celestia's head dipped low, remaining silent. Luna knew that guilty face.

"Celestia is not your name, nor Luna mine. Discord hath revealed much," she pressed her attack.

"Those are our names Luna!"

Luna challenged her with her eyes. Celestia conceded with another shameful glance away. She bit her lip and took a breath.

"Our old names escape my memory. I have not thought of them in a long time, but it is true."

"Who were we then?!" she screeched.

Liam's hand touched at her withers tentatively. Luna's head shot back, mouth open and ready to launch into a rant against him, but she studied his worried face for a few moments before calming herself. She let out a ragged sigh and some of that vitriol disappeared, but not much. She turned back to face Celestia.

"Who were we then?"

Celestia wiped her cheeks.

"Father did not care for our lives before so he did not record them. Our families, whoever they were, gave us to him."

"For what?" Luna sharply pressed.

"To ascend," she said softly, "in a pact with a True God."

Liam's brow quirked.

"What was their name?" Liam asked.

"He did not speak it," she said.

Luna looked to Celestia when she realized that she too had never heard his name spoken. They had only known him as Father. Slowly, Liam's brows came down upon his eyes and he spoke.

"Who the fuck is Astral then?"

Torches burned orange against the cold stone walls of the hallway. The architecture was different here, no polish nor care afforded to the uneven stones below his feet. Liam felt as though he were traversing an old cobblestone road, but Luna knew these stones. Her hooves felt at home against their icy hardness, shoes quietly clacking as they followed her sister. This entire section of the castle was taken from the Everfree, but how long ago, she could not guess.

The dimness of the hallway faded as they approached a large room, older, tattered curtains billowing apart to reveal the city below. The stale air of this hidden room found itself on Liam's tongue, the stench of old books and faded scrolls hanging heavy, a historian's paradise of undisclosed and buried information sitting upon plainly constructed shelves.

Here, there were no furnishings, no lavish coffee tables or exquisite sofas. Instead, only the light from the window and a single wooden chair occupied the center of the room. Celestia stopped, casting a spell into the open space before the chair, and slowly a podium materialized. Upon its surface was a red book, dyed leather with yellow pages exposed to the air.

She turned, her ethereal mane floating as she inspected the two, an alien nervousness on her body.

"This is his manuscript," she whispered. Her legs trembled.

Luna quickly ripped the tome from the podium and it flew towards her. She sat on her haunches and poured over the pages, intently examining each entry. The text was in old Equish, and despite the moving of time and the developments of ponykind, her understanding was immovable. As she read, Liam approached the window to find a translucent golden glow, brightening as he drew nearer.

"Many pages are missing, but he alludes to the ritual that we ascended by. Discord is absent from the text, save for passing curses and lamentations. The rest of the discernable passages are entries regarding treatises and agreements between folk of the time," Celestia said to Luna.

A particular passage within the pages sent Luna's eyebrows upwards. She read on, with her sister growing more uneasy as Luna navigated the words upon the page. Her anger had become shock, and the information within made her sick to her stomach. Such sentiments, she had believed, had only been held by the enemies of Equestria.

Plainly written upon those pages were those sentiments, those same sentiments, and the fondest of memories burned in the revelations she made.

"He was not our Father..." she hissed.

Celestia stepped forward and tried to smooth things over.

"He raised us, Luna."

Luna's hoof flattened the book against the floor and she reeled.

"He speaks of culling the griffons, conquering the dragons!"

"To unify Equestria, Luna. To protect ponykind," Celestia pleaded her case.

"All thy words hath been lies! Our name is poison on thy lips! Be silent!"

She meekly put her head down and tried to hold back her tears. It was all falling apart again. How soon would things spiral out of control. How soon would her sister trust her again? Did she deserve it? Liam beckoned Celestia over with a hand. She approached like a wounded animal, gazing out onto the landscape with a hollow look.

"Your dad sounds like a real charmer," Liam murmured.

"I am in no mood. This does not concern you," Celestia said quickly.

Liam turned his head to her and gave her a long look. He shook his head.

"It's definitely concerning. I can see why you'd hide all this, with your whole 'friendship is magic' spiel. Kind of undermines the whole message when your dad is a genocidal racist."

"He was not a racist! He-... he just wanted-"

"To exterminate threats to ponykind?"

Celestia almost hid behind her mane. She swallowed and Liam turned to face the window again.

"About... eighty years ago, a man just like your father took power in a country called Germany. Over six million people died in camps specifically designed to murder them. It took the combined efforts of the whole world to stop him, and it cost the world more than forty-million people. If that book is any indicator, I'd wager they have far more in common than you say."

Celestia felt as though she were dying.

"Do you share his opinions?"

"No!" she said in offense.

"Then re-evaluate your opinion of him, welcome to the daddy issues club," he patted her on the back.

It gave her no comfort, though she suspected it wasn't intended to offer any.

"What is this?" Luna called to Celestia.

In the back of the book sat an obsidian plate, weightless, wrapped over the final section of the journal. Upon the glassy surface, faint etches in red lettering were sprawled over the surface, engraved as though written hastily. The symbols were unknown to Luna, though she felt a faint connection with the material it was engraved upon. A sense of unease fell over her as she inspected the symbols again.

Celestia approached, promptly stopping when Luna's icy glare landed upon her. She wanted answers, not company. She dipped her head.

"I do not know. I cannot recognize the language, nor can I translate it. Our most powerful translation spells are ineffective against it."

Liam took a glance at the tablet and felt an immediate familiarity with the symbols upon it, approaching slowly. They seemed to quiver from a distance, and as he approached, they moved like fluid over the page. To the others, they remained static, sitting, waiting to be deciphered.

"I... I think recognize it," Liam said.

Liam took a step forward, drawing both of their attentions to him.

"What?" Celestia asked in disbelief.

"It's... I don't know what it is, but I've seen it before. It's... changing in front of me."

Luna walked over to Liam with the book held aloft before her. She set it in his hands and the symbols darted about the surface rapidly. His couldn't keep his eyes on them for long.

"Canst thou read the passage?"

He looked up into her eyes, then back down to the page.

"I can try, but... I don't have to worry about a curse or anything, right?"

Celestia shook her head and approached, her white coat seemingly brightening at the possible developments. Though her eyes had become weary, there was that same thirst for knowledge within them.

"There are no enchantments or hexes upon the book," she said.

Liam took the book and walked over to the podium, setting it down on the surface. He removed his jacket and knelt over the tablet within the book, trying to catch a fleeing symbol to no avail. Something was wrong. Something wasn't working. A warmth began to build on his collar, and touching at it with a finger, he felt the stone embedded in the amulet was growing hotter and hotter.

"I think the pendant is interfering with it. I'm going to take this off, don't cast a translation spell. I don't know how magic works, but I think there's interference. If I fall over and die, something went wrong," he said to the air.

He pried the chain from his neck and lifted the amulet in the air, offering it to Luna. She took it and said something in Equish. He gave her a deadpan look. She shook her head and closed her eyes, realizing her mistake, then reopened them to give Liam a look that communicated caution.

He nodded, then looked to the tablet before him. The symbols were still, and he could feel a faint hum in his mind. The sensation almost drove him away, but he figured there might be some sort of magical force at work. Slowly, the darkest corners of his brain began to stir, and he became familiar with the alien symbols.

'Adema... ilma... vasa...'

Then, he became fluent, information rushing to the forefront of his mind. They did not make sense to him. He should not have been able to read them. But he read, and he read aloud.

"Adema... adema..."

Vasa...

The voice was not his own.

The room fled away into an uncontainable darkness, a deep swirl into the unknown. Liam tried to pry his eyes from the page, but it was too late. He could see without seeing, watching from afar as he continued to read the symbols upon the page.

Doubts and fears blanketed his mind as he was flung into the furthest depths of the pages, iconography and images flashing in the forefront of his brain, rushing in with information he did not recall. He felt a weight upon his body, as though he were being pulled down by every atom of his being.

"Juma..."

The field returned, vague in detail, outlines of events passed. His body stood in the center of the vision, terrible screeching cutting through the silence and the fog, moans and cries echoed across the brain. As information filtered in, a deep nausea struck him, the sickly sweet smell of decay filling his nostrils.

"Ademaaaa... iiiiilmaaa... vasa jumaaaaa..."

A prayer. A ritual. His skin grew warm, though it felt numbed, as though he were drugged.

Fifteen ponies stood still in the dark, eyes closed, breathing fast as the spices flooded their bodies. Their details were approximations, colors changing and features blending together. One pony, a stallion, walked about them. He spoke, but the meanings of his words were lost.

The First of the line was clubbed by another, the thick wooden rod breaking apart skull and bone with brutal and heavy swings. The stallion swung. Brain matter was in his mane. They stripped the body of its skin. He tried to scream, but no sound left him.

The Second was clubbed. Burn the skin of the First upon her corpse.

"Lükütaka a saran e jag ilmaaaa..."

Blood collected in bowls beneath, grooves cut into the earth and packed soil carried the blood down. The bowls were collected. Three and Four, splashed, blood upon their coats. Clubbed. The teeth were taken, the others remained still. No cries, no screams, the spices kept them quiet. Blood upon their coats, blood upon the grass. Each blade cut deeper with the red. Blood upon their coats.

Liam tried again to pull away to no avail. His eyes closed, but the images remained.

Five and Six, they smiled with broken grins, a knife driving deep into the flesh of their underbellies. It tore apart the seal of the skin, revealing the treasure within, sacred organs for the tribute. Rampant thoughts bore into Liam's head, thoughts that were not his own. A chorus of voices, the voices of the sacrificed, joined the mantra. Their dissonant cries and passionate voices sang songs of victory and sorrow.

"Tadz mińä tadz kütke..."

Seven and Eight lifted their heads high as the stallion approached. They smiled to him. His chant continued, a mare and a stallion revealing long knives. They took their eyes and cut their tongues, lifeless bodies laying in the grass.

"Tadz mińä tadz tsa um ilmaaa..."

Nine and Ten exposed their throats for offering. The stallion took them as his own. Liam felt his stomach churning.

"Tadz kadz tadz sakluli... nüta tadz jumawanša..."

Eleven spread her legs and lifted her tail, then Twelve threw himself upon her. In their mating, they were immolated.

"Nüta-"

Thirteen, Fourteen and Fifteen pushed forward small shapes. The shapes wobbled and shook in the darkness, no fire could illuminate them. They moaned and cried. The stallion stepped towards them and spoke in his language, taking them to the center of the circle. One of the shapes shook and trembled under the assault of the cold winds. A familiar color shone from one of the shapes. They were the children.

They were the last to be sacrificed.

'It is spread too far. This is a lost cause,' an unfamiliar voice called out. Liam could not identify the source.

'Sarkikós-' a call came from deep within, as though responding. It hummed and whirred in a broken way, but felt solid in its foundations. The vision was stripped away violently by forces unseen, leaving him in a dark void. His mind reeled and his temples throbbed. His teeth clenched and ground together.

'Recalibrate, start again,' came another voice. This voice was familiar to him.

"Tadz-"

It felt as though his teeth were being ground to dust within his mouth.

'How much of him is left?' Was that...?

'Enough.'

Liam's body shook and trembled under the overwhelming forces acting upon him. His eyes burned, hot coals within his skull scalding the flesh about them. He could not scream.

'Diaperó-'

Finally, the veil cleared. The darkness seeped away into the corners of the room, daylight returning once more and filtering through the windows. He was once more in Celestia's bedroom. Weren't they somewhere else? The world felt colder, the warmth of the sun long since passed. The smell of the linens and the freshly cleaned bedroom was replaced by the scent of rotting meat and burning flesh. The rot fell away slowly, but the stench of scorched flesh hung heavy in his nostrils, and his pallid skin was slick with sweat. The podium was splinters where his hands were placed, his grip tight and palms raw from the force. His eyes did not blink, and he felt a warm wetness about them, running down his face.

He tried to speak. It was Sarkic! He tried to say anything, but no words came to him.

Droplets of red fell from his eyes, landing on the page and sizzling away, leaving behind dry brown stains. He could feel something shift and churn within him, within his mind. He unclenched fists as best he could, webby strands of sinew clinging from finger to palm, pulsing with his heartbeat. The thin, veined strands retreated back into the wounds of his palms, the wooden shards within pushed out with alien muscles. His hands shook as the final webs fell within the flesh, the gashes coming closed with no evidence of them having been there in the first place. No pain found him. With his hands close to his face, the stench had intensified, and he spun his hand around to find the source.

There, burned into the back of his hand, the golden sigil radiated immense heat. It seemed to hum faintly, echoes of the voice he had heard before, echoes of the voice he once possessed. He found another upon his other trembling hand, and watched as the symbols were slowly overtaken by flesh, growing around and over the molten lines. As the final blankets of flesh fell over the fiery symbols, he turned back to face them.

He felt his legs weaken, a hand shooting down to brace his fall. He sat there, eyes wide in horror, staring into space while the blood on his cheeks stretched into thin vine-like growths. He felt them retreat back into his tear ducts, fingers numbly pushed against them, slithering away inside his head. The blood that sat within his sclera fell back and sank within his iris.

He felt like screaming, throwing his voice into the air until he couldn't. His mind was alight with foreign activity, feeling memories and thoughts move about behind his consciousness, words and ideas spoken in hushed tones away from his mind. Everything was unraveling. His lips moved, but no sound erupted. He looked at Luna with terror in his eyes, and a question finally arose from within, bouncing around the walls of his skull.

Before he could speak, he saw their hatred, pure and raw. They could see what he was now, what he had become. He knew in their eyes, fear touching the rims, wide and violent. Their horns illuminated together, whips and lashes of energy dashing around the room. Their auras grew and pulsed, and he saw their nature within them, vessels for power beyond comprehension, of alien and unknowable origin. He hated how she looked at him. Betrayal.

"Synkrató!"

He blinked, standing at the podium, gripping its edges. Had that not happened? There was no smell, save for the lingering scent of old paper, and the faint burning of the torches. The hidden room. He heard them speaking behind him in their language, barely audible over the ringing in his ears. They were speaking to him. Was this real? He released the podium and touched at his cheeks, and no blood stared at him from his withdrawn fingers. His heartbeat failed to steady itself. The back of his hand bore no mark. He jumped when the amulet landed softly before him, glinting on the floor below. It made the loudest noise in the quietest room. They went silent and he slipped it on, and though he feared what he'd see, he turned to face them.

They looked to him with concern. The fear upon his features was harrowing. They did not stare at him in that same hatred. Luna's eyes looked as they had before, under the stars and beneath the heavens. His throat tightened. Was it safe?

"Liam? What is it?"

He rasped, "you weren't his daughters, you were sacrifices."

He felt dizzy. He was going to faint.

His legs buckled and he toppled to the floor, Luna darting forward to help him. Her fur was warm. He clung to her hooves like an infant, trying to forget and trying to remember the sights he'd seen. His teeth chattered and a shiver exploded across his form. She nuzzled him and brought his jacket over in her magic, and wrapping it upon him, she caught his gaze.

"Liam," Luna gasped, "your eye..."

Liam felt it. Something moved, and in those last moments of consciousness, he had an answer to his question.

He was not human.

Author's Note

Here we are. Now for a break.

Leave your comments, thoughts and critiques below. If I messed up somewhere, which I probably did, go ahead and point it out. I'll get to fixing it immediately.

See you all next time,
Caspian

Chapter 26: Control

Control

The errant rays of sun that touched at her coat did not give her warmth. The moment his eyes closed and seizure took him, the world no longer mattered. The smell of the room left her nostrils as the blood seeped from his ears, the sound of her sister approaching was muted by the red liquid pouring from his nose. She felt the need to pull him closer into her embrace, but she knew that he needed help. She could hear, beyond the sounds of the world, his heartbeat was climbing higher... and then it stopped. A trickle of it dribbled down to his lip, and at the moment it made contact, she was spurred into action. Her sister was saying something, but it was too late, and the pair disappeared in a flash of light.

The pressure difference struck her ears as they popped, standing in the main hallway of Level One. She felt blind when they appeared, the difference in light throwing her into a daze. A murky fuzziness exploded across her vision. The distance of the teleportation added weight on her shoulders, as it had done before, but without a rest period she was feeling the full effects of the magical discharge. But that didn't matter. She propped her foreleg around his neck, and tried to pull him out of the corridor. Stars poured over her vision as the blood rushed out of her horn. There were no guards around. She screamed, The sound of her cry echoed down the hall, drawing ponies out from their rooms and offices to find the source. Concerned and scared eyes fell upon her, watching Luna writhe about in despair.

He was dying.

She teleported again, looking for the medical facility, a desperation in her eyes. She levitated him swiftly, galloping through the halls with a panicked urgency. She teleported down one level, then up again. The white halls and colored stripes did little to give her direction, the sound of her hooves on the floor and the heaviness of her heart the only sound she could hear. Her head felt light and her vision was clouding. She did not remember kicking down the door, nor did she remember the words she screamed when Liam began seizing. Pairs of hooves took him away and she collapsed, magical burnout quickly taking her to the floor.

Her lucidity returned in small portions. The telltale migraine associated with quick-magic burnout throbbed in her temples and the bridge of her muzzle. Her cyan eyes opened with uncoordinated movements, and she found herself interred within the same facility she struggled to find. The beds to her left and right were empty. She gazed down the row of beds, looking for the human she had grown fond of, only to find white linen sheets upon their mattresses. She looked down at her own blue-furred body and found medical apparatus attached to her, and a large light-blue gown draped over her form. The door opened, and she turned to face it.

The face of the older stallion was weary. His red eyes were tired.

"I see you're awake," he said slowly.

He walked in with stiff movements and levitated his coffee mug down on the counter, stretching his hindlegs.

"Liam... is he...?" she asked fearfully.

Neat Stitch sighed and rested on his haunches.

"He's alive, but... well, it's best you see him when you're feeling better."

Luna tried to push herself up, only to find Neat Stitch quickly throwing his hooves on her barrel and pushing her back into the bed. The fatigue in his face disappeared with an alert sternness. She tried to shove him away, but he leaned forward, resting on his hooves and leaning further upon her. She tried to maneuver around his hooves, but found herself sapped of all of her strength. The migraine and exhaustion were crippling, and her limbs felt heavy as they failed her. Her head drooped and she felt the urge to close her eyes as sleep took her.

"Please..." she murmured.

"Thou cannot detain us, Doctor," she said weakly.

Her bravado had no foundation to work upon. The pounding of her head worsened. It was there, a constant sensation that grew with every passing moment. Her breaths were labored as she tried to fight back against sleep and the migraine at the same time. Her mind wandered between black and white, and the world seemed to grow distant and fade away.

"You aren't leaving this bed until you've rested, you pushed yourself too far," he said. His voice brought her out of her disarray.

"Let us up, please," she pleaded. She struggled against his weight.

The older stallion shook his head slowly, "he's not in a good state and neither are you, you need rest."

The larger mare struggled against him for several minutes before giving in. He stood there silently for a few moments, holding her down. He dipped his head and pushed off of her gently, coming to the floor with a dull thud. His red eyes seemed to keep her gaze with great effort, as though he was fighting with something inside of himself. Luna closed her eyes for just a moment, the throes of magical fatigue trying to pull her back into a dreamless darkness. She fought against the sensation and found his face was one of remorse.

"He's... incapacitated, and we don't know if that's going to change," he said quietly.

The sentence terrified her. She felt tears coming to her eyes, but fought them back. She couldn't cry now, not while he was looking at her like that. She had to be strong for Liam. An instinctive and primal directive flooded her mind, commanding her to remain in-control, to make sure he was safe. She swallowed back her worries as best she could and set her jaw.

"Who commands the Bureau in his absence?"

He nodded towards her.

"Liam made it clear that you would be the Acting Director should any harm befall him."

She sat up slowly, fighting off the cloudiness in her nerves.

"Then We order you to let us see him," she said in strained conviction.

Stitch closed his eyes with a sharp breath. He swallowed and fixed her a warning look, as though trying to steer her from her course. Though, Luna could feel that he was just as frightened for his friend as she was.

"We've done everything we can for him, but we don't know what we're dealing with," he said quietly.

He shook his head.

"It's not good."

The smell of freshly cooked fish sailed upwards above the fire, griffon scouts lounging about around it, occasionally glancing to the trio of creatures they had captured. Gilda herself was perplexed by their appearances; something felt familiar about them, despite how alien they looked. Her talons tore a chunk from the cooked trout and plopped it into her mouth. The golden leaves of Sugar Maple Grove rustled quietly underneath the breeze, and she found her gaze drawn to the one that had the helmet. They confiscated all of their strange devices, and strange they were, very light materials and oddly shaped equipment that puzzled the Sergeant.

Attempts at communication fell promptly flat when both sides realized they could not understand each other, though a substantial effort was made through use of talon-signing and signals. Eventually, the detainees acquiesced to the rather crude signals for surrender, and there they sat, each tied down with the little rope the scouting parties carried with them.

Her beak curved into a smug smile as she noticed he was eyeing her food, the gray orbs fixed upon the half-eaten remains of her dish. A simple meal, but filling, and the creatures had no rations upon them. Given their state, wherever they had come from, they obviously had endured a rough time of it out in the wilderness. Their clothes were another peculiarity. Upon attempts at confiscation, the red-haired one physically fought back, throwing a punch at Private Lightfeather. The ensuing scuffle was quickly stopped, though a point was made regarding their garbs: do not touch, a lesson Private Lightfeather learned courtesy of a savage haymaker.

His bruised face and hungry eyes eventually roused something of pity in Gilda.

"Hungry, huh?"

He did not respond in any comprehensible way, saying something in his language. Gilda inferred that it was a positive response. The rest of the scouting party was off surveying Cobblerock for the next day or so, so surely she wouldn't be reprimanded for offering the beast a morsel of food.

After all, who was going to report her, Lightfeather? The Private could barely find the courage to stand on his hindpaws.

She rose from her spot with a catlike stretch, setting the plate down onto the leaves below. Her tail went rigid and upright, working out all the kinks as her wings expanded to their full breadth. Finally, with her overt display of freedom complete, she sauntered over to the bound ape-like creature, plate in-talon.

She noticed Lightfeather giving her a rather disgusted look from his perch, but upon meeting her eyes, he quickly turned around. Corporal Gilda took great satisfaction in watching the young recruit promptly change his attitude.

'Yeah, that's what I thought.'

Sweat dripped down his face as he cocked his head back, meeting her eyes with a rather defiant look. Gilda let out a harsh chuckle at the posturing, approaching unfazed. The creature had already demonstrated its prowess against Lightfeather, but it would not catch her unaware.

Or so she thought.

Within his palm behind his back, a small black dagger slowly cut apart the fibers of the rope binding his wrists.

He was pale. The lines of his face seemed to deepen under the sharp contrast of the light above, his head dipped forward and bathed in shadow. The gown he wore hung loosely about his form as he sat in the cell, completely still, unmoving and emotionless. The look upon his face and the dimness of his eyes belayed a sense of passivity, that same stillness in the very pupils. The sclera of his eye was no longer red, the hemorrhage having disappeared entirely, and his appearance seemed quite normal at a glance.

When one looked longer, they would notice that the walls were not painted red.

The gurney that he had been brought in upon became his throne, his gown hanging over the ledge, pale feet dangling above the ground. The IV stand beside him had become his scepter, standing beside him with multiple liquids hanging from it. The back of the gown splayed open as a thick protrusion of knotted veins and pulsing arteries shot out onto the floor, breaking apart into an indiscernible collection of capillaries and meaty wires that pooled on the floor and crawled up the walls. They slowly pulsed and climbed to the ceiling, the only parts untouched being the ceiling lamp and the ventilation duct.

The air was thick and heavy with a dull red fog, and glowing in that fog were two sigils on the backs of his hands, the flesh sewing and resewing itself over and over above the fiery runes. The golden light was dim in comparison to the lamp above, but Luna felt blinded as she looked upon the scene.

There he sat, unmoving, unflinching as the room around him became a part of himself.

Sunny Skies stood behind them in the observation room, a grim look upon his face. Neat Stitch stared into the room in equal parts disgust and horror, occasionally glancing back at Luna, finding her unblinking stare more unnerving than the supernatural display before them. Treble Tree looked as stoic as ever, though in the corners of his eyes, one could see a measure of grief. She did not speak when he pushed her wheelchair into the room, and she had not spoken since her eyes landed upon Liam. The tears in her eyes finally let themselves loose after a few moments, though nopony dared speak, nor move to comfort her. She did not vocalize her cries. Sunny gingerly moved towards her and placed Liam's security band on the hoofrest of the chair.

When the tears stopped, a bitter anguish descended upon Luna. She turned her head to Sunny.

"Thou art the commander of our armed forces, yes?"

He gave her a resolute nod.

"Yes, ma'am."

She looked back to Liam's rigid form, her eyes narrowing into vertical slits. Her coat became darker, and she felt flat teeth sharpen into fangs, slowly pushing over her upper lip. Sunny turned away, his heartbeat quickening.

"Prepare demonstrations of our combat capabilities, I want to see what our forces can do by tomorrow evening."

"Yes, Director Luna," he nodded to her.

She turned her head towards him. He turned away.

"What is your rank, Sunny Skies?"

He shuffled on his hooves.

"Captain, ma'am."

She remained silent and looked back to the window, staring at what was once Liam Webb.

"That name was given to me by a monster. I shall wear it no longer. You shall address me as Director Moon from this point forward, Captain Skies," she said resolutely.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Does anypony else know of Director Webb's condition?"

Both Sunny and Stitch exchanged glances.

"No, ma'am," he responded carefully.

"It shall remain so. Dismissed, Captain," she said quietly.

The scarred stallion needed no further direction as he promptly left the room. Once the door shut behind him, Nightmare Moon wept openly, her cries reverberating off of the walls. Stitch shut his eyes and leaned against the wall, her wailing pulling apart his heart. He was not unfamiliar with the sound of grieving family, stallions and mares losing parents over the years, stillborn foals clutched in despairing forelegs, but the sound of the former princess crying was unique in its chilling timbre.

He looked over to find her head in her hooves, her body succumbing to wild sobs and spasms in her wheelchair. He felt a mistiness in his own red eyes and tried to blink it away. He did not know the nature of their relationship, but given the display before him, they had to have been close.

He felt the need to leave the room, but he knew there would be questions. He wanted to fold himself over his desk and sleep away this moment. Nightmare Moon gained temporary control of herself, sniffling and raising her head to look at him. Her lip quivered and she turned to Stitch.

"What happened? Is this a curse?"

Stitch shook his head with a sigh.

"We don't know. His heart was stopped when we got him on the table, then... this," he gestured to the room.

"Is he... is he still alive?"

Stitch looked unsure.

"Technically, but I don't know that he's in there. He's been unresponsive for hours, hasn't blinked or moved or anything."

Nightmare Moon screwed her eyes shut. The accursed text did this. She could feel it in her core. Her Father did this to Liam. Her eyes opened with violent purpose, a hateful snarl passing her lips. The migraine intensified and she shook in her chair, hooves twitching and a sneer ripping apart her muzzle.

"Mister Treble, bring Discord to... my office. I wish to speak with him post-haste, and send word to the Changeling Chrysalis as well. I must meet with her as well."

Neat Stitch's eyes widened at the statement, but saw Treble had nodded nonetheless. He left the room as quickly as Sunny did, though his head dipped back in, mustache perched on pursed lips.

"How do you like your coffee, ma'am?"

She gave him a dreadful look. He interpreted that as black, no sugar. He left.

"Doctor," she began, trailing off. She took the band on the hoofrest.

"Yes, Director Moon?"

Her sorrowful eyes stared into his.

"Is he in pain?"

Stitch fixed his red-eyed stare upon the former human. He didn't know. Blood vessels ripping through the skin in such a manner was likely a very painful process, but the lack of reaction from the patient and the pace at which it spread didn't communicate much. The whole thing was unnatural, and were this to happen to a pony, he would imagine their nerve-endings to send relevant signals to the brain.

He opted for an honest answer.

"I don't know."

Neither of them took comfort from in that. They stared awhile longer at Liam before she stood from the wheelchair, slowly walking out of the room, a heaviness upon her shoulders that she could not shake. She resolved to find a way to undo this curse, no matter the course. Stitch stayed, watching his patient in all of his horrifying glory, before he too departed.

When the door closed, Liam's eye twitched.

The creature seemed remarkably alert during the night. The other two, the plump one and the frail one, had both fallen asleep sitting against the trees behind them. The plump one's loud snoring cracked on through the night, drowning out the fizzling and the popping of embers from the fire. Lightfeather too was calling back with his own snoring, resting in a tree across from the fire. But not him. Gilda recognized the sharpness in his eyes, having seen it in her own flock.

He had the eyes of a warrior, and despite his captivity, he was still looking out for his roost.

His uniform became stranger and more interesting as she inspected it. The gray clothing he wore was tough, almost like a canvas material. She recalled that Rainbow Dash had once worn a saddlebag of its caliber. That brief memory was quickly stashed away as turbulent emotions threatened to surface, so she set herself back to inspecting the beast. His plume was cut short, just a patch of red atop his pale scalp, with the barest evidence of more to come on the sides of his head and his face. The longer she looked, the more she thought him similar to an ape, or a monkey.

"What are you?"

He did not reply.

Her eyes went over to the collection of strange gear they had confiscated from the group, various black shapes and gray objects piled atop each other. One object caught her attention, however, a long and curved block with another curling out underneath it at an angle. There was a thin metal arc that housed a smaller crescent, a few red markings on the side. She stretched an arm out and plucked it from the pile, holding it in her talon.

It was fairly heavy, perhaps fashioned of metals and dense materials. As she inspected it, she noticed two evenly spaced dots at the rear of the object, finding that the gap between them accurately housed a small post at the end of the length. Gilda realized that these constructions were not insignificant, and as her eye lined up the posts, she recognized their purpose.

It was an aiming mechanism, much like those on artisan crossbows.

Her head snapped back. They were armed, to an extent she did not know, but they were armed nonetheless. She glanced over at the warrior, finding his eyes were on hers with a sense of alarm. She looked back to the weapon, then found her talon fit around the offshoot rather well. It was a grip, and likely, the crescent was a bolt-release.

"What kinda weapon is this?"

The creature muttered something, and when she looked to him, he shook his head and nodded it towards the pile. She frowned at him and continued fiddling with the device. She rested a claw upon the trigger and the creature raised his voice slightly. He shook his head again, eyes wide in warning. She turned towards him and ruffled her feathers.

"What are you trying to say?"

He babbled incomprehensibly.

She acknowledged the inherent danger of the unknown weapon, but curiosity burned inside her breast, and she knew she needed to test it. The frail creature began to stir as the warrior spoke, and she soon began to repeat what the male was saying. Gilda grew frustrated and pointed the device at the wooden plate she had eaten upon.

She lined up the sights, and despite the protests of the creature, slowly depressed the trigger.

A sharp crack cut through the air, and with it, a blinding white light burst from the end of the device. She flinched and blinked, letting out a yowl in surprise. The once-sleeping Lightfeather promptly fell from the tree he was resting in and landed on the ground with a deep thud. He sluggishly pulled his sword from his scabbard and looked into the darkness, breathing fast and shaking. Her hearing had been washed away with a faint whine, Lightfeather's panicked speech muffled by the ringing.

She blinked and looked at the plate, finding little more than splinters. Her hearing began to return.

"What was that?" Lightfeather asked in a shrill voice. He looked away from her and off into the trees.

Instead of answering him, she began to laugh at the shocked look on his face, his beak dipped open in a rather dumb-looking manner. Then, when she began to turn back to the creature, the knife was pressed against her throat and a hand wrenched her beak shut. The warriors eyes looked into hers with an implicit warning. She drew in a sharp inhale through her nares as he quickly threw her scabbard to the ground.

"Gilda!"

Lightfeather crouched low, sword in talon, eyes wide in terror. The creature was free, and before Gilda could turn the weapon on him, it was already taken from her. She was taken to the ground and the knife pressed tighter against her throat. Her heart thrummed in her chest as the other creatures began nervously yammering away.

"Let her go!"

The creature pointed the weapon towards Lightfeather and kept the knife on Gilda. She hadn't felt fear like that since she was a hatchling. Her vision clouded as tears came to her eyes. Before Lightfeather could move, Gilda heard something over the ringing. A horrible wail, distorted and broken, from off in the distance. It echoed over the trees and through the forest, immediately silencing all of them.

She did not recognize the sound, but it filled her with a deep sense of dread all-the-same.

The plump creature began to talk, but the warrior silenced him with one word. His eyes were wider now, scanning the trees. He looked down to Gilda and pulled the knife from her throat slowly. She took in a breath as he stood, towering over her, watching the periphery. He threw the knife back towards the other creatures and made a gesture to Lightfeather, pointing to it with a finger. He cut his palm across the air horizontally.

Lightfeather realized he wanted him to put out the fire. Before he could protest, another wail broke the silence. Gilda looked to the bound creatures and found the frail one had already freed herself, working on the binds of the plump one. The plump one drew in fast breaths as fear gripped him and the frail one was whispering something to him. Lightfeather began to throw dirt into the fire, the orange glow dimming and dimming with each kick while the warrior fixed a large mask to his face.

The leaves nearby rustled, and all was silent again, save for the faint whispering of the wind. Gilda looked up to the creature and it very slowly crept back. Something burst forward from the opposite side of camp, and Gilda could see Lightfeather leap away in panic as a whip-like appendage cracked through the air. It collided with the side of the tree he had been sleeping in, bark exploding outwards into fragments and splinters.

Lightfeather let out a shout, sword slipping from his grip and going to the ground. Gilda reached out to it, just a short distance away, and gasped as she saw a blur of fingers yank it from the underbrush. The creature ran forward with intense speed, closing the distance with the unseen opponent, only wet orange reflections on its body served as indication it stood there. More concussive cracks exploded from the device in his hand as he charged forward, while the enemy responded with another swing of the whip. She could smell blood as wind rushed over her, the whip mere inches from touching her. The fire surged as leaves were sent flying into it, and she saw Lightfeather's skull explode as white barbs on its end cleaved it apart.

When the weapon cracked again, she saw the monster, only a glimpse. Whatever it was now, she knew it had once been the Sergeant, and there was nothing left of him within it. The warrior sliced at the tail, repurposed into a bone-barbed whip, cutting it free and sending it sailing past the glow of the fire. The weapon in his hand did not crack when he depressed the trigger, but that did not stop him, and he dived forwards with a muffled snarl. Her sword seemed small in his hand, but he used it to brutal effect, the ragged and wet breathing of the monster drawing to a close as the creature hacked away at it.

When it quieted down, only the sick thumping of sword against bone was heard. Gilda stood shakily and watched as the creature turned back to face her, wiping off the blood onto the Sergeant's feathers, looking more akin to a nightmare than anything else. She looked to Lightfeather's crumpled body, his beak shattered and his eyes bulging from their sockets. She gagged. Her instincts screamed for her to take flight, to run, to be anywhere but here. He said something to the other creatures, and the light from the fire died down as the plump one threw more dirt onto it. The frail one collected their gear. The warrior approached Gilda and she could not move.

Gilda felt a weight against her chest and found her sword pressing into her feathers. The creature looked down to her and nodded, his gaze behind his mask penetrating and deeply serious.

They had to leave.

They had become prey.

Author's Note

So sorry for how long this chapter has taken. Recently, my drive has taken a rather steep nosedive, exacerbated by the progression of the plot. To make a long story short, I realized that my reveal last chapter was something I should've saved for later. I've had to pick apart the storyline and the timeline a bunch of times over to get it into a place I want.

I'm also overthinking how I want this story to go, but I'd take overthinking over underthinking, if that makes sense.

Hopefully I get the next one out sooner, and I'll see you there for the release,
Caspian

Chapter 27: Cogito, Ergo Sum

Cogito, Ergo Sum

The sound of maddened machinery and rampant devices filtered into Liam's awareness, chimes and clicking noises distantly echoing away in the void. He felt a strange sense of calm wash over him as a rain poured from nowhere, small droplets of water contrasting against the darkness. He found himself standing alone, surrounded by an inky darkness, with small blue lamps illuminating a path of texture-less gray panels. He tried to turn his head to examine his surroundings, but could feel no muscle contorting and flexing with the motion. Upon looking down, he saw that he had no body, no form at all. He floated above this path, weightless and without feeling. The path went onwards into the dark, and the further he looked, the lamps were swallowed by a dark fog. The lamps, old oil lamps, carried small blue flames within their bronze housing.

He remained still for a while. The rain came down, through him, around him, disappearing into the darkness where it did not touch the roofs of the lamps. He tried to push his hand away from himself to inspect it, seeing no such appendage until it neared the furthest point from his chest, watching as a translucency began to manifest. A faint orange came into being as he reached out, outlining a vague approximation of his hand and his wrist. He rotated the ghostly hand from palm to back, finding a sigil emblazoned on his ethereal flesh.

As he stood there, he realized that he had no idea how much time had passed, nor could he accurately recollect the events that preceded his arrival here. Something had happened, something terrible. He looked down the path once more, and a sense of purpose flooded through him. He needed to know where he was, why he was here. Faint lights blinked in and out of existence in the darkness beyond the path, but he felt as though the void would swallow him whole if he ventured beyond the path. He moved to walk, and felt nothing as he glided along the panels. Water poured off of their surfaces into the darkness and fell away from his vision.

He had no idea where he was going until he heard a faint cry that rang in his ears with all of the clarity of an alarm clock ringing in the morning. He turned and found a figure standing on one side of the path, holding a limp body in their arms. The figure looked up and their features swirled away into nothingness, their form and the body within their arms disappearing shortly after. A small voice screamed out for help, but the sound was swallowed by the black. The sound of the cry felt familiar, but ultimately, no memories came to him. A strong unease spread over him. He continued onwards down the path, searching for a lifeline, something to remind him of where he was, how he came to this place.

"Liam..." came a faint whisper to his left.

He turned to look, though no one stood there. Memories slowly trickled into his consciousness, hardly realized and vaguely present. The voice was important, that much he knew, for he felt a sense of longing and attachment when he heard it, though he could not identify why. There was a history there that he couldn't unravel, but he could feel it; this was someone important to him. Someone he-

"Liam..." came another from his right.

Remorse. Pain flooded through him, but it felt distant, obscured. He thought he could hear crying in the distance, but that too was consumed by the void. A tidal wave of regret crashed down upon him and he felt himself draw nearer to the inky darkness encompassing him. His vision almost dimmed, but the lanterns lit ablaze, the fires driving back the black.

Despite his desire to know more, a primal surge of fear flooded through him, and he felt a pang of pain in his back.

He pushed further faster, rushing along the path, the blue flames rushing past him. As he flew faster, he noticed the panels were not fixed in place, but instead flew upwards from the void below to make his route. He slowed down as he neared the end of the path, and found a doorway with an orange light shining behind it. He reached for the handle, his translucent hand stretching forward, and he felt warmth beneath his fingers. A tingling sensation spread from hand to arm and arm to chest, and soon, his entire was vibrating. A large shadow grew from his chest and slowly took on shape and form before his eyes: a pair of eyes that swirled with a strange orange light, the door falling away into nothingness.

He stared at the eyes with curiosity, feeling a vague sense of familiarity with them. They were not organic, faint discs of metal spun slowly within the irises, and a pervading aura of cold and calculated composure hung heavy in its gaze.

'Who are you?' he thought. His internal monologue bounced from unseen walls and echoed around them.

'That is not the right question,' the sentence was attached to no voice, nor could he imagine the origin of the speech. Foreign letters filtered into his mind, and he felt as though he knew their language.

It was as if the sentence was an idea, or a concept, coming into his mind like information. It did not echo in the darkness, nor did it make any sound. Liam realized that this entity was not someone, but rather, something. He paused, the rain still falling against the gray plates behind him.

'What are you?'

The eyes closed and disappeared from his perception. They did not vanish, they did not travel, nor move anywhere; they ceased to exist. The display was unnerving and unnatural, as if it wasn't there, as if it never was.

'That is the right question.'

Liam felt his mind twist around this answer as the door behind him swung open. He was moved into a large room and was greeted by the sight of two familiar figures: Neat Stitch and Peridot Beam. At the sight of them, more information seeped into his mind, a more complete history before him. It was still incomplete. He knew who these two were... but the details were missing. Vague attachment and familiarity only did so much to soothe him, and he needed more. He desperately needed more information. The room was only an imitation of a place, smokey lines building the foundations and the structure of the place, but the two seemed real. Liam felt as though he could touch the fur on the stallion, and as he came closer, he found his fingers made no contact. He tried to speak, and no words came to him. He was merely a spectator. He drifted away from Stitch and waved his hand towards the pair.

Stitch pulled a shimmering gray tablet from somewhere. The world and the objects within it seemed only partially-realized, and the harder Liam tried to decipher it, the faster it frayed and blurred before him. He reached out for the tablet with an invisible hand and found that his fingers met no resistance. He pulled his hand back slowly in disappointment. Stitch motioned for her to sit down atop a large surface, and at a glance, it seemed to be a bed.

"Are you still feeling pain beneath the scar tissue?" Stitch's voice echoed.

She nodded, fumbling with her blindfold, "a little bit. It's not as bad as it was before."

"The medicine's helping?" Stitch asked.

Peridot's damaged eyes shifted behind the cloth. That... she wasn't blind before. He knew that. He knew that something had happened in his memory that had hurt her.

That he failed her. It was his fault.

"Yeah... that's not why I'm here, though," she said tentatively.

Stitch quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What seems to be the problem then?"

She shuffled in her seat anxiously.

"Has Liam been in to see you?"

Stitch pulled his lips back and rubbed his chin, eyes widening somewhat. Liam crept forward at the mention of his name. He could feel a tension in his chest and pain rippled down his back again.

"Why?"

She bit her lip.

"I feel like something's wrong. Like something bad's happened."

Liam couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. Something was wrong. Was this a nightmare of sorts? Why was he seeing this? For the briefest of seconds, it almost looked as though Peridot was watching him move to the side of the room. He leaned forward and she tilted her head.

"Well," Stitch said quietly. He glanced at the door, "he's not been in the facility for a while, but Director Moon has assured us he's alright."

She turned back to Stitch quickly.

"Wouldn't she say that if he wasn't?" Peridot's voice shook.

Stitch sighed and closed his eyes.

"What are you saying, Peridot?"

She pulled away her blindfold to reveal teary, milky-white eyes. The scar across the bridge of her muzzle crinkled as she frowned, her lip quivering. That was his fault. His failure, on display to the world. He failed her.

"I feel like he's dead, Doctor. I felt that before when he... when he..." her voice wavered.

Liam watched as Stitch slowly walked over towards her and nuzzled her. She sniffled and wiped at her nose with her foreleg, pulling away from him abruptly. His mouth opened, but he paused, sensing that he had erred in the motion. He looked off to the side before looking back to her.

"I'm sure he's fine, Peridot," he whispered.

Liam could see on his face that he was lying. What had happened to him?

"You don't understand," she whimpered, "the feeling was... it left when he woke up, but now..."

She broke away from him and tried her best to focus her blind eyes on him.

"The feeling won't go away."

"You're imagining things," Stitch said with a reassuring tone.

They remained silent for a while before Peridot fixed her blindfold back into place. She shook her head at him.

"You're lying," she said quietly, "you know what's happened to him."

"He's away currently, and Director Moon said he's fi-"

"You're both lying," Peridot shivered. A disgusted look fell on her features.

"Tell me the truth."

"The truth?"

She nodded.

"Is he dead?" she asked stiffly.

Stitch took in a shallow breath and sat beside her, then the ghostly world crumbled away, and they crumbled with it. Liam stood shocked, still processing the scene that had unfolded before him. Liam stared at his hands as they drifted through nothingness. He felt nothing but an empty void, no heat nor cold, no wind nor rain nor sound. It was as if his senses had been amputated; was he dead?

The book.

He tried to read the book and everything had fallen apart. The Sarkists were here, long ago. He needed to warn them, to tell them that the situation had been complicated, but he had to figure out how to escape this shadowy place. An explosion of sound erupted around him, gears and mechanisms clicking and spurring into motion. The panels swooped together and created a platform, the rain pouring off its sides. Liam was in the center, the lamps arranged in a circle around him, blue light dancing in the reflections of the water.

'You are not deceased, Liam Webb, though it is not something to celebrate.'

Liam felt the presence in his head again. He identified the letters in his mind's eye as Greek.

'Your physical body lives, though, control has been lost.'

Liam became aware that he was breathing, though it felt as though the sensation had been numbed considerably. The rain returned and the rattling of machines echoed in the darkness.

'What are you?' Liam asked the presence.

There was no response for what seemed an eternity.

'A defense mechanism.'

Liam remembered the parasite that had traveled with him, and the words he spoke that weakened it, how they came from a place deeper within his mind. He remembered those words when he was ripped from the vision, and the letters that danced in his mind when the entity communicated with him... it all made sense. This thing had been with him for a long while.

'Against what?'

He already knew the answer.

'Against the Flesh, more specifically, the taint within you,' it explained.

He remembered the terrible realization in Celestia's hidden vault. No fear came to him, though he suspected the entity was suppressing that reaction, an alien sensation pouring over his brain. The eyes materialized in the void once more, the discs training on him coldly.

'I'm infected?'

'Perhaps,' it mused, 'the circumstances are unknown to me but the purpose remains; to prevent the Flesh from controlling the body.'

Liam watched the eyes intently.

'If I was infected, we shouldn't be talking. Higher brain activity goes dark about twenty minutes post-infection, and if I was infected-'

'We are not talking.'

'Aren't we? You revived me, didn't you?'

It did not answer.

'Where are we? What do you mean defense mechanism?'

The eyes did not blink.

'Your mind. According to your memories, the final steps necessary for my installation were not completed. Preventative measures were hindered significantly. Your continued survival and resistance to the infection was not guaranteed considering my limited defensive capabilities.'

'What are you? What's your name?'

The eyes did not blink.

'I am Stalwart, The Geas That Binds, the Everlasting Triumph. I am the machine, I am the inventor, I am the hammer and the nail. I am the first of my kind, and the last.'

Liam paused.

'And what am I?'

It did not answer immediately, as though thinking.

'You are the first of your kind, and the last.'

'That's not very illuminating.'

'It is all I can say.'

'Are you a Mekhanite?'

'No, but I am of their labors, meant to preserve your life and to stop the Flesh from spreading.'

'How did you-'

'Irrelevant. There is not much time left, Liam Webb. The taint is spreading. The mental barriers I have constructed within your mind have been eroded. The parasite is almost through.'

Liam felt an itching sensation slowly spread across his back.

'What do I do?'

The eyes vanished again.

'You must resist it while I regain my strength. Your body has fallen, but your mind has not; this is what the Flesh seeks to destroy. This is the weakness it seeks to abscond. Do not let it consume you,' it boomed.

'What happens then?'

'I consume you, as it should have been before, as was planned.'

Consume him?

Stalwart was gone, and slowly, the rain stopped and the buzzing began. He could feel a pressure building within his skull, and momentary flashes of light blinded him, glimpses of the world outside. For just a moment, he could see, a heavy red fog in a red room.

A flash of pain erupted from his back and he felt his body involuntarily gasp. There was no numbness. For brief moments, the world came and went, and he recognized the state he was in. Beyond the veil of pain, he recognized that he felt hollow, a profound frailness and weakness in his limbs.

He could feel thousands of little fingers against a cold tile, his fingers, searching the floor aimlessly, throbbing with the beating of his heart. The pain was excruciating. He could feel bile his throat. The world came upon him again, glass, a cell. The walls were red. The walls were his, extensions of his body. The pain was unbearable. The weight on his back threatened to pull him off of the gurney. He weakly groaned and shuddered, a shaky hand reaching for the stand beside him. His eyes went to the open sore on the back of his hand and he watched with grim fascination as the scorched flesh repaired itself over the molten symbol in the center.

Delta, lambda. Then, the burning sensation swept over his hands.

A pressure compounded inside of his skull, forcing further observations from the forefront of his brain. His head lolled back, eyes rolling in their sockets as he felt a wave of foreign information flood through his mind. His fingers pulled back as his tendons tugged upon them freely, a sick crunch cutting through his raspy breathing as his pinky cocked backwards. It was trying to break him.

"Lun-..!"

The buzzing returned in full force, a grating ringing in his ears and the taste of blood on his tongue. Another assault on his mind. He gasped as he tried to get a breath in, tried to focus his thoughts. Meat. The idea filled him with a comforting warmth, a respite from the storm. How all the meat could be one.

"No," he wheezed.

He started violently shaking as he regained ground. Fetid, sickly flesh and mounds of pulsating meat, images of butchery and carnal abandon flooded his mind. How it could all be his, how he would take it into his arms and let it live freely, unchained by the oppression of the mind. A return to nature.

"...-iam? He's awake, he's-"

His head drifted to the reflective glass pane, staring at himself in the window. He realized why he felt so hollow. He realized that fear and terror are secondary to agony, noticing all of his tendrils and veins stretched out over the floor and walls. He realized who was speaking to him. He tried to speak back, then he felt a lung collapse inside his chest. He struggled to breath, the mounting waves of pain overriding all else. He should be going into shock. He would be going into shock... but it was keeping him hurt. The intercom above crackled.

"Painful..." he hissed, his left hand balled into a tight fist, "... Sarkic... I'm-..."

The muscles in his abdomen contracted at once, sending his body lurching forward violently. He grunted, then gagged. Worm-like tendrils frantically swam around the base of the gurney, seemingly excited at his attention. His left arm jumped upward with a painful jerk, his shoulder popping out-of-place. The layers of pain continued to stack upon each other.

"Liam, what can we do for you?" Sunny asked hurriedly.

Liam shook his head weakly.

"Can't," he gasped, "get... Luna..."

He felt the flesh of his foot split apart and he let out a haggard scream. If he was going to die, if he was going to be consumed by one or the other, he needed to warn her.

He had to warn her of the coming storm.

Author's Note

WRITERS BLOCKKKKKK.

It's killing me. I wanted this to be a much longer chapter but I cannot, for the life of me, get it to flow right or move in the right direction. Leave your comments, concerns and criticisms down below, theories are welcome too, though will not be answered!

See you all for the next release.

Chapter 28: Native Interference...

Native Interference...

Chrysalis moved through the halls quickly, doing her best to avoid eye-contact with the other ponies and staff moving about from room to room. The security guards had already been briefed on the disguise of her choice, subtly acknowledging her behind their helmets. She could taste disdain, fear and disgust when she passed them, the bitter mix leaving a sour taste in her mouth and an uncharacteristic pit in her stomach. She decided she did not like the feeling, whatever it was.

As she took the elevator to Liam's office, she dropped the disguise, her carapace shining underneath the white lights above. The passing stone and rock beyond the rickety elevator doors caught her interest for only a moment before she fell back upon the retinue of questions she needed to ask of Princess Luna. She had not felt so... weak. Not even as a larva had she felt this sense of vulnerability. If Liam and Luna held to their word, then a bright future awaited the Changeling race.

So she hoped.

The doors came open with a creak, the shuttering metal splaying apart and revealing a long stone hallway with grates supported over unfinished cavern floor below. The smell of the cave was not musty, though there was a dampness in the air. The pony behind the desk further down the hallway looked up from a stack of papers and stared. For a few moments, neither of them said a word to each other, before finally, the mustached stallion spoke.

"Hello, Queen Chrysalis," he stated monotonously.

She felt the sudden urge to bark orders at him, to have him show respect more enthusiastically, but the words died on her tongue as soon as he turned back to his paperwork.

"You may proceed to the office now," he said in that same, droning tone.

Chrysalis felt as though he were sapping all of the energy from her in just speech alone. A hint of a taste of emotions hung in the air, but only the faintest thing. She could hardly taste it. She decided against interrogating the blank, mustached stallion and pressed forward, shaking off the unease he planted within her chest. Her hooves thudded against the metal grates and she stopped before an unassuming wooden door. She turned to the secretary again, and he nodded at her. She walked over to the door and turned the handle, opening it slowly until she stepped into an office filled with bookshelves and tables covered in thick sheets of paper.

Unfinished limestone walls and partially constructed plyboard furnishings surrounded a cheap-looking table, and seated behind it, a pitch-black alicorn with teal, cat-like eyes. The alicorn mare looked at her, and despite the obvious signs of fatigue on her muzzle, her eyes were alert. This may be dangerous.

"Queen Chrysalis," the mare greeted.

Vague memories and information about a certain fall-from-grace swirled to the forefront of her mind. She cautiously approached the desk and examined the alien paperweights and the globe on its surface. She looked up to the mare and her mouth opened slowly, a conspiratorial whisper pushing past her lips.

"Am I speaking to Nightmare Moon, or Princess-"

"Director Moon," the alicorn clarified, then closed a drawer on the desk, something rolling to the end within it. She stood from her chair and towered over Chrysalis from behind the desk.

"And where's Liam then?" Chrysalis asked.

Nightmare Moon paused.

"Incapacitated."

Chrysalis knew a lie when she heard one, though tasting it surely helped in identification.

"A coup?" she asked suspiciously.

"No. He is... unwell," she said carefully. It was closer to the truth.

Chrysalis took a step back from the desk, eyeing Nightmare Moon with alert eyes. She wondered if her summoning was an elaborate trap, meant to ensnare a loose-end now that Liam was gone. She suppressed the growing unease in her gut and took a step foward.

"With the human gone, what about our deal?" she asked, motioning with a transluscent wing to a chair across the table.

Nightmare Moon did not move from her place behind the desk, but continued staring at Chrysalis with those cat-like eyes. Her hoof moved slowly across the wood surface before finally resting on something small. She sighed.

"It stands. Tonight, I shall be meeting with Princess Celestia to speak on your behalf, requesting citizenship and land allotment near this facility. Is it possible for you to construct a new hive?" Nightmare Moon asked.

Chrysalis snorted through her nose, "possible, yes, but it's going to take a while."

Nightmare Moon paused, looking down at some papers before looking up at Chrysalis again with a ghost of a smile.

"We will see about that," she said with a small measure of amusement, "as for my meeting, I hope for the conversation to be productive, but I fear that recent events have muddied the waters, somewhat due to my own mistakes."

Chrysalis noted the apparent regret in her tone, and a miasma of frustration and forlorn confusion sat there too.

"I see. Why am I here?"

Nightmare Moon fixed her attention back on the Changeling Queen.

"I need to speak with you privately regarding the nature of your continued association with the Bureau. Liam gave you generalizations, and I now have concrete details. Would you like to read you the brief?"

"I'd rather read it myself if it's all the same to you, Director Moon."

Nightmare Moon smiled once more, a genuine smile this time, though still burdened by something.

"You can call me Moon, Queen Chrysalis," she replied.

She picked up a paperweight on her desk, lifting it in her hooves and placed it on top of another paper that was already atop another stack of papers. She produced a folder which she then passed to the changeling with her magic. Chrysalis took it with her own and flipped the folder open, scouring the contents on the pages within. Her eyes briefly hovered at the top of the page, re-reading the location.

"The Griffon Kingdom... why?"

"As it stands, they are the most outwardly aggressive in the Equestrian diplomatic theater. I want to be sure that any communication issues are made aware to our... people," she said with a murmur, "when they happen, and what action needs to be taken to continue our operations."

Chrysalis licked at a fang, trying to hide her disdain for the new assignment.

"It's... remarkably cold in Griffonstone, Moon," she said, concerned for her drones. Now that there were so few of them, they needed to be in the greatest of health, lest the whole hive suffer.

Nightmare Moon stood straighter.

"I am aware. We will have a solution for your changelings soon. Would you walk with me? You may leave that there," she nodded towards the folder. Chrysalis paused for a moment before nodding in acceptance. They left through the door she had entered from and walked down the stone hallway. Chrysalis paused and found herself drawn more to the subtle despair floating about the lunar princess.

She decided to broach the subject.

"What happened to Liam exactly?"

Nightmare Moon stiffened but did not stop moving. Her eyes closed gently and when they reopened, there was an implicit warning within them, one that made Chrysalis shudder with its coldness. The mustached stallion did not notice.

"I would prefer we do not speak about it, Queen Chrysalis. How many of your changelings are still embedded within Canterlot?"

Chrysalis was shocked by the question, something Nightmare Moon made quick note of. Chrysalis regained her composure and answered, stepping into the elevator. She felt a sense of unease with the difference in their stature as she stood beside Nightmare Moon.

"A few. One of the originals was Fleur," she said quietly.

Nightmare Moon hummed, as though she had known the answer. She turned her head towards Chrysalis.

"I implore you to reinfiltrate, that I may have ears in the Equestrian court."

The sound of the doors closing was not deafening before, but it was at that moment. Chrysalis was shocked; it hadn't been long since her kind were rather crudely banished from the capitol, but now? Now a former Princess of Equestria was asking her to infiltrate it once again.

When the doors finally shut and the elevator lurched upwards, a thought crossed her mind. If she needed the courts spied upon... what had changed between her and the Equestrian government?

"Aren't you those ears?"

Nightmare Moon sighed and her eyebrows did a small jump, turning her head away from Chrysalis.

"I fear I have used up my credibility as of late, and if I have not, then I surely will tonight," she said.

Chrysalis did not like the feeling of being out of the loop. She also felt a weight sitting within her again, but the nature of it had changed. It felt... lighter, but it was still there. She silently cursed her inability to taste her own emotions, seeking to understand what this feeling was. Her mouth moved when her mind did not, and she reflexively asked a question.

"Why do you trust me?"

Nightmare Moon was silent for a moment, then turned those catlike eyes upon her.

"I do not," she said simply.

That weight twisted a little.

"I am giving you the chance to earn that trust, as Liam did. His vision encompasses a better world for all, pony and changeling, griffon and dragon, on and on. A safer world. That is why I need your expertise; a network of communication and infiltration to sway events to our favor," she explained.

"I thought the ACB wasn't a political organization," Chrysalis responded.

"'Tis not. Our mission is to create a safer world, regardless of species. We will dabble in politics as the need arises."

The elevator doors opened and Nightmare Moon gestured to the Changeling.

"Your stop," she said politely.

"Wait," Chrysalis interrupted, "what other species are joining the ACB?"

Nightmare Moon wore a determined look upon her face.

"All of them, in time. I will call for you when things are ready."

"Hmph, alright then," Chrysalis said as she left the elevator. The doors began to close.

She turned back to the Director.

"Moon?"

"Yes?"

"You may call me Chrysalis," the Changeling Queen said, a vulnerable look in her eyes. Through the crack of the doors, just when they were about to shut, she saw Nightmare Moon smile softly.

"I think she likes you."

Gault shrugged off the comment, staring forward into the coming light of dawn. He eyed the close griffoness, who had yet to leave his side. He guessed she sought him out due to his actions previously. He caught her looking at him and she quickly looked away.

"I don't think so, 'sides, never been good with animals," he whispered.

Anna sped up and brushed her glasses further up her nose. The early morning air was cool, but already, Gault could feel the heat of the sun through the trees. It was going to get hot, and the sooner they found shelter, the better. Not to downplay the inherent danger of being stuck in a forest with the disease as well.

"I don't think that applies here. They have a language and-"

"So do ze dolphins, Anna," Victor rasped.

Anna looked back to his sweaty, ragged face, trailing behind them. His bald head glistened under a ray of sunlight.

"Your point being?"

Victor gave her a stern look.

"You do not sex ze dolphins," he whispered back, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Anna recoiled violently, as though struck. Her mouth gaped for a moment, processing the statement in several layers of deep-fried disgust and disbelief. It took her a minute, but finally, words came to her lips with a repulsed sneer.

"Ew! What are you talking about?" she hissed.

"Shuttit, both a'ya," Gault grunted. He stopped and fell to a crouch.

The other humans stopped, and moving around Gault, watched as he caught the attention of the griffoness again. He beckoned her over. She tentatively approached and he began drawing in the dirt with a stick. He decided to opt for what he believed to be a fairly recognizable depiction of a house; four lines comprising a box, two angled lines comprising a roof.

The blank look she gave at the drawing did not instill him with confidence. Then, he noticed her eyes light up in recognition. Her beak twisted slightly, and she looked back to up to him.

"Home? Base? Fuckin'... castle?" he whispered to her, then pointed at his eyes, then to the trees around them.

She chirped in response. Gault tilted his head.

"Where?"

Gault recognized the look of frustration on her features. He was probably wearing the exact same one.

"Maybe ze don't have understanding of pictograms?"

Gault and the griffoness held eye contact for a little while, and it seemed as though the gears in her head began turning. She eyed the trees and looked up into the sky, then towards the rising sun, rays filtering through the trees.

"I don't remember you being a xenobiologist, Victor," Anna responded.

Her eyes scrunched up.

"I am not," he whispered.

She looked to the North. Calculations behind her eyes.

"Then why are you talking?"

She nodded to herself. Gault could feel a conclusion was imminent.

"I am trying to be helpful," Victor defended himself.

She pointed to the North and Gault nodded back to her. She almost smiled, both of them sharing some sense of pride in having communicated despite the lack of language.

"Mm. We're moving again, no sandbaggin' please," Gault rose. The griffoness looked into her satchel and was ruffling around with some papers while the others prepared to set off again.

"What does zat even mean?" Victor asked after a few moments.

Something cracked further into the trees to their East. Gault extended his arms, pistol aimed in that direction. The others froze, watching with wide eyes. The griffoness lowered her body to the ground in a cat-like pose, tail slowly swishing from left to right. From within the forest, another muted crack, and sniffling.

Crying. Some strange, wounded mutterings. It sounded like a kid, speaking in some foreign language.

From behind a tree, Gault caught a glimpse of orange. Slowly shuffling towards them was... something. Gault struggled to recognize it, a red mop of hair atop its head, very small in frame. It trudged forward, head lolling back and fatigue in its face. Its eyes were huge, and in them, Gault saw a look he'd seen before.

Same look his father had after the Falklands. It was traumatized or it was infected, facial features stuck in that horrible look, like he'd seen before. Area-14 had its fair share of traumatized-looking zombies. And this thing... this little horse, was wearing that same look.

"Baby horse?" Anna whispered.

"Ze legs are too short, maybe a pony?"

"It's comin' this way," Gault said, eyeing the creature.

As it drew nearer, he could see bits of twigs and leaves stuck in her fur, blood seeping down her sides and her legs. The sight immediately put him on high-alert, his muscles tightening and his grip becoming firmer on the pistol. His finger slid onto the trigger and depressed lightly, ready for whatever would come next.

"It's a kid, Gault," Anna hissed.

The creature sniffled, letting out a feminine murmur as it stumbled forward in shock. Gault didn't want to take any chances. He kept his pistol trained on it as it drew closer. Closer and closer, then he'd shoot. Patience.

"Disease don't discriminate, don't forget that," Gault grumbled.

"Are you going to shoot ze pony?"

Gault watched as it finally realized they were there. It let out a small squeak and tried to turn back to run, but fell into the leaves and brush. It squirmed for a moment before soft cries permeated the woods. Gault approached, pistol leveled at the creature, when the griffoness suddenly threw herself between them.

Gault almost pulled the trigger.

She narrowed her eyes and drew her claw across the air in a swift motion. She was telling him to stop.

"Get out of the way," Gault growled.

The griffoness did not comply.

His eyes found hers again and there was an unspoken argument between them. She said something back to the creature, and after a few moments, it responded in-between cries. It had the voice of a small child, that much he knew. But these were two different species, one of which was clearly a predator, while the other was prey.

Gault sighed. He lowered his pistol ever so slightly and muttered.

"Arright," he grumbled.

He turned over his shoulder to the other two.

"Anna, can ya help it?"

Her eyes widened, then she took a hesitant step forward, inspecting the creature from a distance. After a few moments of silence, she turned back to Gault.

"I'm not a vet," she said. The answer did not appease Gault's frustrations.

Gault glanced between the griffoness and the horse-like creature. The griffoness was giving him a hard look, one that he grimaced at, looking to Anna pleadingly.

"Aye, but yer a doctor, right?"

"Virologist," she corrected.

"Shut yer fookin' mouth an' help the wee thing," he ordered quietly. She reached into her bag and produced a set of gloves that smelled faintly of alcohol, then produced a small case with a red cross upon it.

She gingerly made her way over to the creature and Gault could see it recoil and shudder at the sight of Anna. Anna cooed at it and tried to be soothing, shushing its cries and slowly crouching down beside it, stroking its fur. After a few minutes of relaxing the small thing, she began to wipe away the blood with sterilized wipes and set to doing what she could to patch it up. Gault scowled at the griffoness, noting she looked quite proud of herself, before she too went over to the creature and began to converse with it, chirping and cooing much like Anna.

"If she infects us, best believe I'm gunna kill ya before she gets me," Gault whispered, looking at the griffoness.

Marshal Greifern sat at his desk, eyes unfocused and brow splayed wide under massaging talons. He did not like his position, nor the associated responsibilities attached to it, even more so with the knowledge that the scouting parties sent to Sugar Maple Grove had not returned within the allotted time frame. His feathers shook as he let out a raspy sigh. He was an old bird, and too long led packs of greenfeathers. They didn't understand respect. They didn't understand honor. So quick were they to vie for any scrap of credibility or recognition amongst the higher ranks, to disregard protocol, to forget their training in the most crucial of moments and now seemed no different. He surmised they likely encountered some sort of snag, operational obstruction, or they may have well been caught by the Cobblerock sentries. In all situations, he knew the high Marshal would hold him accountable.

This information did not sit particularly well with him. His graying feathers ruffled within his coat, agitated and uneasy. Looking to the beige walls of his office, then to the painted oak door, he knew he had to throw open that red slab of wood and Escape to a place where he could find some brief respite. He let out a wet cough, catching spittle and red spots upon his handkerchief. He felt his growing dissatisfaction with his condition becoming too much and stood from his chair, taking his leave past that red painted door and out into the hallway.

He strode down the halls of the Military Intelligence Department until he arrived at a pair of massive bronze doors leading outside. The sky overhead was overcast with black clouds; he suppressed a cough in his throat. The stormy weather always bothered him, but he was far too old to be outside in such a blighted sky. The doors opened creakily outwards to reveal a pair of guards standing before him. They bowed their heads low before he passed between them. Greifern stepped outside into the stormy air and blinked against the water droplets clinging to his eyes as he looked up into the darkening sky.

His wife loved the storms. A pang of grief struck him. Now, they only served as a reminder to what he had lost. With a hollow feeling in his chest, he strode down the steps of the building and out into the courtyard, populated by barren trees and lackluster shrubs. The droplets plodded into the gravel around him as he sought a small alcove to watch the rain from. He would relax here, just for a moment, should all go to plan.

"Marshal Greifern!"

He sighed at the words, at his name. The voice that carried them was one such greenfeather. He did his best to conceal the scowl forming on his beak and turned to the voice, seeing a young griffoness approaching beneath the cover of the veranda. She looked at him with wide eyes, perhaps still unaware of her superior's pure indifference toward her. She wore the standard uniform of the military with the insignia of Intelligence emblazoned across her greatcoat; feathers crossed behind an eye, a talon wide beneath them. Hardly the most original of designs. Her name was Seressa, she had been with him for some years now, and she was quite talented in her duties. He supposed that was why he tolerated her presence in the first place, but he did so begrudgingly.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" he asked her, making sure to hide his disdain as she approached. She bowed her head respectfully.

"Forgive me, Marshal," she began in her hushed voice.

"I've just received word that we may have a situation at Sugar Maple Grove."

His head moved forward, yellow eyes more attentive.

"And?"

His gaze fell to the rolled paper beneath her wing, producing it with his talons. She flinched at the sudden movement, but he had no patience for courtesy. As the scroll unfurled, he heard her shuffling on the pathway. Nervousness?

When his eyes made contact with the first few lines of Low Griffonian, he understood why.

"One party lost and Cobblerock razed to the ground," he said stiffly.

"Yes sir."

He looked up to her with narrow eyes. This was bad news. It was best to filter through and verify that the bad news was the only news, especially at a time like this.

"How? How do we know this? Is this counterintelligence?"

Lieutenant Seressa shook her head, her green plume atop her head bouncing with the motion.

"Outpost Gildenclaw confirms smoke at Cobblerock. The party headed by Captain Quickflight made contact one day ago. Bodies... or remnants of bodies, sighted from afar, as well as strange animal calls. The party waved off further reconnaissance once they heard the noises."

He shot her a look.

"Was this the work of a beast? A pack of beasts?" he asked.

"Unknown, sir. They reported multiple sources of the calls."

Greifern let out an anxious sigh. What was intended to be a simple scouting mission may have become an international incident. He held his tongue for a few moments as he pondered what to do.

"Have this report copied and sent to the High Marshal, the Public Minister and the Dragoon Commander. I need constant communication with Outpost Gildenclaw, double their rotations and triple the staff," he ordered, passing the report back to her.

"Right away, sir," she said excitedly.

As she flew away, his scowl exploded across his face. Worry sat deep in his gullet. Could she not see the turmoil this situation would bring? They would need to speak to the Equestrians about this, and he feared that they would not be understanding of the circumstances, nor the results. Greifern shook his head and looked out into the storm once more.

Author's Note

And here we have Chapter 28! Howdy all.

Hope all is well with you guys and gals, leave comments, critiques and opinions below. I'll catch you all for the next one.

Caspian

Chapter 29: ... To An Alien Threat

... To An Alien Threat

Gilda panted as she navigated the ridges and rocky landscape of the Southern Approach, the autumn air becoming crisper and cooler as they ascended through the pines and the golden trees. As they rose higher and higher, the group drew tired breaths and pushed forward. When she could walk no longer and her lungs burned, Red, as she had taken to calling him, would holster his weapon and carry her in his arms. When he grew tired, she would take back to the ground. Her wings were sore in anticipation, though she feared flying off and away from her new companions.

She felt an odd sense of responsibility for these strange creatures, and though they had a rocky start, Red saved her and offered her a weapon. Would they do that for any creature? Was it a matter of respect, or simple protection? The more of them equipped, the better equipped they'd be to handle those... things.

Whatever the reason, Gilda could not leave them behind. Not like Rainbow.

As they crested the ridge, the light of the setting sun underneath the blanket of wild clouds cast beautiful orange rays over the horizon, illuminating their path forward. Gilda took sore but excited steps up the rocks and gravel, ascending to the top of the large boulder dug into the dirt. The faint glimmer of the ocean to the East cast star-like beams across the water and towards them, a sight she had grown fond of since she took a position at Gildenclaw.

More than the eye-candy, it also meant they were close. She was incensed, a hopeful swell in her breast.

"Just ahead, a little further now!" she called back, knowing full well that despite the language barrier, they would understand her enthusiasm. She felt Red staring at her as she marched ahead, his faint grumblings reaching her ears.

She bounded up the path, knowing that just around the corner and obscured by the pines, Gildenclaw would be staring East out over the entirety of Sugar Maple Grove. Sure enough, with each step, the silhouette of the old stone keep presented itself, the wrought-iron gate lowered and guards stationed atop the walls. She moved forward with an excited urgency, pressing forward, though her muscles ached and her body was tired.

As she approached with her companions, a green griffon wearing a traditional guard-cap tapped his spear against the bell on the corner of the gatehouse. He shouted in a loud voice.

"Identify yourself!"

Gilda stood straighter and puffed out her chest.

"Corporal Gilda Grizelda, Flight Three, Scout!" she called back.

The green griffons eyes widened. He looked within the gate house and said something she couldn't hear. Another griffon, with red markings upon his feathers, looked out over her band. He said something to the green griffon, who then promptly descended further within the keep.

"Stay right there!" the marked griffon called.

"We have wounded, let us in!" Gilda cried back, gesturing to the filly in Thin's lanky arms.

He was not swayed. He narrowed his eyes, talons curling tight.

"I said stay where you are!"

She noticed Red idly thumbing at his weapon on his chest. She feared he would use it.

"Just let us in, you chicken!" she shouted desperately.

The green griffon returned and exchanged a quick word with the marked one.

"Where's the rest of Flight Three?" he asked.

Gilda scrunched up her eyes and pounded the dirt with a balled fist.

"They're rutting dead you rutting dork! This filly's hurt and we're all tired! Open the gate!"

The two griffons looked to each other in some quiet debate.

"Well, what are you waiting for?!" she screamed. Her wings furled out in agitation, prepared to fly over the wall.

"Open that gate!" a voice called from within.

They filtered in quickly, fatigue vanishing as the way was cleared, a muddy clearing before them and troops marching to and fro within, halting into alert and defensive formations to await the new arrivals. Gilda huffed quietly, her hindpaws suddenly feeling the stress of their trek.

"At attention."

Her eyes widened as one of them, a brown-feathered griffon stepped forward, one paw behind her back and an unmotivated salute with his talons on her wingtips.

"Corporal Grizelda!" she shouted quickly, her fatigue lost in the quick salute. Her eyes panned over to Red and Thin, both looking on at the newly arrived troops filtering in around them. Their weapons weren't raised... yet.

"I am Captain Caw, at ease," the griffoness stated, idly inspecting the taller beings. Her voice carried no sense of urgency nor danger, rolling smoothly over the group with an authoritative and silky tone. Gilda suddenly felt rather anxious. "What kind of creatures are these?"

"I don't know, but they saved my tail in Sugar Maple. Something went wrong, the Sergeant... well, the Sergeant attacked us, wasn't lucid. Like an animal... feral. He got Lightfeather, k-killed him..." Gilda stuttered to a halt, remembering the events of that night.

"And where is the Sergeant now?" she asked, a stern impatience creeping into her voice.

Gilda swallowed, then sighed softly, "He's dead."

The captain stalled a moment. A wind picked up from nowhere, chilled air seeping over the camp. Gilda hadn't noticed any clouds on the way up. Her eyes jumped up to the sky, finding the blue above was being overtaken by blankets of gray. A shrill whistle blew out from the walls as the winds escalated.

Was this a planned storm?

"Lightfeather?"

Gilda's eyes scrunched shut.

"Private Lightfeather, he's... he was my fledge."

"Ah..."

The captain sighed, the corners of her beak drooping slightly, eyes narrowed and scanning the creatures more intently.

"Are these beasts dangerous?"

"Yes, but they're trustworthy... I think," Gilda admitted slowly, her heart fluttering as she stared at the brown-feathered griffoness.

"You think?"

"Well... they saved my life, I..."

Gilda's voice trailed off into uncertainty, her head twisting about as she surveyed the ranks of the soldiers. When the captain's eyes landed upon her, her own shot straight forward. She quickly added, "the two in white are eggheads or doctors, dweebs for sure, but that one right there is a warrior, saved my life," just as the Captain scrutinized Red intently. He returned the favor with a casual lookover, weariness in his face.

"Can they speak?"

Gilda hesitated at first, but then nodded quickly and answered, "Yeah, yeah they can. It sounds similar to Equestrian... I don't know what specifically."

The captain's eyes softened looking at the filly. Her unconscious form shivered in the cold.

"They look tired. That one needs medical attention. Suture!"

A rather malnourished griffon with dull gray feathers and blue eyes swooped in from the corner of Gilda's vision, promptly making off with the filly and bee-lining towards a small brick building stashed away in the corner of the courtyard. His instruments and tools jingled in his coat as he bounced on his hindlegs, the filly tucked in the crook of his taloned forelegs. Gilda had little time to react as the captain jumped right back into questioning.

"Where did they come from?"

"We ended up catching them in the Maple Grove. After that, well, the dorks there chittered and chattered all night while we were on watch. Red over there just watched me silently the whole night, then... well, the Sergeant came back."

"Did you see what happened to him?" The captain looked between Red and Gilda's eyes again.

"No, we heard a terrible noise, and I only got glimpses of him. Seconds, and..." she swallowed as her eyes roved over to Red. Her gaze fell down upon his weapon within it's holster, then his knife, staying upon it as she stumbled through her memories. She tried to speak again, but only the passage of air past her vocal chords escaped her mouth. She gave a brief and strangled noise and recoiled as the captain turned towards her.

The captain frowned.

"Hm. Do you know what they eat?" she asked suddenly, glancing back at Thin, who seemed to have a look of worry on her face.

"I... fed that one some fish. Think they might be carnivores."

She nodded at that answer. Gilda surmised they had the rations for that. When did it get so Tartarus-damned cold?

"That makes things easier. Sergeant Yellowtip!"

A nearby griffoness on the other side of the courtyard snapped to attention and saluted her superior officer. Gilda felt her shoulders slump as the attention was pulled off of her, something the captain didn't seem to notice.

"Bring some of the rations over here and have the recruits set up cots for the... what are they called?" she turned to Gilda.

"I don't know, Captain."

"The weird minotaurs," she said with a raised forepaw, "get them seated and situated."

"Yes Captain, right away," replied the soldier as she rushed off towards a pile of supplies, griffons scrambling about behind her. The captain then looked over to another griffon, this one with a light red coloring in his feathers, a griffon with an empty eye-socket, a dark-brown patch sitting over it. The captain spoke to Gilda without looking to her.

"What of the filly you brought?"

Gilda tensed. No ease to be felt in the CO's company.

"Her name is Tulip, same thing happened to Cobblerock," she replied.

"Meaning...?"

"She said she saw something terrible, looked like those creatures, but it was worse. Like a monster, Captain. Same monster Sergeant Craventooth became," Gilda said, her voice quieting towards the end.

"Unsettling news. We have to get word back to Griffonstone. I'll send a flyer as soon as this storm clears up."

Gilda nodded silently, the lump in her throat retreating. The captain walked away from them with another griffon trailing behind her, their steps taking them into the barracks. The red-feathered griffon with the eyepatch turned to Gilda and gave a nod before gesturing with his head towards the tall bipeds. Red exchanged uneasy glances with his compatriots, much like those a dice-player would shoot around when they lost their bet. Eyepatch waited, a small battle of wits to be had with the taller being standing before him. Red scowled and chirped something to the others, all of them following the soldier away. The world grew darker as the last bits of sunlight withered away under the strange and sudden storm that fell upon them, small snowflakes beginning to fall from above. Gilda heaved out a sigh, rubbing at her eyes with the crook of her foreleg. She took a talon to the clasps on her jerkin, prepared to shirk her armor when a strange noise carried on the wind.

A wail. It didn't sound right. The storm picked up.

The horrible noise seemed to echo in her bones, and before long, she noticed the scattered griffons about noticing it too. Red, from his position further in the camp being ushered along by troops, turned to her. Eyepatch followed his gaze.

"Wh-... what was that noise?" he asked.

It stopped, only the rushing wind over the stones of the walls to be heard for a few moments.

Then it came again, and in it, a horrible familiarity settled over Gilda. Captain Caw was immediately on the grounds again, her head tilted and listening to the sound with a worried look. The words left Gilda's mouth before her brain processed them.

"Tartarus... that's what we heard..."

"Calm yourself, Corporal, I'm sure-" Caw stopped as a shout rang out from the perimeter wall overlooking the cliff.

"Guards! What do you see?"

Another griffon on the wall jumped back with a cry of alarm. Something flew through the air over the wall, shooting into the haze of the shrieking blizzard from nowhere, up into the clouds. Spears raised and swords unsheathed, all eyes were to the sky and no one uttered a word. Then it crashed down into the muddy center of the outpost.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes as raw terror swelled in her chest. A horror unimaginable slouched before her, misshapen limbs and exposed flesh twisting and flexing in the cold weather. Steam rose from the withers of the former pony as fresh, hot blood seeped down its barrel, patches of purple fur falling out and onto the cold mud below as it took in ragged and labored breaths. Its head rose with a dead slowness, green eyes hazy and unfocused. It stood there a moment, and no one dared move, terrified and shocked at the terrible thing's appearance. The organs it had used to throw itself into the courtyard retreated into its belly. It finally settled its eyes upon the Sergeant and the haziness vanished. A deep, unsettling shudder rose from what was left of its throat.

Almost like... a laugh. A terrible laugh. When the screaming began, events were already in motion.

The griffons nearest to it were undone in fierce and brutal strikes as razor-sharp barbs sliced through the chilled air. Flesh and bone exploded outwards and onto the muddy soil, Sergeant Yellowtip shrieking as tendrils of toothed-flesh pierced into her armor below her chest-piece. She sank to the ground as the tendril pulled back and out, a whip-like crack resounding through the sounds of combat as it swept around the space, knocking down another griffon. Hot blood arced into the air as he fell into the soil, eyes wide and staring at the sky, his throat cut open. The monster that had felled Yellowtip staggering as it was peppered with crossbow bolts.

"To arms! To arms!" Caw screeched.

A griffoness with a red streak in her hair landed the final shot with her crossbow, striking the beast from the wall. The bolt sat within the flesh of its shoulder, but then it sank inside, pulled in by unknown means. She blanched, seeing it turn its lifeless head to her, its muzzle opening and hair-like red strings hanging out into the air. It leapt up towards her, bloody limbs splaying out and bones cracking as it took flight. She took to the air to escape, but it was too late; it collided with her in mid-air and took them both soaring beyond the wall. Her screams faded as they descended down the mountain. The winds barreled down upon them, the icy chill striking them all down to the bone.

"Somegriff help the Sergeant!"

Red cursed in his alien language and Caw started barking orders at the stunned griffons, and before long, everygriff had their gladius or pila at the ready. Though terror held the hearts of many, they steeled themselves against it, the horrible wailing sending shivers down their spines. Some of the guards in the courtyard took to the walls, armor pieces clanging and panging as they marched up the stairs. Red shouted to Thin and Fat, sending them running into the infirmary, urgency upon their faces. Captain Caw took Gilda by the shoulder and shook her from her dread.

"Are you still breathing Corporal?!" she growled.

"Yes Captain," Gilda replied shakily.

Over the Captain's padded shoulder, she saw movement. A guard approached the two fallen griffons in the center of the yard, exchanging quick words between them as they inspected the bodies. Yellowtip's head moved to the side as her limbs twitched, claws digging into the mud and hindpaws searching for purchase on the terrain. Gilda recognized the jitteriness in her movement, flashes of fire and skull fragments bursting into her memory. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forward. A manic eye burned fiery red hatred up at the two, malice and malevolence searing into Gilda's mind from behind those yellow bangs.

"Get back!" she finally screamed.

A loud crack rang out through the courtyard, rolling over the mountains, cutting through the lashing winds of the blizzard. The wailing stopped, the griffons closest to the noise jumping in shock, and the two griffons in the center parting. Red had his weapon pointed at Yellowtip, her skull deformed by the impossibly fast projectile. Her ears felt a familiar ringing as steam rose from what was left of her beak, blood pooling out onto the mud. Red shouted in his strange language again, the guards and the Captain watching with alert eyes.

Before the guards could respond, they heard another noise. Yellowtip gurgled as she reached for the griffon nearest, eyes wobbly and tongue freely dangling as she crawled closer. He yelped and reared back, the mud sliding beneath his hindpaws, sending him backwards to the ground. She inched closer, head shaking side-to-side as she released a chilling screech.

Red fired again, her head completely coming undone, her body going limp. Bits of skull and brain matter cascaded through the air down her back, the contents within her head pooling out onto the ground.

"U-up! UP CLICKY!" the standing guard said as he frantically pulled his friend away from the body.

"What is this?" Captain Caw asked fearfully.

The wailing resumed, and the sound of scratching on stone climbed up the walls. Two of the guards on the South wall began shouting, eyes wide and beaks moving frantically.

"They're climbing the walls!"

The guards on the North wall called back, "here too!"

"Do not let them in!"

The sound of struggle and battle picked up from the walls as the guards struck at unseen assailants. Gilda finally shook herself free and looked to Red, noticing that he had suddenly disappeared. At the walls, the griffons panicked, throwing desperate swings and stabs at whatever was scaling the walls. Gilda shakily produced her own gladius, the blade dancing in the air with her nerves. They were coming fast.

"Shields!"

Under the torchlight, she could see some of the griffons pulled over the wall, while some fell back in hurried motions. The remaining defenders at the wall shouted and screeched as they pushed and shoved wildly to get through the crowd. A griffoness took another and they both went over the wall, bellowing as they fell. Two took to the air and disappeared into the blizzard, their weapons clattering to the ground behind them. The last of the bastion was forming a testudo with the Captain in the center. Without their previous number, it was small and disorganized.

Something fell from the sky into the frozen mud before her, another manic eye glinting behind strands of flesh draped over its muzzle like a veil. Gilda knew better than to hesitate, her gladius cutting through the air and slashing open the throat. Blood sprayed through the air and she flinched as the hot liquid splashed against her. The sounds of combat around her faded under her stressed breathing, the opponent before her trying to stand on unsteady hooves as the neck-wound glistened orange and sewed itself together. Gilda swung vertically, burying the end of her blade into the groove between the muzzle and the top of the head, bone crunching as metal buried itself within brain. It went limp and fell before her, her eyes staring, waiting for it to move again.

When it did not, her eyes drifted to the collection of griffons in the center of the courtyard. She stumbled forward towards them when Red's hand gripped her by the shoulder.

"At the gate, at the-"

A loud boom, and Gilda was thrown away towards the door, the ground shaking and the wailing growing louder. She turned back to see that the main gate had been reduced to splinters and metal debris scattered about the yard. Standing in the archway was an amorphous, towering figure, and a creature of similar stature to Thin stood beside it. She could hardly see through the blizzard but with deep, rumbling steps, the massive thing drew closer into the courtyard. It was as big as an Ursa Major, if not bigger! Red stared at it before he ran towards Gilda and pulled her away.

Captain Caw turned to face the intruder, her cape swirling over her shoulder as she pulled out her sword.

Gilda was pulled into infirmary and Red shut the door behind them. She could barely hear the wailing within the building. A short relief. As she tried to pick herself up from the floor, Gilda realized that Red was barricading the door. He had no intention of helping them out there. He was leaving them to die!

"What... what are you doing?!"

Gilda started a sprint over to him but Thin quickly darted in front of her, shaking her head and putting her hands out before her. Gilda tried pushing past her, but the lanky creature was joined by Fat in holding her back. Her gladius fell to the ground as they wrestled. Red stacked boxes and bedframes against the door hurriedly. The sounds of fighting were slowly replaced by anguished cries and dying shouts.

"No! We can't leave them out there!"

Red shot her a look that threatened all of the bravery in her heart. He knew what this was, and everything in his gaze told her that to be out there meant death. Thin started shushing her and said something to Fat. He nodded and said something back, then said something to Gilda with hot breath.

"They're through! Through the-"

Red backed away from the newly barricaded door, the frantic sound of thumping from the defenders left outside. Gilda tried to push the creatures off of her to no avail. She reached for her gladius, but Fat's fingers were upon her wrist, holding it down to the floor. She weakly struggled against him, muscles burning and lungs afire.

"You can't," Gilda whispered, looking to Thin. The lanky creature gave her a sympathetic look, but she could see there was no budging on this issue; they weren't going to let her go out there.

"THE DOOR! THE DOOR WON'T BUDGE!" a griffon shouted.

Red went over to one of the remaining crates and pulled out foggy bottles with clear liquid, eyes never leaving the door. He uncorked some and stuffed gauze and small gray and black shards within them, leaving the gauze dangling from the lips of the bottles. With the next few bottles, he instead poured their contents upon the barricade, the smell of alcohol quickly filling the room.

The pounding on the door continued, until finally, gurgles and closing whimpers filtered through the wood. The sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking, muffled as it was, instilled a gruesome silence into the room. Red turned to her, his beady eyes alight with fear and anger, and he pressed a finger against his lips. Be quiet. Then, he approached her, and she flinched when he crouched down. He took the last bottle and a rag, dousing it in the alcohol, putting his weapon to her head and rubbing the rag against the feathers of her chest. She recoiled at the touch, but Thin and Fat held her in place. When he pulled the rag back, it was stained red.

Had she been wounded?

She didn't feel any different, but the adrenaline coursing through her system numbed her sensations. Slowly, the cold of the mountain returned to her, even in this room warmed by fire. Red said something to her, whispering, gesturing to the rag. She stared at it dumbly for a few moments. He must have been asking if it was her blood. She shook her head instinctively, then doubly-so when she recalled the beast that had attacked her. He threw the rag onto the barricade.

She remembered her Sergeant, Lightfeather and the two griffons struck down in the courtyard. Lightfeather died instantly, but Yellowtip didn't die... she became one of them. That was why he threatened Tulip. That was why they hid here instead of fighting.

A curse, a disease, whatever it was... to be wounded by the monsters was to become one.

In the silence, a rhythmic thumping filled the room, all eyes landing upon the door. A babbling, muffled gurgle pushed past the tightly packed boards of the door, but it was met with no response. They all remained silent and watched the barricade. The thumping faded and wet splashes trailed away into the cold.

Author's Note

Been awhile, huh? Half a year I think. Anyways, this story's not dead, I'm just having a bout of writers block that has not yet lifted. It's a pain in the tooshie. Hopefully, when it does, I'll have more to share with you all in faster updates. Also, does anyone else hate their earlier work? I'm afraid to go back and read it.

You know the drill: comments, questions, concerns, corrections and critiques below. Theories are also welcome.

Chapter 2: An Interrogation

An Interrogation

February 9th, 20██

When the night shift ends, most of the lurkers and prowlers tend to grab their food and eat alone. They barely acknowledge each other, no matter the assignment, and exchange wordless greetings. They eat, they leave, they drive home and sleep. I don't blame them, most of them fly solo on observation. Seems like our ilk try to get reassigned as soon as possible. Only the unlucky have the night shift. The unlucky and me, of course.

That's why it surprised me when Claire sat down beside me three months ago. She's a sweet girl. Very smart, I can see it in her eyes. A sharp blue, pierces through the skin and down the bone. She has an intimidating intellect wrapped up in a bubbly and charismatic personality. She's much smarter than me, something she's demonstrated unintentionally, but I find it to be endearing. Brown hair, pale skin, but most everyone down here doesn't see the light of day as often as they should.

I should schedule a vacation.

"Earth to Liam, do you read?"

Fuck, I've been staring at her.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry... I've got a lot on my mind," I murmur. I rub my eyes and bow my head.

"Hm... like what? What's up Mister Webb?" She asks with a conspiratorial smirk. I can't help but smile at her tone and I do a bad job of hiding it.

I take a deep breath and peer down into my meal, trying to find a sentence worth latching onto. I can't seem to find one, so I look away from the soupy red spaghetti and back to Claire. The playfulness in her tone isn't on her face. Maybe she sees what's going on inside my head. There's a troubled look in her eyes, worry on her features. I wonder if I've made a mistake in my utterance. I look past her towards the security officers at the door. One of them raises a hand to his radio and steps outside the cafeteria. The lights are dreadful, and everything in this facility is pale.

Considering I already have my death warrant signed by Doctor Torrez, I might as well be honest. I look her in the eyes.

"I'm not going to pass my psych eval, Claire. I'm not entirely sure I want to, either."

I look back up to her and see that I've already gone past the point of no return. Her gaze is focused intently upon me, brow crinkled in worry, eyes betraying a hint of sadness. She frowns lightly.

"I just..." I begin, but fail to put together anything more than that. I close my eyes and sigh.

She's touching my hand. I look back up to her and she smiles sadly.

"Liam, I know I've told you before about how important I feel this work is, and it really is important. We're changing the world, saving the world. It's a stressful job, and I know you saw Peterson's..." she gestures towards my spaghetti. Lovely comparison.

"I want you to know that I don't blame you for wanting out. I can't say I'm not going to be upset if you leave; you have no idea how refreshing it is to talk to someone normal here."

Normal, huh? That doesn't feel like a compliment.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she begins, brushing back a stray lock of hair, "every discussion I have on every assignment turns into a dick measuring contest." She must have seen my eyes widen at that, not used to her using that language. She taps my hand.

"Pardon my French. Most every researcher here sees me as competition. It ends there if I'm lucky, by the way. If I'm not, I have to edit all their documents and watch in horror as they propose the most ridiculous and insane theories regarding SCPs. Did you know that O'Donnell wanted to have 5229 and 082 interred in the same cell, for no other reason other than to see what would happen?"

"The big guy and the skeleton?"

She laughs at my description.

"Yep, Director Ino almost demoted him when the report came through. O'Donnell, Peterson, rest his soul, McKay, they're all pompous egotistical whackos. Was, in Peterson's case." Her smile slowly twists into a sneer. "I can't trust them to conduct tests ethically. They don't even follow procedure most of the time."

I tilt my head and press forward, "have you reported them?"

She laughs bitterly.

"We have a shortage of staff here, Liam. Area 14 may have the facilities and containment cells, but this is a staging ground for Nu-7, not a proper research facility," she says wistfully. She looks away from me, over to the commotion at the door. The guards seem to be talking with each other. She touches my hand again and looks me in the eyes. My heartrate quickens.

"Liam, I've been thinking. Maybe we could both transfer to-"

The intercom blares with a screech, followed by a dull electronic beep. All conversations in the cafeteria die down. A voice penetrates the silence with authority, a harsh and hoarse voice.

"This is not a drill. MTF Nu-7, assemble at Hangar Bay 4 for mission briefing. This not a drill. MTF Nu-7, assemble at Hangar Bay 4 for mission briefing."

I see some of the MTF guys a few tables down, dressed in civilian clothes, put down their utensils and take key items from their table. They rush out the door, some serious, some messing about, all in a hurry. They pass the guards, but I notice the guard that was using the radio looking over the cafeteria.

"Is there a Researcher Liam Webb here?" He asks loudly.

I tentatively raise my hand, then stand nervously.

"You're to head to Hangar Bay 4 for mission briefing."

Claire seems surprised, I certainly am. I've never been requested for a field operation before, and I'm having a hard time piecing together why they'd need me, of all people. At least I don't have to go to that appointment. As I'm leaving, I have the urge to look back to Claire, but I don't.

Whatever they need me for, it can't be good.

There's a breeze over my skin. It's faint, but it's there.

Golden light bleeds through my eyelids, the world beyond awaiting their opening. I hesitate to open them, and draw in as much information as I can before I do. There's a female speaking to a male in the room, that strange horse language from before. The female speaks in a tone of command, the male seems to answer back quickly. I wish I knew what they were saying. My brain is having trouble splitting the words in the sentences. I couldn't pick it apart if I tried, and my brain being muddled to all hell isn't helping.

I feel like I've been run over, a fatigue throughout the body.

My arm feels heavy, something encased around it, maybe a cast. A dull pain echoes up my legs and my arms, numbed by what I can only assume is some form of pain medication. I can move my fingers on each hand, small motions I hope are unnoticed by my visitors. There are cold objects on my wrists and ankles; restraints, heavy but not uncomfortable.

It smells like a hospital, sounds like one, too.

The female says something to the male and I hear him trot off, a door closing behind him.

A sudden wave of clarity washes over me, my mind alert and awake. It doesn't feel natural, like something crept in and set everything to max. I smell roses.

"I know you can hear me, human," the female voice says again, clear and cold. Damn.

I open my eyes and I'm greeted to a bleary world. Everything is fuzzy, can't nail down details. I blink my eyes of the light shining in through the window, getting the sand from my eyes. This is a hospital room, furnished with very little save for the bed and medical equipment. A brief look and I piece together that this isn't one bed, but two pushed together. I suppose they don't have anything in my size. The curtains are white, billowing in that cool breeze, glowing in the sunshine. Wall are a gentle lilac color, easy on the eyes.

She's to my right. Definitely horse-sized, unlike Orange and her group. She has a pristine white coat, and a mane of teal, blue, green and pink. Stars shine within it, shifting and disappearing in her motions. A great ivory horn protrudes from her hair, close to the ceiling. A crown sits, perched behind it, gold. Wings of white are closely folded together on her back. Her form is unlike any horse I've ever seen, slender and graceful, almost like a doe, but her legs are compact muscle. She's wearing an elegant golden plate around her neck, covering her chest, beset with a purple gem and with fine gold inlays. She has strength, way more than any human could. If Orange could kick apart intertwined wood...

Her brilliant magenta eyes are locked onto mine. They are massive, much like the others, but damn sharp. There's an intelligence there that I couldn't hope to compare to, motions behind the eyes that are unseen, plans and strategies. Like Claire. But in her gaze, I see an anger, restrained, but angry all the same.

I try to speak, but my throat is all twisted up. I croak and scrunch up my face in pain. My eyes tear up.

"Water," I rasp.

Her horn radiates a golden energy and I watch in awe as she telekinetically levitates a glass of water towards me. I instinctively move to grab it, but the restraints cut my free arm short with a metallic clank. The water stops in mid-air and she inspects me, my face. Her muscles are tensed in her legs, those sharp eyes studying me intently. Looking for danger. A moment passes and I relax back against my nest of pillows propping me up.

The water drifts over, the glass tilts to pour much needed liquid into my mouth. I accept it eagerly, but she cuts me off, the glass drifts away. That must be intentional, psychological. I need to plead a case. Xenophobes? Well, at least I got some water on my pipes, even if only a little.

She sets the glass down on a table somewhere to the left. Her gaze burrows into my eyes.

"What do you want?" Her question is almost accusatory, a hint of hostility. Her voice is smooth and even, commanding and determined.

She must know something I don't. I clear my throat, hoping to avoid another vocal mishap.

"You seem to know more about my people than I do yours."

"My ponies," she corrects.

I can't really vocalize an agreement beyond a grunt.

"Humans are myth in Equestria," she begins, "existing only in tales and stories of old. My little ponies, for millennia, had almost completely forgotten about your kind. The destruction you wrought upon our world. Your conquests. Your greed," she finishes quietly.

"I have not," she declares, those magenta eyes peering deep into my soul, "we drove them out once, and we can again."

That's a threat right off-the-bat, and certainly bad news for diplomacy.

"That," I swallow, "is news to me. I've never heard of... Equestria."

The word feels foreign on my lips. I realize in that moment what Project Prospero could have meant. I might be in another reality, another dimension perhaps. The intricacies of parallel-universe theory and reality dispersion aren't my field of study, but I've read on it some. This might not be Earth. There might not be survivors. My reality as I knew it could have come to an abrupt end before my arrival here. She mulls on that information for a while.

She opens her mouth to speak again, but I feel the need to get some words in.

"Whatever, or, whoever was here before, my people had no knowledge of your world. If we did, I'd like to think we'd be friends."

Her head cranes back and her mouth closes subtly. She seems to glide closer to me, the right side of the bed. I don't hear her move. She studies me intensely, that anger manifesting in her features. I don't know if I've lied, but I can't recall anything in any history books or SCP documentation mentioning an Equestria. Maybe I should append my statement.

"What do you mean world, human?" Cold again, but intrigued.

I might've given away the game. Too late now.

"Well, I..." I cough, "my humans and your humans may be from two different worlds. I worked for an organization that was devoted to the study of... interesting things, making sure they would not pose a threat to my people as a whole. Part of that is an extensive study of history," I say quietly.

She lets out a small hum and turns away. She whispers something about a Starswirl then looks back to me. Her guard is still up, and this interrogation is not over yet.

"How do I know you are being honest with me?"

The truth.

"I have no reason to lie. My world is dead," my words feel hollow. Drained. I know I am.

Those words seem to melt away a little bit of that anger. I can see it drain somewhat from her features, but the why of it I can't discern. Pity? Sympathy? Satisfaction? I can't tell. Her eyes soften somewhat. She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes. Her horn glows and the glass returns to the space in front of my lips. She opens her eyes and gently guides the glass to my lips. My drinking is less enthusiastic.

She removes the glass after a few gulps.

"Why did you come here? How did you come here?"

I shake my head and look out of the window. The day outside looks peaceful. This place looks like a fairytale.

"It wasn't intentional, I'll tell you that much. There was one of those interesting things my organization wanted to contain. It got out of control... I don't know if the disease was made by the anomaly, or experimented with, but our best efforts to stop it did little. It was too late by the time we realized what was happening, and by then..."

There's a moment of silence as she contemplates my words.

"Did you fall ill?" The question is soft, but there is another question inside it.

I smile, a ghost of a smile, but some amusement in the question. If she knew what infection entailed...

"If I was sick, I wouldn't have been captured. We wouldn't be able to speak like this, and these things," I tug on my restraints gently, "wouldn't be able to stop me."

"... what type of disease was it?"

I breathe deeply and turn back to face her. Do I need to tell her what I've seen? Her eyes are focused upon me. They way they look at me now brings back memories. That spark in Claire's eyes, her thirst for knowledge. Does this world need to know how mine died? I speak without meaning to, without considering what it means. Maybe I just need to speak.

"The type that can turn a loving father into a mindless cannibal, a timid neighbor into a murderous psychopath... a brilliant doctor into a fleshy abomination. It destroyed communities, poisoned water sources, defied conventional medicine and brought the world to an end. An infection happened within minutes, complete and permanent in a way we'd never seen before, changing an individual into a monster," I look at my cast.

"Some... some of the monsters could pretend that they were still themselves, retaining parts of their personality and memories to spread the infection to a higher degree. Methods of detection were still being developed when it all collapsed. When you were infected, you died. Everything you were was used as mask. Becoming one of the mindless was a better outcome, but even then... they'd still speak."

A glance at her reveals her horror. I felt that too, when it was all happening.

The silence returned, and a cloud drifts lazily over the sun. The room feels colder. Maybe it's my mind. Maybe it's my words, settling down onto the world in a grim memoir. The world outside still moves, still lives. That breeze feels good against my skin, even as the drugs wear off and the pain sets in. Another pain, deeper within.

"And they wanted me to stop it," I almost whisper. I say it without thinking. "How could I?"

They showed us Hangar 2 during orientation, mandatory evacuation route. I can tell just by the way this hangar is organized that this is not meant for staff. There are boxes everywhere, some marked as ammunition, some have the labels deliberately obscured. Black ink drips off those boxes. I imagine those are more associated with anomalies. Nu-7 insignia on the wall, the helicopter and the equipment humming in the corner. Laptops on tables, documents, maps. The room smells like gasoline.

The lights in the hangar are fairly dim, incandescent. A few MTF soldiers are seated on gray folding chairs ahead of me. They look over their shoulders once in a while and smile at me, though it's the smile of a predator. I don't know if they're poking fun at me, or joking about how I'm likely going to die doing whatever it is we're doing.

God damn I'm tired.

Then she walks in. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, gray at the roots, black at the edges. Faint wrinkles around her eyes, tight black dress, knee-length. She has no makeup on, at least that I can tell, and she's got a fierce scowl on. The MTF guys go quiet. Following her is Director Ino, whom I have only ever seen in passing. He looks unsettled in his black suit. She sets her purse and a tablet on the table near the projector screen, then looks over the group. Her eyes settle on me for a few moments before she composes herself and begins.

"At oh-five-hundred hours, MTF Epsilon-6 reported that the entire civilian population of Provincetown vanished. Open your dossiers to page two. Provincetown, hereby referred to as SCP-2480, is monitored and contained under joint operation between Psi-9 and Epsilon-6," she delivers with a punctuated English accent. Director Ino lights a cigarette.

She picks up her tablet and presses a button, revealing satellite video of the area. On the map, various icons of MTF Psi-9 operatives begin disappearing over a timeline of thirty minutes, with only one remaining by the end. The corner of her lip contorts downwards as she pauses the feed.

"By oh-five-thirty, we lost contact with the majority of the ground forces in the area. The entirety of Epsilon-6 went dark fifteen minutes later." She looks over to Ino expectantly.

He coughs and steps forward awkwardly. Who is this woman?

"It is an unfortunate possibility that all deployed MTF units are killed in action. We do not know how this happened. The remaining undeployed MTF teams have established a perimeter around the area. It is my expectation that Nu-7 will be able to pacify the situation, 私は願います. After the incident last year, I hesitate to send your teams in at half strength, but my hands are... tied, as they say." He looks back to the woman and shuffles. She turns to us.

"The perimeter teams have reported that there may be a biological element to the incident. Doctor Eriksson will be attending Squad 1 on reconnaissance, while Researcher Webb will be attending Squad 2, advancing towards the center of the town. Your mission will be to ascertain the nature of the event and establish a foothold here," she taps the projector screen, but I'm not looking.

I'm not going to come back, am I?

"Open your dossier's to page three."

A tissue gently brushes against my cheek, and I turn to see her, holding it aloft in that glow. I blink and realize that I had been crying. The sun shines in from the window again, a golden light cascading from the heavens. She gazes at me like one would a wounded animal. The deep magenta of her irises threaten to swallow me whole. I might have felt embarrassed if the circumstances were different, maybe offended, but I'm not strong enough for that. Angry enough for that.

I don't have a home anymore. I left my friends behind for the job, what little family I had left. The lot of good that did me.

"Luna was not exaggerating, I'm sorry," she speaks lowly.

I blink away some tears and sniffle and I swallow back the lump in my throat.

"Thanks," I whisper.

She nods and gives a brief smile, a small sad thing. I guess she doesn't hate me now, but she should. I pull on my covers and tighten them with my right hand. It's a strange thing to confront the reality of it, and every time I feel like I have, more of the weight settles on me. More of the pain.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Princess Celestia, co-ruler of Equestria," she says, matter-of-factly, her voice like silk.

I've been talking to royalty, then. Odd how things turn out. I nod dumbly, and look to the window again. A few moments pass, and I know I have to say something. I force it out. It doesn't feel real, like I'm lying to her, but deep down I know it's true.

"My name is Liam Webb, and I guess I'm the last one left."

Author's Note

Hey everyone, thank you coming along for the ride! Hope you all enjoy the chapter and I'm excited to give you more!

:rainbowdetermined2:

Chapter 13: Knowledge and Power

Knowledge and Power

Princess Celestia embodies her title as she approaches, her regal demeanor on full display. Gone is the person that consoled me when I broke down. She's all business now, magenta eyes unblinking and reading me.

She walks towards the bed and her horn glows, the door shutting closed behind her. An aura of gold envelopes the door, and suddenly, all of the sound from outside is washed away.

She doesn't sit, just towers over me. Luna's wings flutter. They exchange a look and Celestia waits.

"Where do you want me to start?" I ask nervously.

"Tell me what happened, in full detail. I will know if you are lying," she says coldly.

"Sister, we spoke about this-"

Luna rises somewhat from her seated position, but a glare from Celestia shoots her down. She sits once-more, an agitated look slowly bleeding over her features. Her wings twitch.

"I want to hear it from him."

I swallow, thinking about how to proceed. I look to the white ceiling. This isn't the castle. The infirmary there was different. Must be somewhere else in Canterlot, maybe. I look back down to see the magenta eyes boring into me. Just be honest.

Just be honest.

"Well, I... I was having a nightmare. I don't remember the details, but it felt like... it felt like Luna-"

"Princess Luna," Celestia interjects coldly.

I pause, then I nod and send a look over to Luna; she seems to share my apprehension. I can only imagine what the conversation between them looked like after everything was said and done. I look back to Celestia.

"It felt like Princess Luna was in trouble when I woke up. Something felt wrong. There were two guards, Steelheart and Sunny Skies. They were assigned to my room..."

Celestia reads me for a moment before bowing her head towards me, I'm guessing to urge me to continue. But I have a question first.

"Did... are they alive?" I ask weakly.

Celestia regards me silently for a moment.

"As far as I know, yes," Luna says. The corner of Celestia's muzzle twitches and her eyes dart over to Luna, but her head doesn't move from it's fixed position, centered on me.

"I wanted them to help me find Lu- Princess Luna," I say, her gaze returns to me.

"They wanted to regroup with everyone else. We were ambushed. There was no infection when Sunny sustained a wound. He was lucid, past the point of no return. I realized we were fighting illusions, specifically... my nightmares. I knew we had to find Princess Luna."

"And how did you know that?" Celestia queries, but the question sounds like a statement.

"It was... instinct, I guess. I wanted to make sure she was safe," I say.

"Why?"

I pause and look to Luna. Then I look back to Celestia. What do you mean 'why?' I evaluate the question in my head, pulling apart her reasoning. Does she suspect I wanted this to happen? To make sure it went on? I flick my tongue over my canines and look her in the eye.

"Because she's important to me," I say as evenly as possible.

I notice Luna move out of the corner of my eye, but I hold Celestia's gaze. Her expression does not change; the monarch's glare, stern and commanding.

"When the apparitions appeared, what happened then?"

I close my eyes to recollect. Visions of blood, combat. Fear. Sunny's wound. Steelheart's anger.

"We fought some more of these illusions on our way to the throne room when I was injured. A slash across the stomach. Something attacked me while Steelheart and Sunny were getting a medic. I was losing consciousness when I heard a woman's voice," I recall.

"Woman?" Celestia asks.

Oh, right.

"Uh, mare. She healed me," I say lamely, unable to get the words to sound any better than that.

"How? Who?"

"I don't how magic works," I shake my head slightly. "As for who, it was Nightmare Moon."

Luna tenses up beside me. Celestia keeps staring at me.

"I didn't know that at the time, I was just grateful I wasn't dead," I add.

Celestia looks to Luna and I see her shift about uncomfortably. Something definitely went down between them. Nightmare Moon seems a touchy subject. I hope...

I hope she made it.

"Okay. What happened next?" Celestia continues.

"Steelheart and Sunny came back with a medic, Peridot Beam. We sent Steelheart and Sunny back because I could tell Steelheart was... he wasn't cut out for it. He was shaken up pretty bad. Peridot was... she was blinded during a fight. Is she... did she make it out? I tried... I tried to..." I feel a knot building in my stomach, my throat tightening.

Celestia doesn't answer, and her eyes convey no more information on the subject. My heart drops. I bite my lip to stop it from trembling.

"What did you do?" Celestia presses.

I take a moment to collect myself and look at Luna. She averts her gaze, then looks to Celestia with a pleading expression. My eyes are watering again. God damn it. I got her killed. I killed her. I sent her out and she-

No. Calm down. There's time for that later. I clench my jaw and breathe. Luna puts a hoof back into the bed, and I don't hesitate to take it. I look back to the pair, their manes floating in invisible wind.

"I tried to get her out of there," I say glumly, "but I knew we weren't going to outrun the Dash Four. We were both wounded," I choke out.

Celestia doesn't say anything, but when I meet her gaze again, I can tell there's a question in her features. Maybe she's about to ask, maybe not. I decide to go ahead and elaborate.

"A Dash Four is... well, it's a naturally armored killing machine. The only purpose it has is the complete destruction of anything in the way," I say, my eyes closed and my right hand tightening into a fist. The nails dig into my palm. I grab the rail on the side of the cot and squeeze. I look up and find those magenta knives dissecting me again.

"We couldn't kill it, either. I figured... I figured better me than her."

Something changes in Celestia. It's small, but it's there. I let go of Luna's hoof and feel it retract slowly from the bed. They're both watching me, waiting.

"Better you than her?" Celestia echoes, emotionless.

I nod and chew on my lip for a moment. The dam is threatening to give way again. Gnawing... clawing...

"Better I die," I push the words out painfully, "I ran out there to distract the thing while she ran to safety."

Luna's head swivels towards me, her cyan eyes brimming with... something. There's anger in her face, but she employs her the even tone of her sister.

"You... you tried to fight it?" Luna inquires.

I chuckle mirthlessly.

"No, just piss it off. They don't die easy and I knew the AK wasn't going to cut it. The rifle, uh... weapon I came with."

Luna and Celestia appear to be talking to each other non-verbally. If it's an argument, discussion, I can't tell. All I know from these looks is that it's fairly involved. Celestia looks back to me slowly. Her expression seems to have softened some, but not by much.

"Why not?" she asks.

"Multiple reasons. I was out of ammunition, and because the thing shrugs off bullets like they're mosquitoes. If I had a tank, maybe. Doesn't matter," I murmur.

"You are still alive, though. How did you survive the encounter with the 'Dash Four?'" Celestia asks.

Does she think I planned this? That I could control them? I shake my head and give her a small, empty smile. A hollow shell of a smile.

"Sheer dumb luck. It was in the garden. It was charging towards me and I shut my eyes, waiting to get pulverized. It missed me, went over the edge of the railing, impaled itself on a statue that I don't think should have survived the impact. It did, though, speared it clean through. Killed the fuckin' thing," I finish, a satisfied tone working it's way in at the end.

They both pick up on it, Celestia's left ear twitches, and Luna looks... I can't figure it out.

"Sorry," I whisper. I close my eyes and let out an anxious sigh.

"It died on the statue of Discord," Celestia surmises, looking towards Luna.

"Uh... yeah," I say, unsure of whatever that means.

"Go on," Celestia pushes.

"I-..." my throat clenches shut and the sound cuts out. I wince.

I lay my head back and open my eyes, then look at the window. The curtains are drawn, white linens glowing with the light of the sun beyond. I look back to Celestia and I clear my throat.

"Can I have some water?" I ask weakly.

She doesn't remove her eyes from me, doesn't blink. Has she blinked at all since we've started? She levitates a pitcher of water from a nearby table, a glass following it. Ice clinks within the pitcher. I'm struck with a strange sense of déjà vu. I take the glass in my hands when it's filled, the glow dissipating and the weight sinking into my palms.

I have a sip, the cold water traveling down my throat. The sip turns to eager gulps and I shut my eyes. I didn't know how thirsty I was. I offer the glass back into the air and watch as it's taken away by that magical aura, stashed away somewhere.

I clear my throat again and start over.

"I went back the way we came, looking for Peridot. When I was passing the throne room doors, I noticed the steps reforming. I took it as a sign to continue with the mission."

Why'd I use that word?

"The mission?"

"To find Princess Luna, to end the nightmare," I say, furrowing my brow.

"You did not have a plan, did you?" Luna asks beside me. I shake my head.

"No. I was banking on Peridot to help me solve everything, but with her wounds, I knew she wouldn't make it. I didn't want to sacrifice anyone else," I say detachedly.

"But thou... you were injured yourself. Why did you continue?" Luna urges. Celestia shoots her a look.

Is she defending me? She sounds like a lawyer. I give her a defeated smile.

"Because it had to end. I couldn't let my past kill your present, kill your future. I had to try."

No one says anything for a few minutes. I look back to the window.

"You went ahead, with no plan, wounded and alone. You understand how easily you could have died, correct?" Celestia asks.

I shrug, as best I can when everything is sore as all Hell. I look back to her, frustration mounting.

"It either works or I die. I only had one option," I say defensively.

"Continue," Celestia says quickly after.

Luna stands on all four hooves beside me, looking at Celestia. They share glares.

"Sister."

"Let him speak," Celestia says. Luna doesn't sit back down.

"I thought I went into the throne room, but I'm guessing that's not what happened?"

They both look back to me. Luna's face softens. Celestia bows her head forward again.

"Tell me what you saw."

I take in a breath, thinking about how this will play out. How much do I share? Just be honest. But what if that honesty gets Luna into something? Given the way they've been acting, I can only guess there's something to unpack there, all the tension and anger hiding in the room.

"I saw Nightmare Moon. She wanted me to help her... reunite? Assimilate with Luna. Princess Luna," I say awkwardly.

Celestia nods. Luna's eyes are searching mine.

"Did you know about her past?"

"She told me, showed me," I answer.

"And you trusted her? Trusted what she showed you?"

"Sister," Luna abruptly cuts in.

Before they can go at it again, I answer, looking at Luna.

"I did. She reminded me of Princess Luna. She said they were once the same person. Or pony. She said the Elements of Harmony ripped her soul in two. And I trust her," I say, more to Luna than Celestia. Luna gives me a ghost of a smile.

Celestia, on the other-hand... well, it looks like someone shit in her cereal. That impassive, undeterred look is gone.

"I was not made aware of that," she says, pointedly and facing Luna. There's a defensive tone in there, almost accusatory.

I hop back in, trying to keep things civil.

"I don't know much about souls or anything like that, but I could see she was telling the truth. Luna... I had a feeling there was something eating her up," I say to Celestia.

"How did you know she was telling the truth?"

"I just knew. I could see it in her face, her eyes. There was pain there. She was in pain. A thousand years on the moon? Having to live as a ghost, a spectator to your own life... it must have been torture," I say to Luna. She looks at the bed and closes her eyes, that same pain in her face.

I guess they're one person now. For better or for worse.

"Something I'm familiar with," I add, looking at Celestia again.

"She said that Luna created a magical construct to punish herself for becoming Nightmare Moon, said that this Tantabus was feeding off of an intruder in my head. I was supposed to speak with Luna to wake her up, convince her to join with Nightmare Moon to fix things. I didn't know the intruder was waiting for me in her dreams," I explain.

"The thing... it was playing with me. It looked like me. It killed me, over and over, threw me into memories I don't recall, but it brought me back each time. Made me forget who I was. What I was doing. Everything was a blur. Next thing I know, I'm on top of it, killing it. Killing it..." I clench my teeth, remembering the white-hot rage I felt. The determination. The cold.

I feel saliva building in my mouth and sweat on my brow. I shut my eyes and remember the sting, my innards torn out. My blood seeping from my body. The infinite cosmos above, sitting there while I died. How alone I was. I bite my lip, hard. I pull in a broken breath and continue.

"Then I died. For real. I don't know if it's because I was in a dream, but it... it felt like forever. Like each second was an eternity. I could feel... everything, just slipping away."

"And I woke up here," I finish, opening my eyes to see Luna with tears in her eyes. Celestia has gone cold again.

"Is there anything else?"

"I saw one of Luna's distant memories, I think. When she was a child... or foal. But she wasn't an alicorn. She was a unicorn.

"That is not true. Luna has never been a unicorn."

"I must agree, I have no memory of that. Perhaps it was a dream?" Luna adds.

"No, it was too detailed. It felt real. I don't know how to explain it."

"Something to revisit later," Celestia says.

"That's it," I say. They remain silent.

Luna's hoof returns to the bed and I slowly meet it with my fingers. I keep my gaze down on it.

"Hmm. Your account is truthful. Peridot Beam is alive, permanently blinded, but alive. She is interred here at Canterlot General," Celestia declares. I look up and find that her mask has dropped, now replaced with a softer gaze.

My heart swells immediately. I grit my teeth as anger, confusion and relief descend over me. I open my mouth to say something, but my throat closes up again. She's alive? I blink and tears are in my eyes. I gasp as I try to get myself under control. When I clear the overwhelming sensations, she's looking at me apologetically.

"You..." I growl, my hand retreating from Luna, bed sheets scrunched up in my fingers.

"I had to be sure you were giving me honesty," she says slowly, "I did not want to reveal any more information than necessary."

I struggle to keep myself in check, fury building inside my heart.

"I hope you understand, and I am sorry for the deceit," she says genuinely, eyes locked on mine. The waves of anger crash and explode on rocks of hate, the EKG spiking as my heart rate climbs. I throw my right arm out at the machine and send it to the floor, the signal cutting out with a shriek. I shut my eyes tight.

You...

I swallow down the bubbling lava. I pound my fist on the railing of the cot and squeeze my forehead with my other hand. Tears fall from my face in relief and I start laughing. When the laughs are gone, it's just bitterness. But I understand. I do. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

"I understand," I say finally.

"You lied about was this plague, if it even is that. You did not give us the truth. What if you had brought it back with you? How would we have prepared for such a terrible possibility?" Celestia scolds.

Those words... they shift something in my brain. I look up to her. You want to play this game?

"You couldn't have, not even had I told you," I say defiantly.

Indignant anger settles on her features. Doesn't like back-talk does she? She opens her mouth, but the time for dialogue is over. It's my turn.

"Everything's too peaceful here. There's no struggle, there's no bloodshed," I advance, sitting up.

"The spears in your armory are blunted, your armies are untrained. You don't kill, don't understand it. You might have fought back the old humans, but you've forgotten the war. You're technologically stagnant, and the technology you do have hasn't progressed in any meaningful way towards the possibility of containment."

Luna shifts uncomfortably beside me, her eyes betraying her aversion to my outburst. But there's more coming. Remorse builds, but the anger wins over.

"You want me to tell you the truth? What we're really dealing with? You're not going to like the answer, because you're right, it's no plague. It's not a disease like the flu, or the cold. Medicine doesn't do shit against it, it's anomalous, it doesn't play by any rules," I sneer, then I scoff.

Celestia silently challenges me to continue. Her gaze hardens. I plan on it.

"And the worst part?" I laugh darkly. I lean forward.

"It's intelligent. It doesn't bargain, it doesn't reason. It plans and it infiltrates, waiting for opportune moments to strike. Bombs and guns and swords and fire don't root out the traitors hiding in your population, banking on the promise of an incomprehensible horror to give them power and reward them for dooming your race," I say bitterly.

"It consumes what it doesn't destroy, and it will never give up. The hunger doesn't end. It will feed until there's nothing left. You have magic, sure, but if one of you had been infected? Princess Luna wasn't even infected, and whatever parasite was riding along in my head nearly toppled the Equestrian government!" I bark.

Understanding seems to settle over the room. Luna, innately familiar in the way only someone in my head could be, has a somber look in her eyes. Celestia's resolve seems to be fleeting. I can tell the terrible truth of it all is settling in. Good. Time to hammer home my point.

"Imagine what your power means to something like that. It's not a threat, it's an asset."

Before I have time to bask in my victory, the crushing sensation of regret blankets my heat. My chest tightens when I look back to Luna, a strange mixture of emotions in her eyes, an expression I don't like on her features. Celestia fares worse. I swallow back the vitriol and lay back. I look into the ceiling.

No one speaks.

"I want you to tell me what we could be facing," Celestia says. I send my eyes her way, a grim resolve on her face. I sigh.

"You want me to tell you what we're dealing with?"

"Yes," she affirms resolutely. Good. We'll need that.

I look to Luna, and see that the same look is in her eyes. I shut mine.

"Then we need to start at the beginning, when the Earth was a battlefield... with the birth of mankind."

Author's Note

I have done no edits! Hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think and if there's any mistakes! Catch you all later!

Manehattan Herald, June 15th, 1001

Image Collected for Documentation Purposes
Date of Publication: June 15th, 1001
Date of Addition to Archive: August 25th, 1002

Name of Document: CANTERLOT REBUILDS, Manehattan Herald, No. 255
Reason for Archive: Timeline, Association to ACB-001, Association to ACB-001-█

Author's Note

Sorry for the tease, see you next week! Also, throw comments, theories and critiques my way if you have them! I won't confirm or deny your theories, I just love seeing them!

Interlude 2

15:32 jburke84: hey

15:32 jburke84: u there?

15:32 annasthetic: yea whats up

15:33 annasthetic: ?

15:34 jburke84: nu7 is in bad shape

15:34 jburke84: their down to just 1 company now

15:35 jburke84: they're**

15:36 jburke84: i heard torez talking to dr pearson. she said its the worst workload of her career

15:40 annasthetic: even worse than that time 058 got out?

15:40 annasthetic: thats bad

15:40 jburke84: REAL bad

15:41 jburke84: I heard that koby is petitioning for more reinforcements

15:44 annasthetic: that wont happen

15:44 annasthetic: the entire eastern seaboard is a petri dish rn

15:45 jburke84: what happens if it comes this way?

15:45 annasthetic: nothing, we're in lockdown

15:45 jburke84: yeah, so are the other facilities, but my buddy tom

15:46 annasthetic: tom?

15:48 jburke84: you've met tom right

15:49 annasthetic: oh the nuclear guy right?

15:49 annasthetic: yeah

15:49 jburke84: yeah he;s just not responding to my dms anymore

15:50 annasthetic: was that site-234

15:50 jburke84: yeah

15:50 jburke84: they were on lockdown and now no one has heard ANYTHING from them.

15:50 jburke84: im fucking terrified honestly

15:52 annasthetic: we'll be fine

15:55 jburke84: idk

15:55 jburke84: feels like this is game over

15:56 annasthetic: game over, man, game over!

15:58 annasthetic sent an image:

15:58 annasthetic: LOL, jk, don't worry

15:58 annasthetic: i'm sure we'll be fine

16:05 annasthetic: I mean, we've seen worse right?

16:06 jburke84: idk

16:06 jburke84: like listen to this shit

16:06 annasthetic: ??

16:08 jburke84 sent a file:

spooky.mp3

16:11 annasthetic: is that a mission recording

16:11 jburke84: ya i got it on my phone

16:11 jburke84: its bad quality and its a bad recording but if you listen

16:12 annasthetic: I'm not listening to that and you need to turn yourself into site security.

16:12 jburke84: no, something is wrong, anna

16:12 jburke84: I swear something is wrong

16:13 jburke84: i can feel it

16:15 jburke84: anna?

16:17 jburke84: anna???