Chapter 9: The Lair of the Cyber Dragon

Neither mare was eager to rush out and confront the Cyber Dragon.

As the dawn broke and was then pieced back together by a skilled team of celestial mechanics, the two mares woke up. First KitKat, who was an earth pony and used to early days, and who could have gotten out of bed without waking Amethyst (despite her muscular bulk, she can move like a ballerina*) but instead stayed in bed, one arm loosely around the unicorn’s stomach, watching her bed-mate sleep the sleep of the just.

Watching as the rays of the new dawn painted her magenta coat and violet mane, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, smelling the scent of her freshly-washed hair. KitKat didn’t often have mornings where she could really relax, could really let her guard down.

And then when Sparkler did awaken, the two stayed in bed for just a little bit longer, sharing each other’s warmth, almost long enough to be mistaken for lovers rather than two star-crossed mares who happened to be sharing a bed because the innkeeper** loved his shipping.

After the usual yawns and stretches, after a barely-covered snicker at the state of KitKat’s fur—it was always extra fluffy after a bath—the two got up and began their morning routine.

The first order of business was breakfast, and despite a nagging feeling of concern KitKat elected to not put on her armor before going downstairs to avail herself.

Once again, Kukka the skunk was dressed down, this time in a long chemise that barely covered any points of interest; once again she wasn’t as naked as Amethyst (nor KitKat this time around, who had elected to even skip her ramie shift and instead go au natural); once again what was just barely hidden was more enticing than what was not.

And after they’d eaten, the two hapless heroines returned to their room to get ready for the upcoming day. Amethyst started cleaning her guns and reloading all of her magazines, while KitKat ran a whetstone over the blade of her axe, making sure that it was ready for a new day of fighting.

•••

The sun was high in the sky when the two mares emerged from their hotel room, a fashionable fifteen minutes later than the posted checkout time, but since the innkeeper only had one room, that was close enough and he didn’t charge them extra even though he had every right to do so.

not-Epona was still where KitKat had parked her, and the two mares mounted up with practiced familiarity and then they were off to the final confrontation.

They rode in silence, each of them contemplating what new danger they would face. Both knew dragons, but neither was sure how being cyber would change things. There was also the lair to consider—would it be a cave or a grotto or perhaps a gallery of stone? Even a hollow, if it were a smaller dragon.

What might its vulnerabilities be? For KitKat it was an easier list to run down; she had but one main weapon. Amethyst had a boatload of guns and an assload of ammo, she had hollow-points and tracers and slugs and pegasus-shot and also some hoof grenades because why not? Then there was the unknown, the Malware Musket which had come at a less-than-terrible cost due to KitKat’s shrewd negotiations—what would that do? That it had been mentioned in the mission brief implied it would be useful, but in what way? She couldn’t imagine loading it for a second shot in the face of an imminent dragon attack; there was a reason proper guns came with magazines.

All those things were things to consider as they traveled, or as they came upon an unassuming building that would have been perfectly in place on an office campus with a well-marescaped lawn and decorative shrubs and a parking lot for a hundred horses, a modern building that belied the dragon that surely resided within.

Circuitopia, home of the Cyber Dragon.

“Well,” KitKat said as she parked her horse next to a beautiful charming bright red Toyota Yaris (the only other occupant of the parking lot), “I think you’ll be taking the lead from here on. I never did my best work in buildings anyway.”

“I don’t trust this.” Sparkler grabbed KitKat’s belt and lowered herself off the horse. “Dragons ought to be out in nature, not in some modernist office building.”

“It is a Cyber Dragon,” KitKat reminded her. “That’s a different type—you’re thinking of the traditional chromatic, metallic, and gem dragons. Cyber isn’t even on the list.”

“Sounds electronic. Maybe this is what the musket is for.”

KitKat nodded and grabbed the saddle horn, easily dismounting. She checked to make sure that the horse was square between the lines and far enough away from the Yaris to avoid door dents. “How do you figure we’ll get in?”

The two of them looked over at a plainly-market visitor’s entrance, and then at an open window on the fourth floor. “You know, I brought this rope for a reason,” Sparkler said, referring to the sixty-six feet of black nylon rope she’d grabbed before being portalized.

“I like the way you’re thinking.”

The two mares walked towards the building

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And right into the main lobby.

•••

They came in at high noon, the sun at their backs, a gunslinger and a fighter side-by-side. The receptionist looked like an anthropomorphized version of Grace Manewitz, and even though neither pony knew who she was, she was the first pony anthro they’d seen. Besides themselves, of course.

She was dressed in business-casual attire, a blouse with a name badge and glasses with zirconium chips at the earpiece. She had a pencil tucked behind an ear and an armpit fetish*** that neither KitKat nor Amethyst knew anything about.

Also unknown to them was that she was wearing a black skirt, and sensible flats. This was because she was sitting down, and the desk had a modesty panel so they really couldn’t see much of her below her breasts.

Sparkler, who did not have a modesty panel, already had her gun up. “No funny moves, don’t hit the alarm, keep your hands where I can see them, and slowly slide yourself away from the desk.”

The two mares split apart. KitKat knew not to get into Amethyst’s line of fire, and she also knew all about flanking an opponent.

“We’re going to tie you up,” Sparkler said. “Just do what we say and we won’t hurt you.”

Grace nodded mutely, her eyes wide. This was only her second day on the job.

“Catch!” Amethyst tossed the rope over, her gun still trained on the receptionist.

KatKat caught the rope. As soon as she touched the free end to Grace, the receptionist shivered. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you,” KitKat promised. “This is for your safety and ours. Hands behind your back, please.”

She started looping the rope around Grace’s wrists, when the receptionist looked up at her, confused. “Aren’t you going to take my clothes off?”

“Uh . . . no, why would we do that?”

•••

They left Grace as trussed up as a Thanksgiving tofurkey, grabbed a pair of VISITOR badges off the desk, and made their way to the elevator in silence. Amethyst was wondering if they should have gagged her, while KitKat had different thoughts on her mind.

She didn’t express those thoughts until after they’d stepped on the elevator and Amethyst had pushed the ‘door close’ button.****

“Do you think,” KitKat began, then took a moment to collect her thoughts in a more coherent order and began again. “Does it concern you that we might be the bad guys?”

“What do you mean? We’re on a mission.” Sparkler pulled out the manila folder to illustrate her point.

“And Grace is just an intern, she’s got nothing to do with all this.”

“How do you know she’s an intern?”

“It said so on her badge.”

“But she’s working for the bad guys, and that makes her bad.”

“It could be,” KitKat admitted. “We don’t know her life. Maybe it was the only job she could get. I just worry, sometimes. It’s so black-and-white out in the wilds: if it attacks you it’s an enemy. I’m not used to this nuance.”

“Is it because she’s a pony?”

“Maybe.” KitKat looked at Amethyst with concern in her eyes. “Am I being speciest? Would I have thought the same if we’d tied up the innkeeper? Did I ever stop to think about how the hawk would consider my threat to kill him? He’s probably got an eyas at home, maybe more than one.”

“We can give him back the malware musket after the adventure is over,” Amethyst suggested. “I don’t really need to add a musket to my vast collection of guns, it’s a little too passé for my taste. I’d rather hold something that can fire off multiple loads in quick succession.”

“I was thinking that we should untie her after we’ve slain the Cyber Dragon.”

“Yeah.” KitKat sighed. “I hope she’s not too scared.”

•••

Grace was not scared. Grace was annoyed.

She’d somehow gotten lost and found her way to wherever this place was, and she’d also been turned into an anthro with a great rack and proper armpits when that happened. Whatever, that was all in the past and not worth fretting over.

What was worth fretting over was that none of her college degrees or business credentials had transferred over with her, and she’d been forced to re-start from the bottom of the corporate ladder.

Working as a receptionist was boring as Tartarus, or it had been until the two had come through the door. A smoking hot chick who was undressed to the nines and a big dude (Grace didn’t initially grok that KitKat was a mare, based on her size and her armor).

The idea that the two had come for a threesome instantly crossed her mind, and when the rope came into play, that practically sealed the deal—Grace was very into BDSM. Very very into it; she even had a set of fuzzy handcuffs in her purse just in case the opportunity arose.

And then the butch mare (she realized KitKat’s gender after she spoke) left her clothes on, tied her up, not told her the safeword, and left just as she was starting to get aroused.

There wasn’t anything she could do about it, either. KitKat had done a fine job of binding her, and she couldn’t even squirm on her chair to try and relieve some of the palpable sexual tension.

Grace wasn’t sure what she should do next. Try and escape, maybe roll her chair into the bathroom in case things got wild? Or should she just sit and wait like a good sub, trusting that they’d come back to finish what they’d started?

She’d never had a threesome with two mares.

•••

The elevator dinged as it arrived on the fourth floor, the doors slid open, and the two adventurers were mobbed by the dragon’s Minions.

Yes, those Minions, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Easing any moral compunctions that the mares might have had, solving any conundrums about the nature of good versus evil, or who’s the bad guy in any given scenario, the Minions were armed to the teeth and began their assault on the elevator as the doors were opening.

To both KitKat and Amethyst’s good fortune, their aim was on par with Stormtroopers, and the initial volley hit ~~everything~~ but ~~the mares~~ absolutely nothing, not even the background scenery. Did I say on par? I meant below par . . . well below par.

Before KitKat could even swing her tabarzin once, Amethyst answered the ineffectual assault. The Armsel Striker, better known as the Street Sweeper, is a 12-gauge shotgun with a cylindrical magazine that can hold a dozen rounds. It’s an entirely pointless weapon in nearly all use cases, but this was the exception; as quickly as you read this paragraph, Amethyst had emptied the magazine, filled the elevator entirely with cordite smoke, temporarily deafened both herself and KitKat, and cleared the onslaught of Minions, reducing them to a soup-like homogenate.

She’d also stripped all the paintings off the wall, blown out all the fluorescent lights, set off the sprinklers, and also stripped most of the paint off the walls. The Street Sweeper didn’t discriminate; it was a proper point and click weapon.

Unfortunately, as the two adventurers were getting their bearings (not helped by the ringing in their ears), a second wave burst into the hallway, undeterred by the fate of the first. Minion intelligence rated right up there with their aim.

“There’s more of them coming!” Amethyst announced, completely unnecessarily—KitKat had eyes, too.

Author's Note

*Ballerinas go hard, and did you know that some professional football players have ballet training?
**Did I say ‘innkeeper? I meant ‘author.’
***There's a tag that says so on Derpi, which makes it canon
****which did not make the doors close any faster than they would have anyway