The time on this week's doomsday counter ticks down. You're at about half a minute left. Your coworkers, Sweetie Drops and Lyra Heartstrings, are busy deactivating a missile that'll probably destroy all of Canterlot, or something.

You don't particularly care what it's gonna do, it's just another day in the job for you, and that job is preventing doomsday devices from activating.

[=>Insert name], member of the World and Star System Upkeep Protectorate.
WaSSUP.

Oh, yeah, right, your name. Only took making a sequel about you and your hate-mate for the audience to learn it.
Your name is MYRA SANGRE. You are a SEER OF BLOOD. The irony of your naming convention doesn't escape you.
You work for the S.M.I.L.E. agency as an infuriatingly good wellspring of information.

"What is the override grid-password on this gamma-spanner phase flux?" Lyra looks over to you.
"Press A-32, type in KRONOS, hold the button down until you input the code."
"How do you even know that?!" Sweets growls in frustration as they both work tirelessly.
"Dr. Eadlocke is basing the design of his tech off of a combination of video games, Skaia tech, and elaborate references to the Earth we both came from - references to the better Pixar movies, specifically."

It may look like you're standing around in the silo, doing fuck all while the launch ticks down to zero, but in reality, every drop of blood in your body is pumping both oxygen and information into your brain. You're currently digging through Eadlocke's past to see when he assembled the doomsday device that sits before you now.

You know what they say. Strand a guy on an island with an alchemiter and eventually he'll build a bomb.
Or maybe that's just you.

Either way, you're not particularly freaked out. You've seen plenty of Spy movies. They always, always, manage to stop the detonation at 00:00.04 seconds or something.

Fifteen seconds.

"Sangre!" Lyra shouts. "I'm seeing four cartridges, each are a different color. There's a black, a yellow, a reddish-purple, and a blue."

With the ability bestowed upon you by your godtier, your blood drips into the past. You gaze into what has come before.

Dr. Eadlocke - and you know he only calls himself that because it sounds like "Dreadlock"* - is previously shoving an ink printer into the bomb.
"And they'll never guess CMYK! They don't have printers here, those stupid ponies! Another invention that they could've prospered from with my help, but NOOO! They don't neeeed it!! They have MAAAAGIC!!" He says in the past that you are currently watching.
* Which is a little bit fucked up, because he is absolutely white.

"Blue, Reddish-purple, yellow, black." You reply in the now.
"Okay! There's one more password in the console!" She squints.
Ten seconds.
"What.. is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"
"African or European Swallow."
"Wha- I don't know that!"
"No- that's the answer!"
"Huh?"
Five.

Fuck.

Three.
You dive for the keyboard.
Two.
AfricanOrEuropeanSwallow
One
Enter.

The missle silo releases pressures and deactivates modules, almost disappointed, as the vox intercom robotically announces, "MISSLE LAUNCH ABORTED. ALL PERSONNEL EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SELF DESTRUCTION IN: THREE MINUTES."

Well of course, you gotta have the self destruct sequence. Absolute classic.
Your body relaxes, sliding down from the console like porridge and onto the floor, where you lay for a precious few seconds.

If you weren't a god, your life woulda ended right then and there. But it would've been really painful regardless. Gotta appreciate the little things.

Oh, yeah, and your friends would've died. That would suck way more.
You grunt and groan your way back up onto your feet.
"Remind me to make you guys binge some of the more mainstream movies before the next assignment." You fully stand up, wobble as your heart rate kicks up for a moment from the orthostatic change, and plant a foot on wide-brimmed ferrule of your cane, whereupon physics makes it stand up so you can grab it by the handle.

There. Better. Your legs strain less. You take a swig of your canteen. The salty electrolytes coat your throat.
Way less at risk of passing out now. Hell yes.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to drink on the job?!" Sweets gets on your case.
"And how many times do I have to tell you that salt is good for me?" You retort. "Humans and ponies have different physiology. We don't get drunk on salt!"
"Sure," Lyra snorts, "and Harry DuBois was a magnesium based life form."

Sometimes you regret allowing Lyra to play that game.

The three of you gallop down the hallway toward the nearest exit as sirens blare and alarms flash. The nearest exit stands across a bridge that spans the front of the volcanic waterfall that was being used as a geothermal energy source for Eadlocke's operations. The heat is almost unbearable as the lava grows more and more volatile.
Yeah, shits gonna blow. You start to hurry your way across the fifty foot bridge - only for a black blur to tackle you to the ground. Lyra and Sweets stop and look to you in shock. You get to your feet, stumble for a second, and take another swig of salty drink.

Two beady eyes of insectoid hatred pierce into yours.

Here's a fun fact: Ponies are a lot taller than fanon calculated.* Which means that powerful creatures like Tirek and Celestia are VERY tall.
Chrysalis, is also very tall. Not a queen anymore, she has pursued a new line of work, her relatively small, fresh hive acting as mercenaries for anyone that'll hire.
And ever since the influx of humans on Equus, there have been plenty of willing contractors.
* At least in this universe. These things get muddied by the multiversal makeup of existence.

You grin wildly. "Buggieeeeee."
She sneers vehemently at you. "Mealworm."

Oh you hate her guts. You hate her guts so much that you'd gladly take a strap-on and pin her down to rearrange those guts, and hear her call you obscenities the entire time.
Hey, wait a second, focus, you can fuck her later.

"Get a move on, girls." You crack your neck. "I've been waiting for this for a LOOOONG time."
"You're gonna get caught in the blast-!" Lyra shouts.
"I'LL BE FUCKIN FINE! I can fly, you two can't! Vamoose, dammit!!"

Sweets and Lyra share a glance, then look at you, and snort almost simultaneously. They turn tail and run for the exit.
You and Chrysalis circle each other on the bridge, the lava flaring up and splashing around dangerously close.

"SELF DESTRUCTION IN: ONE MINUTE."

"Been a while, huh, you venomous bitch."
"Too long. I shall relish this, little pestilence."

One particular glop of magma hits the floor.
You charge at each other.

=>

You lay on the side of Chrysalis' barrel. She hasn't woken up yet.

The lava flow cascades down the sides of the island, far away from the cliff face you find yourself chilling out on.
Officially, you knocked her out, but she definitely fucked you RIGHT up. That armor is hard to get through.
You'll call it a draw.

You take the time to appreciate her chitin. It's smooth. Sturdy. Broken in a few places from the swing of your cane, but it'll be good as new in a few molts.
You brush the chitin with your good arm. Then, you inspect the broken one.
She got you fucking good. A nasty bend in your cane, a snap somewhere in the forearm, a few cracked ribs, maybe a few damaged organs?
She's damn good, and getting better. This is only.. what, your third encounter with her?
It drives you nuts. You can't help but have.. you're really not sure what to call it, it's the hateful equivalent of butterflies in your stomach.
Scorpions in your spine? Eh, you'll work on it.

You grab your arm and attempt to force it back into the right shape. It helps that you practice blood magic, you can realign the shards of bone inside you more easily.
"Come on. Come ON. Mother(snap)FUCKER!"

"You saved me." Ah, she's awake.
"Yeah."
"I thought you said that one of us would die after a glorious battle." She growls at you.
"Meh, I was hyping it up. Besides, I dunno about you.."
You look over your shoulder at her. "But I'm having the fuckin time of my life with you, and I really don't wanna dispose of you so easily. Unless, of course, you want to die..."

She sizes you up with a squinty glare, then looks out to the distance, watching the lava barrel down to the ocean. "No. You haven't sated me yet."
"Hopefully I keep you hungry. I like it when you try to eat me."
"Burn in Tartarus."
"You first, fuckface."

You two begin to lean closer together.

"I will only be there first, so I can be your personal hell."
"I'd rot in Hell with you and you know it."
"My, such strong words. Do I really captivate you that much, little godling?"

You butt heads.
"Maybe you do. But you would've just sloshed away anyone else's mind with your venom. So I know you see something in me too."
"I see a target."
"And just what are you aiming at it?"
"You would like me to spoil the surprise, wouldn't you? You little pest."

Your lips are so close. So god damn close--
"Myra! There you are!"
She's gone before you even have a chance to react.

DAMMIT.
You groan, and look over at your teammates.
"Thank Celestia you're alive!" Lyra hugs you. Ow. Your arm.
"Celestia had nothing to do with my survival and you know it. Also, ow, my arm."

You're more of a Luna fan anyways. Can gods worship other gods? Like you KNOW Luna and Celestia are more powerful than you. Fuckin' naturally, they've been at this for, what, two thousand years?

"Is your arm broken?" Sweets asks, pulling out the first aid regardless.
"Yeah."
Lyra mercifully pulls back. "I thank her anyways, I'm not about to start worshiping you when your first instinct when seeing Chrysalis is to run at her, magic flaring."
"Hey, it was a success."
"Oh yeah?" Sweets challenges while she wraps a makeshift sling around your arm. "And where is Chrysalis now?"
Ah, fuck. You hadn't thought that far. You think for a moment. Sweets squints at you.

"My intention was to subdue, not apprehend. Besides, if the leader of the Mercenary Hive went missing, after an operation where SMILE was involved, they'd be all over Canterlot within the month. We can't afford to risk losing marepower when we're already having to deal with the NeoState of Terra." You bullshit a legitimate explanation on the spot.
Sweets considers your words, making a face, running those gears in her big huge brain.

"Ugh, I guess you're right." She resumes seeing to your wounds.
"Yeah. Stupid humans and their stupid power grab attempts.." Lyra snorts. "Uh- no offense."
You wave her off. "None taken. I don't like humans much either." You take another swig of your-
"Hey!" You shout as the flask flies away from your hand and into the lavaflow.
"It's one thing to be drinking on the job, it's another to be drinking while you're injured!!" Sweets scolds you.
"Look at me! Do I look drunk?!" You shout back. She points to a tree a few meters away. "Walk to that tree and back in a straight line!"
You get up, way too fast for your heart's liking, and try to steady yourself on the cane. It stands way too low, and you realize that it's out of commission and way beyond repair. You toss it aside.

Fuck.
Okay. It's not that far of a distance.

=>

"You're drunk." Sweets growls at your prone form.
"I'm not drunk. It's the POTS kicking in." You protest as the mares place you on a makeshift stretcher made of canvas and stray branches.
"Sure, sure, and I've got lumbago." Lyra jokes.

You REALLY regret letting her play that game.

You feel Lyra's magic lift up one end of the stretcher, and Sweet's obscene strength carry the other.
"When we get back, I am referring you to Sapient Resources to get you help with your drinking problem." Sweets declares.
"It's not.. salt doesn't..!! Gaaaah!!"
Your head is swimming. You hate this. You hate the fact that even though you're immortal, you're still subject to your disability.
How can a god of BLOOD have a BLOOD PRESSURE DISORDER?

At least Chrysalis isn't here to see this.

<=

I had to hold my breath to prevent laughing.
I looked on with glee and delight as Myra was carried out by their partners,
who were chastising her about an alleged drinking problem.
I quietly emerged from the tropical foliage I was camouflaged within,
and picked up Sangre's discarded cane.
What a delightful trophy, I thought.

What's even better is, she was telling the truth.
She HAS a weak heart, or some sort of blood illness.
It was one of the first things I learned to exploit about her.
Even then, the infuriating little half-ape can fight against me just fine.
She lasted a minute in front of a lava fall!
The sheer heat should've made her pass out in the first ten seconds!

Resilient little worm. I do not know if I should admire it,
or see it as more reason to kill her sooner. But then,
none would stand up to be my rival. I'd get bored.
And she is, unfortunately, quite the fun enemy -
and moreover, her disposition toward me is.. genuine.
That's the most confounding part of this... relationship.

Her eyes shine with the burning flame of joyous delight when she sees me.
She frequently sends me goading letters in the mail. She hasn't divulged
my presence in the field to her superiors - only the encounters
with my changeling henchmare crews - contractors from my company.

She cares, but in such a spiteful, negative way I never thought possible -
hardly ever fathomed, even. No other creature in this world has
regarded me with anything beyond groveling fear at best,
and cold murderous intent at worst.

I almost kissed her, too.
I almost kissed her. I almost kissed her! I almost kissed her!!
Ugh, dammit.

"Boss?" One of my subordinates chirped in the brush.
"The rest of the hive wishes to know your status and is awaiting orders."
I sighed. ".. The mission is over. We have leeched off of Doctor Eadlocke's
food supply for long enough. Have everyone regroup at Arachnia-Congo.
Tend to their wounds as best as you can. We move in three dawns."
"Three dawns?" My underling tilted her head.
"The ponies see no use for an island smothered in magma.
They will not search this place. We hide here,
see to those that need care, and move out when the time comes."

..

"Permission to speak freely, Boss?"
"Granted."
"That's.. kinder than you would've done as a queen."

I gave my drone a hard glare.
"If you believe my newfound wisdom to be faulty,
we can arrange the schedule so that you're
flying on that shredded wing in the next six hours."
"N-no, ma'am! Boss, apologies, Boss! You're in charge for a reason!"
"Good. You have your orders, Sergeant Pliocene.
I will rendezvous with the rest of the company on my own time."

The little one saluted me and shifted into the foliage.

I hold a strange relationship with my little ones. They are a family,
yet also a mercenary company. Literal brothers and sisters in arms,
and I, the Boss, their Mother. But until only recently,
I regarded them as mere disposable pawns,
as if the entire world were one great chess board.
Nowadays, I am.. closer to them. Ironically,
my lack of political power has yielded me the most loyal hive thus far.
Funny how that works.

A bright red flare shot off in the distance.
It was the agency's signal for "Mommy, I frew up, please come pick me up."
Also the signal that my spiteful little mite was departing.
Using my changeling magic, I sent out a telekinetic message to her..

=> We'll meet again, Myra. I hate you.

You hate her too. Biiiiiitch. When the others aren't looking, you roll over to face the general direction she'd be standing, and flip her the bird with a smirk.

You watch the sunset as the reconnaissance boat appears over the horizon. The stars begin to take their place in tonight's performance, and as the two goddesses work their literal magic in the sky, you ponder to yourself, when will your turn come about? How will your domain expand, when as a Seer, your role is to advise from the sidelines?
You're not sure.

Your thoughts drift to Chrysalis. Stupid, sexy, Chrysalis. Fucking Buggie. There's a reason you pulled her out of the volcano after knocking her out. It's obvious. You still want her around. But moreover, you know she wants you around. None have dared to challenge her in the way you have, you make her happy - driven, even. You saw how she was in that prison cell. Pathetic. Tired. Ready to let the void take her.

In a world as mad as this one, where the humans have been trying to take on other countries through their usual method of "bombs first and diplomacy later" since the day they arrived aboard Skaiatech Starships, Chrysalis is constantly taking extremely dangerous work from those bastards. Inevitably, in her pursuit of power, glory, and food, she will take on a mission that makes her too public.

From there? It's only an inevitability. You'd be ordered to kill her. There's no way that she could take on the full brunt of your magic. But the way she's going, her trajectory only points in that expectation, that thought..

<=

I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as I saw the medical ponies examined her prone body.
Oh, little godling, I thought to myself, look at you. Despite your divinity, you are still flesh and bone. Your callous nature is overshadowed only by your internalized self-hatred. I can taste it on you, and I can tell you need me. I am the one thing keeping you alive. You sought me out because you needed a reason to awake every morning, lest whatever sordid history you have catches up to you, and drives you to walk into the sea.

How lucky, then, that I enjoy the way you taste. But one day, I will break your heart, as I have time and time again. It is a tragic part of my nature. And from there? Well..

<=>

At that moment in time, as you
gaze into the receding island flora, you
ponder the exact thought that
summed up how you felt
about Chrysalis, her violent lifestyle,
and where this toxic yuri might end up,
if you don't play your cards right.

There was only one thought I
had felt about Myra at that
moment in time. One I hated,
one that felt like I would endeavor,
yet inevitably fail, to prevent.
One I would fight regardless,
because she makes me feel alive.

<=>

"I Expect You To Die"

Author's Note

Huge thanks to mintycups for proofreading this chapter.