A Mutual World

Chapters

Incoming
A Fair Price
A Fair Deal
Diplomacy Fail
Dad Issues
The Psychopath
Unstoppable Forces and Immovable Objects
Pardon

Incoming

Humanity was a master of warfare - a race does not simply spend its entire life in conflict and not become a master of it. Humans had the art of war down to a science - they knew when a fight was a sure thing, and when it was going to be a washout, even when it didn’t seem like it.

And recent events had tried their resolve sorely. Even now, most of the world lay a desolate ruin, devoid of human life, rendered uninhabitable by thaumic radiation, and much of humanity absorbed by the island in the ocean thanks to the Conversion Bureau Initiative. What remained was small, some would say pitiful, an enclave of humans who refused to believe that this was where humanity came to an end. Even as the waves of thaumic radiation washed uncontrollably over the earth, taking more and more territory from them, they stood firm, and kept working on inside their little fortress of humanity.

One day, their perseverance was rewarded. Scientists clapped and soldiers cheered as the first ever magic-proof alloy was produced, deflecting the spell of a captive unicorn. The foundries roared into life, and the sky grew black over the fortress with smoke, as the remnants of humanity dug out old plans for global scale warfare, and put every ounce of their species’ creativity and power into forging the machines that would level the playing field.

And scarce half a year after that, the fruits of their labor were unleashed, just as a storm of thaumic radiation rampaged through their home for good. None died, the last humans alive having boarded their finest creation, the greatest machine ever built by man.

Four legs the size of skyscrapers. A central, roughly spherical torso that was home to the biggest fusion reactors humanity could build, and the utilities required to support a crew of fifty thousand men and women.

The 4L-GWM “Tyrant” - the first and last war machine of it’s kind, with the kind of destructive capacity that could set off alarm bells around the world, no matter who was driving it. In times past, it would have been nuked from orbit without a second thought by Palladion, the global security AI.

The difference now, was that Palladion itself was occupying the machine, the only AI capable of coordinating such a complex machine, down to opening individual doors at spoken request. The only one trusted to carry the fate of humanity in his digital, iron grip.

Oceans did not slow the machine, and the Tyrant stepped into the ocean as casually as a child steps into a paddling pool. Waves surged against the purple-tinted, steel-grey armor plating as it began to wade off the edge of the eastern seaboard, and stamp towards the glittering dome in the middle of the ocean that was Equestria.

It was a machine that was so unsubtle and impossibly huge, any faction in its crosshairs would see it coming long before it even got within the machine’s considerable range.

Celestia and Luna stood at the top of their tower in Canterlot, and could see it on the horizon, past the glittering dome that encompassed their dimension, like some sort of hazy monster.

“By the moon,” Luna gasped. “What is that?”

“I do not know,” Celestia whispered, before squaring her shoulders. “Clockwork Spring!”

There was a quiet click of gears, and a teal unicorn appeared from thin air, wreathed in smoke, bending one knee to his ruler and deity. His clothing marked him as an ex-human, one of the few who insisted on wearing clothes even now. The fact that it was a nondescript, tidy black suit suggested he wasn’t new to the realm of espionage.

“You called, Princess?” Clockwork Spring asked, smoothly.

“Please tell me you know what that is,” Celestia asked, pointing at the lumbering machine far away on the horizon.

“We... do not,” admitted Clockwork. “We’ve marked it’s progress and tailed it as it marched across America, but beyond that, we don’t know much about it. It has not performed any test firing of it’s weapons, none of our agents have gotten into the interior, no crew have set foot outside the vehicle thanks to the omnipresent thaumic radiation, and even the material it is made of is unknown to us, and considerably resistant to magic. All we know for certain is that it is big, was built seemingly with the express purpose of being a surprise to us, and that it is crewed by the last of the humans.”

“Truly?” Luna asked, surprised. “What about the rest of the world?”

Clockwork shook his head sadly. “Apologies. The enclaves in New Zealand, Switzerland and underneath the Pacific Ocean have been subsumed by fatal levels of thaumic radiation since my last report.” Clockwork looked sad. “Astronomy also reports that the moon colony appears to have undergone some sort of violent decompression and detonation, and the last radio signals received were filled with the sound of... maracas. And bike horns. Suffice to say, we’re fairly certain they are all deceased.”

“The last of the humans,” Celestia murmured. “They march as if prepared for war. And yet, I can do nothing about them but wait until they are in range to be hailed. I do not like this.”

“Nor I,” Luna stated. “Forgive me if I seem like a warmonger, sister, but I shall make our guard ready.”

“I will not fault you,” Celestia replied, not taking her eyes off the behemoth machine marching on her country. “Better to be prepared and not need them, rather than be slaughtered like cattle.”

“With your permission,” Clockwork said, bowing. “I will ask Ambassador Sanguinello to send what troops he can from the Gryphon Kingdoms, and send envoys to the Changeling Empire regarding a possible alliance.”

“The Changelings?” Celestia hissed. “They are no friends of Equestria, or did you miss the part where they tried to take Equestria for their own?”

“I am aware,” Clockwork said, not raising from his bow. “But if this is what I fear it will be, we will be facing all that the human race has accomplished in the art of war - an art that Equestria is ill versed in, and will need every ally we can gather.”

Luna nodded. “Very well, you have our permission and blessing. Whoever bargains with the Changelings for their allegiance has the power to strike whatever bargain it takes to get them on our side.”

“As you wish,” Clockwork said. With a second, muted click, he faded into smoke and vanished.

A Fair Price

The ground trembled around Fluttershy’s cottage, and sent animals scurrying for cover, despite the feed that their caretaker held in her hooves. Fluttershy, hovering in the air, looked around for the source of her animal friends’ terror, and saw nothing.

Slowly, ponderously, a shadow began to eclipse the sun. She looked up, and screamed... quietly. So as to not disturb anypony. A titanic metal leg, bigger than her house - even bigger than a dragon - slowly moved through the sky above her, trailing steam and raining loose dirt and water as it went.

She looked around, and saw that the leg was connected to a body that was even bigger still; Canterlot mountain was very, very big, and this... thing was even bigger!

Fluttershy felt the darkness of fear nip at the sides of her vision. Just pass out, it called. Go on, right here, right now. You could always make a noise like a goat if you want. She shook her head determinedly. No. Not today. When push came to shove, Fluttershy... well, she wasn’t any great shakes at pushing or shoving. But she could at least be strong in what was doubtless a terrifying time for the rest of the town as well.

She angled an ear towards Ponyville, and heard the faint echoes of screams of terror, a titanic foot planted right in the middle of-

“Ohmygosh,” Fluttershy gasped. She hefted the sack of feed, and with a grunt, pitched it neatly into the feed storage shed, where it hit the far wall, rocked the shed itself, and set the door flying shut behind it with a click. Fluttershy took the time to take pride in her achievement, and took to the sky, beating her wings hard.

The gigantic leg was in the middle of ponyville... around about on top of Sugarcube Corner.

======

“The Reserve Sixth are reporting for duty, Princess!” barked a guardspony, saluting.

“Very good, Major. Take your positions,” Luna said, nodding.

“You heard the Princess!” the Major turned around, barking at the assembled soldiers under his command. “Let’s hop to it!”

The battalion saluted as one in perfect time, metal horseshoes clanging against helmets as the troops moved out of the palace courtyard. Luna watched them go, before turning around and entering the castle once more.

It would have simply been faster to teleport, but Luna was still an unusual sight to most of the palace staff and royal guard, and Celestia felt that it would do their subjects’ morale a power of good to see both princesses moving about, taking action in this time of stress.

Luna strode into the throne room, where Cadance and Celestia were poring over preparation reports, quiet words in unicorn ears resulting in flashes of magic as the runners vanished into teleportation spells.

“How are the reservists doing?” Celestia asked, noticing Luna’s entry without looking up.

“Well,” Luna said. “They seem a little rusty, but they should do just fine. I’ve got them covering exit routes and other non-frontline work.”

“Excellent,” Celestia said. “They’ll be needed, regardless of whether the humans are peaceful or not.”

There was a banging and commotion outside the throne room, and the three princesses looked up to see a slender, insectoid creature stalk through the doors. Something approaching an alicorn, with wings and a wickedly-curved, pockmarked horn, and a mane of sorts that could only be called “manky”. Flanking her, a quartet of smaller insectoid creatures followed, similar to their princess in appearance, even if only briefly as they shifted to mimic the guardsponies around the room that were starting to react to their presence. They differentiated themselves by armor color; where the royal guard wore golden armor, they opted for a mottled charcoal color, flecked with mould green.

Between the two tailing minions, a white, suited unicorn was being dragged unceremoniously by his blonde mane, tethered to the two minions. It didn’t look pleasant, but the unicorn seemed to be taking it in his stride. More or less.

“Ow, ow, hey! Stop that!” the unicorn protested. “You know, you don’t have to drag me, Chrysalis. I do have legs, I can walk.”

“Silence, spy!” Chrysalis snapped, rounding on Celestia. “What is the meaning of this, Celestia? Did we not both sign that treaty you pushed into my face? The one that said I would not send my changelings to infiltrate Equestria again, and that you would not send your own agents to infiltrate my hive?” Chrysalis paused, but not long enough for Celestia or Luna to get a word in edgewise. “And do not think I cannot recognize one of your spies, Celestia. They’re all the same, attempting to copulate with anything that even looks remotely female.”

“Hey,” the unicorn countered. “Not my fault that changeling was so androgynous. Besides,” the unicorn got to his hooves, now that the dragging had stopped, and waggled his eyebrows. “He didn’t seem to mind, and I am, if nothing else, equal opportunity.”

Luna snorted in surprise, and Celestia stifled a giggle, coughing and waving a hoof at the unicorn. “Agent Mane, stop that,” she admonished. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Your operative’s conduct aside,” Chrysalis said, “This is still one of your operatives. I’m considering this to be a hostile act against my people.”

“Agent Mane,” Luna said, “Did you not convey the message you were undoubtedly given?”

“Well, I tried,” Mane shrugged. “They stunned me before I could speak, and by the time it wore off, they didn’t want to listen.”

Chrysalis frowned. “Your operative had the gall to try and fool me with a blatant lie about you wishing to negotiate for our support, anything we wanted.”

“He wasn’t lying,” Celestia said. “We are going to need all the help we can get, we may be going to war.”

Chrysalis took a step back, surprised. “What? Ponies do not make war.”

“Nor do we intend to,” Celestia countered. “But war approaches our doorstep. Did you not see the machine entering Equestria?”

Chrysalis pursed her lips and looked at the captive spy. With a nod of her head, her changelings freed the unicorn, who stumbled away from the group, rubbing his fetlocks.

“Call me, big boy,” he said, winking and pointing a hoof at one of the changelings, who looked abashed and kicked a chitinous hoof at the carpet awkwardly.

Chrysalis rolled her eyes, and looked at Celestia. “What are you willing to offer? You ask us, your would-be invaders from another time, for help - indeed, to place our bodies in the way of danger. You’ll need to make a very good offer, Celestia.”

Celestia closed her eyes. “Changeling Queen Chrysalis, I make no offer to you.”

“But then-” Chrysalis blurted, before Celestia held a hoof up, silencing her.

“I make no offer,” she repeated. “You are free to set the price as you may.”

Chrysalis blinked. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Celestia nodded, opening her eyes.

“Hmm...” Chrysalis hummed to herself, brightening like a kid in a candy store. “I want... half.”

“What?” Luna blurted out, surprised. She’d expected a bigger demand.

“Half of what?” Celestia pressed.

“Everything,” Chrysalis said, putting her hoof down. “I want equal rights to Equestria for myself and my changelings.”

“That is all?” Celestia asked, motioning with her hoof for a scroll to be brought to her. “Just citizenship with Equestria?

“No,” Chrysalis said. “I want half of everything. That means I will also hold a position of power equal to you and your little triumvirate combined.”

“You wish to become a ruler of Equestria?” Celestia asked, not visibly shaken, but a slight sliver of surprise creeping into her voice nonetheless.

“You asked me to name my price,” Chrysalis said. “And so I have. I will be a Queen. Take it, or leave it.”

Celestia looked pensive for a moment, as she was given a scroll, complete with ink and quill, which hovered next to her, held aloft in sunlight. “Very well,” she said, unrolling the paper and setting quill to parchment. “It shall be done.”

“What?” Cadance asked, speaking up for the first time since the Changeling Queen had entered the throne room. “You’re going with it?”

“That is her price,” Celestia said, scratching out the terms of the agreement on the parchment. “If the safety of Equestria means sharing what we have with our once-enemies, then so be it. Better to share than to let pride destroy us all.”

The Changeling queen seemed surprised, then pleased as the final touches were added to the parchment. The mortals in the throne room realized that they were witness to a momentous occasion in Equestrian history, as the scroll was passed to Luna, who read it quickly, and placed her hoof near the bottom of the document, a rich, blue wax seal of the moon forming where she touched it. Cadance took the document, and after hesitating only briefly, given the past history between her and what was soon to be her superior ruler, touched her own hoof to the parchment, a rich pink wax seal of a crystal heart forming. Celestia took it back, and placed her own seal, a white-wax image of the sun, and passed the scroll to Chrysalis with telekinesis.

“All you have to do is make your mark, and it is done,” Celestia said.

Chrysalis read over the terms. Unlike the previous treaty, the one that had dictated the segregation of Equestria and the Changeling Empire, it was incredibly one-sided, and she shook her head.

“No,” she said, closing her eyes. “I cannot do this, not in your time of need. I thought I would relish the day when I seized power like this, but...” Chrysalis returned the charter to Celestia. “I guess my time as Cadance has softened me. I will reduce my stake, and hold power equal to an individual ruler of Equestria, and join your triumvirate to make it a quartet.”

Celestia smiled slightly, and nodded. “Very well.” With a burst of magic, the wording on the document shifted, before it was floated back to Chrysalis. “When you are ready.”

Chrysalis looked at the changed wording, and nodded more confidently, relaxing as she placed her hoof on the parchment. When she removed it, a deep, sea-green wax seal remained, smooth and featureless. With a soft ripple, it changed, and Celestia saw her own seal’s image in the wax. Luna saw her own as well. Each viewer saw a seal that was their own, and no two viewers saw the same seal. A genuine mark of a Changeling Queen.

“It is done, then,” Celestia stated, taking the charter, and handing it to a nearby guard. “Ensure this gets framed, and that all throughout Equestria know of our new princess and her people.”

“Your highness,” the guard said, bowing before running out of the room at speed.

“What now, sister?” Luna asked.

“Chrysalis,” Celestia said. “If you would kindly mobilize your changelings...”

Chrysalis nodded. “You have kept your end of the bargain. I should keep mine.” She looked to her changeling guard. “Come, we must return to the hive and commence preparations.”

There was a flash of green fire, and the changelings were gone.

Luna stared where the Queen had stood, and leant in close to her bigger sister. “You knew she wouldn’t actually take half of everything, didn’t you?”

“I might have planned on it, yes,” Celestia admitted. “And ultimately, this is what we should have done a long time ago. We cannot have harmony when there is such a rift between us and our neighbors. We just needed a common threat to unite against.”

Luna paced over to the window, and looked out; a mountain-sized machine was still striding steadily and ponderously over the landscape, showing little regard for what it crushed underfoot, and bristling with the weapons that humans loved so much, although none of them were firing or taking aim.

“It feels odd to say it, given the price we agreed on,” she said, “But I really hope all our preparations are for naught and that we are wrong.”

“So do I, sister,” Celestia said, looking at a map of Canterlot and the surrounding lands. “So do I.”

A Fair Deal

Fluttershy touched down in Ponyville’s town square, and beheld destruction. Titanic, shallow craters dotted the town, homes and businesses crushed and destroyed beneath the mechanical hoof of the machine that was only just clearing their town.

She ran to her initial destination, Sugarcube Corner, fearing the worst, and finding...

The gingerbread bakery that was such a landmark for Ponyville was gone; where once a purveyor of baked goods and sweets stood, a home to a family of four, now rested a pile of rubble, broken beams and desolation in an area that was almost cruelly precise, affecting just Sugarcube Corner and no buildings around it.

Ponies swarmed over the wreckage, digging through it, and Fluttershy almost wept. She was saved, when she saw a small cluster of ponies gathered not far away, near a public bench. As she took to the air to see over the crowd, she relaxed and felt relieved when she saw that Mr. and Mrs. Cake were seated on the bench, their foals cradled in hoof, all of them unharmed. Pinkie Pie was nearby, doing her best to keep the foals distracted while other villagers consoled the elder Cakes.

“I just don’t believe it,” Carrot Cake said. “Gone. Just like that.”

“I’m thanking our lucky stars that Derpy and Time invited us to lunch,” Cup Cake said, looking at the family friends who were not far away. “If it wasn’t for that, we’d still have been in there during lunchtime.”

“If there’s anything we can do,” Derpy said, balancing her foal, Dinky, on her back. “Just ask.”

“That’s right,” Time Turner nodded. “Anything.”

“That goes for us as well,” Lyra Heartstrings chimed in.

“Us too!” Applejack piped up from the rear of the crowd, drawing attention. “That goes for all of y’all. Sweet Apple Acres is open to anypony who needs shelter, and the Apples are ready to help, just holler.”

There was a murmur of appreciation through the crowd.

“What was that?” somepony asked, and the murmur of appreciation turned into fearful looks at the machine in the distance. The ex-humans in the crowd were targeted for questions by the native equestrians, and had no answers to give, save for shrugs and vague hypotheses.

“Trouble, that’s what,” Applejack said, frowning. “Apples to acorns, it’s up to no good. Twilight?”

“Yes, Applejack?” the purple unicorn asked, from her place next to the wrecked bakery, sifting through the rubble.

“We got this,” Applejack said, confidently. “Y’all should get to Canterlot, tell the Princess.”

“Spike already sent a letter,” Twilight said, returning to the rubble. “She wants us to stay here and help.”

“Right,” Applejack nodded. “Ah knew that. Let’s get to it.”

The villagers turned around, and like a swarm of ants, dispersed for the other flattened buildings around the town. The Hooves family stayed with the Cakes and Pinkie Pie seemed caught up in entertaining the foals. Twilight, Applejack and Fluttershy remained where they were, looking at the four-legged behemoth stomping slowly towards Canterlot.

“Ah got a bad feeling,” Applejack admitted. “Like we should be saddlin’ up to use the Elements of Harmony against somethin’.”

“I hear that,” Twilight shook her head. “But first things first. I think Barnyard Bargains got squashed.”

“Right, lead on, Twi,” Applejack adjusted her hat, and the trio of mares galloped off to help however they could.

======

Celestia heard a clicking of clockwork, and sensed a presence not far from her.

“Clockwork,” she said. “What news?”

“Princess,” Clockwork Spring bowed. “We have more information regarding the machine.”

“Go on,” Celestia said.

“From what we can tell,” Clockwork said, consulting his notes, “It’s an extra-large version of an old prototype warbot, the 4L-GWM. If the hull is any indication,” Clockwork cleared his throat. “This machine is designated “Tyrant”. Not a good sign.”

“Continue,” Celestia said.

“It appears to be made of the strongest human alloys we’ve ever seen,” Clockwork said. “Not to mention a solid mix of advanced human alloys, and some other element we cannot identify as it resists magic. We suspect orichalcum. The result is a machine that is largely magic-proof, much like how a submarine is proof against water. It menaces with no less than sixty point-defense lasers, and twelve gun batteries that we could see. The helm had some... ah, novel decoration.”

“Novel how?” Celestia asked, uneasy.

“Depicted is a picture of a human holding what appears to be a firearm, and a pony,” Clockwork said, passing a polaroid picture to the Princess. “The pony is, ah, exploding.”

Celestia grimaced. “I just don’t get the feeling they’re here to talk peace.”

Clockwork shrugged. “The Tyrant seems to be largely impregnable. Secure airlocks, all armor plating is sealed and gaps for machinery to extend through are far too dangerous for anypony to attempt to intrude through, not to mention we suspect the designers thought of that anyway.”

“Then we’ll have to keep that in mind,” Celestia said, noticing a large shape standing in the doorway. “If that’s all, Clockwork, I’ll ask you to return to your work.”

“As you wish,” the spymaster said, bowing. With a ratcheting sound, he vanished from sight. Celestia turned to the new arrival, and put a smile on her face.

“Ambassador Sanguinello,” she greeted. “A pleasure, as always. I presume you had questions regarding our request for aid?”

The gryphon standing in the doorway nodded his head, white feathers smoothly giving way to a yellow crest before cutting to a pale yellow coat, the gryphon ending in a tail topped with a fan of yellow feathers.

“Something of the sort,” Feather Sanguinello said. The son of the prior ambassador and raised by ponies, the gryphon preferred to be called Feather; something that only his pony parents and closest friends actually did on a regular basis, precious few other ponies possessing the confidence to call him anything other than “Ambassador Sanguinello”. Celestia certainly had the confidence, but she just liked how it wound up the one-time orange farmer.

“Well, ask away,” Celestia said, warmly.

“It’s less a question, and more of a... barter,” Feather said, approaching the Princess. “The support of the Kingdoms has been guaranteed. The king didn’t so much as hesitate before making the declaration. However, he did make a point of asking me to... make it worth our while.”

“How worth your while?” Celestia asked.

“Well, there are those gem rates we’ve been arguing over for the last six months,” Feather said. “As well as the rates for salvaged human technology. Our scientists are very interested in some of the things the humans have produced in the past.”

“I see,” Celestia said. “You want them for free.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Feather raised a claw. “All I seek is the leverage to get the exchange rates I’ve been pushing for. Playing for two opposing teams at the same time is hard.”

“Done,” Celestia said. “Bring the charter to me after this business is concluded, and you’ll get the rates you wanted.”

“Fantastic,” Feather nodded. “I really couldn’t extort Equestria. After all, it’s my home.”

“Compared to the changelings, your demands are almost suspiciously reasonable,” Celestia muttered.

“Ah, I heard we’d be playing nice with the Changelings,” Feather nodded. “Temporary, or permanent?”

“The Changeling Empire is now part of Equestria,” Celestia said. “It’s quite permanent. They are now considered Equestrians. Please keep that in mind.”

“Ah,” Feather nodded. “I can see how it might be a bargain by comparison. I might have to tweak those rates, then.” Celestia shot the ambassador a look, and he grinned. “Relax, I’m kidding. If you’ll excuse me, I have my own preparations to make,” he said, bowing.

Celestia inclined her head in response. “Wind carry you, Feather.”

“Huh.” Feather paused on his way out the door. “No “Ambassador Sanguinello”? Things must really be looking bad.”

Before Celestia could comment further, Feather was gone, and one of her aides drew her attention back to the map of Canterlot.

Diplomacy Fail

The shadows drew ever closer to Canterlot. Eventually, the steady shaking of the ground that made building card houses or elaborate domino setups impossible ceased abruptly.

The absence of the near-constant earthquakes got everypony’s attention, and they looked to the sky, to see the Tyrant looming over Canterlot like a giant.

“Sir,” a guard pony whispered to Shining Armor. “What’s... uh, procedure for dealing with something this big?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Shining whispered back.

Far above, a door opened in the hull of the Tyrant. Relatively speaking, it was tiny. But it was still large enough for five eight-foot-tall humanoid shapes to stand abreast and still have room to roll their shoulder joints with a faint buzz of motors.

As one, large turbines mounted on their backs activated, and flying in a V formation, the five humanoids left the hatch, and soared through the air with a scream of engines that was audible to the ponies far below.

Celestia saw them coming, and bade all the castle staff, guards included, leave the throne room, before turning to face the balcony. Cadance backed up Celestia, and ushered the reluctant guards out as requested, closing the door behind her and leaving just Luna and Celestia in the room.

As one, five sets of metal feet touched down with a clunk on the balcony outside, and the jetpacks shut off with a whine as the wearers stepped into the throne room. Uniformly tall and solidly built, they were suits of armor; smooth, contoured, and contained. Light glinted off faintly purple steel armor, and Celestia felt herself being regarded by the inscrutable gaze of the reflective, blue visors that were tucked deep into a crevice in the helmets.

“Who are you,” Celestia said, as Luna took her place just behind her, “To march into my throne room, armed for war?”

“We are the last of the humans,” declared the one in front, the leader. “I am Commander Tulip of the HLF, and I’m here to deliver a message.”

“What do you want?” Celestia asked. “If you wish to share Equestria, now that you can walk in our land without perishing, you are welcome. I do not think highly of a life lived in armor, though, and believe it would be a cruelty in the end.”

“Share?” Tulip asked, surprised. “Celestia, we do not wish to share. My message is this: Equestria is ours, and humans will take their rightful place as masters of this land.”

“You have quite the nerve to demand something like that,” Celestia said, coldly. “At least the Changelings offered a service in return.”

“You either capitulate now,” Tulip said, drawing a long, sleek weapon, “Or we’ll simply start our new empire on the wreckage of your old one.”

“You mean to exterminate Equestria?” Luna exclaimed, outraged.

“Why not?” Tulip said, raising the weapon to point at Celestia from across the room. “You did it to us.”

The weapon crackled with electricity as three rails extended to form a guide for the barrel. Small lights lit up along the length of the barrel, and Celestia began to get a headache. Luna grunted quietly in pain as she felt it, too, and let it slip through.

“Feel that?” Tulip asked. “Orichalcum bullet. Judging by the look on your face, even now, it affects you.” He raised the weapon, aiming for Celestia’s heart. “We considered leaving you for last, so you could see what happens to your precious ponies, but decided that was too cruel. We’re not barbarians, after all.”

The weapon snapped, and a bullet was launched forward, propelled by magnetic forces and electricity. Glittering and dark, the waves of two alicorn-powered grips of telekinesis just washed off of it in cascading waves of sun and moonlight. The magic-nullifying substance was dangerous, controlled. How they’d gotten a lump of it was beyond Celestia.

But here it was, and travelling quite fast enough to reduce her heart to mush. The nature of orichalcum would make the wound unhealable by magic, and her quite dead. Possibly why it was a controlled substance. Sure, her death wouldn’t instantly end Equestria; Luna, Cadance and now Chrysalis could easily lead as well as she; but it would be quite a devastating blow for morale. Not to mention a real shame for her, since she’d be dead.

And then, for the first time ever, Clockwork Spring surprised Celestia.

Time slowed to a crawl, and Celestia heared the ratcheting of cogs like a series of ponderous hammerstrikes. In the air in front of her, a pony slowly materialized and occupied the space between her and the gun.

The bullet didn’t care, and pushed easily through the uniformed pony’s chest, sparks showering as it penetrated. Clockwork was thrown backwards, and Celestia grunted as she was suddenly hit with a full-sized pony.

Luna didn’t waste time, firing a bolt of magic at Tulip. The beam of moonlight splashed against his chestplate, and barely made him wobble as it ran off his armor like water.

“Well, that was unexpected,” he said, regarding the dying pony resting in front of Celestia. “I thought you’d destroyed our little clockwork pony. You know, since we programmed him to kill you.”

Celestia’s eyes hardened. “There are few creatures that I truly believe should die. And you are one of them.”

“Ooh,” Tulip taunted, feigning girlish terror. “I’m so scared, you’re going to blast me out of my armor with your mag- oh, wait,” he laughed. “You can’t.”

“I can do this,” Celestia said, and her horn glowed as she summoned her considerable telekinesis.

“It won’t work!” gloated Tulip, waving his arms. “Ponies are weak without their magic!”

“Look down,” Luna suggested drily.

The humans obliged, and saw a uniform, golden glow encompassing the floor of the throne room itself. Before they could say anything, the ground flicked up, and threw them unceremoniously out of the throne room.

“Luna,” Celestia said. “No turning back. The humans mean to exterminate us. Evacuate the civilians, inform everyone of our new footing.”

“Of course,” Luna said. “Will you be okay?”

“I will be fine,” Celestia said. “Just go.”

Luna bowed her head, and vanished in a flash of moonlight, as Celestia walked over to Clockwork Spring, who was lying very still, although his eye was still tracking Celestia.

“How bad is it?” Celestia asked.

“Pretty bad,” Clockwork muttered, pulling his shirt open with his hooves. A solid hole had been punched through his skin which was more like rubber on the inside, and a series of holes and dents had been gouged through metal framework, and twisted flywheels all the way to a shattered hole in a crystalline object that was like his heart. “They got my KinetoSpring.”

“...Will you die?” Celestia asked.

“As much as a dead pony can die, I suppose,” Clockwork said, getting up slowly. There was a loud grinding from his chest cavity, and a fragment of metal and a loose spring flew out. “I think I have enough spring left for one last job.”

Celestia blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” Clockwork reasserted himself, squaring his shoulders to an unhealthy clunking from his chest. “I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

“A message, then,” Celestia said. “Make sure word gets to Blackstone, tell them that all prisoners are to be conscripted for the fight, and armed with their weapons of choice, by my order. No strings attached.”

“Very well,” Clockwork said, closing his eyes. When nothing happened, he frowned and reached inside his chest cavity with a hoof. There was a crunching noise, and he vanished like he always did, a few pieces of metal left behind the only trace he’d been.

Celestia turned around, and walked onto the balcony, where she saw the five humans hovering in the air before her, arms folded.

“We wanted to do this the easy way, Celestia,” Tulip spat. “And now look what you’ve gone and made us do. Your ponies will die, and it’s all your fault. Palladion!”

A booming voice ripped through the air from the Tyrant, coming from a massive array of speakers. “Yes, Commander?”

“Kill them all,” Tulip said, backing off and laughing as Celestia ripped the balcony free and swung it at him, to no effect. “How does it feel to know you’re going to lose, Princess?”

Celestia smiled. “We’re not going to lose. Your precious machine won’t shoot at Canterlot.”

“Why not?” Tulip asked.

“Because it would be shooting at humans.”

“Attempting to eliminate targets with precision instruments,” Palladion reported loudly. “Unable to engage high-yield explosives, humans in danger.”

“What?” Tulip’s smug sense of superiority evaporated.

“Perhaps you should keep a closer eye on your subordinates,” Celestia suggested, smugly.

The humans looked down at Canterlot, and even this high up, could see the distinct shape of armored humans identical to themselves, engaged in combat with the royal guard already.

“What the-” Tulip fumed, increasing his thrusters and turning to his subordinates as he pointed downwards. “Get down there, take out the doppelgangers!”

“Yessir!” the four other humans saluted, and cut their thrusters, falling like rocks down to the city below. Tulip turned to Celestia and pointed a finger. “Your tricks only delay the inevitable, Celestia,” he warned. “Equestria will be ours!”

Celestia rolled her eyes as the human flew away.

“Like you’re the first one to say that.”

Dad Issues

The sharp report of a shotgun blast echoed through the streets, and ponies screamed as they ran from the human in their midst.

Toting an almost comically undersized shotgun, the human went about his work, muttering inaudibly over the echoes of shotgun blasts. All around him, ponies lay wounded and dying, and red shells littered the ground.

One unicorn mare staggered around a corner into an alleyway, and squeaked when she ran into hard metal.

“Are you okay?” the white guardsmare asked as the unicorn bounced off her breastplate.

“I’m fine,” the mare gasped, slipping around behind the guardsmare. “I just got clipped a little.”

“Nothing broken?”

“Nothing major,” the mare whispered. “Not like Stonehammer. That human... he shot his legs out from under him, broke his legs...”

“Shh,” the guardsmare whispered, poking her head around the corner to see the human. “Go, hide. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

The mare nodded. “Celestia bless you.”

The guardsmare pursed her lips. “Bless nothing. This is my job.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the mare whispered, breaking into a limping run as she made for cover.

The guardsmare watched the mare run, and stepped out. Blood liberally coated the cobblestone streets, trails forming where ponies had dragged themselves behind pillars and planters to lie there, gasping for breath.

In the middle of the carnage, the faintly-purple-armored human stood, his armored carapace splattered with blood that rapidly dried, while shoving more shells into his shotgun with a thick thumb. Under his boot, a shape that looked identical to himself lay sprawled on the ground, a crater blown out of its’ chest, exposing tell-tale flesh. Around him, guardsponies circled warily.

“Leave him!” the guardsmare declared, yelling at the guardsponies. “Help the civilians, he’s mine!”

“Yes, Sergeant!” the guardsponies said as they recognized her rank, and with a swift motion, took off, and grabbed as many ponies as they could before flying over the buildings and out of immediate danger. The human regarded the guardsmare with interest, not slowing his reload.

The guardsmare sat down, and took her helmet off, breaking the camoflage spell that gave the Guard it’s uniform appearance. White coat gave way to charcoal black, and a blue mane became a shade of sea green.

“I see you still carry my shotgun,” the guardsmare stated, getting the attention of the human, who froze, and looked at her more carefully.

“Shirley’s shotgun,” he said coldly, loading the last shell in without looking, and racking up a new shell as he began to advance. “She’s long gone.”

“Not as gone as you think,” the guardsmare said, standing up and unfurling her wings. “And it’s Ridgeback these days.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the human said, going into a slow circle as Ridgeback did the same. “My daughter died the moment she got caught in that potion bombing.”

“I suppose, if I’m no longer your daughter,” Ridgeback guessed, “Then I should just call you Richard, huh, Dad?”

Without warning, Richard fired the shotgun, and Ridgeback dived for cover behind a waste bin, flinching as buckshot cascaded off the public convenience.

“Why don’t you get it?” Ridgeback shouted. “Ponification isn’t a bad thing!”

“It changes people!” yelled Richard, firing another shotgun blast as he advanced on Ridgeback’s position slowly. “You used to be against ponification, humanus pro vita! Now look at you! You support the tyrant with your own body and life!”

“Because I finally saw the truth!” Ridgeback yelled, running for new cover as the bin disintegrated into bagel wrappers and milkshake cups. “What about you? You ride into a peaceful nation, in a machine named “Tyrant”, to bring war on the innocent, those who never did you anything but good! How can you call Celestia a tyrant?”

“Because I am right,” Richard yelled. “You’ve been brainwashed, there should never be a single ruler! And this is a nation founded on a fear of God!”

“It’s not fear!” Ridgeback shot back, rolling behind a convenient bench. “It’s respect!”

“Respect for what?” Richard yelled, firing another shot. “Your Princesses do nothing but sit on their throne, and do a job that nature should do itself! What is there to respect in sloth?”

Ridgeback grunted as a pellet of buckshot carved a gouge through her unarmored shoulder, and rolled it experimentally. “The Princesses can do so much more than that! They can fix any problem, lead us through any trouble! They are gods, Dad!”

“How do they do anything that a human cannot?” Richard demanded, firing his thrusters to leap into the air and draw a bead on Shirley, who had no cover against attacks from above. “If they are gods, why do they not do godlike things?!”

Ridgeback dashed for new cover as pellets punched a shallow crater in the ground. “Because we need to learn for ourselves!” she shouted back. “If your father does everything for you, however will you learn?! You taught me that!”

Richard paused. “I did, didn’t I?” He raised his shotgun again, drawing a new bead. “I guess that’s a lesson that backfired on me, now, isn’t it?”

Ridgeback spun behind a pillar, rearing up as she pressed against it to avoid the hail of lead that sought her out, and bent her neck sideways to grip the handle of her knife, strapped to the collar of her armor. With a tug, she pulled the blade free, and the weapon’s seven-inch blade glinted in the sunlight with a magical sheen. The venerable weapon had gotten a few upgrades since she’d first received it, such as a magically sharp cutting edge. It cut through metal like a hot knife through butter, it should work on her dear old father’s armor.

She spun out of cover, and broke into a run as Richard touched back down on the ground, squared his posture, and pulled the trigger on the shotgun.

Click

Ridgeback knew her old weapon better than anyone else. The heft of it in a palm. The way the butt was worn from being pressed against her own shoulder, once upon a time. How it hated flechette rounds, and liked to send slug rounds off on funny tangents.

How it only had five shells after a reload, not counting the chamber.

Richard snorted, and cast the weapon aside, drawing his own knife. Ridgeback saw the glitter of energy that followed it, and knew that around the blade, a subatomic edge was formed by transparent, invisible fields of energy. As sharp as her own. She didn’t slow down. The first rule of fighting with knives, don’t be afraid to get cut. Another lesson.

The bloodstained cobbles passed by underneath her hooves as she ran, and the heavy stamp of metal pistons and rubber answered in response as Richard charged her in return. Ridgeback beat her wings for extra speed, gritted her teeth, and the moment they got within arm’s reach, they attacked.

Two knives swung, glints of deadly light in the street, and the two combatants slid to a halt five steps apart, facing away from each other.

The few conscious ponies that remained saw the event, and through hazes of pain, struggled to identify what they’d seen. Who had actually landed a hit?

Ridgeback gave in first, her leg shuddering as she collapsed to one knee, the wet thap of flesh falling to the ground as her wing fell free of it’s long-time home, spots of red tricking from the clean-cut wound to fall to the soot-and-blood-stained street. Her knife fell from her mouth and landed point-first in the street, sinking up to it’s hilt in the stone easily.

“That’s my knife,” Richard whispered. “You kept it.”

“Of course,” Ridgeback grunted. “My father gave it to me when we were finally reunited. Always said a knife was the handiest thing you could have around. Never let it leave my side.”

Richard sheathed his blade, and turned around. “Your father sounds like a wise man. I’d like to meet him, learn his wisdom.”

Richard groaned, and sank to his knees, clutching his side. A thin slash had been cut straight through the armor; it didn’t penetrate the internal armor, but it was enough. Purple flames licked at the edges of the cut, despite Richard covering it, and he screamed as thaumic radiation found it’s way through, and began to burn him.

“I think you already know him,” Ridgeback said, looking her father in the visor, as the man screamed inside his armor. Purple flames began to escape his armor seams, and blinking LEDs on his armor began to go dark. The visor flickered, and the opacity circuits burnt out, revealing the pained gaze of Richard, staring back at his daughter.

There were no more words, even the screaming had stopped. Richard’s gaze never faltered, even as his flesh turned black. Steam escaped the armor, and it began to collapse on itself, melting into a pile of slag.

It didn’t take long. In times long past, scientists worked out that on the edges of Equestria, where thaumic radiation was weakest, death would occur in thirty seconds. Here in the heart of Equestria, where it was much stronger...

The helmet fell inside the cuirass, and a thin purple fluid began to trickle out of the armor in rivulets. Soon, all that remained was a shell of the purplish, magic-resistant metal.

Guardsponies arrived, descending to help the wounded. One of them readied a healing spell, and fired it at Ridgeback. The spell was a rough one, grabbing flesh and sealing wounds crudely and quickly to stop bleeding.

It was far from painless, but that wasn’t why Ridgeback was crying.

The Psychopath

When he was a child, little Kay hadn’t been a good or nice child. A right terror, and with a total lack of empathy, he was the sort of child that kicked dogs and pulled the tails of cats for no good reason.

“That boy’s trouble,” the doctors, teachers and social workers had said. “He’s going to grow up and become the next Hannibal Lecter if we don’t do something.”

Unfortunately, Kay Oss had also been a very good liar, and clutching a clean bill of mental health, he’d set out into the world to find his place; preferably one where he could slice and dice to his heart’s content.

When he’d shown up at a HLF base dragging a sack that contained some four and three quarters of pony, he’d been let in without a second question, and given a place to hang his axe all of his own.

It was to be expected, then, that at the end of the world, he’d be one of the last humans left, laughing and roaring as he swung his trusty axe with reckless abandon. Accompanied by Walter, they were putting the boot to a doppelganger that looked just like themselves, who was firing at a squad of Guardsponies with suspicious lack of success.

“Identify yourself!” Walter yelled, interrupting the fight between the guardsponies and the white-armored humanoid.

“Uh,” the armored human said, hesitantly. “Robert Dorn.”

Kay swung his axe, and the Guardsponies backed off quickly when one of their number was slow to move, and his jawbone went flying across the square, to land in a fountain, rapidly turning the water a shade of claret.

“Where are you from, Dorn?” Walter asked.

“Um,” Dorn said, “Manehattan.”

Kay turned his head, slowly, and the opacity circuit shut off to reveal a madly grinning face, as Kay spun the axe in his hands, reversing the head for a backswing. “Manehattan?” he giggled, swinging with vicious speed.

“Dorn” didn’t have a chance, and amber blood spattered the ground as his head was half torn off, a ragged stump exposed as the true consistency of the armor was revealed; fleshy, organic. Not real.

The changeling gurgled weakly as Kay pounced on it, and began hacking. Blood spattered everywhere wetly as Kay roared with laughter, his red axe-head gaining a solid coat of golden yellow as he went about his work. Walter watched, and reached out a hand to Kay.

“Leave off, Specialist,” Walter said.

“Can’t!” Kay shouted. “I heard that if you don’t completely dismember it, a changeling will just enter regenerative stasis and get back up again!”

Walter shook his head. “Don’t be silly. It’s dead, you made quite sure of that. Let’s just move onto the next-”

Walter staggered sideways and fell over, visor clear and revealing an expression of surprise at the axe embedded in the side of his helmet, the metal, pick-shaped poll firmly jammed so hard through the metal of his helmet, he didn’t even feel the thaumic radiation begin to burn him.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?!” Kay screamed. “A trickster! A changeling! Trying to make a fool of me, Kay Oss! Well, I’ve got news for you sunshine - it won’t work!” He ripped his axe free, and went to town on his former comrade, metal screaming as he hacked gouges through it, purple flames licking at the blade and wounds greedily. “Bleed red all you want, motherfucker, you won’t fool me!”

A quiet whimper reached Kay’s ears, and he straightened, clicking his back as he looked around. He spotted a small orange tail poking from over the fountain’s edge, and grinned as he abandoned the lump of melted flesh and metal that had been Walter.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called softly, purple flames flickering over his armor as the red blood of Walter slowly burned. “Come to Uncle Kay... I won’t hurt you.” Kay chuckled. “Much.”

The little squeak turned into a fully-fledged squeal, and a cream-colored little filly ran for it, orange mane flapping in the wind as she beat her little wings for what speed she could get.. There was a roar of engines, and a slamming of metal on stone as Kay landed right in front of her, crouched down, arms open and inviting.

“That’s it,” he said, snatching the little filly by a hind leg as she tried to turn a one-eighty and run away. He straightened, holding her aloft by the leg. “Thaat’s it. Wow, you’ve got a big head.” He held her at arm’s length as she began to scream and thrash. “A really big head. I wonder how far I can hit you?”

With a flick of his wrist, he cast the filly into the air, who beat her wings in a futile attempt to fly away. Kay snorted, and axe resting on his shoulder, walked after her as she struggled to make any sort of speed and stay aloft. Eventually, she got so exhausted she could barely stay aloft, and Kay readied the axe like a baseball bat.

“Batter up,” he giggled, as the filly finally gave into exhaustion and fell. She fell into optimal swinging range, and-

CLANG

A purple-tinted metal breastplate flew past, and hit Kay’s axe. The new momentum imparted to the axe caused it to fly high, and a few bits of orange mane flew into the air as the filly landed hard on the ground, unmolested by the axe aside from the mane-trimming, and bounced onto her hooves, screaming.

Kay, for his part, spun wildly, and his axe embedded itself in a nearby statue, stuck deep in the fetlock of a stone Princess Luna. He snarled, and yanked the axe free of the statue, searching for his would-be victim.

She was already halfway across the courtyard. Kay growled, and turned to see who had interrupted him. He was just in time to see Walter’s helmet flying towards him, and in a reflexive motion, swung his axe skywards. With a shearing of steel, the helmet split and the two rough, bloodstained halves bounced off his own helmet, falling to the ground.

Standing not far away was an elderly stallion, dressed in a tidy black waistcoat, one hoof resting on the top of a smart, black cane with gold trim.

“I’m half blind,” the stallion stated. “But even I can see that was a little unfair. Why not pick on somepony a little closer to your own size?”

Kay snorted. “What are you supposed to be? Some sorta butler?”

“Retainer, actually,” the stallion bowed. “Iron Horseshoes, assistant to Lord Quickbeam.”

“So,” Kay said, tossing his axe into the air and catching it by the handle again. “What’s your trick? Where’s your magic?”

“I’ve not got any magic,” Iron confessed, indicating his forehead. “As you can see, I’m no unicorn. Nor am I a pegasus.”

“Oh good,” Kay said. “You know how hard it is to kill a pony that keeps teleporting, or flying everywhere? It’s a real pain, that’s what. Stand still.”

Kay darted forward with speed that was greatly in excess of what you’d expect, given the armor’s bulk, and cut loose with a vicious swing of his axe.

There was a screeching of steel and a sharp clack, and he blinked as Iron remained still, unflinching save for the cane, which had flicked up and caught the axe cleanly on the tip, stopping it with pinpoint precision.

“Not bad,” Iron said, regarding the axe with interest. “Quality manufacture, that. Hasn’t dented or chipped, and I’m guessing you don’t exactly treat it well.”

“Why, yes,” Kay said, surprised. “It is a quality axe. I’ve always stood by the Johnny Family brand. I didn’t know I was talking to such a connoisseur of axes.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Iron shrugged, batting the axe head upwards with a firm tap from his cane. “I just know a robust tool when I see one.”

Iron reared up, and lunging forward, jabbed Kay hard in the chest with the cane. With a metallic impact, Kay staggered backwards, sporting a sizable dent in his chestplate.

“Like that,” Iron said, returning the still unmarked cane to the ground and leaning on it with both forehooves. “That is not robust. And if that’s not robust, neither are you, technically - after all, that’s all that stands between you and a painful, slow death, am I right?”

“Might be,” Kay grumbled, feeling the depth of the dent in his armor, and gently tapping his own axe against his chest to hear a reassuring thunk. “That was pretty amazing. You must be really, really strong.”

“Oh, shucks,” Iron said. “It’s Lord Quickbeam. Always has me carrying this or that. Golf clubs. Crates of oranges. I lift. You wanna keep doing this, or run away?”

“Run away?” Kay giggled. “You suggesting I just... run away?” Kay straightened, and slammed his axe into the cobblestones angrily. “I am a man! Real men don’t run away, fucker, we go forward! Not back!” Kay pulled his axe back up, and twirled it. “And I’ll advance when I’m wearing your fucking colon as an anklet.”

Kay stepped forward, and swung downwards, a classic woodcutter’s chop. Iron acted as predicted, and made to stop the strike with the end of the cane... only to blink in surprise as the axe flew right to the side of it, headed straight for the ground.

Kay spun, and the axe’s vertical journey turned into a horizontal one, the axehead orbiting Kay at high speed. Iron only had just enough time to get the side of his staff in the way, before the axe found the side of his head.

The force of the hit sent Iron skidding across the tiles, to fetch up against the side of the fountain, his cane skidding to a halt not far away.

“I got you!” Kay crowed. “I got you, I got you~!” Kay danced a small dance in a circle, before skipping over to the rattled Iron. “How’s that for a hit?”

Iron felt the side of his head, and drew his hoof away, red coating it liberally. “Ah, still pretty weak. I’ve had worse.”

Kay frowned. “Now that ain’t right. You should be like that guy, over there,” he pointed at a dead pony, who was missing approximately the entire upper half of his head. “But you’ve still got a head. Barely cut, too.” Kay glared at his axe. “I was promised a lifetime of razor sharpness! Oh well.” Kay hefted the axe, and balanced it on his shoulder. “If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing twice, as they say.”

Axe fell, Iron reached for his cane and swung, ducking his head. There was a chunk of metal landing in stone, and Iron opened his eyes.

Right next to his head, embedded in the stone that made the side of the fountain’s pool, the axehead sat. The wood that held it to the handle was intact, but the handle itself wasn’t, a clean cut having separated handle and axehead, the stump blackened and smoking.

Kay regarded the outstretched thin blade with interest, seeing the vibrant, yellow flames licking the length of it, and then looked at what was left of his axe.

“Well,” he said. “I’m not too pleased with that. You broke my axe.” He nodded at the weapon Iron held, which was clearly a sword-cane. “Although, I’ve always wanted a flaming sword. Fair trade. Now, hand it over.”

Kay felt a sharp tapping sensation on his shoulder, and he turned around, to see an eagle-headed creature with yellow-trimmed feathers, standing on hind legs that looked like they belonged on a lion.

“Hey, you,” Ambassador Feather Sanguinello Quickbeam said, placing a claw on the front of Kay’s chest and finding purchase, “Stop roughin’ up my retainer.”

With a grunt, Feather tightened his grip, and threw. Kay went flying through the air, bouncing and rolling as he slid to a halt on his back.

He made to get up, only to slam back down as the gryphon landed on his chest, pinning his arms to the ground at the elbows, lion paws doing a similar thing to his legs.

“You’re new,” Kay grunted. “Ain’t never seen a pony like you.”

“I thought that once,” Feather admitted. “I’m actually a gryphon, though. Who’d have thought it?”

“I wonder how you carve up... do you taste like chicken? Pegasi do.”

With a swift motion, Feather headbutted Kay in the faceplate, and regarded his handiwork, frowning as he felt the backlash in his own forehead. Kay’s face was indistinguishable behind the fractured visor on his face, and for a moment, there was no sign of anything wrong.

Then, a small tongue of purple flame escaped one of the cracks, and Feather smiled, pressing down harder, keeping the human still.

It was a cruel, cruel thing to do, Feather mused, as Kay screamed, dying a slow death. But, on the other claw...

The butchered and mangled corpses around the courtyard were excellent and compelling arguments against mercy. The screaming eventually stopped, and Feather relented, sitting up. Iron was at his side, as usual, resting a hoof on the cane once more as he fished a handkerchief out of a pocket.

“Hold still, Feather. You’ve gotten your forehead dirty,” Iron said, briskly polishing the gryphon’s forehead. “That thing is filthy, you don’t know where it’s been.” Feather snorted, and let Iron finish, before getting off the corpse.

“Right, so,” Feather cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m late, very unlordly of me, I know. I had to stop off to bring reinforcements.”

Iron laughed. “I hope you brought enough for everypony.”

Feather pointed a claw skywards, and Iron saw fuzzy black dots in the sky. Quite a lot of them.

“Well, alright, then,” Iron muttered. “Would Sir like the broadsword or the rapier today?”

Feather kicked the armored corpse. “Armor like this? Broadsword.”

Unstoppable Forces and Immovable Objects

They called him the Wolf. Tall, sturdy, and of unknown European descent, some said he’d earned such a name because he was such a loner, preferring to engage the enemy alone. Others said it was because he was vicious, fierce, aggressive, and enjoyed the thrill of running a man or pony down to kill it with his bare hands.

Others claimed to know that it was his favorite animal. Whatever the reason, the name stuck. In theory, there was someone out there who knew his real name, but if there was, they were staying rather silent about the whole affair.

And today, Wolf was on the prowl. A city of prey, and he got his pick of the litter. He gave thanks to God, even as he pounced on a fleeing pony, pinning him to the cobblestone street as he wound back a gauntleted fist, and let fly.

If there was a downside to this whole affair, he had to admit, it was that ponies were too soft. None of them fought back. None of them could even take a hit as a punching bag. He rolled his shoulders. Radiation aside, he’d rather be back home, punching bears. At least they got riled up and tried to kill you.

An armored human spotted him, and abandoned their fight with the guardsponies to charge him, and Wolf grinned. Initiative, he liked that in a victim.

The doppelganger threw a punch, and Wolf didn’t bat an eyelid as he caught the fist with one hand, and squeezed. There was a cracking sound, and the doppelganger sank to it’s knees, screeching in pain as amber fluid ran from the fleshy pulp that had been it’s hand.

Wolf tutted. The doppelgangers looked tough, but they were more like resilient beetles. One solid hit, and- crack -that was it. Wolf threw the crushed creature aside, and shook off his right fist, dislodging bits of chitin that had stuck to it, plastered by insectoid gore.

He reached out, and absent-mindedly grabbed a pony by the mane, punching it’s jaw out to knock it out, before wringing its neck. So boring.

“Stop right there!” a voice commanded, and Wolf paused. It was a voice used to getting what it wanted, a voice of authority. Wolf fancied he even sensed a little anger - a sense of obligation to protect the weak that he’d been crushing underfoot for the last few minutes? Perhaps, just... maybe this voice belonged to something worth fighting.

Wolf turned around, and was treated to a strange sight. A large, brick-red earth pony stood at the end of the street, sunlight glinting off the most comprehensive, thickest, heaviest steel armor he’d ever seen on any equine, sentient or otherwise. Crowning the helm and snout were a set of horns he’d only seen when he’d gone rhino hunting.

“What is this?” he asked. “A little rhino wanna-be?”

“Ah might look like a little rhino,” the earth pony said, “But if y’ keep this up, there’ll be big trouble.”

“I doubt it,” Wolf said, reaching out with his left hand and grabbing a pony by the tail as she ran past. She was a pegasus, orange and blue, kicking and screaming ineffectually at her human attacker.

“Don’t!” the earth pony shouted. “Let her go!”

“The strong rule,” Wolf said, lifting the mare off the ground by her tail, and destroying any traction she might have had. “The weak exist to be oppressed. If you want me to stop...” Wolf juggled the mare so he was grabbing her by the throat, and she began to choke and gasp, wings beating frantically as she struggled to break the vice-like grip. “Why not make me?”

“Ah’m Captain Aegis Exemplar of th’ Royal Guard,” the red stallion stated. “And Ah’m tellin’ you to stop.”

“I hear a lot of bluster,” Wolf said, squeezing harder. “But I don’t see a lot of action. You know who’s also all talk and no action? The French.” Wolf squeezed harder still, the mare gasping and hacking. “I fucking hate the French.”

Aegis snorted, and after a moment’s hesitation, broke into a run. Wolf grinned as he watched the oncoming guardspony break into a fully-fledged gallop, hitting top speed in around seven seconds. Not great statistics for a sports car, but for a pony this heavily armored... his knuckles tingled just thinking about it.

He wound back his fist as the captain closed the gap to ten meters. With a whiz of servomotors, Wolf threw a solid punch, putting his torso and shoulder into a straight right that would have made a wall-punching augmetic wince.

Armored knuckle hit armored snout, and with a resounding clang, Aegis was stopped cold, and thrown back a half-dozen paces to land on his side, sliding across the cobbles with a shower of sparks.

Shaking his arm, Wolf laughed as his whole arm tingled with the impact, and let the mare go. She fell to her knees, coughing and gasping for breath, before shooting Wolf a wary look and scooting away a distance before making a break for it.

Aegis groaned, and shook his head as he got up with a clank of steel. That got a laugh from Wolf, and a harsh clashing of metal as Wolf applauded the earth pony.

“Very well done, Captain,” Wolf said. “That was quite the hit, and you’re still getting up?”

“That was nothin’,” Aegis spat. “Mah sister hits harder than you.”

“Oh?” Wolf mused. “Your sister must be built like popeye.”

Aegis pondered that. “Nah. Musician.”

“Oh.” Wolf frowned, standing next to Aegis. “So it was an insult, then. Well, that changes things.”

He lashed out and twisted, delivering a vicious left hook to the side of Aegis’ head, sending the Captain further this time, to land in a planter where he crashed through gardenias and landed on the pavement on the other side.

“It was a shame our fight had to end so quickly,” Wolf sighed. “If you can call a one-sided beatdown a fight. I really thought you were different.”

“Not done yet,” Aegis grunted, and Wolf looked at the armored pony on the other side of the planter like christmas was coming true.

“How is this so?” Wolf asked. “You still stand? Not even a little brain damage?”

“M’ noodle’s fine,” Aegis grunted, turning around. “Thanks for askin’.”

With a crack of steel hooves on concrete, the planter was sent flying towards Wolf. The human grinned, and jabbed at the flying object, smashing it with a crack of concrete. Dirt cascaded everywhere and stone thudded to the ground as Wolf straightened up, and dusted himself off. He missed most of the dirt caught in the crevices of his armor plating, but the point was clear.

Aegis snorted, and charged again. Wolf rolled his eyes, and readied another rhino-stopping punch, letting fly like he did last time... only to merely graze the side of Aegis’ helmet as the earth pony bent his head around the fist and brought his metal horn into Wolf’s gut, lifting him off the ground with a solid headbutt to the solar plexus.

Aegis didn’t stop there, charging straight through a pillar (which shattered against them like pebbles off a brick wall), and through the storefront of a taffy store. (Which smashed in a cascade of glittering glass.) The extended tackle punched through one more wall, decimating a My Little Taffymaster, and Aegis finally stopped running, throwing the human off his horn and onto the street.

Wolf skidded to a halt as Aegis panted hard, and the human got up, shaking glass and rubble off his back.

“Not even winded,” Wolf declared smugly, walking over to Aegis. “Was that really the best you could do?”

Wolf threw a punch downwards, the impact forcing Aegis to bow his head, even if only for a moment.

“Why don’t you fight back?” Wolf demanded, winding back a fist. “What’s wrong with you?”

Another punch. Aegis was thrown downwards again, this time to a knee, where he recovered once more.

“I’m just beating on you,” Wolf complained. “Where’s the drive to survive? Where’s the will to overcome your foe?!”

The crack of steel on steel rang out in the empty street once more, and Aegis dropped to one knee once more. He didn’t rise, his head staying bowed for a moment.

“Ah don’t go for hittin’ things,” Aegis said. “I protect, not attack.”

“Shitty strategy,” Wolf dismissed, slamming a fist into Aegis’s head once more, driving him down once more, slower still to rise. “A good offense is the best defense! Defense won’t help you save others! Defense won’t allow you to keep your daughter when her mother accuses you of being unfit to be a parent! Defense won’t stop nuclear war!”

Wolf beat down Aegis once more, the earth pony collapsing to the ground completely. Wolf bent down, and grabbed Aegis’ horn, pulling the helmet and it’s wearer’s head up, noting that a thin trickle of blood was seeping from Aegis’ nostril. “Nobody ever won a fight without throwing a single punch, Captain!” Wolf lectured. “If you just hide behind your shield all day, how are you ever going to win the day?”

“Y’ don’t need to throw punches to win the day,” Aegis said, coughing up a wad of blood and spitting. “Ah find, you wait long enough and endure, th’ problem just... solves itself.”

“Now that,” Wolf said, winding back a worn, beaten gauntlet, “Is the biggest sack of shit I’ve ever heard.” There was a meaty crunch as Wolf finally landed a hit on flesh, blood and bone for once. Aegis didn’t make a sound, even as he swayed in Wolf’s grip like an oversized punching bag, hooves not touching the ground. And even then, blood trickling from a split lip, Aegis looked Wolf in the visor, and smiled.

“Ah can do this all day.”

Wolf ground his teeth, juggled his grip so he was holding Aegis by the chestplate, and let fly with a barrage of right hooks, beating on Aegis’ helmed head like a child beats a wooden spoon against a metal cooking pot. The noise drew the attention of ponies, and they cowered in their homes and businesses, watching the human invader beat on a captain of their very own Royal Guard with punishing blows that would reduce a lesser pony to a sack of broken calcium and flesh in minutes.

And each time, they watched Aegis’ head rise back up once more, daring him to have another go. The count went up to double digits, and Aegis was down a few teeth, but he was still conscious, and still grinning.

“Y’ wanna know my secret?” Aegis asked in between punches. Wolf just punched him again, for Aegis’ head to rise back up yet again. “Th’ secret to my robust constitution?”

“Like I care,” grunted Wolf, starting to sweat. No matter how hard he hit that helm, it didn’t dent. It didn’t give. It didn’t bend, it didn’t break.

“Ah’ll tell you anyway,” Aegis wheezed. “See this metal? ‘s meteoric steel. Toughest stuff in Equestria. Once it’s forged right, ain’t nopony gonna break it before they break their own weapon. This stuff’s been forged right.”

“I told you,” Wolf grunted, “I don’t care!”

Wolf put everything he had into it. It was the perfect punch, perfectly straight. The kind of punch that wouldn’t just knock someone out, but push their teeth in so hard, they’d be shitting molars in minutes.

Armored, beaten knuckle gauntlets hit meteoric steel helm with a sharp crack of breaking steel. Wolf grinned, leaving his fist in place.

“Not so unbreakable now, huh?” he asked, grinning at Aegis. The earth pony just grinned back.

“Are y’ sure about that?”

Wolf pulled his fist back. Of course the helmet had broke-

Sunlight glinted off a scratched, scuffed surface. But no cracks were visible. He looked down at his own gauntlet, and saw a straight fracture running right through the knuckle plate.

“Told ya,” Aegis grunted, as the plating fell off. Where there had once been knuckle plates were now just purple flames.

Wolf let Aegis go as he staggered backwards, looking at his own burning hand in disbelief, not even feeling the creeping waves of necrosis running up his arm.

“Not possible,” he gasped, backing into a wall and slumping down, still staring at his hand. “This isn’t possible.”

It was hard to say what he was more in disbelief at; the fact that he was dying of thaumic radiation in a radiation-proof suit, or the fact that he’d met something he couldn’t kill with his bare hands. There was a crack and his arm lowered itself. His armor sparked, and he went still, smouldering slightly as his armor began to leak a thick purple fluid. Aegis got up, spat a loose tooth across the courtyard, and grinned.

“Not one punch,” Aegis said, smiling.

Pardon

Alarms blared in the stone corridors of Equestria’s one and only high-security prison. It was a testament to the nature of Equestrians that it was not a big prison, and even then, it had been expanded significantly over the last few years to accommodate the new breed of lawbreakers that had come with the advent of the Conversion Bureaus and ponification.

This cavern was now a square courtyard, ringed with cages. High above, the warden’s booth was connected to the only way in or out of the sealed prison chamber. Prisoners awoke to the alarms, walking to their bars and pressing snouts against the sturdy iron bars to look for the commotion.

“That’s a teleport alarm,” grunted a white pony to his cellmate.

“Who’s dumb enough to teleport into Blackstone, Shield?” grunted a yellow pegasus behind him, slumped on the bunk, a thick metal band secured around his torso and wings. “Even the whore princesses don’t teleport here... when they deign to visit us “terrorists”.”

“Hey, knock it off, Candy Ass,” Illuminating Shield snapped back. “Show some respect for authority, don’t you?”

The pegasus frowned and reflexively covered the candy corn that adorned his flank. “Hey, my name’s not “Candy Ass”,” he said. “It’s Candy Corn.”

“Sorry, slip of the tongue,” Shield lied. “Besides. You’re acting like an ass.”

“I don’t get why you’re so goddamn defensive of the princesses,” Candy snorted, his muttering barely audible over the alarms. “You’re locked up here just the same as me. Probably worse, since I only ponified one or two people. How many’d you do? Six hundred plus? Gotta be forty to life.”

“I might have done some bad things,” Shield said, returning to watching the warden’s booth high above the prison floor, “But I swore an oath of fealty to Celestia, and I’m not going to break it easy.”

“You broke it enough to join the PER,” Candy argued.

“Shush,” Shield said, holding up a hoof as the alarm shut off, and suddenly, muffled conversation was audible from the Warden’s booth.

Candy obliged, his own ears turning as he strained to catch the muffled discourse, which sounded agitated.

“What the buck do you mean, “release the prisoners”?”

A much quieter response followed, and the prisoners began to murmur among themselves, repeating the words.

“Did you hear that?”

“Bull.”

“This is some sort of test, I know it.”

“What the hell’s even going on today? Earthquakes, now this? End of the world already?”

The murmuring died down as the warden stepped out of his booth, and moved to the railing. All the prisoners watched the sturdy unicorn clear his throat, and listened hard.

“Alright, you lot,” Warden Riot Shield announced. “Orders straight from the mouth of Celestia. Canterlot is under siege from a giant machine. You’re all getting conscripted for the fight.”

The prisoners murmured again.

“Conscripted? Us?” a deep voice pressed from behind a thick, steel door. “I’m capable of putting a hoof through something’s head, but you’re still asking the wrong crowd to fight.”

“Apparently, Prisoner Rampart,” the Warden looked back into his booth. “The enemy is... humans. You’re to be armed with whatever you need to get the job done.”

The prisoners murmured again, this time with more enthusiasm.

“I take it Celestia wants them alive?” a cold voice asked.

“Preferably,” Warden Shield said. “As long as they’re not attacking anyone, anything goes.”

There was a muted click, and bells rang briefly as the doors all slid open, pulled open by magic. Ponies emerged hesitantly, suspecting a trap. A second buzz, and all restraints popped open and fell off; magic inhibitors hit the floor with clanks of metal, and wing restraints popped open, freeing bound wings for the first time in months, and in some cases, years.

“Get limber, you lot,” the Warden said coldly. “Today’s your chance to make a good impression, prove you’re deserving of the freedom Celestia has returned to you. Your things are arriving now.”

With a zap of magic, crates were teleported into the cells, and ponies pried them open to find their possessions from when they were arrested. Shield turned around as a crate zapped into being behind them, and Candy eagerly rummaged through piles of his own clothing, what looked like a giant pinata costume.

Shield reached in, and fished out the only two items that belonged to him; a well-worn, much-battered set of old guard armor, and a photograph.

“Looks like we get to have our happy ever after,” he muttered to the photo, giving it a brief kiss and tucking it inside his armor.

“Assumin’ we live,” Candy said, throwing on a bandolier of purple vials. “I seriously doubt we’d be getting conscripted to fight if we weren’t gonna die. You want a bandolier? I got spares.”

Shield nodded, and shouldered the offered bandolier of potion. “Well, I’m not going to die,” he said, a cold chill running along his spine where his wings had once been. “I’ve been through too much to die now.”