The Conversion Bureau: Orphanarium

By Silvertie

A clock ticked softly in the quiet office, as the brown-haired boy was ushered into the room by his caretakers. There was a desk, with a name plaque on it – Matron Sykes. The room was clean and spartan; polished wood, plain chairs, and red felt carpet dominating the room. A typical Orphanage office.

But the butter-yellow-and-pink pegasus sitting behind the desk was not Matron Sykes; in fact, she even looked a little apologetic to the usher for borrowing her desk, as the boy walked forward, a youth of thirteen, and sat down. The pegasus looked at the boy, and after a moment, smiled, as if remembering she didn't have to be afraid.

“Um, hello. What's your name?”

The boy mumbled inaudibly, and the mare looked a little torn.

“Oh, I'm sorry, but you need to speak a teensy little bit louder.”

“Daniel,” the boy repeated, comprehensively this time.

“Oh, hello Daniel. I'm Fluttershy.” The pegasus cleared her throat. “So, Daniel... do you know why you're here?”

“...you wanna turn me into a pony or something,” Daniel guessed.

“Well... um, that's a little blunt,” Fluttershy replied, “We don't make you turn into a pony if you don't want to... you always get to choose.”

“...don't wanna,” Daniel mumbled.

“Are you sure?” Fluttershy looked stunned at the pace of the conversation, and the direction it was rapidly taking. “We can find a family for you, you can live a nice life... no offence, Mrs. Sykes.”

“None taken,” the matron assured, not bothered by the inadvertent sledge.

“...no,” Daniel reiterated. Fluttershy's brow creased ever so slightly in panic, and she brushed her pink mane to the side, as she looked out the window.

The office window looked over a barren yard, with spindly trees that were leafless in the winter chill, skies grey with cloud and pollution in equal amounts; Fluttershy shivered. It wasn't a warm place, this. It provided children with a place to grow up, but it was no home. She was sure a child wouldn’t come out of here maladjusted, but all the same...

“You don't have to decide right now, you know. You can always have a sleep on it, have a think about it, if you want.”

“...don't want to be a pony,” reasserted Daniel, and Fluttershy sagged a little.

“Oh. Well, if that's what you want, we won't bother you about it again,” Fluttershy said, quietly. “But you can always find one of our Conversion Bureaus later if you change your mind, okay?”

Daniel remained mute, his eyes looking down, and Fluttershy gave up.

“Okay, Daniel. It was nice to meet you,” she said, and Matron Sykes stepped forward, helping Daniel off the seat. “I really, really hope you change your mind one day.”

Daniel walked away, escorted by the Matron, as he turned his back on Fluttershy and left the office. The door swung shut behind him and punctuated his departure with a soft click.

======

“Hey Daniel, did you meet that talking horse just now?” Daniel was suddenly pounced upon by a boy his age with unruly, straw-blonde hair as he entered the common room, and Daniel staggered under the sudden weight.

“Augh, Dave! Get off me!” Daniel threw his slightly larger friend off, and the two broke apart, laughing.

“Nah, seriously, did you meet her?” Dave asked, and Daniel nodded.

“Yeah, I met her,” Daniel nodded, and Dave squealed.

“Yes! Can you believe it? We'll have a family again! I wonder if the folks adopting us'll take both of us, then we can be bros for real!”

“We?”

“Yeah! I wonder what kind of pony I'll be? Pegasus would be sweet, I hear they can stand on clouds and stuff!” Dave whooped, then slowed down. “Wait, Fluttershy gave you  the same offer that she gave me, right? A fresh start with a new family?”

“Yeah,” Daniel affirmed, nodding slowly.

“So, what's got you down?” Dave held his hands out, appealing to Daniel. “No strings! Clean skies! Actual food! Not that synth-stuff we usually eat! We're getting the life every orphan here dreams of!”

“I'm not buying it,” Daniel muttered, “There's a catch. There must be.”

“Don't tell me you said no?” Dave took a step back in shock, and his jaw dropped as Daniel nodded.

“I'm not doing it. I'm not gonna listen to their lies.”

Dave looked like Daniel had kicked a small animal. “But... Dan. If you don't become a pony like me... how can we hang out? We can send letters and stuff, but... it just ain't the same, y'know? I wanna be able to chill with you, man.”

“I'm not going, that's that,” Daniel put his foot down. “If you wanna believe their lies... that's your problem.”

Dave looked offended. “Dan...”

“Dave... I'm not gonna go. Nothing's gonna convince me otherwise. After Equestria killed my parents...”

“Oh.” it dawned on Dave. “Oh, dude. I... I forgot. Your parents... that plane...”

“Yeah.” Daniel looked his friend in the eye. “If you wanna go, you go. But I'm staying.”

“...we'll still be friends, right?” Dave asked, plaintively.

Daniel didn't say anything, and walked away to his room, ignoring the boy who'd been his best friend ever since that fateful day when a plane had been caught by the emergence of Equestria; the boy who was the closest he had to family after his parents had decided to board that plane.

“Right?!”

======

Friendships are hard things to break, and a fractured friendship hurts more than any broken bone. Daniel and Dave, two boys that you couldn't shut up for love nor money, suddenly entered a Cold War II of their very own; divided, they were animated, lively, cheerful. Together, a frosty silence filled any room they were in, and all felt it.

And in no time at all, Dave was gone. Along with most of the Orphanarium's children, each one chittering and chirping away in excitement at what fantastic life they'd lead behind Equestria's borders.

Except Dave. The price of a new life for him had been one of the best friends he'd ever had. Not the only friend... but every friend was precious.

The rain that day had matched both Daniel and Dave's emotions on the event.

Time passed; true to Fluttershy's word, the Conversion Bureau ponies did not return, and Daniel was left to grow up in the Orphanarium. It wasn't a hard life, compared to the outside – he was fed, clothed and educated all on the dime of the state, while those without the Orphanarium often struggled to make it day-to-day in the economic turmoil of Equestria's emergence.

The dime of the state didn't extend to luxuries, though, and his childhood from then on was one of grey skies, cold nights and empty days. Every day that passed hammered the penalty of the friendship he'd destroyed further and further into his heart, and each time, he cursed Equestria just a little harder. Occasionally, letters arrived. Clumsily scribed on pieces of paper at first, when they reached Daniel's hands, they immediately made a one-way trip to the nearest waste-bin, without even getting opened.

And when he finally became old enough to leave the Orphanarium, and fend for himself... it's no wonder that Daniel found himself rapidly ascending the ranks of the Human Liberation Front.

======

“Yo, D.”

“What is it, Bruce?” snapped Daniel, smoothing his hair back as he looked at recent activity reports. A young man of only eighteen, and already second in command to the regional leader of the HLF,  he got to put his young mind to things he'd never otherwise put up with. Like logistics. Daniel hated logistics, but he knew logistics was where battles were won and lost... and the HLF needed every advantage they could get at this point.

Bruce slapped the immaculately-olive-uniformed Daniel on the back, and laughed heartily. Daniel recoiled slightly from the smell of the man's sweat – Bruce, being one of the lower-ranked HLF, got to go out and save humanity on the front lines a lot more than Daniel did, and Bruce knew it.

“Me and Gill, we got you a lil' gift, don'tcha know. A little way of sayin' thanks for all that desk work you do – we appreciate it, you know?”

“I'm sure you do, Bruce,” Daniel sighed. “What kind of surprise is it this time? You gonna show me a bunch of ponies getting executed like last time, taunt me with the smoking gun?”

“Come on, D, you know I'm not that cruel,” Bruce laughed, “Come on, Gill's bringing the surprise in.”

Daniel sighed, and put down his pen and papers. “Fine. It'd better be worth it, or your ass is on latrine duty for the next six years.”

The mismatched duo left the command centre, and walked through concrete corridors, lit by sparse fluorescent lights. Daniel was strangely at ease, here – it wasn't much different from the Orphanarium, just a distinct lack of wallpaper and carpet, and a surplus of exposed pipes and cabling.

The pair left the bunker that was the HLF's stronghold in the region, and entered the parade-grounds, an old car park lit by the setting sun, fenced with razor wire and prison-grade mesh fencing, patrolled by uniformed soldiers toting a wide range of guns from old bolt-action rifles to modern smart-rifles.

Standing in the middle of the asphalt, was a veritable giant of a man in fatigue pants and a singlet that exposed his sizeable arms, a large, squirming sack slung over his shoulder and on his back. He grunted in satisfaction as he saw his superiors arrive, and saluted.

“So, D, guess what we did~” Bruce said in a sing-song voice, and Daniel sighed.

“What did you do, Bruce?”

“We only went and rolled the Blackmoor Bureau!”

Daniel looked at Bruce, a shocked expression on his face. “You. Rolled it?”

“Army of two, baby,” Bruce bragged. “Wasted 'em all except the pony in charge, figured you'd want to smoke him yourself.”

“Aw, you guys...” Daniel smiled. “You saved the ringleader for me? How thoughtful!”

“See?” Bruce bragged to Gill, “Told you he'd fuckin' love it. Let the horse out of the bag.”

Gill nodded, and with a vigorous shake, shook the sacked pony free of its containment. With a whump, a rusty-orange pegasus hit the ground hard, and grunted in pain; with a smaller black sack over his head, he couldn't see anything.

Daniel was prodded in the arm, and he looked down to see the grip of a revolver, being prodded into him by Bruce, smiling genuinely. Daniel took the gun, and fixing Bruce with a suspicious look, flipped the cylinder open, to reveal five shining rounds. Not a prank.

He flicked his wrist and snapped the drum back into the gun, spinning it with a hand. He nodded to Gill.

“Take that hood off. I wanna see his eyes.”

Gill reached down, and with a swift movement, undid the final black bag, and whipped it away. The pegasus blinked in the sudden exposure to the afternoon sunlight, and tried to focus on Daniel.

“May your false god have mercy on your soul,” Daniel spat, as he thumbed back the hammer and took aim.

“...Dan?” the pegasus choked, tears in his eyes. “Daniel, it's me!”

Daniel's finger paused mid-pull, a hair's breadth of metal between safety and a lead aneurysm, and his eyes widened as he recognized the voice.

“Dave?”

“D?” Bruce looked at Daniel with growing suspicion. “You know this horse?”

“Yeah, Daniel, it's me! Dave! From the orphanage! Why are you hanging with this lot?” The pegasus' eyes pleaded with Daniel's, and Bruce watched the hammer of the revolver shudder and twitch, inching back by fractions of hairs.

With a swift movement, Daniel's aim changed, and Bruce found himself looking down the barrel of the gun.

“Now, see here-” the HLF grunt protested weakly, before the barrel of the gun filled his mouth.

“I never did like you, Bruce.”

Blam. The wet splat of greymatter hitting the tarmac echoed around the compound only a little slower than the sound of the gunshot, and the corpse that had been Bruce fell over, quite dead. Daniel wasted no time, cocking the gun once more and shooting Gill twice in the pectoral; the big man grunted heavily as the pullets plunked through ribcage, and sank to the ground.

The pegasus that was Dave watched the violence unfold in rapid succession, and Daniel finally turned his attention back to Dave.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get the fuck out of here, stop pissing around!”

You could break a friendship. You could burn it. You could try and bury it. But you could never destroy it completely.

“Why are you doing this, Dan?” Dave exclaimed, as Daniel looked around at the perimeter guards, who were racing for the gates.

“My second month at the Orphanarium!” Daniel replied, shaking spent brass free and reloading the firearm with practised ease, as sirens began to go off, raising the alarm. “You took part blame for stealing from the cookie jar, said it was your idea, when it was totally mine!”

“This isn't the same!”

“You're right!” Daniel took aim, and hit one of the approaching sentries in the leg with a well-placed shot, “This is payback for not going with you in the first place, damnit! Haul ass, before they shoot you in your silly butt-marking!”

Dave shook his head, and galloped away, taking wing as he ran, and soaring up into the sky. Daniel watched him go, and nodded in satisfaction, taking aim once more and squeezing the trigger.

His shot went wide, and he swore as a heavy weight swept into his back and lifted him up. He looked at the orange hooves wrapped around his torso, and craned his neck back to see Dave, carrying him.

“Stop gawking, keep shooting!” Dave shouted, “I don't wanna die!”

Daniel nodded, and resumed shooting. Two more shots rang out, and a sentry fell over, howling in pain as he clutched his gut. Daniel laughed; not at the man's misfortune, but at the realization of a sudden truth.

“It's great hanging out with you again, Dave. I'm sorry... but I never even read your letters.”

“Ah, it's alright. I don't blame you, I did kind of just ditch you,” reasoned Dave as he listed to the left to avoid gunfire, “I should have been more considerate, waited until you were ready to make the change.”

Daniel said nothing, and just watched their flightpath; he saw what he didn't want to see.

The sentry tower, specifically to stop pegasi escaping or intruding on the compound's airspace. A trained marksman sat in the tower, scoped rifle at the ready; Daniel could tell, because he saw the glint of the scope against the sunlight as he took aim.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as Daniel brought his own gun up – one shot left. Time to make it count. Dave sensed a need for precision, and glided for just long enough for the two marksmen to get a bead on their respective targets.

Two shots rang out simultaneously, and Dave watched as the rifleman fell over, clutching his eye.

“We're clear! Go! Go!” Daniel dropped the spent revolver, and slapped Dave's leg, and the pegasus beat his wings harder, pushing them to greater speeds.

The surviving HLF sentries watched the strange team dwindle on the horizon until they were a pinprick against the setting sun; then they were no more.

======

“...we'll get you to the Bureau!” Dave said, rambling on, “We can get you ponified pronto! You'll love it in Equestria, no grey skies! No rain! Unless it's scheduled, of course. And the art! The high society is actually society!”

“...Yeah,” Daniel grunted, and Dave detected a hint of pain in the voice. He looked down and -

“Sweet Celestia, Dan! You're hurt!”

“It's..” Daniel coughed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It's nothing.”

Daniel grunted in pain as Dave moved him in his grip so he could get a better look; a red blossom of blood bloomed on his torso, just below the ribcage, and Dave swore.

“That's not 'nothing', Dan!” Dave looked his friend in the eye, equine to human. “You need a doctor!”

“That's the problem...” Daniel coughed. “Nearest Bureau we haven't burned is over sixty miles away... if they'll even take me.” Daniel laughed. “God knows I've done enough to warrant getting shit-listed at every Conversion Bureau in Northern America. And hospitals are a no-go, the HLF'll just kill me in my sleep. I'm not gonna make it.”

“Come on, Dan – Equestria's motto is Love and Tolerance, I'm sure they'll take you! We can do this!” insisted Dave, “I can fly faster! We'll make it! You're gonna go to Equestria, damnit!”

“Set me down on that rooftop there,” Daniel pointed weakly at a mostly-intact building in a sea of dilapidated, disused apartment blocks, and Dave shook his head.

“We. Can. Make. It. I'm sure!”

“You can make it,” Daniel corrected. “I'm a hundred kilos of dead weight – if you can carry me that far, that fast, then I'm a fucking horner.”

“I – Daniel! Why-”

“Set me down, Dave, or neither of us'll make it.” Daniel jabbed a rapidly weakening finger at the rooftop. “You've got a life ahead of you, I don't. Be smart, vote to live.”

Dave groaned, and banked gently down to the indicated rooftop, slowing to a hover and letting Daniel's feet touch the ground before letting go.

The ex-HLF sagged visibly, face contorted in agony, and a few spots of blood hit the rooftop. Dave looked alarmed, and Daniel waved a hand at him.

“Emergency cache... I planted it here for other HLF, in case of... emergency.”

He staggered to an old air vent, and pulled the hatch open. Inside, sheltered from the elements, was a dull green metal case, and Daniel struggled to pull it out, grunting with pain when the box hit the ground.

“What's in there?” Dave asked, “Stimpack? Meds? Defrilibrator?”

“None of that'll stop the attack choppers headed our way,” Daniel grunted, and he popped the latches, opening the case. The two friends looked on at what lay within, and Dave frowned.

“I can't carry you and that.”

“You're not carrying either. Go. Run. Or fly.”

“...Dan.” A single tear fell from Dave's eye, and he sniffed as he wiped it away. “Is this it? You're just gonna go out in a blaze of glory?”

“That only happens in movies,” Daniel protested, patting Dave on the shoulder and leaving a red handprint as he pushed the orange pegasus away weakly, and picked up the weapon, gritting his teeth as he shouldered it.

“In real life, the best you can do is to go out with a bang and a whimper.”

======

The pilot flicked switches in the cockpit of his chopper as the vehicle thrummed through the sky, his view of the world tinted red as he looked for thermal signatures.

“Hawk One, this is Hawk Three,” a voice crackled over his radio, “I have a visual on a thermal signature, looks roughly equine, on a rooftop. Our boy must have taken a hit. Over.”

“Hawk Two, I see it.” a second voice replied, and Hawk One looked left and right; he saw the thermal signatures of his two wingmen, and on the rooftop below, he saw...

“Hawk One, I see it. Hawks, you are weapons free.”

“Aye ay- Holy shit, that's no fucking pony!” Hawk Three's voice came back panicked, and Hawk One saw why.

Eight pinpoints of heat were shooting up from the rooftop, and banking around; that wasn't a pony, no way – those were anti-air missiles. Fired from a human weapon. Being carried by a human on all fours! Damn the resolution on those thermal filters!

“Eagles! Break! Lose those missiles!”

“ECMs aren't working!” protested Eagle Two, “I-”

The radio cut to static, and Eagle One watched two missiles slam through the cockpit, turning Eagle Two's chopper into scrap and flames in an instant.

“I think... Yeah, I lost 'em!” whooped Eagle Three, banking sharply as flares shot out of the underside of the chopper. The missiles deviated from the intended target, chasing the flares... until they snapped around and aimed back at Eagle Three.

Poor bastard never saw it coming, Eagle One thought as the missile slammed home into the underside of the unwary Eagle Three; the culprit, a laser, being aimed by the bastard on the roof.

A human traitor, it made him sick. Eagle One brought up his own missile load-out – Air-to-Ground seemed a little excessive, given the nature of the target, but... there was a small swarm of missiles locked onto him exclusively, he figured it was fair.

He locked on and fired; with a whoosh, the missile leapt out of its cradle, and rocketed towards that infernal traitor; Eagle One wasted no time, and pushed open his cockpit. There was no such thing as an ejector seat on a helicopter; that was a retarded idea, and an accident waiting to happen. But there was always the good old option of “jump out the cockpit and use a parachute”.

Eagle One fell like a rock, and deployed his chute; through the thin white fabric of the parachute, he saw the chopper hover above him, holding altitude as he swayed in his harness. This was going to be a close-run thing, he'd be lucky to-

A red laser dot danced up and down on his chest, and Eagle One swore.

“Motherfucker.”

Eagle One had just enough time to see the traitor standing on the roof, holding his ground in the face of the oncoming AtG missile, launcher trained on him, painting him as a big old target for those anti-air missiles... and the missiles themselves, little red nose-cones blinking in glee as they recognized a target when they saw it.

At least I won't die alone, Eagle One managed to think, then his world was pain and fire.

======

Dear Princess Celestia,

It has been recommended to me that I write you a letter concerning a recent event that happened to me, and the lesson I learned from it.

I used to administrate the Blackmoor Conversion Bureau; the Bureau has since fallen to HLF actions, and it is with a heavy heart that I report that few (if any) of your subjects survived, aside from myself.

I had a mix of misfortune and good luck at this point; I found myself slated for execution by the HLF. The good fortune which allows me to write this letter caused my executioner to be none other than a childhood friend, who recognized me in the nick of time.

Not only did our past friendship stay the hand of execution, but he betrayed his cause, and all around him, aiding my escape and even taking a mortal wound for me in doing so.

So, the lesson I learned? Friendship is a force that can never be destroyed. It might be broken, shattered, buried, but it will never fade away completely. Friendship will drive friends to do anything for another friend; from taking the rap for stolen biscuits, all the way up to buying time for you to escape with their lives and a handy Portable Anti-Air (Tracking, Rocket, Incendiary) Chopper-Killer.

I ask that you give Daniel your blessing, if you are able to do so. He saved my life, by paying with his own, all in the name of friendship.

Your loyal subject,

Cloud “David” Scribe, ex-Bureau Administrator