Chapter Four: Memories, Part 1.

***

Dr Tender Care, a female unicorn with electric blue fur and a darker blue mane and tail, sighed as she examined the creature - a "Briton", Princess Celestia had said it was called - that the Princess had presented her for a patient. It was a strange case no doubt - it was a sort of creature that no one had ever seen before, much less attempted to examine or heal - but Tender Care was proud of her skill as a physician, and she wouldn't let Princess Celestia down.

Having said that, the shivering, weak 'Briton' before her seemed to be very ill. Celestia had told Tender Care what had happened to him - from the transformation, the expenditure of magic, to the return to his original state and this illness - and so the doctor was endeavouring to discern whether this was a temporary weakness or a permanent one.

The results were… interesting.

She sighed as she used her magic to stabilise the Briton, before turning and leaving the little room. Outside the bedroom waited Princess Celestia, as well as Twilight Sparkle and the other Elements of Harmony.

"Well?" the Princess asked her.

"I've stabilised him," Tender Care said softly. "But there's not all that much I can do."

"What do you mean?" the Princess asked, narrowing her eyes slightly in confusion.

"Well, he's dying," Tender Care said simply. Fluttershy gasped, the other Elements looked shocked, and Celestia's eyes widened in surprise.

"Dying?" she repeated.

"I think whatever he was using to fight you wears his body out far faster than his normal lifespan would," Tender Care said, her voice tinged with sadness: she never liked her patients dying on her. "If I had to guess, using the magical power he demonstrated wears his body out at an accelerated rate because it's somehow foreign to his body."

"You mean his body isn't adapted to use magic?" the Princess' student, Twilight Sparkle, put in, looking surprised.

"Exactly," Tender Care said with a sad smile. "As of right now I'd say he has a few years left before he dies, but that might decrease to a single year or even just a few months - all depending on the use of those abilities."

"Thank you Doctor," Celestia said quietly, looking thoughtful. "I understand."

Tender Care left quietly, leaving Celestia with the Element bearers.

"What now?" Twilight asked, looking to her teacher to provide her with answers. The Sun Princess only wished she could provide them for her student: this entire affair was filled with far too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

"He came here for a reason," Celestia replied after a moment, speaking slowly as she organised her thoughts. "I intend to discover what it is. I will wait here - when he is rested, I will speak with him."

Twilight nodded. "What do you want us to do, Princess?" she asked, eager to help in any way she could.

"The best choice right now is for you to return to your home," Celestia said thoughtfully. "If you can, attempt to discern how this being came here. If I have further need for your help, I will send for you."

"Yes Princess," Twilight said at once. She and her friends turned and headed off, talking amongst themselves. Celestia sighed, and entered the small bedroom. She had decided to see what would happen.

***

"That's it?" Rainbow Dash said, speaking quietly but harshly. "Just go home?!"

The group was walking back towards the train station, intending to do as the Princess had instructed, but clearly not all of them were happy about it.

"There's nothing more we can do now Dash," Twilight said with a sigh. "I wish there was, but right now we have to accept that the Princess doesn't need our assistance."

"I hope that poor thing will be ok," Fluttershy put in, looking back at the room with the Briton in it with a worried frown on her face.

"You heard the doctor," Applejack said, speaking softly but bluntly. "That Briton thing's got a few years left in it, provided it don't keep attacking innocent ponies with its magic."

"That's just it," Rarity pointed out. "We still don't know why it was attacking innocent ponies. If we did..."

"If we did we could add it to the big pile of things we ain't got answers to yet," Applejack said, sounding a mite irritated. "’Til then, we'll just have to wait. I reckon the Princess will call us back here the minute she needs us. She always does."

"I hope you're right," Twilight said. "Because I get the feeling she will need us..."

***

When he awoke and his eyes finally opened, David Elliot took a moment to remember precisely what had led him here. When he did remember, he swore.

"Idiot!" he yelled angrily. "Stupid, arrogant, up your own arse fucking IDIOT!"

He sat up without even caring enough to glance around the room, focused entirely on berating himself for his stupidity.

He had walked into that fight with the advantage of surprise, but he had given her every opportunity to power up - and he had taken on the resurrected Luna as well. Even with Solamina being in her weaker form, he had been matched - no, practically outmatched. The hope of all the remaining human beings in the world, and he was failing. He was failing. Something like fifteen million people - the entirety of the human race remaining - as well as thousands of Equestrian resistance refugees, all of whom were relying on him to be strong enough to save them, and at the first real test, he had failed.

"I assume you were not talking to me," a voice spoke, dragging him from his thoughts. Elliot span around, and found himself facing Solamina - no, this was merely Princess Celestia.

"You!" he said, shocked at the sight of her. That she would risk being in the same room as him when he had tried to kill her was... well, impressively brave on her part. She had no particular guarantee that he wouldn't try to do it again.

"Me," she replied softly. "And you are the Avatar of Albion?"

"No, I'm not," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness at the thought of the being. "My name is David Elliot."

"I see," Celestia said, sounding slightly confused but attempting to comprehend, "and the other term is merely... a title? One you wear in that form?"

"It's another being, practically," Elliot clarified, trying and failing to keep his voice from becoming sour. "A being who inhabits my form, who I can call upon. Or at least it feels like that, sometimes. It’s more complicated than that, Hell Blazer says..."

He trailed off.

“You don’t understand it?” Celestia guessed.

“It’s like a computer,” Elliot said with a frown. “You know enough about the thing to make it work. You don’t know where every part came from, or what every part does, even though you know the result you want and the result you expect.”

“I… think I understand,” Celestia said slowly, nodding.

There was a long pause as the two stood, regarding each other warily. It was strange to think that they had been fighting only a few short hours ago.

"Who is the Sun Tyrant you speak of?" Celestia finally asked, still speaking softly. "And what has she done that fills you with such hatred?"

Elliot paused for a moment before speaking. "I thought she was you."

Celestia waited for a moment, letting him think: he was clearly still wrestling with himself.

"But…” he finally added, his voice quiet but firm, “you aren't her. You aren’t Solamina."

"No," Celestia said, nodding at his words and secretly grateful he had come to this conclusion. "I have never even heard the name, though I admit it sounds similar to old high Unicornic."

"It isn't her real name," Elliot said, his eyes narrowing in contempt. "She was you… was Celestia.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Then the name Solamina…”

“Was a new name she chose,” Elliot clarified. “The name ‘Astra Solamina Maxima’ is an extension of a name some of her subjects gave her. She took it officially when she took the sole throne of Equestria."

Sole throne of Equestria? Now that was an interesting tidbit.

"What happened to Luna?" Celestia asked, feeling apprehensive of the answer. What she had already heard was concerning, so she expected nothing good.

"Died," Elliot said bluntly. "Official story was illness. No one believed it really, especially after she declared Equestria an Empire. Everyone thinks Solamina got rid of Luna."

"Got... rid..." Celestia repeated, not daring to believe what she was being told. "You mean she..."

"Killed her own sister," Elliot said with a nod, his tone blunt. "Yup. That’s the theory."

"I can scarcely believe it," Celestia murmured, shocked by the very idea: she had faced many things in ten thousand years, but this was quite, quite different. "She... killed Luna… after everything, after all the things we’ve been through… I just don’t believe..."

"Believe it," Elliot said harshly, ignoring Celestia's distress. "The bitch has done far more than kill her own sister. The human race started the war with seven and a half billion people, but we're down to less than fourteen million... forgive me if one dead Alicorn doesn't overly move me..."

"Have you no heart?" Celestia asked, scowling at him.

"No," he replied angrily, beginning to cough. "If I had one, it burnt it out because of this... bloody..."

He doubled over, his coughing worsening, and Celestia considered everything she had heard: her very appearance, and the name of this Solamina, had inspired this man to take on a power that was slowly killing him just so he could have a chance to kill her, and yet his only regret was not being able to do so.

What could have done such a thing, inspired such anger? She needed to know.

Celestia walked over to him, scrutinising him carefully. He kept coughing, but he looked like he was trying to stand up straight despite the obvious pain he was in. He looked up at her. They locked eyes.

"I need to know what she has done," Celestia asked simply.

He blinked at that, and smiled softly.

"I can't tell you," he said. Celestia frowned. "But I can show you."

A moment passed as the man let that sink in. After a moment, reluctantly, Celestia nodded. Any kind of memory sharing was risky, but it might prove to be the only way for her to truly comprehend what had happened. The man stood up as straight as he could and grabbed her head.

There was a flash...

***

The world was dying. 2022.

David Elliot stared at the recruitment poster, his friend Sam Lake stood next to him. Sam was a blonde man about half a head taller than David, and a bit broader in shoulder as well.

The image of the late lamented Queen Elizabeth stared back at them, the words "your world needs you" printed in large letters beneath her. Her death had been a shock, to be sure - a good two or three dozen PER members had attacked Buckingham Palace, in what must have been the most audacious attack in history. Cars driven through gates, dozens of armed men and women with rifles and potion-bottles attacking palace guards, and most of them getting shot to pieces for their troubles. There were enough, however, that they eventually reached the Queen’s chamber… where she promptly shot herself in the head rather than be a symbol for them. The remaining terrorists had been killed trying to flee.

It was strange, the young man thought. The Queen's death at the hands of the PER - now officially a terrorist group being hunted by the armed forces for their treasonous acts - could have proven the death knell for a nation, but instead, thanks to her heroism, it had been the call to arms the island needed: hundreds of thousands of otherwise disaffected young people, all of whom seemed to have been waiting for death at the hands of the barrier already tearing across the pacific, now signed up for the ever-growing army.

"Thinking of joining up?" the voice of his friend Sam asked from right next to him. David smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "I am."

"Is there a point?" Sam asked. "This damn pony thing isn't a war, it's a great big wall of fucking death. We can't stop it."

"But it's worth trying, isn't it?" David asked in reply. "Better than doing nothing,"

Sam shrugged, looking entirely unaffected - as far as he was concerned, there was nothing to be done, but he wouldn't be much of a friend if just let his mate go off and join up.

"Good point," he said. "Alright then. I guess I'd better join you."

***

The world gone mad… 2023.

“Right,” Sam said, holding up a glass. “Here’s to the fucking ‘Sanctified Republic of Gilead’. May it rest in pieces.”

“Here, here,” Elliot said with a sigh, downing his pint. “Fucking hell.”

The ‘Sanctified Republic of Gilead’ was the name taken by a mad cult that had taken over most of the former United States of America - they had been… insane. Human sacrifice, mortification, that sort of thing. Now they were all gone, the last inches of former American soil subsumed by the Barrier. Now, the only people left from America - the odd mad Gileadite aside - were those who had fled that insanity beforehand.

“Hard to believe it ever got that bad,” Sam said quietly, having a swig of his own drink. “I mean, shit, those were kids...”

“I know,” Elliot said softly.

“Still,” Sam continued. “At least it’s over now.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Over?”

Sam sighed, smiling tiredly. “Gilead is, anyway. The rest of this stuff…”

The Barrier was continuing to advance, and there had been nothing but a wall of stony silence from Equestria, with any ambassadors who Converted and tried to make it never reporting back… and it was increasingly seeming like they had failed to do so for reasons other than somepony stopping them.

Whatever else happened, this was far from over.

***

It was the end... 2024.

There were a hundred reasons to be afraid of the approaching barrier, David thought. Death by barrier was supposedly quite painful.

Standing on the deck of the HMS Illustrious, an aircraft carrier that should have been retired years ago, armed only with the L85 rifle in his hands, Elliot sighed. The old ship currently bore no aircraft, but there were a hell of a lot of soldiers, all armed similarly to him. The man next to him began praying, and Elliot spared him a glance.

"Our father, who art in heaven," the other man said softly. "Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..."

The general consensus was that the barrier would close in on Britain, incinerate every single person there, and then that was it. The end. No more human race. Praying was probably a reasonable reaction.

"... on earth as it is in heaven..." The voice of the other man trailed off, and David could see why: his own eyes widened in horror as the giant pink barrier edged closer. All around him, men and women were starting to aim their rifles.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil," Elliot murmured, changing tack as he too began murmuring prayers. He had never been a religious man, but he was about to die: might as well hedge his bets. "For thou art with me." He smirked. "And I'm carrying a rifle full of hot lead, and I'm gonna empty the bastard at the first thing that comes at me."

"Amen," one of his comrades said from next to him with a nervous laugh. The praying man also smiled, and Elliot took a moment to be thankful that at least he wasn't dying alone. That was better than some people got these days.

He spared a thought for Sam - Sam had been assigned to a similar duty, but his position was on the coast near some artillery. The two men had rarely been separated, but this had just been the luck of the draw. Still - Elliot counted himself blessed to have known his friend.

‘Hope he has better luck than me,’ he thought to himself.

Sod it, thought Elliot. If this was the end, he'd die firing. He aimed his rifle and fired, as all around him, men, women and even destroyers and battleships did the same. Somewhere, an officer yelled "weapons free!" but even if there had been no cry, the soldiers would have fired anyway.

The rounds impacted on the barrier as though it was nothing, a thousand little splashes against the infinite puddle. Futile.

And yet they kept firing.

David couldn't have said what kept him firing - whether it was hope, or anger, or fear. But whatever it was, he kept firing his rifle, desperate to try somehow to stop the approaching wall of death. All around him, men and women snarled in anger, or furrowed in concentration, all of them firing still, reloading and re-aiming and firing again.

A moment passed, as thousands of soldiers kept firing at the barrier. It was as though each of them was channeling their hatred into the stream of fire they were sending. The thing almost seemed to be wavering...

And then, magically, it stopped.

A great blue barrier, clashing horribly with the pink barrier of Equestria, appeared, a great fizzing light shining. The barrier, the great, implacable barrier, stopped dead, and slowly, the streams of gunfire stopped, leaving nothing but a purple wall, the pink of the Equestrian barrier mixed with the blue of this new barrier that blocked it.

For a moment, all was silent.

And then, to Elliot's surprise, a cheer rang out. First in ones and twos, and then in tens, twenties, and hundreds, the soldiers on the Vigilance and the dozens of other ships surrounding Britain started cheering.

They didn't know how, they didn't know why, but the barrier had been stopped!

Whatever happened next - and Elliot was sure it wouldn't be good - Elliot swore he'd remember this moment: the moment when there was hope in the future, for the first time since... he didn't even know when.

***

The warning... 2024.

Elliot raised an eyebrow at the sight before him: a giant refugee train, made up entirely of ponies, pony carts and pony belongings. It was impressive, that much was true: the convoy was long enough to reach from Hull's marina and the motley collection of boats that had arrived to the edge of the old Princes Quay shopping centre where Elliot and his friend Sam were standing, and everypony in it seemed entirely tired, as though they had come from great distance. Elliot and Sam shared a glance.

"What's all this?" Elliot said, holding a hand up at the lead pony, a turquoise Unicorn with a white and blue mane and a lyre cutie mark.

"Um... hi," the Unicorn said, smiling slightly in a sheepish fashion, seeming more than a little intimidated by the soldier. "Sorry. I'm Lyra..."

"I don't care who you are," Sam said shortly, cutting the nervous sounding Pony off. "What the hell is all this?"

"What does it look like?" an irritable sounding cream Earth Pony said from next to this Lyra. "We're a goddamn refugee column."

"Refugees?!" Elliot repeated, looking over the column. There had to be around a thousand ponies here, and those were just the ones he could see. He could swear there were more - on the little collection of boats, milling around near the docks…

“Yup,” the Earth Pony said. “Meet the ‘Equestrian Exodus’. Ain’t we a sorry sight.”

“Bon-Bon!” Lyra scolded. “We need to be nice - remember, we’ve come to these people for help.”

‘Bon-Bon’ scowled. “Right, ok.”

“What are you doing here? What’s caused this?” Sam asked, still frowning suspiciously.

"There are some of us who don't agree with what happened on this planet," Lyra said, her expression grim - she seemed entirely sincere to Elliot. "We've come to help. And to warn you."

"Warn us of what?" Sam asked, narrowing his eyes at the implied threat.

"War," a new voice, male, strong and assertive, said. From the crowd of ponies, a brown Earth Pony with an hourglass cutie mark emerged, a neckerchief tied around his throat. "The Empress is planning a war."

“Empress?” Elliot said, confused. “I thought Celestia was a Princess?”

“Celestia was a Princess,” the stallion said grimly. “But she’s declared herself Empress of Equestria - under the name Astra Solamina Maxima. Her intent is to invade this island and subjugate what remains of humanity.”

Elliot and Sam shared a glance. Though neither of them would have claimed to understand what was going on, all of this sounded very, very serious.

“I’ll call it in,” Elliot said after a moment.

“Thank you,” the stallion said. “That’s all I can ask.”

As Elliot moved to do so, Sam shook his head disbelievingly, still watching as the ponies - hundreds, thousands, God only knew how many - kept on marching from their little boats.

"This is so above our fucking pay grade," he sighed.

***

The war raged... 2025.

The now-Sergeant David Elliot swore. Somehow, he'd been left in charge of the defences on Whitby's shoreline, and it was going badly. Hell, that was an understatement.

The pier had become a landing point for hundreds of Pegasi, and to make matters worse, the reports stated that Rainbow Dash, one of Solamina's "Elements of Order" was leading the charge.

"Shit!" Elliot swore as a potion bomb impacted near him - the splash missed him, but caught two of his squad - both of whom had exposed skin out. In a flash, he aimed his pistol at the men and fired.

"Keep your fucking suits sealed!" he yelled over to the rest of his men, who were scrambling to follow his order.

The army's new standard gear was a completely sealed bodysuit over Kevlar body armour, with a helmet and gas mask. It ostensibly prevented potion from hitting the exposed skin of troopers, but it was also hot and the troops had a bad habit of leaving parts unsealed to get some ventilation in. Yelling in frustration, Elliot aimed his rifle at an incoming squad of Pegasi, and fired: one of the incoming flyers took a hit to the wing, veered out of control, and crashed into a building heavily, splattering his brains all over the wall with the force of the impact.

Ignoring the cheers of his squad, Elliot advanced along the pier. The armies of Equestria were limited to potion bombing, spell projectiles and spear combat, but their numbers made up for the primitive technology. Even worse, many of these ponies appeared to be Royal Guards, the best of Solamina's armies.

"Sam!" Elliot called into his radio. "I need a sit rep now!"

A strange, cackling laugh sounded from the radio, and Elliot frowned.

"Got hit by a potion bomb," the voice of Elliot's old friend said, sounding slightly demented. "Hurt a lot, you know. But hey ho, feeling much better now."

Elliot swore. Sam was ponified.

"Where are you," he asked seriously. He had to deal with this now: Sam had knowledge the enemy couldn't be allowed to have. Suddenly, a flying form crashing into him, hooves pounding at his Kevlar-played chest. Still wearing the loose remains of his uniform, a pale blue Pegasus with a blonde mane was grinning at Elliot.

"Surprise!" the Sam-thing yelled. "Seriously, you should consider taking the potion - this isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would..."

Elliot threw the pseudo-Sam off of him, yelling in frustration. He kicked the downed Pegasus and stamped on his wing, signalling for his squad to keep advancing.

"Argh!" screamed the new Pegasus. "Watch the wings, I just got these!"

"Yeah well," Elliot said, taking his pistol out and aiming it at his friend. "You won't be using them much."

"Dave..." the not-Sam said, eyes wide, "it's me, mate. Come on..."

"No, Sam, it isn't." Elliot's aim didn't waver.

"You won't just kill me," the Pegasus said, eyes wide. "We're friends. Best friends..."

"That's why I'm doing this," Elliot said, sliding the hammer back with a blunt 'click'.

"Remember when we were in training together?" the not-Sam asked, eyes wide with fear. "How you and I...?"

A gunshot rang out before the not-Sam could finish his reminiscing, and the Pegasus' head slumped to the floor, the shocked expression almost comical but the eyes wide and accusing. Elliot threw the pistol into the sea, took up his rifle, and shot down two more Pegasi, their bodies crashing into the water as well. He moved on - the battle wouldn't wait for him.

He'd grieve for his lost friend later.

***

A broken man... 2026.

"No! No! It's not true - she must have escaped at the last minute! You're lying!"

The Doctor - known colloquially as "Doctor Whooves" by those he worked with and those he had saved - was screaming in agony and distress: he had just been told how the battle of Manchester had been won... and about the death of Ditzy Doo, his... Companion? Friend? Elliot didn't know what Ditzy had been to him, but knew that the Doctor had been one of the only people to use her real name. The soldier hated having to tell the Doctor what happened to Ditzy - he was never good at delivering this sort of news - but it had been his mission, his defence, and since Ditzy had asked him to do this, it was his duty to tell the Earth Pony - or rather, the Time Lord in Earth Pony form - himself. So far he wasn't taking it entirely well...

"She can't be dead," the Earth Pony said softly, staggering slightly as if punched. Clutched in his front hoof, he held a bandolier that had once belonged to Ditzy when she fought with the ground forces. "She... she..."

He cursed and leant against a wall in an all-too-human gesture of misery, banging his forehoof against the wall in a pitiful gesture of anger and grief.

"She was special to you," Elliot supplied after a moment.

"More than that," the Doctor said bitterly. "She was the first friend I made in this body. She was..."

He closed his eyes.

"It's just going to get worse, isn't it," he said, his voice tinged with a bitterness that Elliot had never heard from him. He wasn't even asking a question - he was stating it as a fact.

"I'm afraid it will," Elliot replied. He should have softened the blow for the distraught pony, but this was not a time for soft blows. It was a time for facts.

"I've held back," the Doctor said, now sounding angry. "I've held back because I thought I could do more good as I am. But now... now Ditzy is dead, Dinky is left without a mother, and I'm just sat here. A useless, crying wreck!"

The last words were accompanied by the Doctor's front hooves slamming into a wall. The room shook.

"Doctor..." Elliot said, putting a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort the hurt pony, but the Doctor shook him off.

"No more," the Doctor said. He laughed, a short bark of agony and fury combined. "I said those words once. I meant them then, and I mean them now. This war..." The Earth Pony swallowed. "This war doesn't need a Doctor. It needs something else entirely."

He closed his eyes.

"Doctor," he said softly, "no more. For Ditzy."

Before Elliot could say anything else, a golden glow began emanating from the Doctor, the pony's face grimacing in concentration. The glow covered the pony, the light encompassing his entire form, so bright it hurt Elliot's eyes... and then it receded, leaving behind an entirely different pony. He was still an Earth Pony, but his eyes, when they opened, were hard. His mane was still brown, but it was longer, and his fur had turned dark reddish-brown. Most noticeable about this new Doctor were two things - the serious expression on his face and the broken hourglass of his cutie mark.

He narrowed his eyes at Elliot, and then buckled Ditzy's bandolier over his shoulder.

"Doctor?" Elliot asked.

"No more," the Doctor said in reply, his voice raspy, broken. "No... no more."

He walked out of the room, leaving Elliot on his own, certain that something important had just been broken forever.

***

Mourning the gone. 2027.

“So,” he said quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lyra was sat on her own, her eyes gazing off into space. A crumpled note lay next to her, the only sign of the mare who had been her best friend for years. She slowly shook her head. Too stunned to speak. Too shocked to believe it.

“Talking helps,” he said, a slight frown on his face.

She shook her head again.

Slowly, Elliot put a hand on her shoulder. Wordless lay, she leant against him, still silent. Still staring at nothing. Elliot simply sat there in turn, letting her take comfort merely from his presence. If that was what she needed from him, that was what he would give her.

They'd both lost too much.

***

The choice... 2028.

"Say that again," Elliot said tiredly.

"I can create a magical weapon that will give us the edge in this war," the man in the trenchcoat repeated, a desperate expression on his face, his Liverpudlian accent getting more pronounced the more agitated he became.

"Uh huh," Elliot said. "And you need my help for this why?"

"Because I need a great warrior to become the vessel," the man - John Constantine - said. "And that's you."

"Why are we even listening to this?" True Grit, one of Elliot's most trusted soldiers, said angrily. "Rarity's expeditionary force is landing at Dover in only an hour!"

"You need every bloody advantage you can get you bloody nag!" Constantine yelled. "And if this works, this'll be a fucking brilliant advantage!"

"Sir," True Grit said warningly, bristling at being called a ‘nag’.

"Grit, wait outside," Elliot said tiredly. Reluctantly, the Unicorn exited. Elliot turned to Constantine, who was stood, arms folded, waiting for his attention.

"Ok," the Major said slowly. "So. Why should I believe you?"

"You know magic exists," Constantine said, sounding even more desperate.

"Yeah, yeah," Elliot said. The existence of magic on Earth had been revealed to the public around the time the barrier had been stopped: a group calling itself the Watcher's Council, led by a tired looking man named Rupert Giles, had explained that the reason Britain had been spared was that Earth's intrinsic magic had somehow, finally, concentrated enough to stop the barrier in it's tracks. The explanation had cheered up some, including a resurgence of Earth-God worshippers like the New Gaian Cult, and it had created the first feeling of hope for the millions of humans still alive in years.

"Well, Earth's magic has a specific focus here in Britain because of the Lady in the Lake," Constantine explained, gesturing as he did so. "Kind of like the Arthurian myths, yeah?"

"I'm vaguely familiar," Elliot said. In truth, they had been some of his favourite stories in better days, though that had been a long time ago.

"Well, I can harness that energy to create a weapon for us," Constantine said, sounding almost excited.

"What, Excalibur?" Elliot asked, snorting. But to his surprise, Constantine looked entirely earnest.

"Better," he said with a grin. "This works, and we’ll have ourselves an Avatar of Albion."

“And what’s an ‘Avatar of Albion’ when it’s at home?” Elliot asked.

“A weapon,” Constantine said. “A single warrior, powerful enough to fight a whole army.”

Elliot blinked. Was this man serious? More to the point... should he, Elliot, believe him?

Did he have a choice?

“Alright,” he finally said, shaking his head, still not believing that he was believing this crap. “What do you need from me?”

“A volunteer - a warrior,” Constantine replied quickly. “Any will do, though a human might be a better bet.”

“Alright,” Elliot said slowly, nodding. “I’ll do it.”

***

The respite... 2029.

"Albion! Albion! Albion!"

The chanting made David Elliot smile as he walked onto the stage, moving slowly and deliberately. Hundreds of eyes focused on him. He smiled softly as he felt their expectation hit him. Suddenly, he raised his right hand, showing off what was clutched therein.

A deep purple mane, a pink mane and a blonde mane were clutched in his fingers.

A moment's silence descended upon the room, before every single human being and almost every pony - with a few sickened looking examples - in the room screamed with fervent glee.

Some of the Elements, of all ponies, had been killed.

"Soldiers of the last army!" Elliot screamed to the jubilant crowd, and they quieted for a moment. "I have before you proof of hope! The Elements can bleed! The Elements can die! And I promise you, one day I will stand before you all with seven manes in my hand - the Elements and their thrice damned Empress too!"

The cheering only got louder. Elliot withdrew the manes - he stored them in his pouch, ready to be sewed back into his jacket, a permanent tally of his most infamous kills.

As he stepped off the stage, he found himself stood with a yellow Earth Pony with a dirty blonde mane named Hell Blazer. He seemed an unusual pony: he had a cigarette hanging in his mouth, he wore a trenchcoat, shirt and tie, and his black cutie mark displayed the mark of the Beast - "666" - for all to see. Also there was Lyra Heartstrings and the Doctor.

"So," Hell Blazer said. "When are you moving on the next of the bucking - gah, fucking!" he swore loudly, tapping the side of his head with his hoof.

Constantine's transformation had left him with some innate Pony traits that he was constantly battling with himself to shake, including the "nauseatingly clean language": the only concession to his new form he had made was the changing of a name, and that he said was more an ironic statement than anything.

"Fucking, fucking... when are you moving on to the next of the bitch brigade?" he finished, still apparently battling his own head.

"Soon," Elliot said, ignoring Hell Blazer's outburst. "Can't decide whether it should be Rainbow Dash or Pinkie Pie."

"Why not cut the head from the Elements?" the Doctor asked, sounding tired. Elliot could have sworn the pony had aged ten years since he had last seen him: his mane was already filled with grey streaks, and he had more than a few wrinkles.

"You mean Sparkle?" Elliot asked. "Nah, she's too tough, and too clever. She'll be the last, and I'll be breaking the ol' armour out for her."

He grinned, and the Doctor nodded. Lyra, on the other hand, gave him an odd look.

"Did you have to display their manes?" she asked, sounding slightly disturbed.

"People need hope in this day and age," the Doctor put in before Elliot could reply. "And like it or not, the manes of the Elements are a powerful motivating force for people."

"Showing people their enemy isn't invincible is always a good sign," Hell Blazer added.

"Still, it seems… barbaric," Lyra said softly.

"It is," Elliot agreed. He smiled tiredly. "But sometimes, barbarism is necessary. If it gives us hope… what else can I do?"

Lyra didn't look convinced, but she was swayed from further discussion by Elliot suddenly beginning a coughing fit.

"Shit!" swore Hell Blazer. "When was the last time you Albioned?"

Elliot smirked at their word for his transformation: it was a rather crude word for what Elliot considered a wholly... well, "transformative" experience, but it worked.

"Haven't done it fully since... Fluttershy?" he said softly.

"She that much of a hassle?" the yellow Earth Pony asked, sounding entirely unconvinced.

"Nope, she just asked nicely," Elliot said, grinning slightly. He cursed as more coughing came up. "It gonna get worse?"

"'Fraid so," Hell Blazer said, as the Doctor scanned a small silver device with a red light - his "sonic screwdriver" - over Elliot's form.

"Your body isn't built to hold the stress of transformation, nor the magic you are attempting to channel," the tired-sounding Earth Pony said gravely.

"Yeah," Hell Blazer said irritably. "We noticed."

“David, are you alright?” Lyra asked, her earlier discomfort forgotten in her worry for him.

"Forget it," Elliot said softly. "Let's just go enjoy the party."

***

The battle... January 19th, 2030.

The city of London was aiming at the sky. The ruined masonry, broken steel and shattered glass that littered the city made it clear that the once proud capital of Britain had seen far better days. A dark, ominous cloud hung in the otherwise light grey, smog filled sky, edging closer and closer to the city - but it wasn't a cloud. It was a swarm of ponies: Pegasi carrying unicorns. Lightly armed compared to the human forces - but armed well enough to kill something, nonetheless.

In the city, the best part of one hundred thousand soldiers, SAS commandos, Royal Marines, Equestrian Resistance members and hundreds of other soldiers ran around, preparing for the upcoming battle. Civilians - still nearly a million of them, even in a country with only fourteen or fifteen million people left - had been evacuated to shelters that were sealed with magic and titanium. The last armies weren't going to let the armies of the Sun Tyrant touch their families and charges without the fight of their lives.

Almost unnoticed by the bustling military forces went Hell Blazer, the yellow Earth Pony trotting through the lines to stand by Elliot's side. Elliot's eyes flicked down to his friend, and a small grim smile flickered into existence for a moment.

"How many?" Hell Blazee asked softly, and the smile faded.

"Uncertain," Elliot replied. "But there are enough that we'll have a time."

"I was wondering what took them so long to plan for this," Hell Blazer admitted. "They had the numbers six years ago, let alone now."

"Yeah," Elliot agreed solemnly.

"You gonna power up?" Hell Blazer asked.

"Saving it for the moment," Elliot replied. "Don't wanna tip my hand too quickly."

"I can get that," Hell Blazer said with a sigh. "You're sure you won't reconsider...?"

"No," Elliot said sharply. Hell Blazer had come to him with a plan - a desperate, insane plan - that if it worked might end the war forever, but it wasn't a certain thing at all. "It isn't that desperate yet."

"How could it get more desperate?!" Hell Blazer said, sounding frustrated. "We're about to get swarmed by bucking - gah - by a whole cart... shitload of Pegasi!"

He must have been frustrated: he had been getting better at controlling the pony-language urges recently. Still, it hadn't changed Elliot's mind.

"It isn't the time," he said. "And I'm not powerful enough to take on the Tyrant."

Hell Blazer didn't look convinced, but he fell silent, sensing he wouldn't make any headway. A moment later, they were joined by an older-looking Earth Pony - the Doctor stood with them, eyes turned skywards, wearing a battered brown leather coat, patterned scarf and Ditzy's old bandolier. The others didn't even look at him: they were too fixated on the approaching horde. They were close enough now to be able to distinguish the odd individual form of a Pegasus or two.

"I have fought many battles," the Doctor said softly, breaking the silence. His raspy voice sounded tired. "But I had hoped that it would not happen again. Part of me wishes I had not lived to see it."

"Way I see it Doc, none of us are gonna see the end of this day," Hell Blazer told the pony. Elliot looked down at the Doctor - he looked like hell: his eyes filled with bags and a short stubbly beard on his face. His mane was already greying.

"Way I see it," Elliot said shortly, "I'm gonna kill some converted, kill some Royal Guards, and give the bastards hell." To emphasise his point, he unholstered his hand cannon. The Doctor said nothing, but Hell Blazer grinned.

"That's the spirit, mate," he said. "Let's give them hell."

He thumbed the radio earpiece he had on." All troops," he said, trying to sound inspirational. "There's not really any plan except kill the bastards. So. Kill the bastards. Albion out."

He had been called "Albion" more and more by the troops under his command - especially after the deaths of all but one of the Elements of Order. He didn't like using the name - Albion wasn't him, Albion was the thing that used his body - but it kept morale high, so he relented.

"Ready?" he asked Hell Blazer, aiming his hand cannon at the ever-approaching horde.

"Hell yes." The Earth Pony looked entirely too eager for the coming battle.

"Good luck to us all," the Doctor added softly. "For I fear we will need it."

A moment passed, and then the firing started.

Author's Notes:

EDIT: This chapter was edited 15th May 2015.