Disclaimer: The depiction of the L.D.S. faith or any other religion in this story is in no way meant to be slanderous or hurtful. As a work of fiction, please take any references to any real religion, people, places, or cultures as just window dressing to make the world in this piece of fiction more vibrant and alive. Thank you.

By: Fletch Scoop - Wednesday, July 19, 2084
Equestria Daily | Associated Press

Phoenix – Phoenix (AP) Want to get converted safely? Or even just find a safer place to live, then maybe you should consider heading to Phoenix, Arizona.

As thousands each month make the decision to convert at one of the over 1,500 Equestrian conversion bureaus in the NAU, the main concern is for everypony’s safety. With lawlessness at an all-time high, traveling has become quite dangerous. With the addition of terrorist groups like the HLF and PER harassing people and ponies alike, migrating between cities and even traveling inside them has always been a dangerous business.

Not so in Phoenix. Crime and reported terrorist activities in the Valley of the Rising Sun is at an all-time low. Even going back to before the appearance of Singularity in the Pacific, the statistics are staggering. Nearly a 90 percent drop in reported violent crimes.

When this reporter visited Phoenix over a year ago, the crime rates were astronomically high, due in part to the drug superhighway that travels north from Nogales towards Phoenix and out to the rest of the NAU.

“The cartels ran the territory all the way from Nogales until just south of Tucson,” local Sheriff Carlos Garcia said. “The cartels were so well armed that not even Academi, the PMC with the contract to secure the southwest sector of the NAU, was powerless to stop them.”

When the Virginia based PMC, Academi was asked to comment on the sharp decrease of crime in the greater metropolitan Phoenix area, this reporter was directed to speak with Thomas Holmes, Deputy Director of Security for the PMC. “Academi has always prided itself on securing safety for the citizens of the territories we patrol,” the deputy director said. “The sharp decrease in violence around Phoenix is proof of that.”

When asked why the cartels still held control of the area immediately south of Phoenix, and in fact cartel related violence was on the rise in the normally sleepy towns of Las Cruces, New Mexico to the east and in Yuma, California to the west the deputy director only said, “No comment.”

Wanting to discover the secret of the sudden decrease in violent crimes in Phoenix, and the cause for the increase of cartel related violence in the surrounding communities, this reporter booked a flight to Phoenix to discover the answer for himself. Landing in the Phoenix Sky harbor International Airport, I was met by Peachy Keen, director of the Phoenix conversion bureau, and his secretary Dewdrop.

When asked about the recent ongoing attacks that the Phoenix bureau had been suffering from on a daily basis, the director had this to say, “Working with local law enforcement, we have been able to secure the surrounding area from any further HLF incursions.”

“Yes, we are pleased to say that conversions have gone from just a handful a day, to over 350 in under two weeks,” Dewdrop said.

The Phoenix conversion bureau shares many similarities with the other bureaus in the NAU, namely a large greenhouse and a large field for the newborn pegasi to practice their flying skills. However, the Phoenix conversion bureau has something else that no other bureau can boast of having. An HWS Mark V Land Behemoth, affectionately called Tinman.

“The Mark V Land Behemoth is the apex of land based combat,” Steve Jackson, the mechanic for Tinman said. “I’ve seen Tinman successfully fight against two Mark IV’s and three full companies of mercenaries simultaneously with only limited support.”

The irony of a war machine being used to protect the conversion bureau is not lost on everyone. “When the conversion bureaus first opened, we ran a line of very well received commercials decrying war as a reason for undergoing ponification,” Director Peachy Keen said. “Now here we are using one of the very war machines we railed against to provide security.”

Asking some of the residents and employees how they felt about Tinman’s presence returned mixed responses. “Well I think that it’s kind of hypocritical that the Equestrian government would hire Tinman, but I can understand why they did. I’ve never felt safer,” said Catherine Rutger, who is currently undergoing the conversion process.

“It’s just not right,” said Cherry Blossom, an earth pony gardener. “Equestria is better than this. We shouldn’t need to use a war machine to protect us. It sends the wrong kind of message to people coming to get away from human ills like war.”

“Tinman is amazing,” said Sugar Pie, a baker for the conversion bureau, “I think all he really needs is just a friend.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Stormy Skies, the flight instructor for the bureau. “Tinman is no different than the clouds I used to push back in Manehattan. Yes weather could be weaponized, but it’s just a tool. Similarly, Tinman is a tool we’re using to protect ourselves. As long as we use it properly, I don’t think anypony could fault us for using all available resources to protect ourselves from harm.”

The HWS named Tinman has a long and storied service record. In fact this isn’t the first time he’s operated in the NAU. Using the Freedom of Information Act, this reporter was able to uncover that Tinman had been used against the Mormon Separatist Movement in Utah in 2051. Records indicate that the war machine was used to annihilate all resistance, and in fact was responsible for the complete destruction of the Wasatch Front including Salt Lake City, leading to the eventual collapse of the L.D.S. sect. Additional records indicate that it was also used against the city of Mecca in Greater Persia, with similar results in 2072 against the Wahhabi Brotherhood.

While the benefits that Tinman offers the conversion bureau are obvious, it still doesn’t answer why the crime rates in Phoenix itself has gone down so dramatically since its arrival.

Asking people and ponies alike on the street returned different answers. “I think that people are afraid that the machine is going to go wild if the Equestrians are attacked anymore,” said Patrick Frank, lifelong resident of Phoenix. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with having a foreign government operating such a machine here. This isn’t Asia or Africa after all.”

“Personally, I’ve never felt safer on Earth,” said Sparkling Diamond, a unicorn jeweler. “Before the arrival of the machine at the bureau, I was constantly under fear for my life from being robbed by thugs, or even being murdered by the HLF. Now I can walk outside and not worry about being attacked.”

When this reporter attempted to ask the local chapter of the HLF what their opinion of Tinman’s presence was, HLF spokesperson and local businessman Guillermo Ortega had this to say, “The fact that the Equestrian government has had to stoop to use human technology to defend themselves means that their whole argument that it’s better to be a pony than a human is invalid. If they truly believed their way was superior they would use only Equestrian technology to defend themselves. Their use of a HWS is hypocrisy of the highest order.”

Regardless of what’s causing the decrease of violence in Phoenix and the surrounding communities, the fact remains that people are free to convert there without fear, and people and ponies alike are able to go about their business free from the threat of harm.

Before this reporter left the Valley of the Sun, we asked the one person who might be able to best answer these unanswered questions, Tinman himself. When asked why he thought that the violence had been reduced in the city he had this to say, “You fleshbags are all the same, predictable and easy to manipulate. Fleshbags, especially of the still human variety love to bluster, but for the most part are cowards. Pony fleshbags like yourself, are so blasted trusting that as long as you hide the knife before you strike, they’ll be smiling until they bleed out. The most likely reason for the reduction in cartel violence, I’d say is because they know of the bounties on their heads I’m willing and able to collect. As for the rest of the reduction in crime, most of the fleshbags think I’m some sort of robocop who will beat them down at the first infraction. God, you fleshbags watch too much holovision.”

It was Friday, Tinman’s favorite day of the week. Fridays always meant new memories were available to be had. The black market memory swap in the virtual world was one of Tinman’s guilty pleasures. The number one cause of cyberbrain sclerosis, or grey matter calcification among the cybernetically augmented was the loss of sensory input. Most people with only some cybernetic augmentation never suffered from the debilitating condition. However, those who had undergone full cyberdization ran the risk of their brains becoming hardened and useless, often leading to a catatonic state or even brain death. Although the cause for this condition was never discovered, it was believed that the loss of a majority of the body’s nervous system resulted in a degraded ability to process sensory input.

The world corps had ‘approved’ memories containing sensory data to help prevent calcification from occurring, but only the poor and corporate lackeys used them. Memory connoisseurs like Tinman, instead got all their memories from the black market memory swap. The black market had memories of all kinds for sale, which were procured from both willing and unwilling fleshbags and sometimes even ponies. Lately pony memories were all the rage, and were in high demand.

As Tinman browsed through the new memories that were now available using his wireframe avatar, he stopped at one that seemed to catch his eye. Greatest Pony Hits, containing such popular favorites such as: spending time with friends, surprise party, breeding season, love at first sight, defecation, and eating a muffin. Tinman was about to ask if they had any memories about battlefield surgery, preferably without anesthesia available. When he kept thinking about what Sugar Pie had said last week, “Even though you can’t enjoy eating one any more, I thought that maybe just looking at it might help remind you of what eating one might have been like.”

On a whim Tinman added Greatest Pony Hits to his order. Carefully he avoided making eye contact with any of the other regulars. Up until now, he had been extremely vocal in denouncing ponies in cyberspace and had even been feuding with a chapter of PER that operated here. This chapter of PER that operated in the cyber world acted much like their real world counterparts; usually the most they did was vandalizing your avatar by turning it into a pony. Sometimes they were even able to locate you in the real world and would then try ponifing the poor schlubs who didn’t use enough proxies to hide their real world locations. Seeing two of the PER flunkies nearby, he decided to try avoiding them.

Tinman had had several run-ins with them before, and always loved tweaking them for kicks. However today he wasn’t really in the mood, he just wanted to take his newly purchased memories and get back to work protecting the conversion bureau.

“Aha!” said a light red earth pony mare with a pink mane with a ‘G’ for a cutie mark, “I see that you’ve finally decided to try sampling some pony memories.”

“Oh really?” the light brown unicorn stallion with a black mane and wearing an ‘N’ for a cutie mark on his flank asked. “Let’s see what they’ve bought.”

“Why it’s Greatest Pony Hits!” G said. “I’ll bet you just can’t wait to try out track seven, mating season, can you?”

“Listen, get out of my way!” Tinman growled.

“Has my squire hit a nerve?” N teased.

Tinman said nothing but tried leaving another way. Only to be confronted by the unicorn G once more. “Why settle for mere memories when you can have the real thing?” she asked, flicking her tail suggestively.

“Leave me alone,” Tinman said, “I won’t ask again.”

“You dare threaten a knight of PER!” N exclaimed.

Both ponies began circling around Tinman’s wireframe. “Prepare for trouble…” N said, while unsuccessfully trying to hack Tinman.

“Make it double…” G added, as she began interfacing with his wireframe mesh.

Groups like PER were one of the reasons he hated ponies so much. PER, along with all those stupid conversion bureau ads annoyed him to no end. Stupid fleshbags, they thought that trading in their hands for hooves somehow made them any better or purer then humanity. Human fleshbag or pony fleshbag, it made no difference. A fleshbag was still a fleshbag no matter the form.

As the two PER idiots spouted off some inane rhyme and tried hacking him in a pathetic attempt at changing his avatar, he began hacking the environment. Cyberspace unlike the real world was built on rules, rules that could be bent or broken if you knew how. Rolling his nonexistent eyes at the two fleshbags foolish enough to try messing with him, he reversed the gravity right near where the two pony avatars were running by over ten thousand Newtons. Instantly both ponies were launched into the stratosphere of the cyber world. Eventually their connection to the black market would time out and their consciousness would be returned to their bodies no worse for the wear.

Tinman snorted in disgust, “Stupid fleshbags…” he murmured, while wishing he could so something more permanent than merely inconveniencing them for a short period.

The rest of the avatars in the black market were looking at Tinman in surprise, until he glared back at them. Instantly, it was business as usual as the other avatars resumed their trading, selling and buying of memories from each other. Allowing the cyber world’s environment to reset to its defaults, he accessed a nearby dataport and synched up with his frame. The world went black, until he finally reconnected with his frame’s sensor array.

Looking out at the street, Tinman was surprised at how busy the conversion bureau was getting. Dozens of people would enter the building now every hour, while dozens more loved to gawk at his hulking frame. Director Peachy Keen had posted signs advising both people and ponies to keep their distance away from the war machine.

The conversion bureau looked much different now than when he had first arrived. Taking advantage of the expense account he had access to, Tinman had made some renovations. The most noticeable ones were the duracrete barricades he had set up along the roads leading up to the building, to prevent the possibility of a vehicle filled with explosives ramming into the building and gaining access. Now there was only one path that a vehicle could take unimpeded into the conversion bureau, and that was covered by several automated turrets he had setup.

Tinman resumed his normal surveillance position in front of the bureau. To the left of him atop an electrical pole was a ten day old muffin moldy and stale. Looking at it he began accessing track eighteen of Greatest Pony Hits, eating a muffin. His vision went black for a moment as his brain case began synching up with the memory file.

He found himself sitting at a table surrounded by several unfamiliar ponies in a small room, in front of him was a large platter of muffins. The fragrant bouquet of the muffins made his mouth water, he felt himself smiling at the thought of tasting the delectable treats. Several of the ponies to his left were having a conversation in their strange pony tongue. He heard himself utter a few words he didn’t understand, before a muffin was placed before him. The ponies all around him were laughing, and chatting. He felt a strange camaraderie with these creatures, and almost even a familial connection. He looked down at a nearby light blue foal to his right and nuzzled it, while a pink mare to his left nibbled at his ear and smiled. He felt himself smiling in response and saying something he didn’t understand. The mare looked back at him lovingly and gave him a kiss. He felt a wave of euphoria and happiness start to overwhelm him. Returning his attention to the muffin on his plate, he looked at it intently as he carefully studied it trying to decipher the meaning it held.

The muffin was golden brown and covered in sugar crystals and glaze, large blueberries broke through the surface of the confection revealing their tasty allure. The top of the muffin was flawless having risen perfectly, while its rim slightly bulging out over the sides. Using his magic to slowly break the muffin apart, Tinman saw that its innards were moist and golden brown. Inside the plump blueberries were leaking juice, staining the muffin’s otherwise flawless golden interior. Carefully to not spill any crumbs, he brought up a small piece of the muffin into his mouth using his magic. As the sugar sweet bread in combination with the tart sweetness of the blueberries met his tongue, they made him close his eyes in pleasure. Slowly he chewed and swallowed the breakfast pastry, before taking another bite. The foal to his right looked up at him pleadingly with wide eyes, and then down at his half-finished muffin. Smiling, he used his magic to levitate a small piece of the muffin over to the foal’s plate, while saying something he didn’t understand with a small laugh. The foal looked back and gratefully smiled before eating the piece of muffin given to her. Once she was done eating, the foal rubbed up against his leg affectionately. Leaning down, he gave her a kiss on the top of her head before he resumed eating the rest of his muffin. Once the last bit of the muffin was gone, he saw the mare to his left smile, then felt her kiss his cheek affectionately before his vision went dark.

Moments later he was reconnected to his sensor array once more. In front of him he saw the moldy muffin that Sugar Pie had given him days ago. Moving away from the pole, he started his patrol of the perimeter of the bureau. He didn’t know quite what to think about the memories he had just experienced. Usually the memories he was used to experiencing were mainly physical sensations, the pain of feeling your leg being broken or the pleasure of animalistic sex. Never before had he bothered with something as mundane as the memory of sharing a meal with someone. He felt a sudden longing for something he couldn’t quite understand, yet at the same time felt revulsion for his new found desire.

He wondered who the ponies he had experienced were, and what their relationship to each other was. Lost in thought, he didn’t even notice when the bright pink shape of Sugar Pie flitted around him, in an effort to gain his attention.

“Hello Tinman!” she said. “I know I’m not supposed to talk with you, but director Peachy Keen wanted to speak with you in his office.”

Looking at Sugar Pie, and then thinking about the mare in the memories, he decided to try something. Activating his sensor array, Tinman began scanning every detail of the bright pink pegasus pony. “Advise the director I’ll meet him in his office shortly,” he said, after activating his loudspeakers.

“Oh that tickles!” she giggled.

“Did the director happen to say what he wanted?” Tinman asked.

“Not really,” Sugar Pie replied, before flying off. “See you later big guy.”

Using the biometric data he’d captured, Tinman created a perfect duplicate of the excitable Sugar Pie. Then combined the duplicate with the memory he had just experienced. After replaying it once more he found something was still bothering bothered him, something was missing and he couldn’t quite understand what it was. Deciding to put the problem aside until later, he accessed with the conversion bureau’s mainframe and uploaded his consciousness into its central core.

There he was met by the utterly insufferable A.I. Winston who looked at him with contempt. “I see that the Brute has darkened my door once again," he said.

“Yeah whatever, Winchell,” Tinman replied. “I need to see Director Peachy Keen.”

“That’s Winston, you uneducated buffoon,” Winston retorted, “and the director is busy holoconferencing with someone. He can’t be bothered with trivialities.”

Listen here you limey bastard,” Tinman growled, “the director asked to see me. Don’t make me go over your bald head.”

“I’ll have you know baldness is a sign of distinction,” Winston replied in a slightly hurt tone, while placing a hand on his balding head.

“Oh I’m sure all the lady A.I.s at whatever singles bar you hang out at, just love the comb over on the old chrome dome,” Tinman said, with a laugh.

“Sir, how dare you!” Winston said, puffing out his chest. “I’ll not have you besmirching my good name by insinuating I would stoop to chasing after cheap floozies. You may use the emitters and access consoles, but I’m going to have to insist you leave my main frame immediately.”

Tinman rolled his eyes, and then exited the main frame to access one of the many consoles inside the conversion bureau. Although Tinman had full access to the mainframe to do as he pleased, he felt it was bad form as a guest to continue aggravating Winston in his own home. A.I.s when they decided they didn’t like you very much always found ways of biting you in the ass when you least expected it. Selecting the front lobby emitters, Tinman projected his wireframe scaring an unsuspecting Dewdrop.

“Aiiieee!” Dewdrop screamed, dropping the cup of tea she was about to drink to the ground.

“Dewdrop,” Tinman said apologetically, “sorry about that. Winston was being uncooperative, and wouldn’t let me into Director Peachy Keen’s office.”

“Oh that’s alright,” Dewdrop said, using her magic to clean up the split tea.

“Did the director say why he wanted to speak with me?” Tinman asked.

“No,” Dewdrop replied, walking back to her desk to resume working on her console. “But you know how that stallion is. Sometimes he’s just so bottled up.”

Tinman nodded as he waited for the director to finish his holoconferencing call. “I guess I’ll just stay here till his schedule opens up,” he said.

Dewdrop silently nodded as she resumed her filing, when she remembered what Peachy Keen had said about Tinman earlier. “Tinman,” she said. “I have a question for you. What exactly is L.S.D.?”

“L.S.D. or lysergic acid diethylamide also more commonly known as acid, is a non-addictive psychotropic compound capable of altering thinking processes,” Tinman explained, projecting a rotating image of the molecule in front of him. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious because Peachy Keen mentioned you assisted in destroying that sect while we were discussing your service record,” Dewdrop said. “But now I’m even more confused, because it sounds as if L.S.D. is more chemistry than a religion.”

Tinman looked at the pony quizzically for a moment and then started laughing. “Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “You must be referring to the L.D.S. not L.S.D.”

“Ah that’s right,” Dewdrop said. “All these human acronyms, I find them a bit confusing sometimes.”

“That’s fine,” Tinman replied. “Sometimes I even have trouble remembering all of them. Personally I think fleshbags use so many big words to hide the fact that they really don’t know what the hell they’re doing.”

“So why did you willingly destroy something that was once important to you?” Dewdrop asked.

“Oh it wasn’t personal,” Tinman said. “Back then the L.D.S. religion had fermented an insurrection against the NAU. Supposedly, they were trying to save the United States constitution or some such nonsense. It was called the Mormon war.”

“But if you were a Mormon as well, why did you help fight?” Dewdrop asked in curiosity. “I mean I don’t really understand human religions very well, but from what I’ve seen I believe it to be like what I feel for the princesses. I could never harm one of them.”

“Being a fleshbag, I don’t think you could possibly understand,” Tinman said.

“A fleshbag?” Dewdrop said looking hurt.

“I’m sorry if you find the term offensive,” Tinman apologized, “But I find it accurately describes the nonmetal very well.”

“I’d prefer it if you would call me by name please,” Dewdrop said.

“Alright Dewdrop,” Tinman said. “But let me continue. Once I left my fleshbag body behind and went full metal, suddenly fleshbag concerns just didn’t seem that important anymore.”

“Fleshbag concerns?” Dewdrop asked in confusion.

“Yeah,” Tinman said, “Things like family, friends, country, and even god seemed to no longer matter.”

“But that’s awful!” Dewdrop said, finally realizing what Tinman truly was. “Was your family Mormon then?”

“Yes they were,” Tinman replied. “They all died during the assault on the Wasatch Front.”

“How could willingly fight against your own family, didn’t you love them?” Dewdrop asked, her eyes growing moist as she thought about the family she had left behind in Equestria.

“They placed their faith in an invisible god who was powerless to aid them, and foolishly chose to fight against the true gods of this world,” Tinman said, with a flat voice devoid of feeling. “Love is a fleshbag emotion. I left it behind me a long time ago…”

“That’s such a sad story,” Dewdrop said, while wiping the tears away from her eyes.

“Don’t mourn for the dead,” Tinman replied, “they made their choice, and if there ever was a god, I’m sure they are with him now. At least they finally got their revenge.”

“What do you mean,” Dewdrop said.

“The gods of this world have finally been overthrown by another,” Tinman said with a wry grin.

“You mean Princess Celestia and Princess Luna right,” Dewdrop replied.

“Yeah your princesses, the singularity or what have you I guess,” Tinman said.

“So is that why you have no problems killing people?” Dewdrop asked.

“Flesh and blood is weak, steel and fire is strong,” Tinman said without remorse. “If the fleshbags are foolish enough to fight against the inevitable, I have no qualms in ending them.”

Dewdrop felt ill at hearing about all the terrible things that Tinman had just admitted to, she wanted some time to herself. “Tinman,” she said, walking out of the lobby, “I have to take care of something. The director will be done with his holoconferencing call soon.”

“Dewdrop I understand,” Tinman said, “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No it’s alright, I did ask you after all,” Dewdrop said, with a weak smile. “I just need a few minutes to compose myself.”

Dewdrop left the lobby and Tinman behind. Heading towards her room, she looked inside and was relieved that her roommate wasn’t there. Closing the door behind her, she climbed up on her bed and curled up into a ball. The tears freely fell from her eyes. Never before had she imagined that somepony could have done all the terrible things Tinman had admitted to. She didn’t know whether to feel pity for what he’d lost or disgust at what he’d become.

Tinman waited patiently for the director to finish his meeting. While he was busily checking the building’s systems for opportunities to improve their security, that he didn’t hear the stealthy approach of Sugar Pie. Her approach had been so quiet that he was surprised when she flew up behind him and asked, “Do you miss them?”

Surprised, Tinman turned around and saw the pink mare looking at him with her big blue eyes. “Do I miss who?” he asked.

“Your family,” Sugar Pie said. “I know I miss mine.”

“What happened to yours?” Tinman asked.

“We ran a bakery, and there was a fire…” Sugar Pie said with a hint of audible sadness in her voice. “I was the only one who managed to get out in time, nopony else was able to.”

“Sugar Pie, I’m sorry for your loss,” Tinman said.

“It’s alright, it was an accident and nopony’s fault,” Sugar Pie said. “I find when I miss them badly; thinking about the good times we shared together helps me feel better.”

“Feeling sad is a fleshbag emotion,” Tinman replied.

“That’s too bad,” Sugar Pie said in a sorrowful tone, before she flew towards the kitchen, “because you can’t know the joy of the sweet without also tasting the bitter.”

“What does knowing the joy of the sweet mean exactly?” Tinman murmured to himself, as he resumed his work.

Director Peachy Keen just finished his holoconference with the head office over of the western NAU region’s conversion bureaus. Apparently, his bureau was making somewhat of a stir back in Canterlot. The ministry heads were ecstatic over the numbers that they were reporting daily, as well as the relative peace that Phoenix now offered ponykind. However, once they found out what he had done to secure that peace they weren’t quite as pleased. It was one thing to hire mercenary police to guard your bureau, but quite another to hire a HWS. Apparently because Equestria now employed the war machine, the government was in a bit of a pickle. Losing the war machine would mean that the violence would most likely return to Phoenix with a vengeance, but if they kept it on the payroll they ran the possibility of causing an international incident.

The ministry had left the dilemma squarely on his shoulders, determining what they should recommend doing with Tinman to the princesses. Peachy Keen nervously ran his hooves through his mane while weighing his options. On the one hoof, he enjoyed the relief from the mortars and snipers as well as the increase in conversions that were occurring. But on the other hoof, he felt ill anytime he thought about what he had read about in Tinman’s file. Additionally, there was the possibility of sparking the first war Equestria had ever been in in over a thousand years to worry about as well.

His brooding was interrupted by the sound of the intercom chirping. “Who is it?” Peachy Keen asked.

“Is your holoconference call over?” Tinman’s voice said.

“Oh yes, you can come in,” Peachy Keen replied.

Moments later the holographic image of Tinman appeared in the director’s office. “So what did you need to talk to me about?” Tinman asked.

“Well,” Director Peachy Keen said, “I’ve been talking with my superiors at the regional office and back in Canterlot. And there have been some concerns about you.”

“Finally,” Tinman thought, excited about the possibility of being discharged from his contract.

“While we appreciate the stability and protection you’re presence offers us…” Peachy Keen continued.

“Here it comes!” Tinman thought, salivating at the idea of being able to escape the clutches of these stupid ponies.

“We feel it would be in the best interests of everypony if we…” Peachy Keen said, before being interrupted by Tinman.

“Oh I can totally understand your position, with me being a walking nightmare and all,” Tinman said, careful not to reveal his eagerness. “When should I draw up the exit paperwork?”

Peachy Keen’s face got confused for a minute, and then broke into a smile. “Oh we’re not going to fire you,” he said.

“What!” Tinman exclaimed, losing control of himself.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel you weren’t wanted,” Peachy Keen said.

“Oh I’m sorry for my little outburst,” Tinman said, regaining his cool demeanor. “It’s just that it sounded like you were going to terminate me.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that,” Peachy Keen replied, “the ministry in Canterlot, and my superiors feel that your presence has had a stabilizing effect in the region. And that it would be unfair to everypony to just send you away just because of your previous employment history.”

“Okay,” Tinman said, bitterly thinking about the irony of it all.

“We felt that drawing up some proper combat protocols for you should put everypony’s mind at ease regarding your unsavory reputation,” the director said.

“Oh there goes my fun,” Tinman ruefully thought to himself. Quickly trying to figure out how to salvage the situation he decided to try for a ruse. “Director Peach Keen may I make a suggestion regarding your proposed combat protocols?”

“Oh of course,” Peachy Keen said. “You are the expert after all.”

When Tinman heard the director’s naivety, he wanted to burst out into song. Never let your hired mercenaries draw up the combat protocols, that was rule one of the new kind of warfare he represented. “Well director,” he said, “combat protocols are only really useful so everyone knows the limits of what both sides are capable of. Thereby limiting unexpected blow back, and limiting collateral damage.”

“That’s exactly what we want,” Peachy Keen said, clapping his hooves together.

“While published combat protocols are useful for real warfare,” Tinman explained, “I feel they would be detrimental to what you want to accomplish here.”

“Why do you say that?” Peachy Keen asked in confusion. “Wouldn’t knowing the extent of what you’re allowed to do, put everypony at ease?”

“My presence here is protecting the greater metropolitan area of Phoenix generally and this bureau specifically,” Tinman continued. “The virtue that no one knows the extent of my combat protocols makes me an unknown, a very dangerous and terrifying unknown.”

“I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean,” the director said, his ignorance of combat playing right into Tinman’s trap.

“Imagine for a minute, if my combat protocols were set for a one thousand meter perimeter around the conversion bureau,” Tinman said, generating an aerial map for the director to see. “Now imagine if the people who want to harm you decided to forgo attacking the bureau itself, and instead concentrated on the perimeter of my operating range.”

Director Peachy Keen’s eyes got wide, when he saw the images Tinman was projecting. He saw humans heading towards the conversion bureau being killed and beaten when they attempted to approach the perimeter. Next he saw ponies living outside the perimeter getting abused and even some being killed. “Tinman,” he said, feeling a bit nauseous at the violence he had just viewed, “thank you for educating me, and preventing me from making a terrible mistake.”

“I would be a poor combat asset if I didn’t properly advise you,” Tinman said with a slight smile. “Honestly telling me what sorts of combat protocols you want me to abide by and not locking me down would be the best course of action.”

“Why is that?” Peachy Keen asked.

“Once you’ve posted them,” Tinman said, “every member of the HLF in the region will swarm just outside of my kill zone to harass you.”

“Wouldn’t that be just what you wanted to prevent?” Peachy Keen said.

“Not in this case,” Tinman replied, “by posting false combat protocols and then giving them a bloody nose, you will have increased your protection significantly.”

“Does that mean you’ll be killing people?” the director hesitantly asked.

“As many as you ask for,” Tinman cheerfully said, “I can even arrange for battle trophies if you would like. I know several excellent taxidermists.”

Peachy Keen’s face turned green when he heard Tinman’s macabre suggestion. “What do you take me for, a human butcher who glories in violence?” he accused.

“Not at all Director Peachy Keen,” Tinman said. “I respect your revulsion to violence, I was just attempting to show you the extent you could carry the operation to if you so choose. Additionally a few stuffed HLFer’s decorating the exterior of the building might give them pause before deciding to attack a pony in the future.”

“I’ll hear of no further talk of such disgusting practices!” the director shouted in revulsion.

“As you wish director, remember I’m simply a tool and extension of your desires,” Tinman said politely, trying to hide the lies he was telling. “I’ll only perform actions you authorize me to.”

“Well that’s a relief off my mind,” Peachy Keen said. “We’re you actually being serous about the battle trophies or was that a bit of that black humor you humans are so fond of?”

“No I was being quite serious,” Tinman said. “Some of my employers found that harvesting the remains of the fallen as trophies of their victories quite pleasurable.”

“Though I’m hardly surprised by humanities capacity for violence anymore,” Peachy Keen said, “I find the thought that some people would actually take pleasure in harvesting human remains for decorating unimaginable.”

“You’ve read my service record haven’t you?” Tinman said. “I’ve been employed by some of the most ruthless men imaginable. They would think nothing of dropping a neutron bomb on a population center, or releasing a nanoplague if it was expedient. Harvesting the dead to decorate their offices is tame in comparison.”

Peachy Keen felt another wave of nausea wash over him. “Alright Tinman that’s all I had for you,” he said.

“Don’t you want to discuss what combat protocols you wish to use?” Tinman asked.

“No,” the director said, “I’m going with your suggestion. Posting false combat protocols, and letting you manage the situation.”

“It will be as you wish director,” Tinman said, as he attempted to upload himself back into his frame.

“Oh Tinman, one more thing,” Peachy Keen said.

“Yes director?” Tinman asked.

“I know you’re not somepony who revels in violence,” the director said.

“Why do you say that?” Tinman asked, genuinely questioning wherever the director could have gotten such a ridiculous idea inside his stupid pony brain.

“Because, on the first day I met you,” Peachy Keen replied, “you spared those snipers. And I think that perhaps all these evil things in your file were what your previous employers desired. Not what you would have freely chosen.”

“What a stupid trusting pony,” Tinman though derisively. “Fleshbags are all too easy to manipulate, I can’t believe he bought it.”

“I hope that my trust in you isn’t misplaced,” Peachy Keen said.

“It is as you said,” Tinman said, “I always do as my employers ask, and if you wish for me to show restraint and keep casualties to a minimum I’ll do my damnedest to ensure that happens. But if you prefer that I rain down the wrath of god on their heads, I’ll ask if you prefer fire or brimstone.”

“Good I’m glad that business has been settled now,” the director said, wiping his brow, “that’s a load off my mind.”

Before accessing the emitter to be uploaded back to his frame, Tinman turned towards Peachy Keen, “Once you’ve decided on my supposed combat protocols give them to Jackson, He’ll know what to do with them.”

“Very well,” Peachy Keen said, “Tinman, I look forward to continuing to work with you.”

“As do I,” Tinman said, full of false sincerity. “If you have anything further, have either Dewdrop or Sugar Pie send for me.”

“I will,” the director said, “have a Celestia blessed day.”

Tinman turned away and rolled his eyes, “I hope you do as well director,” Tinman said, before uploading himself into his frame.

Tinman couldn’t believe his good fortune, that naive pony fleshbag had actually bought it! While the cyborg fully intended to keep the conversion bureau safe from harm, and by extension the rest of Phoenix for ponykind as well, it wasn’t out of any sense of benevolence on his part. He knew that by only wounding and embarrassing the fundie fleshbags could he keep his entertainment going on for as long as possible. So what if he wasn’t actually killing the fleshbags, tormenting them was nearly the next best thing. After all wasn’t steel strong and flesh weak? Wasn’t he, as one of the gods of war, entitled to make those too foolish to know any better suffer for opposing him?

“Yes!” he wickedly thought, “those HLF fleshbags will suffer, as they willingly throw themselves against me. And these pony fleshbags will taste the horrors of war before I’m through, and will be begging me to protect them from it.”

Thinking about the insufferable smiling face of that fool of a pony director, Tinman chuckled darkly. “Trust,” Tinman spat in disgust. “What a load of rubbish, it’s just another useless fleshbag weakness.”

Turning to move back towards his usual surveillance spot, he saw the moldy muffin spoiling away under the heat of the noonday sun. Looking at it made him think of Sugar Pie and what she had said earlier that week, “Today’s a new day, if you choose to you can start being a good pony.”

He remembered how sad she looked when she realized he was devoid of any remorse or sorrow. Somehow her empathy for him made him feel angry for some reason. “You wouldn’t waste tears on me if you knew how I really was,” Tinman bitterly thought. “I’m just as rotten as that useless muffin you gave me has become.”

Deciding to pass the time as he waited for his fake combat protocols, he loaded the Greatest Pony Hits and played track eighteen once more. Feeling the simulacrum of Sugar Pie nuzzling against him and seeing the tiny foal made something long forgotten in the deep recesses of his mind cry out for something that he still couldn’t quite understand. Trying to comprehend what he was feeling was a maddening and futile task. No matter how many times he experienced the memory, once it was over he lost his grasp on the emotions he had felt. It was almost like trying to catch the wind, always out of his reach.

Deciding that he had experienced enough mental torture for one day, Tinman decided to playback one of his favorite memories, Battlefield Surgery: multiple amputations. While most might question why anyone would willingly subject themselves to such a painful experience, he felt it was cathartic. Pain was among the most primal of memories. The pain he could understand, the pain let him know he was still alive and not just some hulking machine. Before he accessed the memory he remembered something he had heard one of the PER fools had said about track seven while at the black market memory swap.

“I guess there’s no harm in experiencing whatever it is,” Tinman thought to himself, preparing to overlay his Sugar Pie Simulacrum to the memory. When he entered the memory his vision turned black.

Guillermo Ortega, was heading towards this week’s meeting place, so far no one in the HLF was willing to try testing out if what the document they had was actually good intel. The risk of getting killed was just too great. He looked up bitterly at the pegasi flying about overhead without a care in the world. Those damn ponies were everywhere now! Every day, more and more of those damn freaks moved into his city, part of him wanting to grab his shotgun, but the sight of the massive war machine in the distance made him reconsider. For all he knew, the machine would retaliate immediately if he tried anything.

Stewing in the anger of someone made impotent by their own fears, Guillermo just kept driving towards the abandoned factory that had once been busy with industry. He looked at the weed covered lot that had once been packed with trucks moving products to market, and shook his head. Parking his vehicle near one of the buildings, he entered the abandoned factory that had set idle for nearly two years now. Thick layers of dust covered everything, the cost of maintenance bots had been too expensive to justify so the entire plant had been left to rot under the blistering Arizona sun. Before he could enter deeper into the recesses of the abandoned factory, he heard a knocking on the door he’d just entered.

Wondering who that could possibly be, he opened the door and saw a light purple pegasus with a blue mane wearing a goofy grin holding a package in front of him.

Narrowing his eyes in anger, Guillermo was tempted to slam the door in the revolting creatures face. “What do you want?” he growled.

“Are you Guillermo Ortega?” the pony asked, her pink eyes looking hopeful that she had finally found the right person.

“Who wants to know?” Guillermo sneered.

“Well I’m with the Phoenix post office,” the pegasus explained. “And somepony sent you a package. I just need you to sign for it!”

“Yeah whatever,” Guillermo sighed, how he hated dealing with these things. Taking the offered clipboard he signed his name and accepted delivery of the package.”

Satisfied that her job was completed, the pegasus flew off before shouting,” Have a Celestia blessed day!”

Making sure no one was around; Guillermo quickly closed the door behind him. “Man I wish every last one of those pony fuckers would drop dead,” he said, opening the package in curiosity. Inside he found a disk. Using his data reader he accessed its contents. What he read what it contained he could scarcely believe his eyes, this was the big breakthrough their righteous cause so desperately needed. Excitedly he ran deeper into the factory to share what he had just learned with the others.

Author's Notes:

Thank you gentlereader for reading the latest chapter of The Conversion Bureau: The Reluctant Cyborg. Here we learn a bit about Tinman's past, as we can see our protagonist seems rather nonchalant about the part he played during the assault on the Wasatch Front. The author wonders what Tinman must really think regarding the loss of his family. Does he really not care, or was he putting on a brave front?

Do cyborgs dream of eating electric muffins, and if so what flavor are they? After the shocks that track eighteen held for Tinman, what terrors will track number seven hold for him? And what of his new found fascination with Sugar Pie, the excitable pink pegasus pony, what's the deal with that?

Surprisingly, Director Peachy Keen has decided to keep Tinman on the payroll. One can only wonder, for all his professed protestations regarding the evils of war he sure is willing to use Tinman to provide for his safety. Perhaps the HLF has a valid point after all.

Speaking of the HLF the author wonders what significance the package that Guillermo received holds.

Find out the answers to all these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of the The Conversion Bureau: The Reluctant Cyborg!

As always comments are always welcome

Once again thank you for reading gentlereaders, until next time!