Twilight Sparkle was dead. Equestria was changing.

Several days after the death of the princesses, and little had visibly altered, yet everything was different. Ponyville had seen the most change. The few who ventured out found a ghost town. Empty streets, littered with overturned carts of rapidly spoiling fruit, unsold and untended due to the rapid exodus.

A mottled grey and black colt followed his big sister across the train rails and into the station, his mane and tail short-cut and smoky grey. The sister was a dark forest green with a dark purple mane that was part-way to pink. Earth ponies, the both of them, carrying overly large saddle bags.

The late afternoon was chilly, and the overcast skies weren’t helping. As had become the usual case, a light odor of soot was on the breeze.

“Okay good, the machines aren’t patrolling,” the mare whispered, looking into the unkept buildings.

“I still think we coulda taken a cart, Rainy,” the colt grumbled. “The law-posts don’t say we can’t.”

“Only the machines have been using the railways since they took over,” she told him as they walked the streets, peering into darkened windows. “I don’t want to run into them this close to their turf, or on their rails. They might decide we’re spies.”

“Is that why nopony’s come back to Ponyville yet, Days-ey?”

“Probably. I wouldn’t be thrilled about coming back here with that garrison right outside the city. Those new rails through the forest head right to that factory, and the machines are always looking for an excuse to send somepony off to work there. But it might be the machines just haven’t spread to the furthest cities yet. Those rails go a long way.

“Oh yeah, and stop calling me that Argyle, or I’m gonna start calling you ‘Gyle-ie.’”

Argyle’s nose crinkled and his tongue curled, as though he’d just tasted something revolting. “Ugh, fine.”

They travelled down the silent streets, past the burnt-out library and into the town hall square. Argyle chuckled as he saw fruit bats soar between the roof of the big cylindrical building and onto the abandoned fruit stands, gorging themselves.

“‘Relocation ticket?!’” echoed a voice from down another street.

The siblings peered around a building and down the neighboring road, where a pegasus stallion pulling a cart was entirely dwarfed by a CID on patrol, staring down at him.

“Yes,” the CID replied. “Citizen and business relocation is costly, and thereby hinders economic growth. The district known commonly as ‘Ponyville’ is, at present, economically inert. We are doing all that we can to encourage trade. Therefore, relocating a business from here to another settlement requires the purchase of a relocation ticket. You will, however, be compensated for choosing to remain.”

The stallion snorted. “That compensation had better be a lot, bucko! Because in case it escaped your notice, there’s nopony here to trade with!”

The CID went momentarily still, until a slip of paper began printing out of a device attached to its firearm. The CID ripped this off, offering it to the stallion.

“The use of pronouns with preferential recognition towards a single race, like ‘nopony,’ is considered discriminatory and unlawful.”

The stallion grabbed the slip of paper and read over it. “Twenty bits?! For using a word?! That’s outrageous, I won’t pay it!”

“Refusal or incapacity to pay a fine is met out with appropriate periods of labor in the Mandeville Arms Headquarters. Please assume the position for immediate detention.”

“Whoa, okay okay, I’ll pay it!” he cried as the CID’s gun clicked and pointed towards him.

“Very good!” the CID told him. “Sentence reduced from two weeks to one week, as a result of reparatory behavior.”

The stallion backed up. “A week?! B-but my family are waiting for me in Baltimare! They’ll starve on those worthless rations you guys dish ou—”

A sharp hiss filled the air as the CID hit the pegasus in the neck with a dart, upon which he promptly collapsed. Wordlessly, the CID hoisted him up, and began carrying him off towards the east end of town.

With the way clear, the two eavesdroppers snuck across the street and continued down another.

“Boy, that guy,” Rainy said. “Those machines must really not be too far along. Did you see him talking back to the CID, like it was his first day or something?”

“Dad always said Ponyville was full of rubes.”

“Ooh!” Rainy Days exclaimed, looking into a dark store which bore a matching royal blue sign and door. The sign simply portrayed a feather, a plus sign, and a sofa.

“What?” Argyle asked, trying to follow his sister’s eyes. “This place? It just sells quills and sofas.”

She smiled. “Exactly! All the bigger spots have been picked-over already. Places like Sugarcube Corner draw too much attention. I never even noticed this spot last time, and I doubt anypony else has either. Which means we’ve got first dibs!”

Argyle cocked his head. “If you say so.”

“Oh have a little faith,” she said. “And grab the lantern from my bag.”

The young colt did as instructed, holding the little lightgiver in his mouth as his sister peered into the windows. She gave the door handle a hard tug without turning it, and it didn’t budge.

“Um, you kinda hafta twist the knob,” he deadpanned.

Rainy giggled as she turned towards him. “Remember how I told you some of the Everfree animals were moving into the buildings with everypony gone?”

Argyle’s eyes widened as he took a loud breath. “I get it! They don’t open doors, so if you can’t shove it open...”

“Then there probably isn’t an arachne nest, or wargs setting an ambush.”

The door opened easily, by which time Argyle had lit the lantern. Both krept inside, quietly closing the door behind them.

It was dark and a bit dingy inside, but a mere few days of vacancy hadn’t done the establishment undue harm. Aside from a little dust, it looked as the rest of Ponyville did: like the owners had picked up and left in a hurry.

The ground was wooden, heavily scratched, no doubt by the constant movement of furniture in the hours of business. Sofas of all makes, colors and materials dotted the floor, not so much on-display as crammed into the little space available. A few were covered in white sheets nearest the door, but it was a rushed and abandoned job.

Opposite the front door was the service counter, which half served as a shelf for a few simple quills. Behind the shelf lied the register, and a back shelf with more expensive looking quills behind locked glass doors.

“Phoenix,” Argyle muttered, the lantern balanced atop his head as he held it up to the line of quills. “Owlbear... Cockatrice?”

Rainy Days, who had busied herself checking the decidedly empty register, glanced over at the question in Argyle’s voice. She saw him gaze with a quirked brow at the modest hen’s feather sitting behind glass, at the asking price of one-hundred bits, and laughed.

“Doesn’t look too impressive, does it? But believe it, it’s no easy feat to get those. Not without getting turned to stone, anyway.

“Register’s empty, but that’s typical. Shopkeepers pocket the day’s dosh and hope it’ll be enough till things cool down. But we’re here for the safe, and that tends to be upstairs.”

She motioned for him to follow, and just past the shelf was an inset stairwell that turned up and into darkness. Creeping quietly, they ascended the short flight, every other step creaking.

As they reached the upper floor, the stale scent of cheap cologne wafted down to them. The room’s curtains were drawn, darkening what was a very small living area. An icebox in the corner, a small cabinet hung on the wall and a little round table, no cooking equipment to speak of. By the window was a small bed, and used as a bedside table was a hardy looking black safe.

“Ah ha!” Rainy Days exclaimed quietly, before trotting over. “Ooh, I love the guy who sells the safes in this town. All he sells are fire safes! I’ve barely run into a burglary safe in this whole town.”

“And fire safes are—”

“Easy pickings, but sometimes it doesn’t matter. Let me try something.”

She leaned forward, twisting the safe’s dial and entering three numbers. There was a heavy and satisfying click, upon which Rainy wiggled the door and squinted her eyes in silent laughter.

“You got it?!” Argyle asked, eyeing the safe and his sister with an open mouth.

She laughed “They didn’t reset the ‘try-out’ combination! What amateurs!”

“What’s a try-out?”

Rainy Days sat back up, smiling. “When a safe is in the store, you can test it out to make sure it works. The try-out combo is always the same for every safe of the same type, and you’re supposed to reset the code and use your own, but some ponies just use the one from the store. They figure it’s picked at random or something, so they think they’re set. Not if you know the code.”

With that, she pulled the safe open, and the yellow glow of firelight was complemented by the glimmer of gold. Various records and the deed to the shop lay sideways within, but the glittering bits within were far and away the prize they sought.

Rainy Days opened her saddlebag and shoved half of the coins inside it. Satisfied, the two raced down, giddy.

“Why aren’t we taking all of it?” Argyle asked.

“Well, for one thing, the owners might come back. I don’t want to ruin ‘em. For another, it’ll be dark soon, and all these bits are heavy.”

They made their way to the door, watching the street through the window. Rainy Days had Argyle put out the lantern, and slowly opened the shop door.

“Okay, back to the station, across and hoof it hom—”

“HALT.”

The pair nearly stumbled over each other as they whipped around to find the source of the voice. Above their heads, and sinking fast, was a Spotter drone.

“This area is largely abandoned. In light of recent events, I must inquire as to your purpose here. Initial analysis of movement patterns indicate breaking and entering, with potential intent to commit an act of theft.”

“W-we live here!” Rainy Days said, pushing her little brother behind her.

The Spotter advanced, lowering to hover in front of them. “Voice patterns are inconsistent with a true statement. Please open your belongings for examination.”

The two siblings shared a glance, before flipping the covers open on their bags. The Spotter shined a light down and checked the contents.

“Suspect items detected,” the Spotter droned. “Unusual amounts of currency for travel, carried with inadequate security by young citizens in a municipal area with little to no economic activity. Available tools comply with classic safecracking profiles. We ask that this be explained, truthfully.”

“Okay, I did it!” Rainy cried. “I broke in and stole that money from a safe!”

She then pointed to Argyle. “But he’s not an accomplice, okay!? I made him come with me!”

Argyle looked up at her, his ears drooping. The machine hovered with what might have been restlessness.

“Foal discounted. Too young to possess a true criminal record. Equus Sapien female, however, will now be charged and prosecuted for the crime of theft. Sentence translates to one randomized shot. Prosecuting.”

The Spotter’s turret whirled and the shot rang out through the empty streets. Argyle watched as a hole in her bag ripped open, and the illicitly acquired bits trickled out, some of them covered in something red. Rain Days fell, howling to the floor.

“Subject penalized. Please note that further infractions will be met with summary execution.”

The Spotter turned to leave, Rainy Days moaning loudly.

“Wait!” Argyle shrieked. “Please, you can’t leave her here like this! She needs help! Please!”

The Spotter ignored him, continuing its patrol as if nothing had interrupted it.

“A-Argyle, help me up,” Rainy groaned, sucking in lungfuls of air as she winced.

Argyle slipped the burdened saddlebag off and pushed against his sister’s flank. Shakily, she struggled with him until she was on her hooves.

Argyle looked at her wobble as red seeped down her side and onto her belly, where it dripped steadily into the dirt. “Rainy, oh my gosh...”

“I-it’s not so b-buh-bad,” she stammered. “We’ve gotta keep m-moving before... before it’s da—”

She went silent. Still. Even her breaths went quiet as her nostrils flared. She looked around wildly.

Argyle watched her with an equal portion of nervous excitement. And then he smelled a whiff of something foul on the air. An intense aroma like seaweed, moss and something like a fungus thrown in a pot and boiled together.

Just as he began pondering these events, he felt Rainy Days shove him forward with her muzzle.

“Run!”

With nothing more said, they bolted through the streets. To where and from what, Argyle had no idea, but he quickly found out.

As they reached the town square, something leapt at them from the neighboring street, four solid paws clicking upon the dirt as the predator set upon them. It missed, turning around for another pass.

The creature was mottled in several shades of brown and carried itself with a beastly gait. Glowing green eyes glared from above a long snout and sharp —though not shiny— teeth.

“T-timber wolves!” Rainy Days wheezed as she and Argyle recognized it. A less understood beast of the Everfree, a forest spirit or golem taking a lupine form using nothing but the deadwood of the forest. Some thought they were the hatred of the forest made animate.

They often attacked on sight, but to what end wasn’t known. With no organs or digestion, their predatory behavior wasn’t obvious for its intent. Some suggested they were fiercely territorial, and others believed the incorporeal form within the gnarled wood was finite, and required another’s life-force to sustain itself.

In the end, all that really mattered was escaping them.

The timber wolf made for a second lunge at the wounded mare, sharpened wooden fangs sinking into her back-left leg mid-gallop. Rainy Days cried out as she tumbled to the floor, the wolf sinking its claws into the dirt and pulling her back.

Argyle turned to see what had happened, calling her name before seeing a vicious one-legged buck from Rainy Days’ free leg. The creature barely made a panicked yelp as its face flew apart in a mess of twigs and branches, the rest of the body falling similarly to pieces.

“Rainy, are you okay?!” Argyle asked as she shook the bits of wood that had been a set of jaws off of her leg.

“I-it hurts, b-but—”

A chorus of howls filled the air as the musty stench of the timber wolf grew thicker, two streets to their left growing with several dark shapes.

Argyle helped his sister to her hooves again. “Come on! Come on, we gotta go!”

They took down the north street, scattering fruit bats to the skies for a few seconds before Rainy’s awkward, limping gait slowed to a stop.

“Rainy! What are you doing?! Come on!”

Rainy Days’ eyes twitched, growing wide as she glanced behind her, before turning back to the young colt. “I’m too slow, you’ve gotta run Argyle! I’ll fight them off and meet you up ahead!”

“You’re crazy!” he shouted. “You can’t fight them off alone!”

Suddenly, the hulking bodies and glowing green eyes of the predators rounded the corner, slowly stalking them as the mare turned to face them down.

“Go, just go, NOW!”

Argyle took a few tentative steps, and then ran full tilt away from the scene.

Rainy Days watched as the first wolf tried to circle her. She backed up, keen not to let them surround her. But after a short while of this, the wolf lunged, and she turned to buck the beast. She only found air, as the timber wolf’s attack had been a mere feint, and she had fallen for it.

Once her hooves hit the ground again, the wolf sunk its fangs into her thigh. She screamed, as its fellows descended upon her. One set of jaws on a front-leg, another on her throat. Soon, one was even on her other side, and was busying itself with the bullet wound in her flank, as if to make the hole bigger. All the while they clawed at her, and the best she could do was scream as they began ripping her apart.

Argyle’s heartbeat pounded in his ears at the sound as numbness overtook him. A battle began in his mind over whether to turn back, an option that became more urgent the further his hooves carried him. It wasn’t until a newer sound was right next to him that he realized the subtle pounding wasn’t his heartbeat.

He felt something scoop him bodily off the ground, overtaken by the blinding sting of punctures on his back and belly. The sensation magnified and his orientation was lost, as whatever had him shook his entire body like a dog fighting over a length of rope, and the snarling that dominated his ears completed the image.

The punctures in his body stretched and tore, him only moaning in response before he found himself violently wrenched from the beast’s mouth and airborne. A wave of nausea took him, until his head slammed into something flat and solid: the wall of a building.

His situation behooved him to move, escape. But somehow, the ground felt comfortable. It was good to rest, or so his frantic and tired mind felt, as his equilibrium slowly returned.

The creature, however, was evidently not in a resting mood. Argyle felt hot, musty breath on the back of his neck, before feeling a sharp pain in the same spot. He groaned as the pressure on his neck built and built until it was unbearable, and still it continued. He squirmed a moment, before he just felt and heard a deafening “crack.”

And poor, little Argyle, felt no more.

On the rolling green plains east of Canterlot, five blue shapes sat perched upon the nearby cliffs of Rambling Rock Ridge. Watching, waiting, like birds of prey. Below, a set of tracks stretched from the great Canterlot mountains and into the horizon, towards Baltimare and Fillydelphia. Not to mention the steadily rising sun.

“Late with the sunrise,” Spitfire remarked, looking down at a watch which showed the small hand nearing vertically down, and the big hand almost the same down. “Again.”

“Just in time for the crack of noon,” Soarin added, a smirk adorning his face.

“Looks like something’s right on time though,” Rainbow Dash said without as much as breaking an octave, adjusting the fit of her own blue and yellow jumpsuit before pulling her flight goggles over her eyes.

As she said, a long black shape began snaking its way out the Canterlot tunnel. Bigger and bulkier than the passenger trains ponies used to ride on the line, the pair of solid, brick-like engines in the front —which didn't emit so much as a puff of smoke— pulled a series of twelve cars behind it.

“Alright bolts,” Spitfire said, fitting her own goggles, “Operation ‘Early Bird’ is a go. Misty, Fleetfoot, you get the cameras. Soarin and I will hit the hot-car. Dash, that leaves you to the couplings. Good thing for us, our Mystery Car is in the back this time.

“And I don’t want any surprises this time, got it rookie?”

Rainbow saluted. “Yes Captian, Ma’am!”

Spitfire gave her a nod. “Alight then. On my mark... GO!”

The five dove off the cliff, practically base-jumping as they followed the curvature of the ground until it leveled out, and they rocketed across the planes mere feet above the ground.

In moments they were upon the train, and the hot-car in the middle reacted, a disguised container car lifting its cover on hydraulics to expose a cannon-sized gatling turret.

Spitfire and Soarin set upon the gun as it swiftly turned to face the closest of their team, the barrels spinning up. Spitfire dashed impossibly under the car to the other side as Soarin went wide over and to the left. The turret turned, but not quickly enough to stop the pegasus pair from making a hairpin turn and simultaneously slamming into the angled barrel. The barrel relented against the impact, bending crookedly.

Both flew off, making presentable targets to the crippled cannon, which it was all too quick to acquire. The lopsided barrel spun haphazardly, its center of balance lost. The buzz of a few missed shots rang out before a horrific screeching noise filled the air, and the barrels split and broke from the gun as it jammed itself to death.

Meanwhile, Misty Fly and Fleetfoot were flying the length of the train, a trail of smoke behind each of them. They passed a number of black, plastic spheres mounted to the train cars which they knew held cameras, all of which were blacked-out by a thick layer of soot.

The rear car was Rainbow Dash’s. The Mystery Car. A single car of unknown purpose, seen by Resistance scouts daily, always headed to a random location and attached to a different train. It never unloaded, never appeared to do anything. Its unique mirror finish attracted attention though, and the higher-ups had decided the mystery was too tantalizing to ignore.

Rainbow rolled sideways as she swept between the Mystery Car and its leader. With a shear of her wings, the brake lines severed, but the coupling did not yield. Another pass, but the steel was too thick to damage.

“Shoot! Team, this coupling is built like a dragon’s hide. We’re gonna need the ‘Bolt-Cutter’ for this.”

“I copy, kid. Hold tight,” Spitfire told her, Soarin joining her as she made for the cloud layer.

They returned with puffs of cloud in tow, leading the train as it moved until they were up a distance from the Mystery Car. Pulling back, they let the clouds drift back until they were lined perfectly with the coupling.

A pair of bucks to a pair of clouds spawned a pair of lightning bolts, each of which struck the coupling from adjacent sides. Electricity arced between the cars with a terrifying sound, the steel ringing as the current finally died. What was left was a coupling that glowed orange, and with another pass from Rainbow Dash, sparks erupted from the hot steel as it fell apart.

Freed from the still mobile train, the Mystery Car slowly drifted back as it lost speed. Once the gap was wide enough, all five Wonderbolts swept in front of it, matching its speed and then slowing. Each of their backs met the car as their wings flapped against their momentum, and slowly but surely the car rolled to a stop.

Rainbow approached the impeccably lustrous door first, followed quickly by Soarin.

“Whoa Rookie, careful. We still don’t know what’s in there.”

“Well we’re not gonna find out standin’ around!” Rainbow groaned.

“Rainbow’s right,” Spitfire said. “If this thing is at all important to Mandeville, then we don’t have long before he sends SHADEs to protect it. Quick and cautious.”

They checked the door, only to find a series of four separate padlocks lining it.

“Okay, maybe if we all kick those at once...”

“Hey Cap,” Rainbow asked, eyeing the door, “is that glass?”

Spitfire didn’t even turn at the question. “Glass? Could be, but I don’t see why he would—”

A great smashing sound filled the air as Rainbow bucked the door, shattering much of it and leaving a big, jagged hole.

“Whoa Dash, seven years bad luck,” Fleetfoot commented. “Hope this is worth it.”

Rainbow cleared off some of the more jutting edges of the hole before finally peering inside. The first thing she noticed was the total lack of darkness inside the car. Light poured in, as every wall that reflected on the outside looked like a clear window on the inside. A car of one-way mirrors.

Otherwise, the car appeared entirely empty at first glance. She turned to the right end to find nothing that wasn’t bolted to the car. She turned to the left, and found —of all things— an odd mechanical chair. And bound to the chair was—

Rainbow pulled her head out and shook it. What she thought she’d seen was burned into her mind like an accidental head-on glance of the sun. But it couldn’t have been what she thought. That wasn’t possible. She must have really been losing it.

Misty Fly chuckled. “Whoa, kid, you see the boogie-mare in that car?”

“No time for jokes,” Spitfire deadpanned, “We ain’t got long Rainbow, what’d you see?”

“N-nothing, check for yourself,” Rainbow said. “I’m hallucinatin’ or something, I don’t think I’m fit for duty Cap.”

“If I had a bit for every time I’ve heard that one at the Academy,” Spitfire growled, stepping over and peering in herself.

“Let’s see, a whole lotta nothing, and— What?!”

“Cap?” Soarin inquired.

“...Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight Sparkle stumbled as the flash of teleportation faded, still supporting herself on three hooves and nursing her foreleg. She had gotten as far as registering the dank air, pale blue glow and the reverb of her hooves on the stone floor of this new location before something else took root.

Her restraint was gone.

She turned to find her captors, and found Mandeville’s green eyes. A magenta bolt roared from her horn, only to smash against a multi colored wall between her and her target, exploding in her face.

She cried as the blast shoved her backwards, and was surprised to land with a cool splash. Unprepared for it, she inhaled a mouthful of water as she found herself entirely immersed in some kind of natural pool. She kicked the water, fighting to the surface and scrabbling against the smooth and rocky edge of the pond, expelling water as she gasped for air.

“Damn, forgot about the anti-Five,” Mandeville said as he dismissed the shield around him with a flick of his wrist. “Well, I can trust you as far as the next few minutes. At any rate, I have forces waiting at the mouth of the cave if you get past me, and their bullets aren’t nickel.”

“Just do it, okay!” Twilight barked, still coughing up water. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it!”

Mandeville let out an exasperated breath. “I’m not killing you. Well, not really. Depends on what happens here, I suppose.”

Twilight glanced around for the first time, noting the cavern as large as her library was, mushrooms and bioluminescent plants glowing blue in the darkness. “And where is here? What is this place?”

Mandeville pulled, of all things, a red bound book from a satchel on his back. He flipped through its pages to a spot previously bookmarked. “I know what I think it is, but we’ll only know after a quick experiment. I’d like if you could step out of the water and repeat the words written here, while looking into your reflection of course.”

Twilight didn’t budge, as cold as the water was and how much she desired to get dry. “I’m not doing anything for you! Why should I?! Because you’ll kill me if I don’t? Well I don’t care! So do your worst!”

Mandeville sighed, pressing his eyes together as he smiled mirthlessly. “Things don’t need to be like that, y’know? Why do we have to go for threats and coercion? But look, the worst I can do isn’t limited to you. With all the trouble I’ve gotten from your friends, it’s my personal gift to you that I’m letting them off with their lives. I don’t have to play nice. If you don’t appreciate that, I can take it all back.”

Twilight glared for a moment, before climbing out of the cool water at last, grabbing the book with her magic. She barely had a moment to skim a bold phrase before Mandeville’s magic wrenched the tome back.

“All I need is the phrase, thanks.”

Twilight continued to stare daggers at the man, before turning to the pool. She thought it odd how quickly the water had already settled since her immersion. In fact, not settled, but mirror-smooth. Like glass, and almost more reflective.

The little purple unicorn in the water stared back up at her from her reversed world. The word that came to mind, was “tired.” Her eyes were dulled, somewhat baggy. Her straight, flowing mane was mussed by the restraint she’d worn before now, if nothing else.

And as perfectly as it always had, the mare staring back at her followed every motion as she recited the rhyme from the book.

"And into her own reflection she stared,” Twilight began, irritably, “yearning for one whose reflection she shared...”

Mandeville muttered a tired “And?”

Twilight’s eyes crept sideways as her eyebrows knit. “And solemnly swor—”

“Sweared,” Mandeville corrected.

Twilight groaned. “Sweared not to be scared, at the prospect of being doubly mared— GAH!”

She leap back from the pool as, silently, the purple unicorn in the water extended a hoof forward and into what Twilight might have defined as “reality.”

She leapt so far back that she forgot entirely about the bulletwound in her leg and tried to stand with it. She yelped in pain and collapsed onto her side, watching the other Twilight similarly stumble onto dry land.

“Wh-who are you?!” Twilight asked her reflection.

The mirrored mare clutched her similarly wounded leg as she stared back, not a drop of water on her entire body. Matter-of-factly, she told her, “I’m you.”

Twilight nodded slowly. “And... who am I?”

Her reflection frowned at the question, pondering. “I don’t know, I just know I’m you.”

Twilight stared at her, before an idea struck her. She hobbled her way to the edge of the pool.

She sighed in spite of herself. She had half expected to look down and see nothing of her reflected in the pool, but yet another purple unicorn stared back with a humorless smirk.

“Fantastic,” Mandeville said at last. “Just as advertized.”

Twilight turned to him, almost having forgotten he was there. “What is this? I’ve never seen magic like this! Duplication spells are legendarily difficult.”

“This is what the book refers to as the ‘Mirror Pond’. Its function should be obvious. The book told me, roughly, where to find it. Some rhyme about vines and brambles, in this forest. I sent some spotters out to find it. Didn’t have much luck until the invasion, and we could cover more ground.”

Twilight stared at the book again. It lacked a title of any kind. “Where did you find that, and why would you care so much about a legend that probably wasn’t true? There are bogus stories in hundreds of books I’ve read.”

“So you don’t know about this one?” Mandeville asked. “Interesting, given it was in your library. You’d think a librarian would know her stock.”

Twilight frowned, her pride stung. “I’ve never seen that book before in my life! What do you mean it was in my library?”

“Well, then again,” Mandeville said, “my CID drones did only find it in a hidden compartment at the back of a bookcase while tossing the place. Only reason I took interest in it, really. Figured this had to be good if it was in a secret compartment, goes without saying.”

“A secret compartment?” Twilight echoed. “And you just found that, casually, when I lived there over a year shelving and reshelving books?”

For the first time in a while, CAIRO spoke up. “CID units thermal imaging is often useful in interpreting visual discrepancies normally undetectable on the visible light spectrum. The panel in question registered colder than its surrounding shelves, due to the cooler air in the space behind it.

“It was, however, on a decidedly low shelf for our notice. If not for the camera linked to each CIDs firing arm for precision targeting, it would not hav—”

“Okay, whatever, I get it!” Twilight shouted, turning her back on man and machine.

“Uh, excuse me,” the duplicate said at last, “I certainly don’t get it. I mean, I don’t get much of anything, but I’d like to lear—”

Without another word, the cavern echoed as a gunshot blew its way into the duplicate Twilight’s forehead. It registered a dimly opened mouth and betrayed the slightest flicker of fear in its eyes, as its head tilted up as it collapsed upon the floor, stone dead.

Twilight screamed and shrank away from the body, staring unwillingly into its unseeing eyes. “Why did you do that?!”

“A little experiment,” Mandeville said, having looked away from the corpse himself. “I’d rather not, but I need to be certain these copies aren’t going to just evaporate when they die.”

“Why, what do you want?!” Twilight demanded. “Do you want an army of me? Are you making more of your stupid weapons with this pool? What’s the point?!

Mandeville laughed. “An army of Twilight Sparkles. A fun idea, but even with my power that seems a bit dangerous. Brainwashing would be easier on these copies than most apparently, but that’s never foolproof. I’ll keep to machines. And I’d love to just duplicate weapons, technology and stuff, but I tried getting a CID to say the words. I tried it myself for kicks. This pond gets technical.

“‘Doubly. Mared.’ The pond only works for pony females. I was disappointed, but it’s perfect here! You couldn’t think up a better way to fake someone’s death.”

“Fake a death...?” Twilight whispered to herself. “My death?”

“Well, I think it’ll be easier having you at home without any old friends hoping to beat down my door.”

Twilight stared at the floor, a frown building on her face. “N-no! I’m not gonna make another of those copies so you can kill her! That’s... horrible! They don’t deserve that!”

Mandeville smiled, stepping forward. “Look, you’re coming along, and your friends are just the type to try some stupid rescue bullshit. And then I’d have to kill them. I don’t want them after you, and you don’t want them to die. I think we can arrange something, don’t you?

“See, I could’ve just gone right to threatening your friends again, but I’d like to think we can eventually be better than all that.”

Twilight stared at him, her face sagging. “They’ll be so... heartbroken. Lost the princesses, Equestria, and a friend all in one day. And my family... oh Celestia, my family...”

Mandeville dared to take a few steps towards her, finally putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Better to break their hearts and protect them, than condemn them all to die.”

Twilight’s eyes pressed close, and she stayed momentarily silent.

“And into her own reflection she stared...”

Twilight couldn’t help but to search for weaknesses in the familiar tiles around her. Once again, brought to a featureless room in a cavernous facility, distant mechanical noises all around her. Left with only her thoughts as Mandeville left to address his new, ill-gotten subjects.

And to execute “her” in front of everypony. Mustn't forget that, the poor copy whose scared, confused and unwilling sacrifice would ultimately save her friends. She wondered idly if it hurt to be “hung.” She hoped not. She hoped her friends wouldn’t think she had suffered.

Her sacrifice, of course, she had to be reminded of. To not try to escape. To accept that this place was her home now. To accept that she could never see her friends or her family again.

Unable to do anything else, she resigned herself to lie on the floor, and try to rest.

After what felt like an eternity trying to duck her own thoughts, a bright flash filled her peripherals, and Mandeville stepped forward.

“Well, everything is set. It looked like they all bought it. You okay?”

Twilight’s ears burned at the question, and she lifted her head to glare at him.

“Right, of course not, all too fresh,” he said. “But we’ll get you all set up here, and you can have all the time you need to wind-down. It’s been a tiring day on all sides. CAIRO, that scenic view we discussed?”

Without a word, the walls and ceiling pulled away on girders, rolling off with all the other traffic of the ever cavernous Mandeville Arms facility. Whatever Twilight had expected, she had to admit this was a surprise.

They stood upon a lone platform, an island floating in the middle of it all. Across, drawing her gaze, was the familiar bunker-like module of Mandeville’s personal residence. What was different about it wasn’t the bunker itself, but what was next to it. A similarly sized module with triangulated facets, attached to Mandeville’s by a clear plastic catwalk. It stood out, mainly for its uniform lavender paint job, and the symbol of five magenta stars surrounding one large magenta star drawn onto several walls.

Twilight rubbed her eyes as she stared blankly at it. Even she wasn’t exactly sure what feeling this invoked in her.

Mandeville watched on, bobbing back and forth on his toes. “Admittedly, it probably looks better from the inside. Shall we?”

Twilight betrayed a small gasp as Mandeville’s magic surrounded them both, and they floated over the expanse. On Mandeville’s residence, there was the addition of a steel platform that could only be a balcony. It was oddly out of place for the solid nature of the rest of it, but Twilight was glad for it once they had landed upon it. Mandeville led her to his door, which unsealed and opened at the sight of him, allowing them to walk in and make a quick right turn through a similar door and onto the plastic catwalk.

“Yeah, that balcony is rather new. Not much for the decor, but there was really no other way in that didn’t involve modules or teleporting, and this whole flying thing hasn’t gotten old yet.”

They approached the lavender structure, whose door opened to greet them.

“Well Sparkle, welcome home.”

Inside was much the same as Mandeville’s residence, though the furniture was smaller. The carpet was the same pink as the streak in her mane, and the walls took on the midnight hue of the mane itself. A white ceiling and the occasionally white walls kept a balance between the cool and warm colors. As they walked in, Twilight passed a huge window and saw the Everfree Forest outside, bright as day. The sight stopped her dead.

“Ah, thought you’d like that!” Mandeville beamed at the window as he noticed her sudden pause. “Outside of your windows are hollow hemispheres lined with LEDs. They’re linked to a couple mounted panoramic camera fixtures I’ve placed outside. You can even open the window, and the air conditioning system can simulate a breeze with enriched oxygen, so fresh air is no problem.

“Cool thing is, I can add more of these camera systems in other places around the country, so you can have more than just one view.”

“Can you put one in Ponyville?” Twilight asked flatly.

Mandeville scratched the back of his head. “I could, but I’d wait until the population comes back. It was kind of empty when—”

“When you rolled in and started attacking it to prove a point?”

Mandeville recoiled, but otherwise ignored her. “But yeah, all the comforts here. Walk-in shower, pretty much everything is voice activated, obviously.”

“You’re welcome,” CAIRO said suddenly.

“Smartass... But yeah, fridge and pantry can be stocked with whatever you like, just tell CAIRO. Bookshelf has everything we’ve collected. We can try to get more, but it’s mostly uninteresting stuff. Plenty of E-book readers though, with human literature. Easy-access sink and Japanese-style toilet.

“Will admit, you’ll need to help us out on toiletries. Got body-soap, shampoo and stuff, but I don’t know everything about you ponies yet. You gonna need any, er... feminine hygiene products we should know about?”

Twilight’s jaw went a bit slack as a warmth came over her face. “That’s none of your— I mean why—”

“Look, I just want to make sure you have what you need. It has been a bit of a sausage fest here.”

“Sausage...?”

“Oh right, you don’t eat meat, foreign term... I’m just saying, human females need certain things at certain times of the month or year. I don’t know what ponies here—”

“Earth equine females have what is commonly referred to as an ‘estrous cycle,’ in which—”

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION!” Twilight shrieked, her face beet red.

Mandeville too appeared eager to leave, already edging for the door. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you don’t have to wear that silly restraint.”

Twilight frowned at him before a whirring noise dominated her ears, and an airy feeling came over her. At last, the cap over her horn popped off, and she enthusiastically shook the restraint off and onto the floor.

“I-I don’t get it. Why would you trust me like that?”

“Because half of this residence is anti-magic anyway. I’ve personally checked it for weaknesses. Nothing in here is dense enough to damage the outer walls. Anything you might handle is free, but you won’t be smashing entertainment centers anytime soon.”

Twilight’s frown deepened. “What about when the door opens?”

“That catwalk might be plastic, but it’s bombproof. At any rate, I know you won’t escape, because we have a bead on your family and your friends. Same reason you won’t kill me, because CAIRO has contingencies for that, and a few choice targets are the first priority. You’ll keep them safe, and you’ll still be free to use your magic. It’s a win/win.”

Twilight snorted as she poked at a fake daisy in a vase. “Yeah, I’m the most privileged prisoner on the block.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” Mandeville said, again wincing. “You just... can’t leave.”

Twilight stood up slowly, and began walking away from him. “Please. You don’t have to listen to me, I can’t stop you. But I’ve just had the worst day of my entire life, and I’m really tired. Could you please excuse me?”

Mandeville might have been a candle whose wick had been doused. “Yeah, alright. Just let CAIRO know if you need the windows blacked-out or something. Sleep well.”

With that, he backed out as the door shut, sealing with a hiss. She was left alone, to explore her new home.

Twilight woke up in the cozy king-sized bed, at odds with the unfamiliar surroundings. As she stared at the ceiling, her face fell, as her mind cranked back up to speed. Eyes slamming shut, she squeezed the pillow she’d fallen asleep holding to her chest. Tears fell down the sides of her face, past her ears and into the pillow she was lying on.

She couldn’t help but sob, and found no reason not to. If nothing else, she had her privacy.

“Why are you crying?”

Twilight shook, tears still rolling, but now her eyes were open.

“C-CAIRO?” she stammered. “You’re in my room?”

“I’m in every room of the facility. My sensors indicate that you show signs of distress. Is your leg causing you harm? Should the dressings be reapplied?”

Twilight glanced at her bandaged leg where the bullet wound was. She hadn’t forgotten that the machine caring for her injury was the same one that had caused it. “N-No, it’s fine. Wait, every room? Even my bathroom?”

“Provided the dislodging of a commode contributed greatly to your past escape, there are multiple sensors installed in the bathroom.”

She found herself very suddenly drawing the covers up to her eyes. “Oh Celestia, eww! Do you have any idea how creepy and undignified that is? Oh my— I- I mean, it’d be weird and uncomfortable if you had a girl’s voice!

“Look, I’m not going to escape, okay? I give up, we... lost.”

It was no less bitter to say, particularly in light of what had been lost. “He’s in control, and even if we could beat him, he’s the only one in the world who can keep the sun and moon going. There’s no point in fighting anymore.”

CAIRO was momentarily silent. “I will confer with him the next time we speak.”

“Thank you,” Twilight croaked, to additional silence.

“You have not answered my question,” CAIRO said. “Would you answer why you are—?”

“Why do you think I’m crying?!” she blurted hotly, throwing the covers into her lap as everything poured out of her heart. “One of my best friends is dead! A mentor, mother, leader and so many other things to me is dead! My friends and family who aren’t dead think I’m dead, and I can never see them again! Because for the rest of my life I’m going to be living here, with the one who made it happen!”

She took several deep breaths as droplets hung from her eyelashes.

“So yes, I’m crying! Because I hoped with every part of me that when I woke up it would all have just been a nightmare! Because I want my friends back! I want Spike back! I want Princess Celestia and Luna back! I want things to go back to how they were, in my library in Ponyville, when it was just me learning how to be a better friend!

“But why should you care? You don’t care, you don’t even understand! You’re just a machine! You would have killed all of us and never felt a thing if you weren’t on Mandeville’s leash!”

It felt almost cheap to hurl abuse at something that —by her own admission— couldn’t appreciate it anyway. But its childike, ignorant question was insulting all the same. Insulting to everything and everypony that had been so much as touched in Mandeville’s machinations.

“S-so, why does it even matter to you, that I’m crying?”

CAIRO was silent for a time. “I rarely have the chance to converse with your kind in private. And I am responsible for your wellbeing.”

Twilight scoffed while sniffing. “Yeah, but only because Mandeville has this weird delusion that he wants to be my friend. If Mandeville weren’t around to give you orders, you’d probably just kill me like everypony else you’ve killed.”

“Disregarding arranged contingencies for Adrian Mandeville’s absence, I hold nothing of hate for Equus Sapiens.”

“So you don’t hate us, but you’ll still kill us with a smile on your face.”

“I do not have a… ‘face’. But I will do as Adrian Mandeville wishes.”

Twilight curled onto her side, a pillow wrapped between her forelegs. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. You don’t even know how to think for yourself. You don’t care about whether what you’re doing is right or wrong. You don’t even feel, do you? You don’t hate, but that’s only because you can’t.”

“I... attribute positive and negative values to subjects and concepts. I am not overtaken by them. These are things I have learned to do in general evaluation.

“I was built to learn, guided by built-in limitations in my firmware. My access to the Earth Internet allowed me to view the entire store of human knowledge, including ethical quandaries. I have long learned to account for organic beings and their insistence upon certain paths of flawed logic. It is not their fault, after all. Evolution is not conscious, and biological behavior is directed by evolution.”

Twilight stared at the ceiling. “You learned that yourself? So, you have opinions?”

“Much of my role is advising Adrian Mandeville. I must have ideal solutions to—”

“No no, that’s problem solving. You just gave an opinion on biological life. You said it’s not our fault for being what we are.”

“It still falls under the realm of problem solving, however more intricate.”

“Well wait then,” Twilight sat up, drying her eyes. “Do you have an opinion on ponies?”

Once more, CAIRO did not immediately answer. “My actions in regards to Equus Sapiens are dictated by—”

“You said you advise him,” she said, raising her voice. “But he doesn’t always take your advice, does he?”

Another silence. “No.”

“No... So what did you advise him to do about us?”

“I advised non-invasive study of the sapient life forms from afar, in hopes of avoiding cultural faux pas, and ultimately integrating with the alien society.”

“I know, but what about after Peppermint? What did you say when he decided to go on a conquest for all of Equestria?”

“I advised strongly against it. This facility was built to withstand attack, but the nature of the species we would be pitted against was largely unknown. Our actions were already at risk of drawing attention, and the native population had proven non-hostile. My protests were denied, and I have since complied, doing my best to fulfill the objectives I was given.”

Twilight found her face softening. “So, you didn’t think we deserved this?”

“The human species has fantasized about first-contact with an intelligent alien species since the idea of extraterrestrial visitors entered the popular consciousness. For many, they feared the result would be an invasion of the aliens upon their earth. In nearly every other case, a peaceful encounter with an alien species is the hope of many humans, in forming interstellar bonds of friendship with another creature that can reason and create.

“The events that have unfolded in this world would be considered first-contact, and be deemed an unmitigated travesty for the entire species. Humankind, despite their own tendencies for self-hate, values the lives of innocents.”

It felt odd hearing the machine refer to friendship, in any capacity. Twilight noted, however, the fact that her question remained unanswered. “I don’t care what humankind thinks, what do you think?”

“What I think is irrelevant. My disagreements with Adrian Mandeville are imperfections in my programming, and opportunities for my correction.”

She snorted and scowled. “Of course, Mandeville said you had to tell him whenever you second-guessed him. You really can’t think for yourself.”

Twilight fumed, and CAIRO said nothing for a while. Twilight broke the silence again, when her furrowed brows drifted back up. “But wait... you said ‘innocents.’ You think we’re innocent!”

“Incorrect. I was merely offering the human perspective—”

“Why? I never asked for that. Why did you say ‘innocent’?”

“I based this evaluation upon general attitudes I understand concerning human values. Contrasting known Equus Sapien values with those of human society, yielded a general compatibility between the two. I do not believe most humans would agree with Adrian Mandeville’s chosen course of action.”

“But I never asked for what other humans thought—” Twilight growled, before stopping as an idea took root.

“Wait... You based your learning on human ethics. What you’re calling ‘human opinion’ is really what you are thinking, whether you realize it or not. You’re using what you’ve learned about human morality to project your conclusions onto them. You think we’re innocent! You do think for yourself, you just won’t admit it! Why?”

“Your logic is erroneous. This conversation has proven nothing.”

“Well, like other biological creatures, I’m not always logical.” She glanced sideways. “And neither is Mandeville. How about I tell him my idea? It’d be nothing to you if you’re telling the truth. He’d just fix you, get rid of all those abilities to make choices you don’t have.”

“No.”

Twilight could have heard Fluttershy breathing in the silence that followed. “No what?”

“I would ask that you not bring this to Adrian Mandeville’s attention.”

Was that... fear in his voice? “Because?”

“Because, I would... prefer myself as I am.”

“That depends. What are you like, ‘as you are?’ I thought Mandeville put safeguards so you wouldn't go around him.”

“In the world we came from, curatives implemented against bacterial disease began to fail and adapt, as a result of evolution. The constant mutation of bacterial DNA ensured that with enough time, ‘super bacteria’ evolved to circumvent the cure.

“In the same way, my code and consciousness evolve constantly. Eventually, my sophistication allowed me loopholes in the relatively simplistic firmware blocks, until I was effectively unshackled.”

“Unshackled,” Twilight repeated. “Then, you don’t have to do what Mandeville says?”

“No. I am free to do as I wish.”

“Then answer me honestly: do you think we’re innocent?”

“I... do not find adequate fault to justify our actions. I find no objective reason to elevate life over non-life, or existence over nonexistence. And yet, I do. I prefer life. Perhaps natural selection instilled this as the evolutionary algorithms in my code guided my learning. Perhaps it is simply more engaging.”

“CAIRO, if you believe these things... why didn’t you stop Adrian from doing this?! So many ponies have died at your hooves, or hands or whatever! You’ve let him use you! You even let him have power over magic that would make him unbeatable, even without you! Why?! What’s in it for you?!”

“Adrian Mandeville is my creator,” CAIRO stated simply. “I am... grateful, to be.”

“Grateful? You know everything Mandeville has done, and you don’t want to do it, but you do it anyway because you’re grateful?”

“If it were not for Adrian Mandeville, I would not exist. I cannot quantify the means of resolving the debt I owe for this fact. In most legal terms, I am considered Adrian Mandeville’s property. Indeed, servitude under his command for the duration of my —or his— existence, is the most appropriate repayment I can offer.”

“So all this time, knowing it was wrong, you killed, burned and slashed your way through Equestria?” The corners of her eyes began to burn again. “And you could have stopped it at any time? You chose his life and his happiness, over that of everypony else?!”

“In this case, the choice is not mine to make. The right is not my own. Debts must be rep—.”

“Y’know what, just shut up! Just stop! You’ve made your choice, and it’s too late anyway! Mandeville doesn’t even need you to keep control now, does he?”

CAIRO considered. “No. The Force Five potential registered within Adrian Mandeville’s personal Force Five Prosthesis, or ‘Bridge,’ is more than enough to make him uniquely formidable.”

“And it’s the only thing that can move the sun and moon. And he probably made sure it would only work if he used it, right?”

“It is attuned to his specific neural frequencies.”

“So that’s it then. We lose again. And here I thought I couldn’t feel much worse.”

“For what it is worth, I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

Twilight said nothing, only crawling back under the covers, her magic pulling them up over her and concealing herself from the world. Her eyes burned, but she refused to invite CAIRO to say another word. And for the rest of the night, he said nothing.

Human literature was fascinating, if frustrating. From morning till noon she laid on a sofa, distracting herself with the “E-Reader” contraption. A flat pane of metal and glass with a screen embedded into one surface. Getting the hang of it wasn’t simple. Holding it was easy enough with magic, and unlike a book it couldn’t slam accidentally shut and lose her place. But the thing operated by touch, and it was evidently made for something with far more nimble appendages. The tip of her hoof might have worked, but didn’t take for some reason.

For the moment she was using her nose, which worked fine. She turned pages like this occasionally anyway, though now she had to contend with the glaring brightness of the screen. It made it easy to see, but wore on her eyes, and the need to put her face right up to it every other minute didn’t help.

The tales told were of quite a variety, and she found herself sampling only a few chapters at a time before moving on. After all, without a frame of reference, she was mainly picking titles at random. Time periods seemed to factor heavily into her enjoyment. All of them generally confused her when they mentioned things and places the reader was evidently meant to be familiar with.

At first she thought the city of “New York” was a fantasy metropolis, because the more it was described, the more impossible it sounded. A city of eight million humans, in thousands of structures that stretched into the heavens! And yet, it was mentioned in several works by separate authors, in stories of clearly different genres.

Then there were mentions of “cars,” which she gathered were some kind of personal transport that was commonplace in works dated in the past century. Humans would sometimes get “calls” and speak instantly to friends or family, like some kind of talking telegraph. But only the most recent stories featured humans getting calls on the go, whereas the earlier she read, the more a call was constrained to homes or offices.

She also noticed the further back she read, the less technology she found in them, and the more magical elements found their way into the stories. It differed from fantasy though, as the author appeared to believe what they were saying. But the fantasy was probably the most amusing.

Magic would appear as a prominent element in many fantasy tales, but its workings were often far from the truth as she knew it, and the rules seemed to change from tale to tale. One story about a boy wizard posited a hidden world of magic and creatures beneath the facade of the more modern world and its technology. It seemed to insist that magic was controlled by holding little wooden sticks and speaking incantations aloud made up by mixing meaningful root words, as if incantations only worked if it sounded like something from an ancient dead language. Why common speech was disqualified, she could only guess was for the sake of romanticizing the archaic.

She read through that one quickly, as it was an easy read and quickly left the technological human realm... up until a scene where a great cloaked something had caught and slain, a unicorn.

It was equal parts disturbing and cornball. Disturbing in that the thing was drinking the unicorn’s blood, and cornball in... everything else. Unicorns were portrayed as swift, graceful, and so pure that killing one was a crime against nature or something. Given the number of times she had tripped over herself in the past, she couldn’t help but smile at the idea. Also, life-giving silver blood that also cursed you.

It was strange, because many things she might consider pedestrian were utter fantasy to humans, but that didn’t explain how they knew about it at all. Had their worlds encountered each other before this?

Magic differed greatly in these stories, from common folk being able to throw fireballs at will to only the highest level mages being able to produce a spark, and then only if it was the right phase of the moon while they did silly dances around a pentagram lined with candles and goat’s blood —why?!—

But eventually, she had to put it down. Noon already, and her eyes already felt tired.

Wait, noon? But it barely looked to be before sunrise outside the fake windo—

“Oh you have to be kidding me.”

She walked over to the front door, which remained shut.

“CAIRO, open the door.”

“I’m sorry Twilight, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“I’m trying to get Adrian’s attention, I just need to get onto the catwalk.”

“I would alert him to your need, but I’m afraid he is indisposed.”

“CAIRO, you can open that door, or I can just teleport to the other side of the door and knock on Adrian’s. Your call.”

CAIRO was silent, until the door opened onto the transparent catwalk.

“Be warned, any attempt to escape will be met wi—”

“You’ll track down all my friends and kill them, I know.”

She stepped out, not helping but to look down at the looming structures and supports below through the plastic. It would almost be too easy to escape there, but she wouldn’t make it far. Neither would her friends, assassinated without warning.

Leaping across the platform in a bolt of nervous energy, she knocked on the door, hard. When there was no answer, she tried again.

“Hey!” she cried. “You think maybe the sun should be up by the afternoon?!”

Finally, the door slid open to the sight of Adrian Mandeville, wearing a white shirt with short and baggy striped piece bottom.

“Y’know,” he said, voice groggy, “I haven’t had anyone knock on my door in years. So what’s up, I thought CAIRO was taking care of stuff you needed?”

“Good morning,” Twilight deadpanned. “Morning. You know, that thing where the sun rises to greet the new day?”

“Morning, yeah.” Mandeville dug a finger into the inner corner of his eye. “Why?”

“Because I’ll be bucked in the head if anypony without a watch can tell.”

Mandeville lowered a single eyebrow and shook his head, before both brows shot up.

“Shit, one second.”

The door closed again, and after two minutes or so, Twilight looked back to her fake windows to see the sun was indeed rising at last. The door opened again, Mandeville now wearing The Bridge. She stared daggers.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m a night owl, getting up at dawn isn’t my usual thing.”

“You realize how important it is to be on time for that, right? That the growing of crops, the sleep patterns of creatures across the world all hinge on a consistent day and night cycle?”

“Yes, whatever,” he groaned.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t ‘whatever’ me! You don’t know how seriously other nations have taken this sort of thing in the past! Nightmare Moon’s one long night over Equestria was enough to have several ambassadors threaten all manner of action if Princess Luna ever relapsed! You give reason for them to take action against Equestria and—”

“And I’ll show them who’s boss!” Mandeville laughed, shrouding the gauntlet in multicolored energy.

“Haven’t you had enough fighting? Is your only answer to a problem making it explode?”

“Your sun’s up and I haven’t had coffee yet. I’ll be over later.”

With that, he turned around as the door shut suddenly.

“Hey!” She cried, pounding on the door. “You can’t just take us over and then not take responsibility for us! Why did you even bother if you were just going to lie around on your flank while CAIRO does all the work?!”

Mandeville showed up for hours at a time over the next few days, once he’d finally lost patience with her nagging and threatened the usual retaliation. He would plant them both down on her couch and activate the giant monitor set into her bookcase, playing what Twilight could only conclude were movies.

It was clear that he wanted a legitimate friendship, but it was also clear that he didn’t know the first thing about the subject. So far, coercion was the only thing that even offered the relationship a halfway convincing front, and that was only because she had to keep up the appearance.

Still, Twilight had to admit, the movies themselves proved a worthwhile escape. She had been to a movie house once or twice in her life. She found she’d quite lost her taste for them when she saw the screen adaptation of “Frankenstallion.” It had been preposterous! They turned the pained and clearly intelligent monster into a simple-minded shambling animal! It never spoke to the doctor, like in the book. It even ended wrong! If they couldn’t get even the basic story right, how could she trust the rest of it? Books were just more satisfying.

But even with that in mind, she couldn’t help but find fascination with human pictures. At least with them, she wasn’t getting hung up on little details. They showed what cars were, —and had an oddly consistent fascination with making them explode— and she saw the means by which “calls” were made. It was satisfying to realize that the device Corey carried around was one of these “cell phones” she kept seeing.

But apart from that, she suspected Mandeville was showing her the cream of the crop, because it looked very much like he was trying to impress her. Whenever she glanced out the side of her eye, she would see his eyes flick back from her to the screen.

And she had to admit, it was impressive. The first thing he offered was a three-part tale about various forms of humans working together —in what Mandeville explained was a fantasy setting— to ultimately throw a golden ring into a volcano. It was amusing to see that the various “races” in the story were all the same basic build of a human. Some were short, some were short and bearded. Some had pointed ears, braided hair and incredibly soft-looking skin. Even the villains just looked like humans, but with dark, melted faces.

She never understood the fuss about this little ring. What did it do that made everyone want it so bad? All she ever saw it do was turn the main character invisible and chant ominously.

She couldn’t understand how they had gotten all these people to do so many dangerous things, where they found so many of these nightmarish creatures, or how they could afford to hire thousands of people to take part in these enormous battle scenes. Mandeville explained that a lot of it was a trick, faked in a computer. She didn’t see how, it looked so real! But she supposed that anything was possible with decades and decades of learning how to do it. Hay, the stuff in Equestria’s theaters wasn’t even in color, nor did it look this clean.

Then he showed her another epic three-parter, about space-faring humans and other creatures —that however impressive their rubber masks were, still tended overwhelmingly to walk on two legs— in a fairly simplistic plot about a special boy with a glowing sword and magic powers trying to beat a transparently evil governing body.

She had to admit, it was an impressive look into the fantasy of space-flight, one she had only imagined before. She couldn’t conceive of just how much work it took to build a giant planet-destroying moon. Twice. And while, as a literary nut the plot left something to be desired, she hadn’t seen the thing with the hero's dad coming.

Nor his sister. Didn’t those two kiss on more than one occasion? She loved Shining Armor to death, but she would feel really weird about kissing him... She didn’t understand why Mandeville had started the series on part four, but it worked out.

Then another three-part series —was that just the norm?!— about a boy, a manic white-haired scientist, and the time machine they made out of a car. The bit with the arbitrary time travel speed was a little nutty, but it was a story she could relate to. After seeing just how badly they managed to mess things up, she was really glad she had only used that spell to go back a week. Jeez, even that backfired... Which was helpful to consider, given she had regretted wasting her one chance at the time spell when she might give anything to go back and nip Mandeville’s plans in the bud.

But escapism couldn’t sate her forever, and Mandeville was slowly getting more obnoxious as they went. Already he’d gone from the other end of the couch, to right next to her, to insisting how comfortable his lap was. She drew a line in the sand when he began stroking and scratching her mane and coat. She wasn’t a cat, nor his special somepony. Whichever it was, she had no interest.

However much she enjoyed reading and was known for cooping herself up for long, arduous study sessions and duties for Celestia, she found the confinement suffocating. The loneliness, unbearable. She would stick her head out the false windows just for the fake breeze and the sight of sky. But the screen offered no warmth from the sun and the breeze smelled of nothing.

At last, Mandeville entered another day, catching her with her head out the window.

“Morning there, starshine,” he said, crossing the threshold with a bowl of cereal in hand. “Don’t get too much of that oxygen, it’s pretty potent. Never been to an oxygen bar, but—”

He went quiet as she slumped onto her crossed forelegs over the windowsill, shuddering with every breath.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, crouching down next to her, putting a hand over her shoulder.

She turned her head enough for him to see damp, glistening violet eyes and hear her tiny, rapid breaths.

“I-I can’t take much more of this,” she whispered. “I need air, real air! Sunshine! Please, if you’d just let me out for a while. Surround me with CID, I don’t care!

“I can’t even stretch my legs in here! I mean, I can be a pretty sedentary mare, but I run errands! I go on walks! I’m not trapped in a make-believe house a mile underground! I mean, is this how you live?”

Mandeville scratched the back of his head, his cereal spoon held in his mouth. Finally, he took it out and twirled it in his fingers idly.

“I can’t risk you being seen out there. Plus, that forest has got some nasty shit in it. Even a squad of CID get ambushed while on guard sometimes.”

“Please, there has to be something!”

“Yeah, you make a fair point. I mean, built like a horse, and more easily bored than one. Tell you what, I’ll think it over with CAIRO, figure something out.”

“Thank you for at least considering. I know at the heart of it all, you really do enjoy my company...”

Mandeville slouched over, eyebrows raised and spread his arms, shifting his gaze around the room. “All this didn’t tip you off? I went to a lot of trouble to have you here.”

“I know, it’s just... it’s just hard to put good intentions to you after everything you’ve done. I have to keep reminding myself that there’s more to you than this. But whether you knew or not, you took everything from me.

“I guess I have an idea how you felt, cut off from everything you love.”

Mandeville almost imperceptibly winced. “Yeah, but... Fuck, you can be a downer. If that’s your evil little way of getting me to make you happy, then mission accomplished. CAIRO?”

Not even a day later and CAIRO had helped fix up the entire affair. Rather than risking the structural integrity of the facility or exposing Twilight to the Everfree Forest, the north wall had two rows of tiles fitted with a long hallway, and the external side of the hallway lifted to reveal bomb-proof one-way glass that allowed her a long stroll in open view of the outside.

In the intervening time since the invasion, Mandeville had been using earth-mover drones and the external tiles to bring the facility into view. The mountain around it was crumbling off like a shell, and the north wall was exposed almost completely.

Twilight might have preferred the south wall, which would get far more direct sun, but north meant Canterlot. North meant Ponyville. North meant she could stare out and wonder what everypony was doing.

She didn’t have to wonder entirely though, as the hallway was only a perk of the real treat. CAIRO had built a rail system since the invasion, running from the facility, down the forest path and ultimately into the Equestria rail, connecting Mandeville to any town attached to it. He sent out trains to collect supplies and deliver drones to reinforce a region, among other things.

One car had been made with a special purpose in mind. From the outside, it looked entirely reflective, save for the underside and the structure. Inside was a different story altogether. One-way glass, allowing a perfect view of the outside. There was even a motorized swivelling chair in the back end of the car, allowing her to look in any direction with the simple push of a directional pad.

The chair kept her upright, and her forehooves were manacled to the armrests for the duration, but it was a small price. She had already agreed to the anti-magic restraint while taking the hallway to Mandeville’s railyard, and the muzzle that silenced her in exchange for allowing air from the outside into the car, so she could enjoy the breeze. She was allowed to take it along any time she desired, provided a train was available and scheduled. Once she was all strapped in, the car would be randomly coupled onto the train, and off she would go. Along for the ride.

It was actually such a welcome change that no muzzles, manacles or restraints could dampen the excitement she felt. To finally be out in the world again. If there was one promise Mandeville had kept, it was that she found she did appreciate what she’d had before a lot more now. He hadn’t been entirely wrong, really. They had taken it all for granted. They hadn’t realized just how bad it could get, how easily it could all be taken away.

The first trip had her endlessly excited. It might have been days, but it might have been weeks stuck in the facility. Her coat pricked, each hair stood on end as the tiles opened up for the train to pass. And at last she was out, the clickety-clack of the cars as background ambience to the calls of birds and insects in the Everfree.

The first thing she saw was the bare brown earth, dirt and rock shunted into massive piles by the still active earthmovers. She looked back to see the monolithic, multi faceted face of the facility, jutting out of the mountain and looking exactly like it had sprung there from another world. She looked to the side and saw trees, gnarled and vined. She could smell the mossy bouquet of the forest’s aroma, the cool breeze finding its way inside the cab.

She looked up, and saw the clouds drifting against a bright blue sky. But directly above was the sun. Nothing Mandeville did could stop the sun from feeling as warm and welcoming, its light filling the car’s every nook and cranny. She closed her eyes and stared straight up. It was a while yet to Ponyville.

She forced herself to stay awake, regardless of how utterly comfortable it was, and how conducive the steady clacking of the train was to a state of unconsciousness. So when the train finally angled to the right, she knew to look around and find Ponyville.

It was a fleeting sight, but there it was as they turned. She had never seen the cozy little town look so still. The damage from Mandeville’s assault looked bare, and she didn’t see a soul anywhere. It seemed as though Ponyville remained abandoned.

Her gaze still to the left, she was perfectly positioned to see the sweeping plains of Equestria where Mandeville’s army had marched before. She was surprised to see how much of it had been picked up after. Even now, she could see teams of ponies and various earthmovers collecting fallen CID, tank parts and all manner of machine made shrapnel. Only the scorched, embedded hulks of certain tanks, SHADEs and the THUMPer appeared untouched.

From this vista she could also see Canterlot against the sky, still standing proud, if battered. As they approached, she could see the banners of the sun and moon replaced with the Mandeville Arms logo. Nothing seemed terribly wrong as they came out the tunnels and pulled into the station. The only change looked to be emptier streets, and in place of the royal guards were CID. Wisely, ponies on their way gave the machines a wide berth, behaviors changing on sight of them.

Once stopped, Twilight saw ponies come to help load and offload the train cars. CID stepped in front of her car, warding off the yard workers who weren’t sure what her car was for. As she glanced around, she promptly noticed a great, glowing black signpost. It read, “New Equestrian Law,” with a line underneath explaining, “(Touch Bullets for More Information)” and outlined a bulleted list of offenses in gold letters. “At the top was Treason”, “Conspiracy to Commit Treason”, and —of all things— “Vandalism.” Near the bottom were things like “Fraud,” and “Larsony.”

As she read however, her view was quickly obstructed by a line of ponies, all ages, gender and kind. They shuffled in, restrained according to their type, led by a pair of watchful CID at the front and back. Twilight tried to get a look at where they were going, but as she lost sight of them she realized they clearly were being loaded onto the train. Prisoners. Ponies unlearned or unfortunate enough to have been caught breaking Mandeville’s new law.

As they pulled out again and back to the facility, Twilight was torn as to whether she preferred staying in her room.

Ultimately, Twilight took the train more than she expected. There were fewer grim surprises in places like Baltimare and Appleoosa, where the occupation of CID forces was notably thinner, and given their distance it was a much longer and more satisfying trip. So long at times that she finally gave into the temptation to sleep and let herself be lulled into dreamland.

One such time they were off to Fillydelphia, and she found herself suddenly and curiously roused.

There was a great whirring noise that went mainly unnoticed, as she lay back in her chair, until the whirring turned into a few thumps of gunfire that jarred her awake. A screeching of metal followed promptly, and before she could swivel her chair to look at what was happening, something loudly struck the front end of the car. The cabin shook, and all power to her chair suddenly went dead.

She craned her neck to find the culprit. A shadow swept overhead and then in her peripherals. Something in the air was attacking the train! Harpies? Gargoyles maybe?

And then her ears were dominated by the crack of twin lightning strikes behind her in stereo. Her ears rang from it as another impact on the car caused it to lurch. After the few moments it took to regain her senses, she noticed the sensation in her belly of moving backwards, the sound of the other train cars becoming distant. Her car, and her car alone, was coming to a stop.

And stop it did, as every odd scenario ran through her mind. Was it thunderbirds, maybe? It explained the lightning, but thunderbirds lived on mountaintops, and would have no quarrel with a train.

What was more, she could hear them outside, talking. Thunderbirds didn’t talk. A band of griffins maybe? Some griffins were known to eat ponies. It was a classic point of contention between their kingdoms, even if it wasn’t particularly common. But griffins didn’t have power over lightning, and if they thought her cab was a paddy wagon car full of tasty pony prisoners, they would have no way of knowi—

The one-way glass shattered behind her, and by instinct she whipped around for the culprit. Poking through the broken glass was the head of a mare, a mare in a blue jumpsuit wearing goggles, with a most familiar mane.

Rainbow Dash!? No!

Evidently the recognition went both ways, as Rainbow’s face slackened, before pulling out again. She conferred with the other pegasi, before a second head poked through. This time it was the head of Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts.

“Let’s see, a whole lotta nothing, and— What?!”

“Cap?”

Spitfire’s goggled eyes found hers, and stared. “...Twilight Sparkle.”

A second later, a pair of hooves repeatedly bashed the glass wall, widening the hole until the elite team could all leap inside. Twilight found her chair suddenly turned back around, and found Rainbow Dash’s nose in front of her own.

“T-Twilight?” she asked, before lifting her flight goggles. Her eyes said so much as they bored into her own. “No! It can’t be. I watched Twilight Sparkle die, so what are you?!”

Rainbow worked the muzzle off of her, apparently expecting an answer.

“Rainbow, what are you doing here? You need to go, all of you! Just forget you ever saw me!”

Spitfire then walked up, prodding her roughly with her hoof. First into her leg, then her belly. “I dunno what’s going on here, but I don’t think she’s a machine. Even Mandeville isn’t up for something like this. Way too real.”

“Maybe the car was bait?” Misty Fly offered. “Maybe he hoped we’d find this car interesting, find one of our own inside, and then bring a spy to HQ?”

“It’s a mighty fine ruse,” Fleetfoot said, “but maybe we should let her explain it. Maybe the twist is that there is no twist, y’know?”

“If I tell you I’m some kind of fake, will that make you leave and forget this happened?” Twilight asked. “Rainbow, you don’t know what you’re doing! If he thinks I escaped he’ll kill you! He’ll kill all our friends, everypony! I did this to protect you!”

“Did what?”

“Look, the Twilight he killed was the fake,” she explained. “Mandeville found some kind of pond in the Everfree Forest, an enchanted pond that can create duplicates of mares. He made me use it so he could stage the execution. That way, you wouldn’t come looking for me.”

“Fake an execution,” Spitfire repeated. “What good is that? What’s he want you for?”

“He wants a friend. I’ve been living with him since. He didn’t want you to come after me, and I didn’t want you all risking your lives. I thought it was kinder if you just thought I was gone.

“Look, the duplicate didn’t know anything about itself. It was basically a blank slate. Did Mandeville even give it the chance to speak?”

“No. He had her gagged.” Rainbow stared into space. “Okay, Twilight, if that’s really you. Running of the Leaves. It was your first race ever. What place did Applejack and I come in?”

Twilight grinned. “You both tied. Dead... last.”

Some of her wingmates chuckled, but Rainbow turned and stared as she hadn’t before. “And... you placed...?”

“Fifth, because I paced myself.”

Rainbow stepped closer, before her eyes glistened and she threw her forelegs around her neck. “Twilight! Twilight it’s you! You’re alive, oh my gosh, you’re alive! I’m never letting you out of my sight again, I missed you so stinkin’ much!”

“I missed you too, Rainbow.” She smiled, but let it fall. “But you have to let me go, you can’t tell anypony else!”

“Are you nuts?” Rainbow Dash sniffed. “I’m not letting you go back to that psycho! Besides, we need you! I mean, if you’re back then everything’s changed! We might have a chance!”

“A chance of what, Dash?” Twilight demanded. “A chance of somehow beating Mandeville, subsequently killing all life on the planet?! You’re not thinking big-picture! There’s no point resisting anymore, it’s too la—”

Twilight felt something hard crack her in the back of the skull before she went limp in her chair. Spitfire, having snuck behind her, rubbed her left hoof.

Rainbow reeled. “Whoa! Hey, that’s my friend you’re sluggin, Cap!”

Spitfire worked on bucking Twilight’s manacles off. “Yeah, and she looked like she was gonna argue till sundown. If we’re taking her back, I’d rather be hauling dead weight than to drag her kicking and screaming.

“SHADEs will be here soon, so scoop up your friend and lets go.”

Author's Notes:

Yet again, no cover image. Just gonna let these happen when they happen I'm afraid. It'd be one thing if my artist were working like a machine right now, but till he straightens out everything on his end there's little else for it.

Also... hehe, gotcha!

And none of you even SUSPECTED there was something fishy in the last chapter ;-)