Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

With a brief whirring noise, the iris slid away and the camera activated.

The lens stared out into a t-shaped hall. One side ended in a door and the other two branched off into a kitchen and a living room. A staircase arched over the kitchen's doorframe, continuing out of sight. Footsteps approached from the kitchen.

Two leather boots stomped past, making their way towards a well-populated coat rack. The man wearing them was tall, but with an awkward frame of someone not yet out of their teen years. He kept a Nokia phone pinned between his shoulder and ear, smiling as he spoke.

"Hi Mom, it's Shane! That's right, new place." Shane switched the phone between ears. He picked a heavy, leather coat off the rack. "I got your message, but I need go out on shift. Sorry, still dressing."

Shane turned, feeding his arms through the coat. His fair Caucasian features twisted into an amused frown. A free hand ruffled his short, brown hair.

"C'mon Mom," he said. "I've only transferred here a week ago. You can't miss me THAT much."

The frown became a smile again; he sat on the end of a bench. "No, no, I wasn't saying that. I imagine that I'll be homesick within a few months or so." He paused; the smile broadened. "Ooooh? So, the truth comes out! Well, you can tell Trista that her big bro loves her and that I'll be— GHRK!"

Heavy boots hit the floor as Shane jumped off the bench. He stared wide-eyed into the camera's lens. After a few moments, he sighed, shoulders slumping and pressing a hand against his chest.

"No… no, I'm fine," he said, pulling the phone back up to his ear. "Sorry, I'm house sitting for a friend of a friend. He let me stay at his 'estate', but it has this crazy, space age, security system... ha-ha, yes, the security guard is being watched. Hilarious. Look, like I told Maddison, fourteen cameras watching a house is great on paper, but those things stare at you. Worse, they follow you around. I nearly peed myself when I saw that red dot in the kitchen last night."

"...Stop Laughing."

He stomped over to the front door, pulling it open. A gust of wind and a spray of water followed. It was dark, raining and miserable outside.

"Look, I'm heading out. I'll call you back later… yeah… yeah… I love you too."

Shane hung up, sighed, and stuffed back it into his coat pocket. With one last glance behind him, Shane stepped out and closed the door.

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

Shane A. Starr's Security Cart [Camera 1]
>Bootstrap successful (Start OS)
>Motion detected (Start recording)

Shane's hand pulled back from the camera. He sat alone in the driver's seat of a security cart. His hand waved back and forth, into and out of the camera's field of vision. Its motors whirred, slowly following. Satisfied, Shane sat back. He glanced left and right before cautiously accelerating.

With his cut-rate vehicle lacking any doors, Shane's leather coat was the only thing protecting him against the storm. The strum of rain beat against the cart's metal skin, accompanied by the occasional rumble of thunder. An engine, only slightly too big for a lawnmower, purred under the bonnet, barely heard over the storm.

Shane reached forward, picking up a radio piece. "Maddison, come in. Over."

The sound of static, followed by a squeak. "This is Maddison," A smooth, southern voice responded. "Shane, is that camera working? Over."

"Yeah," Shane responded, smiling. "It just needed a restart, like you said. I'm on the fourth lap of Canterlot High, all's quiet so—" There was a flare of white light. Shane frowned, leaning forward. "Hang on. I just saw a flash in front of the school, by that horse statue. It didn't look like lightning. Wait a minute. I can see someone in front of the school… I'm proceeding on foot. Over."

The engine revved as Shane accelerated further, his brow creasing in concentration.

"Copy that," Maddison replied. "Remember Shane, you're a security guard, not a police officer. You're there to observe, not to arrest. Out."

"Out," Shane stated, hanging up the receiver.

He spun the wheel left. A thud shuddered through the cart as it ramped up onto the sidewalk and over wet grass. Within seconds, he eased off, yanking up the handbrake. Stepping out, he reached into his leg holster, pulling out a thick Maglite.

The camera swivelled, automatically following the motion. It stopped at Shane's back. He turned on his flashlight, pointing it towards the steps of Canterlot high.

The beam highlighted a humanoid figure. It was dressed in a heavy black robe, already halfway up the stairs. In its arms, it hefted a heavy cardboard box. Suddenly, its arms pulled away, dropping the box onto the marble steps with a wet thud.

"Hey!" Shane shouted over the storm. He stepped forward, holding his torch in a reverse grip. "You're trespassing on state property! Step away from the box and vacate the area immediately!"

The figure froze. Its wet hood slapped in the wind as it slowly turned towards Shane.

With a flash of movement, it jumped off the stairs and sprinted towards the statue. Shane flinched, paralysed in indecision.

CRACK. FLASH.

Static filled the camera's lens and microphone.

>Critical error detected (Start Recovery)
>…
>Recovery successful

Seconds later, the garbled audio equalised and the snow-filled lens became clear. The figure was gone. Shane stumbled in the grass, his eyes pressed into the crook of his elbow. With a weary groan, he stood and pulled his arm away, making long, pained blinks.

He froze. What at first sounded like rain, was actually a baby's wail. No, even that didn't sound right. Shane began to walk towards the steps of Canterlot High, towards the box.

He reached in, pulling out a bundle of cloth the size of a cat. The bundle wriggled in his grasp, but he kept it carefully cradled in his arms. After a minute or so, he made his way back, all the while looking down at the bundle with a concerned expression.

The camera panned, following Shane. He awkwardly leaned into the cart, picking out the radio's handset. The wailings had become frightened, confused murmurs now, sounding halfway between a child and a horse.

"Maddison," he said, gently rocking the bundle. "Someone just abandoned a baby…uh… 'animal' on the stairs to Canterlot High. Over,"

"Copy." Maddison's voice had no reservations, no question. "If you think its safe, take the animal back the estate. I saw those lightning cracks from here; it's too dangerous to be out tonight. Go home. Out."

"Out." Shane hug up the receiver, stepping back into the cart.

Suddenly, the world split into two. Sound screeched while the video became green and pixelated.

>Critical error detected (Start Recovery)
>…
>Recovery failed
>Shutting down

Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

The front door opened, Shane walked through backwards. He carried his leather coat in a bundle, protecting something within its folds against the storm. With a kick of his boot, the door slammed closed behind him. Whatever was inside the coat began to squirm harder.

The gale winds and rain became faint. Only Shane's fatigued huffing and some muffled whinnying filled the hall.

Shane was soaked down to the bone. He blew some droplets of water off his lips and swiped away a few strands of plastered hair from his eyes. Boots thudded as he walked towards the camera and then to left; to the living room.

Motors whirred, and the camera followed.

Shane kneeled in front of the fireplace, laying the drenched, wriggling coat down. He scraped together some kindling, struck a match, and within moments, the fireplace flickered to life. Already half-free, Shane helped peel the rest of the coat open. Sitting in the middle of the tangled sheets was what looked like a small, trembling pony. No, not pony: unicorn.

He reached over to her. "Alright come here—"

Immediately, she shrieked in fear and squirmed away. Shane pulled his hand back, eyes wide in shock. Her light purple coat and dark purple mane were slick from the rain. Rapid-paced breaths forced her chest in and out.

Shane sunk to the ground, sitting cross-legged. His face twisted in sympathy. A hand gestured to the fire.

"C'mon, sit here. We need to get warm," he said in a gentle voice.

The purple pony nervously looked away, still shivering. She didn't move.

With a sigh, Shane stood. The camera tracked him as he walked out to the hallway, then upstairs. Within a few moments, he came back down with a bundle of towels in his hands. He headed over to her, and slowly lowered himself down.

Picking a towel out, and grabbing it in both hands, he quickly rubbed it across her. She squeaked at first, panicking, crying, but Shane kept drying her off.

Tossing the now-damp cloth aside, he picked up another and went about it again. Minutes passed. The baby unicorn let out the occasional weak mumble or bray, but she wasn't struggling anymore. In fact, knowingly or not, she began to hug up to him, presumably for warmth. Her tiny head was nodding up and down, struggling to stay awake.

Shane ruffled her mane, letting out a long, tired sigh. His clothes were still soaked, and now he was covered in purple horsehair. Bundling her up in the last fresh towel, he stood.

"I'm tired and I'm starving," he grumbled. "I'm betting you feel the same way, eh? C'mon, let's get you a glass of water at least." A tired murmur was her response. Shane smirked, turning and walking out of sight.

"Wait… what was poisonous to ponies again?"

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

The camera panned over to the living room. Light from the morning sun filtered through half-drawn curtains. Two figures, one human (on the couch) and one baby unicorn (in front of the fireplace), lay in separate bundles of sheets.

The human figure gave a prolonged moan as he twisted in place. Shane pulled down the sheet and swung his legs out onto the floor. He'd removed his shirt, only a pair of track pants protecting his modesty. Scooching forward, he heaved to his feet and walked over to the tiny unicorn.

He crouched, gently rubbing her awake.

"Nrgh!" She awoke with a start, flicking her horn up. Violet eyes rapidly searched the room, eventually settling on Shane. Hoofs scrambled against sheets as she backed away, her lower lip curling in fear.

She turned away, letting out a long, horrified wail. Wails turned to a cry for help, then a whimper of fear, before flopping down on her flank. She hung her head low, sniffling.

Shane didn't move. He reached over to the couch, grabbing a glass of clear water. The brief glimpse as he turned was enough to see the guilt on his face.

"Here," he said, setting it down in front of her.

The unicorn sniffed in shock, flinching back. She looked to the glass, then to him. Shane nodded. Slowly, she reached over and began to tilt the glass towards her. She didn't drink much, it was nearly a third her size. The unicorn brayed something, and wiped her lips.

"That means 'thank you', doesn't it?"

She looked up at him. Frowning as she made a few uncertain mumbles.

Shane let out a mirthless chuckle. "I knew it. I could hear you murmuring all night. You can speak, can't you?" He pointed to himself. "Shane."

She tilted her head.

"Shaaaanee," he said again.

She pointed to him. "Sh-Shiny."

"No: Shane!"

"Shiny!" She squeaked, ears perking up.

Shane palmed his forehead. "Ugh, close enough."

The unicorn shakily got to her legs, pointing a forehoof at herself. She let out a few short whinnies. The way she was saying it sounded just like—

"Alright, 'Nei-neigh' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue," he said, rubbing his chin. Shane's eyes wandered through the room, stopping at a picture on the corner of the fireplace. A young girl, half his hight, clung to Shane’s side. He snapped his fingers. "'Twyla' seems about right. How about it, Twyla?"

She tilted her head again. Shane chuckled.

"C'mon, Twyla, let's go get you bathed. You're a very smelly pony." He paused, taking a quick sniff of his own armpits— he cringed. "And I'm a very smelly human."

Shane swept her up in his arms. This time 'Twyla's' squeak sounded more like of surprise than fright. Even still, her tail shot through her legs as she held onto him for dear life. Cradling her, Shane walked past the camera and disappeared upstairs.

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

A purple mane hovered into view. The camera whirred as it panned down.

Twyla paused, turning to it with a quizzical expression on her face. She walked up to it, pawing at the screen. She babbled for a few moments, almost dictating.

The front door creaked open. Shane, wearing civilian clothes, walked in. Each hand held a cluster of bulging plastic bags. His face brightened the moment he caught sight of Twyla.

"And what is it that you're looking at, eh?" Shane said, putting the over-stuffed bags down and kicking the door closed behind him.

"Shiny!" She said, pointing into the camera lens excitedly.

Shane walked over and crouching down beside her. "Have you made a friend, Twyla?"

"What… this?" Twyla mouthed awkwardly.

He chuckled, pointing into the lens. "Camera. CAM-ERA."

"CAMERL-ERA," she echoed.

"Good enough." He shrugged. Shane stood and walked back to the door, grabbing the bags.

"Camerlera," Twyla mumbled again, looking back at the camera.

"Hey Twilie," Shane said, shaking the plastic bags for emphasis. "Guess what I've got~?"

She ignored him, still staring at the Camera, kneading her chin in thought.

Shane gave an exasperated sigh, walking off screen and into the kitchen. There was a distant rustle of plastic bags along with a jingle of keys, seemingly putting them both onto a bench. Then he came back.

"C'mon Twilie… dinner time."

Suddenly, Shane scooped her up off the ground. She squealed, giggling ecstatically as Shane wildly tickled her stomach. Turning in place, Shane whisked her off towards the kitchen.

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

A purple horn followed black boots. Shane walked towards the coat rack, still halfway through doing up his tie. Twyla stood behind him, braying uncertainly.

"Sorry, Twyla," he said, giving her a sympathetic look. "I've taken all the leave that I can. I need to go to work again. Don't worry; I'll be home at…this time!" He pointed to a clock on the wall.

"Six o'clock!" Twyla recited by rote.

"That's right," he crouched down, kissing her on the forehead. "Be a good girl, okay? Stay indoors."

Twyla brayed again, watching as Shane walked up to the door. He gave one more wave, and then stepped out into the night. It was quiet again. Her ears drooped.

She didn't move for very, very long time. At first sitting on her flank, then laying down on her stomach, then rolling over onto her back. She never broke eye contact with the door. Finally, she looked up to the clock. Twyla let out a long, frustrated groan. Only fifteen minutes had passed.

Legs flailed as she swung to her hooves. She walked over to the bench, now converted into a bookshelf. Lowering her horn, she thrusted it towards the bench, grunt and groaning. After a few moments of exertion, a few sparks of magic came out of her horn… and nothing more.

She collapsed to the ground, exhausted. However, she wasn't giving up. She stood up again, shook her head, and marched up to the bench. Lowering down, wriggling her flank, she jumped up at one of the books.

A heavily clap and surprised shriek sounded out as both the book and Twyla fell to the ground. She pushed up, shaking her head again before flicking the book around. Twyla glanced at the camera out the corner of her eye. She grinned.

Grabbing the corner of her book in her mouth, she dragged it over to the camera and pulled it open. She flicked to the front of the book and sat on her flank with a huff. A forehoof dictated to the air as she babbled nonsensically. Occasionally, she pointed down at the book, attempted to speak a few words, and then spoke into the camera's lens. With the section finished, she flicked a page and started over again.

Every now and again, she looked back to the door.

Within an hour, and after three different books, Twilight had fallen face-first into the folds of the fourth. She was fast asleep.

Seven hours later, the door unlocked. Shane stepped through, the morning sun at his back. With a groan, he shrugged his coat off and hung it up on the rack.

Then he noticed Twilight. He sighed. Sitting on the edge of the bench, he silently undid his boots and tucked them away. Only his sock-wearing feet could be seen as he walked up to the camera.

Shane leaned down, gently scooped the sleeping unicorn up and took her upstairs.

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

Twyla rushed past, giggling in glee. She was bigger than before, her head just hovering over the top of where Shane's knee ought to be.

Finally, her eyes settled on the camera. She grinned, quickly ducking behind it. The lens whirred over to her, but shuddered to a halt; she was in a blind spot. Twyla leaned down and whispered a conspiratorial 'shh' into the microphone.

"TWYLA!" Shane bellowed from elsewhere. His footsteps were heavy and violent. "Twyla, get out here, right now!"

Twyla just giggled again, shuffling further into the nook behind the camera.

Sneakers stomped out into view, the camera whirred over to Shane. His face was red, expressions twisted in fury. He turned, spotting Twyla with a glance.

An angry thrust of his index finger pointed her into the hall. "Twyla, get out. NOW."

She giggled again, nervously this time. Slowly, she shuffled out, and sat before him. Twyla smiled awkwardly, seemingly hoping it would calm him down. It didn't.

Shane's nostrils flared, snarling, "Twyla, what were you THINKING when you ran outside like that? Anyone could have seen you!"

Any trace of a smile vanished from her face. She glanced away, nervously mumbling, "L-library."

"You can go ANYWHERE in the house," Shane yelled, dictating wildly. "The basement, the attic AND the internet, it's all here! It's not as if I haven't given you everything you could have wanted. Why do you insist on making life difficult for me?"

"S-sorry," Twyla murmured. Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. "W-wanted library…"

"No!" Shane jabbed an angry index finger at her. "No 'sorry'! Bad, VERY bad! No dinner, no snacks, and no books!" He pointed up the stairs. "Go to your room. Right now!"

Twyla's lower lip trembled, looking him over. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She walked over to the staircase, slowly ascending them. Pausing halfway up, she looked out the side, giving him a heart-broken look.

Shane jabbed his index finger again, his face unchanging.

Hoofsteps clopped overhead. Twyla's sobbing drifted down the stairs, ending with a soft click of her closing door.

Shane slumped. The anger in his face drained away almost instantly, replaced by a haggard fatigue. He lurched over, resting against the doorframe. His free hand fished out his phone and dialled a number. Ten seconds later, he held it up to his ear.

"H-hey mom," Shane answered, trying to sound a little upbeat. "Yeah, I'm going good. How's things back home? Straight As? Hah, third grade never saw Trista coming. Yeah… yeah, I'm looking after myself, don't you worry.

"No… uh, I'm calling you for some advice." He looked up the stairs with a haunted expression. "I need some help looking after a kid." He blinked; a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. "No, no, nothing like that. I'm just babysitting… Yeah… I've been babysitting since I got here a few months ago."

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. There was silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, the phone began to murmur again.

"No, mom, I'm just— I'm worried for her, really worried. She's delicate, and I don't—" He paused, listening quietly. "I know mom… I know that you didn't raise me or Trista in cotton buds, but you don't get it."

Shane was silent... just listening to his mother talking. He was angry at first, outraged, but slowly his face began to change. Rage became calmness, then became fear, then became acceptance. He gnawed on his lower lip, slapping a palm on the wall and hanging his head in defeat.

"I… I can't do this on my own," he choked. "I thought I could, I put on a brave face, but I can't. And… you're right; this isn't a responsibility that I can handle on my own." His palm turned into a fist. "That's why I need help… and I know who to ask. Thanks mom… I know what to do. I love you, too."

With a click, the phone went dead. He dialled again.

After a pause, he lifted the phone up. "Hey, Maddison? Yeah, things have… developed. She left the house again. I need more time to properly… figure all this out. For now though, she needs security, entertainment and education. I need your advice on security.

"Work less hours? I can't do less hours, Maddison, I need all the money I can get. Yeah. Enhance the security system? Look, that'll cost a fortune, I can't afford to— uh, o-okay.

"Maddison? Thank you."

Shane hung up. He pushed away from the wall and walked back into the kitchen, dialling as he went.

"Hey Candice, sorry to bother you in the middle of study. Could I come over tomorrow night? I have someone I need to introduce you to."

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

Shane's Ford Tempo [Dashboard Camera]
>Bootstrap successful (Start OS)
>Motion detected (Start recording)

The camera in Shane's car flickered to life.

Shane paid it no attention, gently the accelerating out of the driveway. There was movement in the backseat. The camera panned over. Twyla was strapped into a baby chair, glancing out the heavily tinted windows with an excited smile on her face.

"Where?" Twyla asked.

"We're going to a friend's house," Shane said, hardly able to keep the smile off his face. "She's the nice person who has been lending us all those books. I wanted to let you look yourself. She has quite the… library of books."

Twyla sat up. "Library?"

"Library," Shane confirmed, glancing up into the rear-view mirror.

She squealed in joy, wriggling in place and edging as far forward as the straps would allow.

Then everything went black.

>Sleep-mode command received (Stop recording)
>Sleep-mode activated
>…
>Motion detected (Start recording)

Shane was sitting in his car again, his hand pulled away from the camera.

"Piece of crap," he muttered. "So much for the 'universal' models. I hope you're enjoying the show, Maddison; I'm taking this thing out when I get the chance."

More movement in the backseat. The camera panned over to Twyla. Books littered the seats beside her, heavy stacks strapped in with seatbelts. However, instead of a book in her lap, there was a grey, horse-like doll. She squeezed it tightly; its sad button eyes bugged out.

"Cadance is best friend!" She said, squeezing it tighter. "Best friend, best friend, best friend!"

Shane chuckled, leaning back. "Yeah… she sure is."

Blackness.

>Sleep-mode command received (Stop recording)
>Sleep-mode activated

Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

Shane sprinted into the hall, his breath ragged. He could hardly pull the door open fast enough.

"Candice!" He gasped. "Thank God you're here!"

On the other side was a young woman, roughly the same age as him. She was dressed in a set of long-sleeved medical scrubs, her brown hair tied back into a tight ponytail.

"Where is the patient?" Candice's voice was feminine, steely, and professional.

Shane didn't say anything, ushering her into living room. The camera panned, following them both. They stood before a mound of sheets in the middle of the floor. There was a Twyla-sized lump buried in it; the sheets rose and fell ever so slightly.

Candice kneeled, pausing to snap on a pair of plastic gloves. She laid a hand on the mound. Over the course of two minutes, she shifted, checked and stroked the young mare. In the end, she breathed a defeated sigh and shook her head. Shane flinched, lifting a horrified hand to his mouth.

"I knew this would happen, sooner or later," She said, turning to Shane with an apologetic expression. "Shane, I'm training to be a doctor, not a vet. If she were a human, I'd say she was suffering from a severe case of food poisoning or chronic gastritis. You said this has been happening for days?"

"For a week now," Shane whispered. "She's getting so weak."

"Shane… the last time I came was when you were feeding her too much meat."

Shane fidgeted, glancing away.

"Oh no, Shane, you didn't…"

"I-I can't help it!" He said, gesturing to her. "Twyla just eats so much, and she really likes it! I thought that a hamburger every now and again wouldn't hurt! Didn't you say that it was really just artificial chemicals we needed to worry about?"

"Excuse me?" Candice rounded on him. "What part of that sounds like: stuff her face full of—"

Twyla let out a troubled, delirious groan.

Candice went quiet, gently stroking Twyla's face. "Shane… you know the real reason why I came. I told you last time: you need to take her to the government. You can't keep doing this, you have no idea about her physiology. What could be fine to us could kill her. Don't you understand that?"

Shane gave a shuddering sigh. "I-I know… I'm just… I don't want them to do something to her… or take her away."

"I'm not going to turn you in, Shane," she said, standing. There was a plastic creak as Candice pulled off her gloves. "You need to do that. I can't help her anymore."

A hollow sigh came from Shane's throat. He lowered his head, weakly nodding. "Yeah. Can you… can you give us a minute?"

Candice walked over to the hall, giving them some privacy. The moment she was out of sight, she stood against a wall, listening in.

Shane kneeled next to Twyla, softly speaking to her. She murmured back, despite her weakness. After a few exchanges, Shane nodded. He looked up, his expression stoic.

"Candice, it's time," Shane said. He gathered Twyla up and walked out into the hall.

"Alright," Candice nodded, opening the door for them. "C'mon, we'll take my car. I'll drive."

She closed the door behind her.

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

root@DOCTOPVET:~$ PLAY CAM2B -Monday -Playback 0352

Shane sat alone in a sterile, white waiting room. He hunched over, hands tightly knit together. Heavy bags hung under staring eyes. Previous footage revealed that he had not moved from that spot since Candice had left… two hours ago.

"Is this seat taken?" A male voice asked.

A man in a black suit walked in from Shane's right. He wore a trilby atop his hairless head, seemingly the only character that he afforded himself.

Shane stood suddenly, hands tightened into fists.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," the man said. His lips tightened into a thin smile.

"Who are you?" Shane spat.

"A man in the employ of the government," he responded. "Since we're cutting straight to business, I'd like to request that you relinquish guardianship of—"

"Not a chance," Shane growled. He took a hostile step forward. "I'm not giving Twyla up, not to you, or anyone else. If I have to fight for her, I will. You can promise your 'employers' that."

The man nodded unreservedly. "Well then, a compromise is in order," he said. "You have a choice, or should I say, 'had' a choice. You will look after Twyla full time. She seems to become… distressed whenever she thinks that we're separating her from you. In the meantime, you will work your security job part-time."

"Pretty presumptuous, aren't you?" Shane muttered, more petulant than angry.

"I can only work on the information that I've been given," the man responded. He fixed the tip of his hat. "Now, the consequences of failure are simple; she will be taken away. Do you understand?"

Shane's lip curled, shoulders rising and falling with every angry breath. After a few moments of deep thought, he bitterly nodded. "Fine… if it means that I'll stay with Twyla, then I'll be your little servant boy."

"Very good," the man said. He leaned in, a pair of piercing, silver eyes glared into Shane's. "Now, 'little servant boy', for your first order. Tell. Me. Everything."

root@SERVERMAIN:~$ ^C, Video manually exited

Maddison estate/Entrance Hall [Camera 4]
>Motion detected (Start recording)

The front door creaked open. Twyla rushed forward, unlike before she had a cheerful smile on her face… and a beige collar around her neck. Shane followed in a zombie-like gait, swatting the door closed behind him.

"Heavy," Twyla murmured, pawing at her neck.

"Yeah I know, sweetie," Shane said. He leaned, more swayed, down to pet the top of her head. "C'mon, let's—"

"Camerlera, look!" Twyla trotted up to the lens, gesturing up to her collar, clearly showing it off. The band was leather, with a few half-inch high boxes molded along the outside. She kept burbling at the lens, dictating with her forehoof like a schoolteacher.

Shane hung up his coat and ambled into the living room, his head lolling from side to side. The camera panned, Twyla's eyes followed. With a yawn, Shane collapsed into the couch, rubbing at the heavy bags under his eyes.

"Shiny?" Twyla tilted her head.

Shane looked over, giving her a tired but relieved smile.

She trotted over to the bookshelf, nipped a novel in the spine, and dragged it over to him.

Shane gave it a weak look, but slowly nodded. He picked it up off the ground and pulled it into his lap.

Twyla crouched down, wriggled her flank, then leapt up onto the couch. She crawled underneath Shane's arm and into his lap. Sitting upright, she looked up at him, smiling, waiting for the show to start.

"Chapter eight," Shane read out, stifling another yawn. "By the time I got home, it was after two o'clock in the morning. The clock in the Beetle didn't work (of course) but I had made a pretty good guess from the position of the stars—" Shane gave another aborted yawn "—and the moon. I was strung out, weary, and my nerves were stretched as tight as guitar strings. I didn't think that I was going to get any sleep tonight, so I…" he trailed off, his eyes glazing over.

Twyla blinked, looking up again, patting him on the chest. He didn't move. She frowned, rattling him some more. She let out a shriek as Shane slumped over, trapping her in his arms.

The book fell free of Shane's hands and thudding to the ground. His snores filled the room.

After some struggles, Twyla poked her head up. She wasn't impressed. However, after giving her book a tragic glance (it'd fallen pages first) she decided to retire to her fleshy prison.

Within a few minutes, the camera stopped.

>No Motion detected (Stop recording)

[Starr residence][Entrance Hall Camera]
>Bootstrap successful (Start OS)
>Motion detected (Start facial recognition)
>Facial recognition = (Shane, Twyla)
>Opening connection to 'backup-01' (Start recording)

The iris of the lens slipped open. Shane stared into it, his head tilted to one side. There was a phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder. His hair and side burns were longer, while his chin seemed more defined, masculine.

"Yeah Maddison, it's on," Shane said. He grabbed the camera, lifting it up. The lens loomed closer, tilting down. He was sitting cross-legged, cables spread underneath like vines. "The lens looks fine to me. Good thing the power surge didn't do any major damage to the cameras. Yeah… wish I could say the same about the server. I know the computer is cheaper, but that was two and a half years' worth of tapes. Years of memories… just gone. At least the first year is still there. Only storm I remember being this bad was the one when I first met Twyla."

"Shiny?" Twyla's voice came from the living room. There were a few trots as she stepped through the frame, looking between him and the camera. She'd grown again, just an inch, but it was noticeable. "What are you doing?"

"Hi Twyla," Shane said. He leaned over, putting the camera to rest in its stand. Plucking a screwdriver off the floor, he went about tightening up the screws. "I'm fixing up Ms. Camerlera with uncle Maddison. Oh yeah, check it out, the new firmware I've installed has got some cool new features. Apparently they can even hear mobile phone voices now."

A clunk. Shane and Twyla froze. The world became pixelated, tearing at random.

>Critical error detected (Rebooting)
>…
>Bootstrap successful (Start OS)
>Motion detected (Start facial recognition)
>Facial recognition = (Shane, Twyla)
>Opening connection to 'backup-01' (Start recording)

The lens refocused. Twyla pulled away, a screwdriver in her mouth.

"There, all better!" She grinned. "See, Uncle Maddison was right."

"Mm, I was about to do that," Shane grumbled. The phone was gone. He took back the screwdriver. With a glance, he considered the handle for a moment before turning it around and wiping it over her coat.

"Hey!" Twyla squeaked, pushing his hand away. "No you weren't! I read the manual; you didn't even do that!"

"Not everything in life is reading, little miss Smartiepants." He grinned, standing up and walking off into the kitchen.

"Hey, don't bring Smarty Pants into this!" She yelled, following.

>Subjects out of scope (Stop recording)

[{REDACTED} residence][Entrance Hall Camera]
>Motion detected (Start facial recognition)
>Facial recognition = (Subject KNIGHT, Subject AMALTHEA)
>Opening connection to {REDACTED} (Start recording)

Twyla reclined on the living room couch, casually reading a novel opened wide on the cushion next to her. Every now and again, she flicked over a page, alternating between her horn and her forehoof.

With a sharp tug of the blinds, sunlight vanished from the room. Twyla looked up, frowning. She got to her hooves, peering over the back of the couch. Shane stood at the window, his hand lowering from the controllers.

"Shiny, I'm trying to read," Twyla complained.

No answer. Shane kept staring at the closed blinds; sunlight glowed around the edges. Twyla nervously glanced about, her ears fidgeting.

"Shiny… what's wrong?" She ventured.

"…The Pie family," Shane said, turning to her with an imperceptible emotion on his face. "They moved out two months ago. This new family… they aren't right."

Twyla blinked. "Did they say something mean to you?"

"No, nothing like that. They're just… strange is all."

"That's not nice," Twyla huffed.

"No… no, it isn't. I'll make sure to apologise to them later." He patted himself down for his phone and walked out into the hall. "Go back to reading, Twyla. I need to chat with someone."

Twyla nodded vigorously, cheerfully settling back down onto the couch. Using the horn this time, she flicked over another page.

Glancing around the corner for a moment, Shane turned away. He pressed a button on his phone and pulled it up to his ear. One ring, two rings, three—

"Hello, agent Harding?" Shane's face darkened, dropping his voice to an angry whisper. "Yes, this is Mr. Starr. That's every family in the street now; did you think I was blind or something?"

"She can walk outside now, Mr. Starr," 'Harding' responded with a cold, dispassionate voice. "With the Pies’ recent move, she can now walk up and down the street without a care in the world. Better for all of us, wouldn't you say?"

"Better for all of us? Better for you! She's living in a friggin' vacuum already! I—"

"Mr. Starr, might I remind you that we have gone to great lengths to ensure both of your safeties."

"That is—"

"Unless you wish to state that you think that our methods are unreasonable. In which case, we can recover Twyla from your house this afternoon."

"No, that's not what I—"

"Good, then there is no issue. Many important people have put a lot of investment in the two of you. We shall be disappointed if that turns out to be all for nothing. Have a nice day, Mr. Starr."

There was a click and a long, single-tone note. Shane pulled the phone away. He stared down at it, stunned. In a daze, he walked back over to the doorframe, placing a hand on it.

All the while, Twyla had been frowning down at the novel, mouthing out a few difficult words. She didn't so much as glance away from it during the entire exchange.

"Twyla… are you happy?"

She looked up from the book, tilting her head. "Shiny?" She nervously glanced at the phone in his hands. "Y-yes? Did I do something wrong? Did the person on the phone say something mean?"

Shane shook his head. "No, nothing like that, I mean… do you ever think of your old home?"

"Sometimes," she said, glancing down. "Sometimes I think of mommy, or daddy… or big brother."

Shane's expression remained stoic. "And how is your magic going? Anything more than a few sparks?"

Twyla shook her head. After a moment, she perked up, showing Shane the cover of her novel. "But that's okay! I have lots of books! Prince Capsicum is great!"

"Ah-ha," Shane chuckled, smiling ruefully. "Keep working on your pronunciation, Twilie."

He turned on his heel, walking back into the hall and upstairs with a troubled look on his face.

Twyla kept reading. Over the course of the next half hour, she giggled, gasped and otherwise thoroughly enjoyed the book. Sliding a bookmark into the pages, she lept off the side of the couch and trotted off towards the kitchen.

>Subjects out of scope (Stop recording)

[{REDACTED} residence][Entrance Hall Camera]
>Motion detected (Start facial recognition)
>Facial recognition = (Subject KNIGHT)
>Opening connection to {REDACTED} (Start recording)

The front door swung open. It was dark outside as Shane wandered in, keys still jingling in his hands. He walked over to the rack, hung up his coat, and then began to move towards the stairs as quietly as possible.

His phone buzzed. Shane breathed a heavy sigh and fished it out. Squinting at the text, he growled, and held it up to his ear.

"Hello 'private number', I'm sorry, but you're calling outside of operating hours. Please try again when half the house isn't aslee—"

"iT'S NOT WHAT YOU CAN DO FOR ME, BUT WHAT I CAN DO FOR YOU." The voice was ragged, obviously distorted over a filter.

Shane stiffened. "Who is this? Maddison look, I'm not in the mood to get messed with tonight."

"nOT AN ENEMY OR A FRIEND," the voice continued. "jUST A FLY ON THE WALL. aN EXCHANGE OF INFORMATION IS IN ORDER. gIVE ME AN ANSWER, AND I'LL GIVE YOU INFORMATION."

Glancing about, Shane sat down on the corner of the stairs. The camera automatically increased the microphone gain as his voice lowered to a whisper. "My phone, myself and everything around me is being listened to constantly. You think I'm going to fall for this, Harding?"

"dO YOU LOVE tWYLA?"

Shane was silent.

"iNFORMATION FOR AN ANSWER, sHANE. tICK TOCK."

"Yes, of course I love her."

"tHEN YOU KNOW THAT BEING HERE IS STUNTING HER."

His lip curled. "Yeah, I've had enough of you, whoever you are."

"tHE PORTAL IS OPEN AGAIN."

"Excuse me?"

"iNFORMATION FOR AN ANSWER. yOU SAW IT ON YOUR PATROL, YEARS AGO. tHE gOVERNMENT DOESN'T OVERTLY PROTECT IT WHEN IT'S OPEN. tHEY WANT TO STAY 'HANDS OFF'. mOSTLY NOTHING COMES THROUGH. nOT TONIGHT. tHERE WILL BE GUARDS POSTED."

Shane's eyes glazed over. He looked back to his coat, then up the stairs.

"hOW MUCH DO YOU LOVE tWYLA? eNOUGH TO LET HER GO?"

Shane stood, turning towards the Camera's lens. He walked towards it with a dark look in his eye. The camera swivelled up. Shane tossed the phone to the floor, plastic clattering with wood. Then he lifted his boot.

"sHANE? wHAT WAS THAT? wHAT ARE YOU—"

The world shattered into pieces. Crunching glass filled the microphone. The boot pulled away, before sharply coming down once more. Twice, thrice; crinch, crunch.

The motors gave out, the lens panned up to the ceiling. A final growl accompanied a violent sweep of wind.

>Critical error encountered: [Entrance Hall Camera] not found

[KNIGHT's Ford Tempo][Dashboard Camera]
>Ignition key turned (Start facial recognition)
>Facial recognition = (Subject KNIGHT, Subject AMALTHEA)
>Opening connection to {REDACTED} (Start recording)

The engine shuddered to life, and the camera joined it soon after.

Shane slid into the driver's seat. He leaned over, double-checking Twyla's restraints. After a few tugs, he turned back, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckles.

"Where are we going again, Shiny?" Twyla mumbled in confusion, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Suddenly, she sat up, smiling. "Oh, are we going to Candice's house tonight? I need to return Prince Capsicum! C-can we go back and get it?"

"It's okay, I'll get it back to her later, Twilie," Shane said. His voice was distant, restrained.

"Oh… okay."

They drove in silence. Lonely streetlights passed by every now and again. Twyla bounced in her chair, gazing outside. Shane stared ahead, almost unblinkingly.

A stock-standard ringtone pierced the silence. Shane reached for his coat pocket, fishing out an ugly, early 90s phone. The model was popular for durability, reliability and disposability.

"Maddison, fill me in," Shane asked.

"You're insane."

"I'm aware."

"Good," Maddison replied. "Now, those construction workers at Canterlot High School? You were right, Government agents, every single one of them."

"That figures," Shane hissed. "Listen, I can't ask for your help directly."

There was a muffled chuckle on the other end. "We're already in position, you idiot. Henry and Finbar are here as well. The ruckus we're causing ought to be just enough time to get you and your daughter to safety. By the way, speaking as your employer, am I going to have to find a few part-time guard? I hope you're not intending on leaving with her."

Shane glanced back at Twyla. She seemed oblivious.

"Maddison," Shane's voice dropped to a hush. "I-I don't know yet. I don't know if I can even get there at all. If I have to run through the portal, or… look, anything could happen."

"I see," Maddison monotoned. "Well, make sure that this wasn't all for nothing, and don't forget what I said. Family is everything, Shane. Don't give back someone's daughter only to take away your mother's son. Make the right decision."

"Yeah… Maddison, they won't go easy on you, on any of us. You, Henry, and Finbar… you can still back out."

"We know. Good luck."

"We're not going to Candice's… are we?" Twyla said, looking through the rear-view mirror.

Shane slowly shook his head. "No, we're not."

"Are we going to be okay?"

"Don't worry, Twyla… you'll be fine."

Twyla frowned at first; confusion quickly gave way to dread.

Shane glanced up into the rear-view mirror. "Tighten your seat belt, Twyla."

His eyes slid off the mirror… and into the Camera's lens. He looked away, reached down to the window's handle. He calmly wound it down. Then his right hand suddenly lashed out, grabbing the camera. Cables stripped away from the car with a single, powerful wrench.

>External power failure (Start Battery use)

With an almost casual air, he tossed the camera out the window. It tumbled in the air, the picture alternated between asphalt and night sky. Then plastic hit tarmac, bouncing twice before rolling around and slowly coming to a halt.

The rusting Ford Tempo increased speed, roaring down a residential street. They were heading straight towards a deployable roadway gate that extended across the street. The murky silhouette of Canterlot High loomed in the distance.

>Subjects out of scope (Stop recording)

[admin@CHS-CAM-01 ~]$ PLAY CamEntrance -Thursday -Playback 0543

A camera, installed just above the stairs of Canterlot High School, flickered to life. The picture was dark at first, shuddering as it switched to 'night' mode. What little colour was visible immediately washed out into shades of white, black and grey.

Unlike nearly every other night the year, CHS's courtyard was alive with activity. Heavy construction equipment and six-foot trenches polluted the well-kept grass. Likewise, the construction workers chaotically moved from point to point. Seemingly purposeful at first, but there didn't seem to be all that much construction work going on.

Upon closer inspection, this didn't look like a construction site at all. The equipment and trenches were strangely placed, ringing around the horse statute of Canterlot High. Four floodlights lit every inch of the proud, rearing figure. For a construction team, it was a nightmare of mismanagement. For a soldier, it was a veritable bunker, defensible from all sides.

Then the distant roar of a car's engine howled over the night air. The workers scrambled in a panic, diving into the closest trench or behind equipment.

A Ford Tempo crunched through a gate, splintering wood and cracking the windshield. It ramped up onto the sidewalk and over grass. The back wheels swung out, weaving erratically; the driver was losing control.

Then it ran over a trench.

At the speed and momentum it was going, the car immediately pin-wheeled. A cloud of dust, soil and twisted metal followed in its wake as it barrelled forward. It didn't have far to go.

The car groaned to a halt, a mere dozen yards away from the statue. Upturned onto its roof, the car barely resembled the vehicle it was just seconds ago. The hood was mangled and both bumper bars were torn away. A single wheel span, over and over again.

Slowly, the workers began to peer out of cover. Confused shouts and requests for orders echoed through the grounds.

Twenty seconds later, the car door slammed open. The camera zoomed in, watching Shane crawl out from the side. Groaning in agony, he shakily rose to his feet. His right eye was shut, dark liquid trailed down from it. Moreover, his left arm was limp at his side, bent at the wrong angle.

The rapid thudding of helicopter blades echoed in the distance. At this, the workers emerged cautiously. Several of them held pistol-shaped weapons in their hands. They shouted at Shane to step away from the car.

But he wasn't listening. Shane turned back to the wreck, falling to his knees and pulling a door open one-handed. Lying down on his belly, he crawled back in. Moments later, he emerged with Twyla in his arm.

"Sh-Shiny, mom… h-home. I wanna go home," Twyla groaned incoherently. A dark mark trailed down from the side of her head.

The workers' pace quickened. Anger changed to concern. Some holstered their weapons, others shouted louder.

Shane kept moving. He staggered towards the rear of the statue. That was where the figure had disappeared. Suddenly he gasped in pain, collapsing to his knees just yards away it.

A worker cautiously approached, his face set in concern. He thrusted his arms out to Shane, seemingly trying to take Twyla.

Another came from his front, pointing a pistol at the pair. She flicked off the safety.

Shane snarled defiantly, slowly standing.

A burst of golden light turned night into day. The camera's lens whitened out, a hard scratching filled the microphone. A second later, it turned back to 'day' mode, whipping back over to the statue from whence the light came.

A woman dressed in white stepped out the side of the statue. Golden light emanated from her skin while her pastel-colour, waist-length hair waved in an unseen wind. She glanced at the stunned people she stood amongst, then raised her radiant hand. Another flash of gold, a dome of magical light surrounded both her and Shane.

Shane stared in awe, unconsciously inching away. His back thudded against the dome, unable to move through.

"It's okay; you're safe for now." Her voice was warm like the morning sun. She stepped forward, offering her hand. "But my magic can't last long here. We need to go. It's a good thing I was watching this portal for—"

"Will you take her back to her parents?" Shane said.

The woman froze. She looked him up and down. "Yes… I will."

Shane wordlessly looked down at Twyla, cradling her closer. She wriggled in distress, mumbling louder. He held her close, kissing her forehead… then approached, holding her out as best he could.

The woman picked her up out of his arms, tracing her fingers around Twyla's head. The woman's eyes widened when she caught sight of the wrecked vehicle. She cradled Twyla closer.

"Will she be okay?" Shane breathed.

"Her injuries are serious," She said, sadly. "The portal is meant to transform our kind. However, it was never meant for a child. When she returns… I don't know the effect it will have on her. The strain might be too much. I… I need to seal her mind."

"What." Shane grit his teeth, weakly shaking his head. "I— I don't understand."

"She won't remember you. Maybe one day her mind will be well enough to remember, but—"

The blades of the helicopter had become deafening. An Apache gunship hung in the air above, its nose gun ominously training upon them. The workers were moving closer, cautiously tapping the shield. The golden light was beginning to fade, blinking in and out of existence.

"Go," Shane said. He looked to her with a lifeless gaze. "Just go."

"They're going to hurt you, aren't they?" She whispered.

"Yes… but it's my choice to stay. Now, go."

The woman regretfully stepped back, holding Twyla closer. She look one long, last look at Shane, before stepping through. The light of the shimmering portal and golden shield vanished in an instant.

"Put your hands up and get down!" A loudspeaker crowed.

Shane weakly lifted his head, staring up at the helicopter, then to the government agents him. He stoically swiped his hand across his mouth. No movement, no dash for cover, no attempted escape. He simply stood there, waiting.

Weapons in hand, they approached.

>Video ended. Footage from 0552 onwards has been manually erased

[Interrogation room #6][Camera041]
>Motion detected (Start facial recognition)
>Facial recognition = (Agent SEPTEMBER, Subject KNIGHT)
>Opening connection to 'EQ-CAM' (Start recording)

The camera flicked awake, overlooking a Spartan interrogation cell.

Shane sat alone at a table with two chairs, one at either end. His head, right eye and arm were wrapped in bandages; a sling binding his arm close to his chest. The metal table reflected his forlorn, one-eyed, expression: a scornful mirror.

A metal door locked. The man in the suit walked in. An index finger pointed his trilby up, revealing the disappointment on his face.

"I fought for you from the start, Shane," he said. "I really wanted it to work. For a while, it did. Now look at you."

"She had family on the other side," Shane said, looking away. "She belonged there."

A crunch of warping metal filled the room. The man in the suit slowly pulled his clenched fists away from the two dents in the table. His nostrils flared, glaring ferociously at Shane, shoulders trembling in rage. Shane didn't so much as flinch.

"Yet," the agent hissed, "You STILL have no idea who put her here, do you? Did you even TRY to check? You've done nothing Shane, NOTHING but react this entire time. You could have given her back to her kidnapper for all you knew!"

Shane looked beyond caring. "If you're going to put a bullet in my head, then hurry up and do it already. I'm tired of looking at you."

"Oh no, Shane." The man in the suit pulled a packet of cigarettes from his jacket. He clapped the bottom on his thigh, drawing a stick out and offering it to Shane, who simply glared at him. Shrugging, the man lit it with a flick of a lighter. "No, no, killing you is a waste of resources. Not to mention immoral. No, you see, I am not giving up on you… because in you, I see potential. Lack of information gathering aside, I know that you have accomplished very much with very little."

"Oh really," Shane deadpanned. "And what would you know?"

The man took a drag, breathing out a puff of white smoke. "I know enough that you have friends that care about you."

Shane's face paled in horror.

"I'm going to give you one more offer, Shane," the man said, smiling grimly, "and this time, you'd best think it through. Option one; you reject my offer. Now, in light of your stellar year and a half of service, I would be entitled to let you go. No strings attached and no litigation. Hell, I'll even give you a reference! However, I cannot say the same for your friends… who are quite guilty of assaulting government officials."

Shane's eye flashed. He stood, the shackles rattling around his feet. "You bastard!"

"Ah-haha!" The man chortled, pointing the cigarette at him. "That's it! That's what I need! Now, option two; you work for me. You will be fast-tracked to taking over watch of the portal. After that, well, you may do whatever your position affords you… including the pardoning and employment of certain people of interest. For example… your friends. Well, that is provided you reach the position fast enough. I can only delay the hammer of justice for so long, after all."

Shane's mouth flapped wordlessly. His fists clenched tightly.

"Tick tock, Shane." The man in the suit smirked. "Tick tock."

Shane paused, his eye widening. Then, they narrowed in understanding. "Information for an answer… How much do you know about them? The ponies?"

The man in the suit cocked a brow, nodding. "Very good, Shane. I'll say this, we've haven't learnt as much as would like to. Twyla has been a veritable smorgasbord of research data. However, what we DO know is… disquieting. There are echoes between our worlds, Shane. When they come into our world, they perceive it differently to us. They see colours that aren't there, even hear our names differently. We use those mangled translations as our codenames." He pulled a phone from his pocket and began to dial. "My codename is September. Now, do you accept?"

Shaned squeezed his eye shut, giving a heavy, shuddering sigh. Slowly, indignantly, he nodded.

September smirked grimly, holding his phone to an ear and turning away. "Yes, Harding? That's right, he's onboard… ah, yes, I thought as much."

"What now?" Shane growled.

"Now? On the job training." September reached into his jacket, pulling out and then flicking a badge across the table. "We've got a school to watch, agent."

>Update incoming (Subject KNIGHT changed to Agent SHINING ARMOR)
>Subjects out of scope (Stop recording)