"I'm the only one left who remembers the Infinite Earths. You see, I know the truth. I remember all that happened, and I'm not going to forget. World's live, worlds died. Nothing will ever be the same. But those were great days for me… I had a good friend in the goods old days, really. He was the Anti-Monitor. He was going to give me a world to rule. Now he's gone, too. But that's okay with me. You see, I like to remember the past because those were better times than now. I mean, I'd rather live in the past than today, wouldn't you? I mean, nothing's ever certain anymore. Nothing's ever predictable like it used to be. These days… y-you just never know who's going to die… and who's going to live."

Roger Hayden aka Psycho Pirate, "Crisis on Infinite Earths #12" page 42

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually - from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff."

The Tenth Doctor, Blink

…and the POWER's words gave life forth to new worlds. Some of those worlds were born of fire, and a some of water, some were born of peace and some of war, some of life and some of death. And in each, the Light and the Dark did war, for they had become as ubiquitous as the day and the night. In some worlds, war did spread like a canker upon the land: in some, the Light triumphed, blazing with fire and glory and burning the scourge of the Darkness away. In others, the Dark swallowed all and the Light was utterly extinguished. Like a great game across the worlds, this conflict did repeat, over and over, a thousand chess pieces moving and falling to be replaced by different pieces.

There are tales, rumours distant and obscure, that sometimes - only sometimes - pieces might get misplaced...

Extract from the Twelfth Book of Merlin, "The Eternal Chess Game"

***

There are many stories in the world - stories that fill the hearts of men with dread or with hope, with anger or with pride. Sometimes, such stories get repeated - because they must, because the lessons they have to teach us are important. Sometimes, though, these stories get changed - so that they may teach us new lessons.

For each story is a world to itself. Each story represents the hopes and dreams and fears of whole nations, whole cultures, whole species. Stories hold far more importance than you might ever assign them.

One such story is the tale of a world attacked by a Tyrant - a world besieged, millions dead, or else enslaved to the will of this creature, a being that wears the face and flesh of a once-benevolent ruler but is, in fact, something else entirely. It tells the tale of a man, a human dumped into the small town of Ponyville on an average day. These events would lead to a domino effect that would cast another world into a struggle he and his kind have lived with for many years. In this war there are many different sides, and at the end of this story, no one will come out the same.

Another story seems, at first glance, similar - the tale of a world all-but destroyed by a Tyrant, billions dead or enslaved, and one man, destined to lead the fight against evil. It is a tale of a human sent to Equestria in a desperate, final bid to end a conflict that had claimed all but one nation of his home - what he will do instead is return hope to his people.

As you can tell, both tales have their similarities; the two warrior men that have suffered horrific losses were sent to two different Equestrias that, by all means, are exactly the same, each thinking that they've been sent back in time before the war. Both of these men ask these unspoiled Equestrias for aid, to save worlds that are suffering at the hooves of two Tyrants, so similar… and yet, so different.

Marcus Renee is a human, a man who has lost kith and kin to the conflict that is burning his world. Despite this, he fights on, knowing that there is yet a chance to halt the spread of evil, so long as good men and good ponies fight against it. It is a lesson he has learned well from the sacrifices of friends and comrades.

David Elliot is a human, but he is also the incarnation of a nation's vengeance, the bearer of an ancient magical power that has already saved his island home and may yet hold the key to saving humanity… provided he can survive the ravages of that power and stand true against the monster that seeks to end his world.

These stories are separate - they were never destined to meet. These worlds have their own allotted times and these men their own allotted destinies, and it was never ordained that these destinies should become intertwined.

Time, though, is not so straightforward as that, and perhaps in the myriad different possibilities in creation, there is a world where these two times and places have met…

***

London, January 25th, 2030 - 'Avatar' Earth

David Elliot, the Avatar of Albion as he was better known, grimaced slightly at the twinge of pain that ran through his side. He pulled a piece of shrapnel out of his ribs, the enhanced healing that Albion's power granted him were already closing the wound. He laughed at the irony for at so many respects, he was stronger, faster and harder than he had been. Yet the power that gave him these edges was also killing him, slowly but surely. He was sure True Grit would have had something to say but… no.

True Grit!" Elliot said, rushing to his friend's side. The Unicorn was bleeding badly, and he was burnt from Shining Armour's spell. "Hang on!"

"Did..." Grit coughed weakly, eyes opening to look at Elliot. "Did we win?"

"Yeah," Elliot said softly, as he tried to staunch Grit's wound. "Yeah, we won. Hold on mate."

"Yay for us," True Grit smiled. His eyes closed and he slumped where he lay, the life leaving him suddenly. Elliot's eyes widened, and he tried harder to staunch the wound.

"No... no, stay with me mate!" he said, starting to massage the heart in the hope of bringing his friend back. He was the Avatar of Albion, for God's sake. He should be able to save this one damn pony. just this one, just this once. "Breathe mate, come on!"

True Grit did not draw a breath.

No, that wasn't a good train of thought at all. He had lost enough good people, and he was going to lose more before the end. No sense dwelling on those he had failed to save. If he did that, he might never move again for dwelling.

There'd been a pony that had said something once to a small gray unicorn mare: "Everyone's hurtin, you, me, the Avatar himself. We ain't got time for that - fight now, hurt later."

Best to think of it that way, then.

"Elliot," the voice of Hell Blazer called out, bringing Elliot's attention back to the here and now. "You nearly done?"

Elliot moved his arm, testing the movement of the side. The pain was still there, sort of, but the twinges were definitely dying down.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm done. What's the situation?"

"Pinkie Pie and Shining Armour's deaths don't seem to have slowed them down," the Earth Pony said softly. "If anything, I think they're more pissed off than they were."

"Typical," Elliot sighed. He unsheathed his lucky dagger - the one that had killed Rainbow Dash, 'speed killer' emblazoned into its hilt - and walked to the exit of the small "command centre" (a fancy name for a hastily appropriated corner shop).

As he stepped outside, a soldier fell across the doorway, a spear lodged in his chest. Snarling, Elliot drew his hand-cannon and fired at the offending Pegasus, knocking it from the sky. More fire drove the attacking Pegasi back, but that wasn't good enough for Elliot. He charged after them, dagger spinning. Behind him, Hell Blazer and Lyra charged, Lyra's horn flashing with offensive spells.

They turned a corner, only to find themselves facing what must have been forty or fifty Earth Ponies.

"Bollocks," Hell Blazer swore. "Might be an idea to retreat?"

Elliot didn't answer, only taking time to reload his hand-cannon, a massive revolver looted from some rich hunter who hadn't been in a position to keep it on hand. Hell Blazer sighed.

"Should have guessed," he said tiredly. "You want the twenty on the left or the twenty on the right?"

Elliot charged, firing as he went. Lyra stayed put, firing her spells off. Hell Blazer started muttering a series of ancient attack spells, fire forming and shooting off at his words.

The first pony went down with a bullet lodged in his skull. Vaulting over the falling corpse, Elliot stabbed a second pony in the spinal column, before kicking out, sending another sprawling into his comrades. Firing his cannon again, Elliot took out three more ponies, before holstering the weapon and drawing his other dagger. He lashed out, taking down a handful at a time with sliced throats and stabs to the heart. He span around, stabbing another pony in the neck, before pushing the corpse off of his dagger and kicking it into two more ponies. Before the stunned ponies could stand, he stabbed them in their throats, pinning them to the ground. Leaving his daggers in their necks for the moment, he drew his hand-cannon and his shotgun, switching the latter to semi-automatic fire: he span around, firing indiscriminately, taking out pony after pony...

"David!" a small voice called out. Elliot span, to find himself facing off against a Unicorn, who fired a spell at him. Elliot blocked the spell with his arm, but the kinetic force drove him to the ground.

The Unicorn gave a feral grin, and moved to send another spell at Elliot -

But then the spell impacted Lyra, who was suddenly stood between them. She yelled in pain as the energy enveloped her, and then she fell to the ground, eyes closed as she fell unconscious from the pain. Angrily, Elliot fired the last round from his hand-cannon at the pony, blowing the top of his skull out, before grabbing Lyra and sprinting down the street. Around twenty of the Earth Pony squadron were still active, but they were being pinned down by a combination of Hell Blazer's continued fire spells and several soldiers firing their weapons in a suppressive pattern. Fortunately, these ponies were Royal Guard trained, not human soldier converts, and so their tactics were piss poor by comparison.

"Hell Blazer!" Elliot yelled. "Back to base, now!"

"Right!" the pony said, calling out instructions to the soldiers. With a final blast of hellfire, the yellow Earth Pony ran after his friend.

In the base, Elliot was examining Lyra's wounds. They didn't seem to be serious on the outside, but as far as Elliot was concerned, that was a bad sign - it just meant that her injuries were bad on the inside. Magic tended to be like that.

"Where's the Doctor?!" he bellowed at Hell Blazer as the pony entered the room.

"In a different part of the city," his friend replied, eyes fixed on the injured Lyra. "Oh ponyfeathers... this a magic injury?!"

"Yeah," Elliot said, not commenting on the pony oath Hell Blazer used.

"Horse shit!" Hell Blazer swore, hitting the wall with his hoof. "Horse shit and motherbucking bastarding fucking wankers!"

"Can you help her?!" Elliot asked, ignoring the outburst.

"No idea," Hell Blazer said honestly, looking frustrated and upset. "Maybe if I..."

There was an explosion outside, and the sound of hurried yelling and panicked orders. From the sounds of it, things were getting desperate.

"They're getting closer," Elliot said quietly. "Shit."

"That's a word," Hell Blazer said angrily. "These bastards are tougher than I thought."

Elliot knew that if they moved, the sheer number of ponies out there might overwhelm them all - even the Avatar of Albion couldn't kill an entire army. Then again, if they waited here without trying to escape, they'd be trapped and killed anyway. There seemed to be no way out...

Except...

"Hell Blazer," Elliot said quietly. "You know that plan you had?"

Hell Blazer looked at Elliot, eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"We've tried everything, up to begging and praying and hoping the problem goes away," his friend said. "You ready?"

Hell Blazer didn't reply, instead grabbing a vial of salt from his coat pocket. He immediately ushered Elliot into the centre of the room.

"Here," he said. He drew a small circle around his friend. "Remember - once you get there, get to Canterlot, kill Solamina any way you can."

"Gotcha," Elliot said. "I'll do my best."

"I've got faith in ya mate," Hell Blazer mumbled as he began drawing more symbols in salt.

"You don't, but it's nice to say," Elliot smiled. He looked up at the ceiling. "I'm ready."

Hell Blazer mumbled a few words, and then there was a flash of light.

***

As David Elliot was being sent across time and space, his form going through the dimensions like a train to various stations, the portal that was made was guiding his form through the bleed for an intended target that would grant him aid.

However, its end location was hijacked; the residue of magic and manipulations of a certain sort (the same sort that sent a certain Marine to Equestria, switching his place with that of a Pegasus daredevil, though she would appear somewhat earlier) caused the portal to lock onto the trail that was left from this separate event.

"...Oh?" Something asked, as Elliot shot through the vast expanse of color. There was a flash of light turquoise which flew past him, and suddenly, he felt a jarring change of direction.

He couldn't say how, as he wasn't entirely sure where his body was, but he felt something wrong.

There was an inarticulate feeling of something being quizzical. For a moment, he smelled seawater, and he was tumbling, tumbling….

"This throws off so much in the transference balance experiment," a voice said.

"Well, isn't this what experiments are for?" another asked. "Discovery? He's so wonderfully unexpected! I wouldn't expect it, and I think he'll be a wonderful surprise!"

"I don't know, I think there's a few that might know him," another voice said.

"Not too many," said another. "I do hope he'll be fine…"

"Ah hope so," said yet another. "Ah don't envy his responsibility. Five, maybe six worlds in the balance…"

"He'll hold up," said another. "He'll thrive. I believe it. And I believe the humans in this world will accept what he can bring."

"I still worry about him…" said the third one.

"He'll be fine, Ky," said the sixth. "Unless-"

"Don't tempt fate, Gen," said the third. "We shouldn't worry with this one of him."

This was not the intention either of the being/beings who had made the portal, or the being who had or finally intended to hijack it to send David Elliot somewhere else, and had run afoul of a few other entities with yet their own plan. Still, the latter would have said, this way there were… possibilities.

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - ‘Spectrum’ Earth
10 hours, 57 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee

The man blinked slowly, his eyes opening slowly. He squinted as a headache shot through his skull, only exacerbated by the light coming from the sky.

That's how it was supposed to go.

Perhaps, given time, he would have checked his arms and armament, the SPAS-style VK-12 shotgun and sniper rifle strapped to his back, modified hand-cannon in holster, twin daggers in their back-sheaths, bandolier across his chest and ammunition kept squarely in there. Then he might have checked his clothes: a coat that would have been thrown out before the war, lined with grim trophies sewn into the inside, as well as a t-shirt, neckerchief and trousers, topped off with hard-worn riding boots. He would have seen that he was all here... had he been inclined to check.

Unfortunately, that train of thought derailed, or simply stopped to refuel, as he was struck by a question. Where the hell was here?!

He could hear automatic gunfire off in the distance, combined with the strange sounds of spells. Tall, unfamiliar buildings lined the streets, practically stripped to the concrete and stone beneath. The lettering on the buildings and advertisements appeared to be English - mostly English, anyway. There were ads in languages from countries the Barrier had destroyed a long time ago, but they were in the minority. And there were cars, too - of course, he'd never known much about cars, but most of them looked American.

Still, it was hard to make a -

A shell flew through the air, impacting the top few floors of a building, sending rubble careening down to the street below.

Judgment. It was hard to make a judgment. Where the hell was this? And then, almost unbidden - When the hell was this?

Where had that thought come from?

"I'm going to kill Hell Blazer," David Elliot sighed, sitting against a car and unlimbering his shotgun, setting it to semiauto. The recoil was a pain in semi auto, but he preferred it for the volumes of buckshot he could unleash. 'If I get back, that is…'

He ignored the unfortunate thought that occurred to him. Was it that hard to ask to get transported to Equestria, through time and space? Probably, but it was a last-ditch effort, he expected this to work! Not get sent to a human city in God-knew-where...

He headed off down one street, because what else was there to do? Besides, if he kept going, he'd surely meet someone that he could talk to. He was hearing artillery, after all, along with missiles. That meant people. Military people. People he could ask for directions.

The tired man looked around the city: it was thoroughly decayed and quite a mess. He was just getting sort of relaxed when suddenly, he saw them.

There was no mistaking them. The almost dreamlike glazed-over eyes, the posture… Convies. Well, that just raised more questions than it answered. Convies? In this city?! These must have been some bad-off Convies, though, since they looked nigh-on-zombified, eyes fixed on nothing he could see. What was going on here?

‘There'll be a time and a place for those questions, and now is not it,’ Elliot thought sternly, focusing. He steeled himself.

He would have loved to have found human troops. At least, whoever they were, they would probably trust him. But, since these were the only sentient beings (though given their apparent... listlessness, that was somewhat doubtful) in the vicinity that he could see, it seemed prudent to listen. Convie wankers usually had something to say.

He could hear snippets of conversation between them. One word, though, caught his attention above them all: Boston.

No, no. That couldn't be. Boston had been gone for years and years, he'd seen it on TV. Everyone had seen that before the war. He'd even known a few people from Boston. There'd been this one cop from there, a man with a peg-leg and an old friend of that crazy Afrikaner doctor, Kraber… guy had been called Django Miller. Boston was dead, and those few people were all that remained.

One Convie turned his snout in Elliot's direction. Shit!

"There's a human following us!" one Pegasus hissed.

"Hmm?" a mare Unicorn drooped her head around lazily: she seemed a bit off. "Should we get him?" she asked her comrades, her tone suggesting she might have been a bit… 'special'.

"Yeah! Let's get the monkey and make him perfect!" an Earth Pony Stallion said, his tone curiously listless. It was like he was focused on some other thing, his eyes fixed on something and yet… they all had a weird expression on their faces; what was it? A smile or something? Did Convies usually have more expressions that than that? They were always a bit vacuous - docile was the word he kept hearing - but these guys were practically… empty.

Welp, he wasn't getting anything useful out of them by just standing here. Besides, these wouldn't be much of a challenge. Still, he had to leave one alive to answer his questions…

He sighted in the shotgun and fired, the Unicorn Convie's face exploding like an overripe melon.

"Get him!" the Pegasus shouted, unmindful of her potion-brother's death. Another Unicorn's horn glowed with the telltale spark of TK, as a vial of potion shot through the air right at Elliot. He just smirked, as he fired the shotgun again, the buckshot punching through that Convie as well. The potion splashed him, and he sighed, before frowning slightly.

"Ha!" one of the Convies yelled, before frowning itself. The potion seemed to bubble on Elliot's skin for a moment, and then it began steaming, before disappearing, a slight hissing sound almost like a tiny, whispered scream escaping from it.

"Cute trick," Elliot said, looking up at them with a smirk and rolling his shoulders. "Got any more?"

"B-but that ain't right!" the one remaining Unicorn whispered, practically gibbering, backing away in fear, the others following her, seeing that the potion did nothing.

"Well, I'm not just any human," Elliot said, looking down at them. "So. Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough."

‘I need one of them alive,’ he thought to himself. ‘These ones might be a bit thicker than the usual, but they'll still be able to explain where I am.’

Taking charge, the Earth Pony attacked, charging straight at him. Rush charges weren't unheard of, especially among recent Converted or those who were in the Militia, but this seemed a bit off; wouldn't they at least say something? And that smiling…

A buckshot later, the stallion's body fell before him with most of its head blown off like the others. Elliot didn't even need to get his daggers out. Somehow, he felt almost sad about that. Another one, a Pegasus, leapt up and tried to dive bomb him, which would have worked better had he been any good at flying. Grinning, Elliot quickly lowered the shotgun, whipped out one of his daggers and stabbed it in the eye as it reached him, before retracting the weapon, grabbing the corpse and throwing it at two more of the Convies who were trying to rush him.

"That it?" he asked, spinning the dagger in his hand. He put the shotgun away, and upholstered his hand-cannon.

One of the two Convies, another Unicorn, managed to get up, despite the fact that he was limping from a sprained leg. His comrade was less lucky, apparently having taken the full force of the thrown corpse to the head and neck area, resulting in a neck twisted in an altogether unpleasant looking direction.

The Unicorn charged at Elliot, who span his dagger in anticipation. He let the Convie reach him, deciding to have some fun with this one. The Unicorn's poorly-aimed hoof attacks were useless, and he didn't seem able to do much more than cause small sparks to flare from his horn. Elliot sidestepped the blows, before slashing the Convie across the back. The former human fell to the floor, and Elliot stood over his prone body, allowing himself a small smile before he stabbed the pony in the back of the throat. There was a soft gurgling, and then the poor thing expired.

"That was for Lyra Heartstrings," Elliot said quietly, his voice a hiss of anger. "You little wank-stain."

"You... you... bully!" one of the two survivors, a Pegasus mare, cried out.

"So rude," Elliot sighed with a slight smirk. "But then, guess that's my fault." He narrowed his eyes at the survivors. "Tell me. Where am I?

"G… get back!" the Pegasus shouted, her and the 'special' Unicorn mare backing up in fear from the human that had killed everypony else. He could see confusion in her eyes, as though she was trying to work out what he was, what kind of human could do what he had done. "Y-you're a… a monster! A horrible meany pants!"

Elliot was still unsure as to whether the fact that they didn't swear was disturbing or not. General opinion in the BDF was that it seemed to vacillate. Sometimes it was funny enough to ease the pain, other times it was disturbing, or other times it was just so disturbing it went right around to be funny again. He'd never seen the humour, though. It was just another sign of what five billion of his kind had lost forever. They couldn't even talk how they wanted, poor bastards...

"I'll ask again," he said, his eyes glaring daggers at the two. "Where am I?"

Before either of them could respond (and to his surprise), the Unicorn mare's horn lit up and there was a loud snap. The Pegasus fell to the ground with her neck having been broken by the Convie's magic. Elliot blinked in surprise, and aimed his hand-cannon at her with a scowl.

"You're in Boston, a city in the United States of America; east coast," the mare answered, her tone now… surprising different than before, despite her eyes blankly out of focus. "Before you ask, this body has been dead for the past 20 minutes; nopony thought to check, but Newfoals are so lifeless I guess I just blended in."

"I don't believe you," Elliot said sharply. "Where are we?"

"I just told you, we're in Boston," the mare said, speaking slowly now, as though to an idiot. "The American City."

"Try again, you Convie pile of horse-shite," he said, his trigger finger itching. "Or I'll introduce you to my friend 'hot lead'."

"I swear, we're in Boston!" the mare protested.

"Boston burned when the Sanctified Republic of Gilead threw its children to the fire," Elliot said, his mouth hardening into a thin line. Blurry images of burning bodies, praying fanatics with tattoos inscribed all over their bodies, holding bloodied knives and screaming to the heavens, filled his head. His scowl intensified. "I saw the fucking coverage. This place is gone. Now: last chance before I shoot you in the fucking head!"

"Oh like that would do you any good!" she shouted, "I already told you that this body has been dead for the past twenty minutes; its soul - what was left of it - has already left, and with luck it's reforming. I swear, next you'll be asking for Celestia," she added in an undertone.

That was different. Elliot blinked again.

"…Celestia?" he repeated.

"Um… yes?" the Convie - or Newfoal, as it referred to itself - replied, confused.

"Not Solamina?"

"Um… who?"

"Astra Solamina Maxima, the Sun Resplendent, Empress of the Equestrian Empire?" Elliot was beyond confused. How was this possible? There wasn't such a thing as a Convie that didn't know that name: by all accounts from Exodite ponies and the Doctor's sorties, the Solaminan Church was built on Converted faith. For one to not know her name... was impossible.

"…I have no idea what you're talking about," she stated bluntly.

"Fucking fucking fuck me…" Elliot muttered, eye twitching. He knew what was coming next, what she was about to say, but he had to ask. "What human year is this?"

"It's 2023."

"… fuck. FUCKING HELL, JOHN!" he yelled, and ignoring the hand-cannon, he fired the shotgun into her neck, severing her head and dropping it to the ground. There wasn't even a reaction as the mare died silently, blood spurting from her neck.

2023?! Boston?! Shit, he was in the past! Oh, God, what… what was he supposed to do?! It wasn't like he could stop the Barrier by himself, it wasn't like he could save every human...

'Hang on,' he thought to himself, 'something's not right here.'

The war hadn't started yet in 2023. There shouldn't have been Converted here, or if there were they shouldn't have been attacking anyone. There's never been many official reports after America had become Gilead - media coverage had been lax, to employ severe understatement - but no pony from the Exodus had ever mentioned the war happening in other lands. PER and HLF remnants shooting each other, sure. Gilead burning, obviously. Mini-wars of dwindling land and resources, everywhere.

Convies? No. Not yet. Not possible.

"I see you have a dilemma," a voice cut through the air. Elliot turned sharply, gun out, to see a well dressed man in a sky blue suit approach; his hair was a silvery color (yet it was graying), he was supporting himself with a cane. He had an ornate tie-pin that looked like a star shaped spell matrix with a book in its center and his eyes... they held a look of profound guilt, despite the curiosity in his voice.

"You ruined my puppet, and you are immune to the potion," he said, tilting his head and examining the man up and down. "Tell me, who are you and where are you from?"

"I'm from Britain," Elliot said, warily. No reason to make things worse.

"Britain? How curious," the man states, Elliot could feel that there something off about him; something dark. "You… you are an unexpected variable; you have something. Something different, and - what's this? There's magic about you! Glad to see that some humans have stopped believing that vicious, damnable lie… Shame that one of the few that didn't believe is, how does he say? 'Bosbefok'? Strange fellow he is..." he trailed off

That sounded familiar. That was it - Kraber! A friend of Bright Wonder and Heliotrope, part of the Dead Men, lived in Leith… that was one of his favorite words.

"But it's still progress," the man finished his ramblings.

"...What are you talking about?!" Elliot yelled.

"Why that the runes would protect them!" he answered, a strange glee apparently coming out from nowhere. "Runes always have a tell, and you…" He waved his hand over Elliot's body. Something above Elliot glowed a bright gold, and yet the force around the strange man's hand was a midnight blue. "Whatever you are, there are no runes apparent - this is some kind of mystical bonding, a convergence that…" He trailed off again, the words dying in his throat for some reason.

"I have no damn idea what you're talking about!" Elliot yelled. "Who are you?!"

"My name… well, it is rude of me not introducing myself to you first." He gave a light chuckle over it, apparently it was some kind of inside joke for him. "You may call me Suxen Lleps." He gave a mock bow before Elliot, like he was a high class gentleman. The action was incredibly incongruous in this urban battlefield, but David didn't comment.

"Look. I mean no disrespect, but I'm off to find a human military force," he said, raising an eyebrow slightly. "They'll… I'll contact them and they'll... explain. Wherever this is, it looks like they need help. And I'll happily offer it to you."

"Hmm, what was your name? I told you mine," Suxen huffed. "The least you could do is tell me yours."

"Elliot. David Elliot," Elliot said.

"Well, Mr. Elliot; come walk with me - it's only fair that I show you around," he stated, a hand offered to the British man. "I'm sure the UN Forces would enjoy someone of your caliber and… skills to their group."

Elliot frowned. Faster than light, he had a hand-cannon out and and pointed directly at this 'Suxen's' face.

"I'm not a man with whom to piss around," he said bluntly. "You betray me, I end you."

Suxen looked at Elliot. There was… an unnerving feeling about this; Elliot could feel that there was something definitely off about him. The man gave a hollow chuckle despite the gun being pointed at his face.

"I'm sorry Mr. Elliot, I seem to have mislead you into thinking that I'm afraid of you and you wonderfully unique magic." He reached out and his left hand glowed, and a blade appeared with it - it was forged of crystal, elegant and balanced. "Now, we could point weapons at each other, use our magic, do this and that… but that wouldn't get you anywhere or solve any of our inquires… now would it?" A moment later, Suxen's sword disappeared. "If you wish, you may strike me down as I stand; having not even done any physical harm to you."

He stood still and outstretched both of his arms in a gesture of openness. Elliot frowned. His hand tensed around his gun, before he lowered it. A moment later, it was back in the holster.

"I don't kill the unarmed unnecessarily," he said. "And frankly I'm not in the mood for fighting a randomer. All the same - if you lead me somewhere I don't like, I'll have to reassess my opinion."

"A fair bargain. But first, I'd like to shake hands." Suxen once again reaches out to the man.

Elliot scowled, but reached out and grasped his hand nonetheless.

Suddenly… suddenly Elliot felt sick. He felt really sick. The constant pain caused by the guilt of not preventing that damn bag's rise to power! Running away and hiding instead of standing up and fighting, the constant nightmares, the glimpances of worlds that run on a duality of either being like the world he knew or the world he was in now, the constant whispers and memories of the dead haunting him, discovering that unwelcome foreigner in Luna's realm… it all simply -

"I've seen enough," Suxen's voice cut through Elliot's train of thought… and then, then it all stopped. Despite how long the moment was, it passed - all the things he felt were gone and thus there was nothing… except a confusion.

"What… what the fucking hell was that?!" Elliot yelled, stepping back, a hand going to his head as he shook the confusion away. "What did you do?!"

"I shook your hand Mr. Elliot," Suxen answered, examining his left hand. "It seems your magic and my magic met, and brought our beings to each other - you felt what I feel… and I saw what you've seen." He looked at Elliot with an expression of sympathy. "I am so sorry for your world; it's as broken as this one and as Equestria is, if not worse. I'm sorry for what happened to your friends, to Sam, to John, to True Grit, to Ditzy and to Lyra… and many others I take it… so many others," he muttered. "You can save some of them, here. It won't be your versions of them, but it'll be something."

"I…" Elliot said, swallowing. "You…"

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"Thanks," he muttered. "But don't think I trust you. Too many people have pretty words to your face and knives at your back." He paused. "And if you've really read my mind, you'd know that."

"And if you read mine, you've felt all that I've felt. I guess if it's any consolation Mr. Elliot, we both share one particular thing." Suxen stated, starting to walk down the street towards the sounds of battle.

"And what's that?" Elliot asked, not moving. He frowned - there were thoughts in his mind, memories not his own - a bag? But they were shrouded, hidden, confused - or maybe his mind hadn't processed it yet.

"We're both… how would you say it?" He paused, trying to recall the phrase. "'Dead men walking?' Is that it?"

"You should see some people I know," Elliot said, a slight smirk on his face. He started following the man: there was nothing else to lose. "Although I guess you could definitely say it sucks to be us."

"Me, you, Lyra Heartstrings, John Constantine, Marcus Renee, Errant Flight. Stephan Bauer, that… Kraber fellow, Yon-Soo Park, True Grit… the list could go on," Suxen said offhandedly. "You'll probably meet some of those individuals soon enough."

"Fun times," Elliot said with a smirk. He recognised a few of the names of course, even ones of people and ponies he didn't know, but he couldn't say from where. "Could've been worse. Could have ended up five metres from Solamina's face. Might've been fun, but probably not so much in the long run."

"If she's anything like Celestia has become, no it wouldn't," Suxen remarked. "If anything, you're lucky you're here. It'd take a miracle to last against her."

"How many would it take to win?" Elliot asked.

"An insane amount," Suxen said. "Thankfully, things are falling into motion. Plots within plots, wheels within wheels, the machinery of fate is turning."

"What does that mean?" Elliot asked, irritated.

"That things are happening," Suxen said simply. "It's simply one thing after another, so many stories and efforts coming together. Hard for some people to keep track of, and I don't blame them," he said, looking off into no direction Elliot could place.

"Might've been better if we'd found some way of..." Elliot muttered, but he didn't finish the thought. "Ah well. Might've beens are redundant anyway."

"Well, you'd be surprised all things considered Mr. Elliot," Suxen said. "In fact I believe in this world there is a familiar face to someone you know, I think… what his name? Doctor Whoovers was it?"

"Hooves," Elliot corrected idly, and then he frowned. "He's in Equestria, it's 2023 you said. The Exodus hasn't started yet."

"Oh… right." Suxen frowned, and his right ear then started to bleed. "You think I don't know that?" he whispered harshly to his right, head whipping around yet there wasn't anyone there that Elliot could see. "No I'm not going to tell him! It wouldn't do any good being blunt right now. He's already shocked enough as is."

"Tell me what?" Elliot asked, narrowing his eyes.

"See what you've done? He's suspicious!" Suxen whispered harshly back to the nothing before turning back to Elliot. "Sorry about that, unfortunately due to a spell matrix I've created I can… communicate with the dead."

Elliot blinked. "O... kay, then. I... suppose... that's..."

He stop speaking. There wasn't really anything he could say to that. Between pastel ponies and all the other things he had encountered, his sense of things being impossible had lessened, but there were still (rare) days that could get him. He almost missed it.

"It's a pain to endure, not fun or pleasant - it's why there are rules against such things I believe… or, at least I understand why there are rules now." Suxen continued, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a q-tip to lean out his right ear.

"I'll take your word for it," Elliot said, nodding slowly. He frowned as an idea occurred to him. "Don't suppose... do you happen to..." He stopped. "Nah, silly question."

"Oh come now, there are no such things as silly questions - only silly answers from silly ponies," Suxen responded almost automatically… like it was an old reflex of some kind.

"Or silly people," Elliot added with a shrug. "Alright. D'you know where Merlin is?"

"Uhh... who?"

"That'll be a no then," Elliot sighed. "Bollocks."

"What is he? Some kind of Arch Mage?" Suxen asked.

"No," Elliot snapped, blinking. "No. Not an Arch Mage." He frowned slightly. "Sorry. Bad term."

"My apologies," Suxen said. "Then who is he?"

"That'd take a lot of explaining, and we seem to be in an impossible war zone," Elliot said with a sign. He looked around the cityscape, frowning at it. "None of this makes sense. I mean, apart from you," he said with a nod at Suxen, "the Convies shouldn't be here. The PER and HLF fought, sure, but Solamina... I suppose she was still Celestia at that point... didn't start her campaigns until the Barrier stopped."

Suxen's body language grew uncomfortable, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You know, it's a sad thing Mr. Elliot. A really sad thing that this happens, that these horrible things come to pass."

Elliot didn't reply for a long moment. He looked around, wondering what was going on... and what might happen when he met any humans still here.

"You said UN?" he asked. "So not Gilead?"

"No… no I'm afraid not Mr. Elliot." He sighed heavily. "You see, there is a truth present; a sad bitter truth that is here, and one that I… I can't tell you right now. All I can offer you is a means for assistance."

"Anything but Gilead," Elliot laughed, though it was a laugh without humour. "Surprised anyone sane is still holding up - can't quite remember when America burned but it has to be soon."

"No, I'm afraid not… it never is." Suxen muttered, before stopping - a hand going to his forehead while his teeth were clenched.

Elliot saw this, also noticing that the strange man's nose was now bleeding. He stopped, asking "Are you alright?"

"N-no, no I'm not," he groaned, dabbing his nose with a handkerchief. "It seems our time is over; I have lead you to where you should be, a-and now I must go - though I have a present to give."

Suxen reached into his pocket and took out a ring, the metal silver and its gem a blue cobalt. He tossed the ring to Elliot, the British man looking at it with a confused frown.

"Why?" Elliot asked.

"Because… because its a contact, should you ever need assistance it will grant you it." He wheezed, a silver necklace with a cobalt gem appearing around his neck - the gem having been cut into the same design as his tie pin. "You will soon meet other military forces… it's best that they don't meet me and learn of two strange beings at this time."

"What? What do you mean?" Elliot asked, frowning. "You've barely explained anything, you've just been cryptic - what's going on here?"

"Much… many things, Sir Elliot." Suxen replied, a pained expression on his face. "There are many things in motion thrown off by your presence. I -" He was stopped by a coughing hit, his necklace lighting up. "It is best that they have you rather than me… for this body is flawed. Also, remember… the bag that you have been shown unintentionally, it is nothing like you have seen befor-"

He dropped to his knees in a coughing fit before disappearing in a flash of blue like a Unicorn's teleportation, leaving Elliot standing there, strange ring in hand.

"Well," Elliot said. "That's just typical."

What had that been? Some sort of magic burnout, like his? No... maybe something different. In any case - there wasn't much to be done about it. He pocketed the ring and sighed, before whipping out his hand-cannon and 'speed killer'. It was probably best to be prepared for another Convie attack...

He frowned and scratched the place where the potion-bottle the Convie had thrown had splashed him. In all the talk he had forgotten it, but the sudden silence and thinking about the possibility of attack had brought it back to the forefront of his attention. There was a slight itch on the skin, like an after image of pain. He looked at his hand, and was surprised to find a thin film of something had come off, like getting PVA glue on your hand.

"Huh," he said idly, frowning at the stuff. "Upgrades?"

He shook his head. It wasn't important right now. He sighed.

Time to go meet these 'soldiers'.

***

Somewhere...

"Um, are you sure about this?"

"What? Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well look, I'm all for different ideas - really, I mean you've seen some of mine..."

"Yes, and? This is just another one."

"You don't think it might be a little... too far?"

"'Too far'? We are talking about worlds with pastel ponies and humans destroying one another. I hardly think traditional means of deciding 'too far' really count anymore."

"But what can this world offer him? If he'd gone where he was meant to go..."

"If he'd gone where he was meant to go we'd have the same story, now wouldn't we? Consider this a diversion."

"But what can they offer him?"

"I don't know. I suppose we'll discover that in due course. Besides, it's as much about what he can offer them."

"What's your take on this?"

"Who, me? I'm rather new here. I just think it looks like fun. Hope you don't mind that Kraber is around. No matter what, he just finds his way into everything."

“He does a bit - still, at least he’s interesting.”

"This looks like lots of fun. I really like it. And what with the branching timelines, we don't need to worry about breaking anything all that much."

"Unless we do... but you can fix it."

"It'll make for quite a tale, either way."

"Well, yes, there is that..."

"C'mon, that's half the reason we do this. And admit it - the possibilities are intriguing."

"... yes. That's true."

"Right, then. What is there to worry about? Just sit back and watch..."

***

Author's Notes:

The PROLOGUE to the crossover with Avatar of Albion that you've all been waiting f.... Wait, really? You didn't know? Well, here's hoping it's a pleasant surprise.