"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it."
Douglas Adams, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

"Two hundred million zombies. Who can even visualize that type of number, let alone combat it?... For the first time in history, we faced an enemy that was actively waging total war. They had no limits of endurance. They would never negotiate, never surrender. They would fight until the very end because, unlike us, every single one of them, every second of every day, was devoted to consuming all life on Earth. That's the enemy that waited for us beyond the Rockies. That's the kind of war we had to fight."
General Travis D'Ambrosia, World War Z

"Humanity has been caged. We will break the bars.”
Item description for the Exodus Vest, Destiny

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth
11 hours and 24 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee

Elliot might have been lost, but at least now he had an objective: find this Knight person, whoever he might have been. He seemed like someone Elliot might get along with (human with a claymore? Not bad). Unfortunately, it was a fool's errand to guess just where the Knight could be: Boston was a big city (seriously, how did Americans make cities this big? It was like walking through a city built by giants!) and he had no idea just where to look.

He decided, after some consideration, to follow the gunfire. That was a safe bet - probably. If anything was safe.

He couldn't help but think about this place, this city that should never have been. And, for all he'd thought to himself about not getting distracted, it was nigh-impossible not to be. Another world… another time. If this was the past, how had it changed so much? And if it wasn't... he had once talked with the Doctor about parallel worlds. The old pony wasn't as effusive as he used to be, but he was still intelligent, and the subject had come up once or twice.

If this was a parallel world, what had changed? Where was the point of divergence? Had ponies come to help here? He shuddered to think of a world where they hadn't. Something, he couldn't tell what, made him certain that if there hadn't been ponies like Lyra, or Errant Flight or True Grit, he wouldn't have become anything good...

'Where had that thought come from?' he wondered.

Or maybe it was something to do with Equestria? The potion was different, it's effects more noticeable even on him... what had caused that?

He had a horrible feeling he didn't want to know. And an even more horrible feeling that very soon, he might just find out.

"Alright then," he said aloud, tightening his grip on the pistol slightly. "When I meet it, I'll kill it."

Saying it made him feel… slightly better.

As he followed the sound, and the stink of smokeless powder, it was hard not to ask questions, but he forced himself to remain focused. He couldn't get distracted by anything...

... except...

... this...

... didn't make any sense.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Just... fuck.

Fuck not being distracted. This entire place made no sense. None at all. Boston had never been attacked by Convies. The Convies had never been so utterly mindless. Okay, maybe that wasn't quite the word. You could see that sort of thing as funny, but these Convies had no regard for their safety, as long as he was dead or potioned. Then there was the potion, the thin film that it had left on his face. He absent-mindedly scratched at his face again, frowning. The itch had long since subsided, but that still left the fact that it had itched at all. He had never been so much as tickled by the potion. Upgraded or not, that was a genuine concern...

He frowned. He could see a few tattered flags flying from windows and on poles, and they had caught his attention. The old Star-Spangled Banner was flying, and that also made no sense.

"Gilead..." he muttered. The name brought up old memories...

***

London, March 20th, 2023 - 'Avatar' Earth

Every soldier in the barracks was watching the TV with a mixture of expressions - some were shocked, some angry, and some were disgusted.

"Christ," one of the soldiers muttered, and David Elliot couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

The TV was showing grainy, blurred footage of people in robes, holding daggers and waving their arms around, for all the world as if they were ancient shamans. Men, women and children supplicated themselves before any religious symbols they could find as they huddled in terror and fear. Blood ran in the streets. Flagellants marching in the streets, stripped to the waist and whipping themselves with spiked whips or barbed chains, and though the images barely had any sound, you could still make out expressions filled with fear and righteous anger. Crowds of people towed massive crosses made of wood, metal, plastic - whatever was available - through the streets. Many of them had people nailed to them, moaning and screaming in pain. At the head of the sick procession was a man. He too was stripped down to the waist, his body covered in brand marks and scars that had been cut in the shape of Christian symbols. His head was shaved and the manic look in his eyes was obvious when the camera zoomed in on his face.

He was shouting something at the crowd. What he was saying was illegible as the crowd drowned him out but occasionally snippets of what he was saying, such as "God's chosen kingdom" and "His wrath demands blood" were heard over the cacophony of screams and cries.

The worst part, though, was the sacrificing.

Children in red hooded robes were sent along a path made of flowers, weeping women and men lining the road as they went, and crosses - many still with bodies attached - and the Barrier, that fucking pink monstrosity that was consuming the world, rolling along regardless. The children marched without fear - no one knew if they had been told what they were about to do, or if they had been told lies to make them go, but on they went, single file, one by one marching into the pink wall... and never coming out again.

"These reports are not confirmed by any remaining United States authorities," the voice of the newscaster, a tired looking blonde woman, said, her voice sounding shaky as she spoke, "but the... the so-called 'Sanctified Republic of Gilead' is gaining ever more support as US citizens either flee the Barrier's influence or else go through Conversion. Their unofficial spokesman, one Patrick Goleman, has released this video."

The grainy image of a hooded man appeared, standing in front of an ornate, bloodied cross superimposed over the image of the planet Earth - or it looked like the planet Earth, until you realised that the only landmass represented was America itself.

"People of the world, have no doubt in your minds: there is but one path to salvation, and it is through the sacrifice of Gilead. Gilead is the truth," he said at once, his voice tinged with fanaticism and fervour. "Gilead is the way, the true kingdom of Heaven, passed onto us by the blessed Founding Fathers - and we shall be the ones to fulfill our forefathers' dreams. We will drown the Barrier in blood and sacrifice, and when the faithful stand blessed before the gates of Heaven The Lord shall smite those who dared threaten His kingdom..."

The newsreader returned, looking sick. "The government has issued a statement decrying the actions of Goleman and the Sanctified Republic, but due to all flights being cancelled there is no further action expected at this time. The government urges you to remember, ladies and gentlemen, that conversion is not at this time warranted as a safe medical procedure, and that they are doing all they can to..."

"Turn that shit off," somebody said, and the TV died as someone hit the off switch.

"Fuck me," one of the other soldiers added, sounding vaguely ill. "What's happened to the Yanks?"

"They've gone bloody insane, that's what," Sam Lake muttered, running his hand through his cropped blonde hair. "World ends and all they can do is scream about it."

"They're afraid," David said quietly. "Everyone is. Even the extreme HLF are - you can tell."

"Fear's a monster," another soldier said. "Turns you into a freakin' psycho. Ain't nothin' a bloke won't do if he's scared for his life."

"Still," Sam said, "I don't get how they think that... that..."

David didn't need his friend to finish the sentence. What was happening in America - in Gilead, he corrected bitterly - was horrible. Yet another reason he and Sam had joined the army in the first place - right now, anything keeping order was better than that brand of anarchy.

"Come on," he said to his friend. "We've got stuff to do."

"I hear that," Sam said quietly. "Here, Dave, do me a favour."

"What?" David asked.

"If I ever get that loopy, fucking do me in and save some bugger else the trouble," his friend said. David grinned.

"Nah," he said. "Reckon you and I are seeing this bugger out to the finish, one way or another."

***

Gilead had been all that was left in America when the great nation burned beneath the Barrier. Any Americans you asked tended to get... tight-lipped about the subject. But the old USA flag flying meant that somewhere, someone in this place still recognised the authority of the USA as a government.

"Huh," he muttered to himself. "Alright then."

He chalked it up as another mystery. He was starting to compile a mental list that was, if he dared to say so himself, pretty impressive.

1. Who was the mysterious "Suxen Lleps"? The name was, if the sound was anything to go by, the reverse of "Nexus Spell" (or Nesk-cus Spill, but that would have been a stupider name than Suxen), but apart from being more of a pony name than a human name it didn't answer anything, and in fact raised more questions.

2. This was Boston in 2023, but the Convies had already started invading and this place looked like it had been through more of the wars than rioting HLF and PER - or for that matter, Gilead extremists - would allow for. What was happening?

3. Speaking of the Convies - between their general idiocy, lack of anything resembling tactics, and the fact that the potion had been... different, he was starting to suspect something was up with them. The potion had perhaps been altered, but who would alter the potion to create stupider soldiers, unless there was some benefit to that?

His mind added a 3.5: if that was the case, what was the benefit? There couldn't be a military application to such stupidity, unless it were a way to numb their conscience. Even then, nine times out of ten, a man with a brain and a conscience was a better fighter than a man without either. What then?

He sighed. There were many questions, and a lot of possibilities for answers (from parallel universe to insane nightmare) but nothing definite.

'That’s what this Knight fella is for, I guess,' he thought to himself. Oh well - at least he was getting some exercise, and it could have easily been worse -

Suddenly, he felt something strike his cheek, dragging his attention back to the here and now. He blinked, and dabbed a hand on his cheek, looking at the purple liquid that had struck him with a frown.

"Score!" he heard a voice yell from above him enthusiastically.

Elliot looked up, to see two Pegasi staring at him from a shattered window, one in Royal Guard armor and one that looked like a Convie. He grinned as the potion dissipated, the same odd hissing screaming sound he had heard before emerging from the liquid as it bubbled and boiled. Before the Pegasi could do more than look horrified, he aimed his hand-cannon up at them and shot clean through the Convie's head. The Guard took this as an opportunity to flee, and Elliot sighed.

"Great," he muttered. "Now they'll know I'm around."

He smirked. Not that they would know what he was, he supposed. He was a whole seven years too early, and that was if he was even in the same world, which he was honestly starting to doubt.

'Two things you appreciate more as you get older,' he thought with a smirk. 'Alcohol and confusion to the enemy.'

The smirk vanished as he heard gunfire, this time closer to where he was. He frowned: it sounded almost like it was right up ahead.

With a sigh he started jogging towards the sound: this would be... interesting.

***

The Heart of the World, Canterlot Archives, 'Avatar' Equestria, January 23rd, Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030 AD).

A regal Alicorn sat in her chamber, eyes closed, waiting for... something. She wore armour, golden and shining, and lying near her side was a glaive, in reach should she find a need for it.

She had, for the entirety of the day, felt a great presence trying to reach out, and she had retired to this chamber to meditate and seek contact. The Heart of the World was a mighty tool for this sort of work: it amplified the currents of the multiversal energies that made up creation itself, and allowed those who had the knowledge and the patience to ride those currents and seek other intelligences - both the like and the unlike.

After what felt like hours sitting in this position, she found contact.

“Greetings,” she heard a voice speak through the meditation. “You must be the Celestia of your world.”

Solamina opened her eyes, and found herself sitting opposite her mirror image. The only noticeable difference between the two was the existence of a small bag hung around her counterpart's neck.

"Good evening," she said amiably.

"Good evening," her counterpart replied with a smile. "I am Queen Celestia. You are?"

"Empress Astra Solamina Maxima," Solamina replied, "though as we are equals, merely 'Solamina' will suffice."

"And I am merely Celestia," her counterpart returned cordially, though there was a slight flare of something behind her eyes at the word ‘equals’. "I take it you were seeking to contact me."

"I felt a presence and followed it," Solamina said, frowning slightly. "If not you, then..."

"Then something else that was sent to my world, weakening the gap and allowing you to sense me," Queen Celestia finished. "Interesting - that implies a crossover: almost as though something has come to my world."

Solamina frowned slightly, thinking through the possibilities. "It may be a human."

"Oh, you're dealing with those, too?" Celestia said idly. "Annoying things, aren't they?"

Solamina found herself smiling slightly. "Oh, incredibly - I take it you speak from experience."

"Ongoing experience," Celestia said, frowning slightly. "They're annoyingly persistent, despite my attempts to persuade them otherwise."

"Conversion via potion?" Solamina asked with a knowing smile.

"Why yes," Celestia replied, smiling slightly herself, though there was something slightly off about it. "Curious - I thought that solution rather... unique."

"As did I, once," Solamina replied. She gestured to the room. "But having spent much time in the Heart... well, I've learned that nothing is 'unique'. However, our mutual problem may also be a mutual advantage..."

"In what respect?" Celestia asked evenly, her face unreadable.

"Why, think on it this way," Solamina said. "You and I have similar goals - and unless I miss my mark, likely similar ambition. You will not stop at one universe, and nor will I. So tell me - what would you say to the prospect of combining forces?"

"An alliance?" Celestia asked.

"Indeed," Solamina said, smiling at the possibilities. "No doubt there is much we could learn from one another - together, we could crush not just your humans, nor mine, but all that oppose us. It would be wise."

Celestia seemed to consider this for a long moment, her eyes staring off into space.

"No," she said after a moment, smiling again. "I think not."

Solamina frowned. "I see."

"No, I don't think you do," Celestia said, and now her smile became a vicious grin. Solamina stared at her, the bag around her counterpart's neck pulsing like a heart as darkness slowly cover her. "I came here in answer to your search. In the spirit of us being ‘equals, I will give you fair warning: your world is prey. My prey.”

Solamina narrowed her eyes. “Do you think me so weak?”

“Yes,” Queen Celestia said simply. “I will destroy the humans that threaten my harmony, and then I will come for you. Do not think I will not conquer your pitiful Equestria, 'Empress Solamina'. I have already made preparations to war with one of my alternates. Dealing with you will be no different."

Solamina smiled in turn, cold and calculating. She half considered asking this other her, but then dismissed that notion - there would be no point.

"Choosing war may prove to be a mistake on your part," she said quietly. "You would be wise to not underestimate me."

"I doubt that I have," Celestia said, her eyes gaining a yellow tint as she gave her a deranged smile, and then she vanished, her voice echoing slightly as she did so. "But we shall see."

"Indeed," Solamina said quietly to the empty room. "We shall."

***

She opened her eyes, and found herself alone in the chamber. She frowned slightly - the Heart was a strange place, and strange things happened within it, even when one went in prepared and did not activate the worst of its powers. She had no way to know if what she had experienced was real... but it mattered not: even implicit threat from one who might be near her level was enough. Scowling, Solamina exited the Heart chamber.

"Milady?" one of her trusted Eclipse Guard asked, eyes wide.

"Get Commander Twilight Sparkle here at once," Solamina demanded. "We have work to do!"

"Yes milady!" the Guard said. Another Guard was still stood nearby.

"My little pony," Solamina said, "have a message despatched to all corners of the Empire: we are pulling back from the British isles. There is a new threat coming, one that will require our more immediate attention attention."

"I shall leave at once, milady," the Guard said, bowing low. Solamina breathed out, and then suddenly, now that she was alone, she smiled.

'Come to me, Queen Celestia,' she thought to herself, unable to stop a small chuckle escaping her lips. 'Come to die upon my blade. Your false light is nothing before my power. There is no light, no matter how bright, no matter how bold, that can outshine the Sun resplendent!'

***

Boston, November 16th, 2023 - 'Spectrum' Earth
11 hours and 33 minutes since the disappearance of Marcus Renee

A few minutes after he had started jogging, Elliot found himself near a battle. A squad of humans and ponies ('oh thank God, there are actually ponies fighting with humans!') were fighting against a group of Convies. These Convies had the same listless, almost brain dead look about them, and the humans were having little trouble with them, but Elliot was surprised to see that none of the humans were wearing any kind of hazmat suit that he was familiar with, though they were wearing somewhat more bulky body armour and there was definitely something... different about them, like a tingling that he could barely perceive. Also, the ponies had guns hooked up to some kind of headset. Looked very technical, the kind of thing that'd sell for a lot in Britain nowadays. Were these ponies... were they elites of some kind, getting this stuff?

As he watched, one of them, a man without a helmet on, was hit by a potion and started changing.

Elliot felt sick. The change looked different. Unlike the shedding of the old flesh the potion he knew, this seemed to be a wholly different beast, bones fusing and the flesh sprouting fur. And - whoa! That wasn't a tingle he was feeling. As part of his gifts, he could sense magic, but it wasn't easily described. It was like… like smelling someone lit on fire. There was a sense of something blazing, a flare of magic so bright and quick he was left almost dizzy, and… and…

It was horrifying, but Elliot couldn't look away.

Before it could finish, one of the man's comrades quickly shot him. The transformation stopped halfway - another difference - it would have finished if it was the normal potion, dead or not.

Shaking himself from his momentary stupor, Elliot scowled. He took out his pistol and fired, killing two of the Convies. They turned, milling in confusion at two sources of attack, and quickly the remaining humans took out the last few Convies with a hail of bullets. One particular man - if the insignia were to be believed, of the rank of first lieutenant, with some slight burns apparent on his person - took an exhale of breath from the hectic battle.

"This day just keeps getting and better," he muttered, loudly enough to hear. "And that," he added, pointing at the half-transformed corpse, "is why you keep your fucking headgear on, assholes!"

He turned to look at Elliot, his pale grey eyes looking the man up and down. He turned to his fellow troops and started barking orders.

"Jentson, take Carmichael and Snart and go check out that alleyway ahead." He then turned to the ponies - a Unicorn mare, an Earth Pony mare, and a Pegasus stallion. "Sharp Horn, you take Steel Forge and Air Blitz - I want to know if they're any PER hiding around here. We have to make sure these bastards don't get any further in the city, keeping them at the airport is top priority right now."

His tone gave a sense of his experience, like he had been doing this for a while. Both humans and ponies responded with the usual military acknowledgements, before going off, leaving Elliot and the First Lieutenant alone. The man approached Elliot slowly, looking him up and down.

"Well now, who're you and why are you carrying a hand-cannon?" he asked.

"Major David Elliot, BDF," Elliot replied smartly. Best to make a good first impression. "As for the hand-cannon..." He looked down at the heavy revolver with a smirk. "Small but punch-packing," he said. "Why, you have an objection?

"I think it may be the fact that you could turn out to be some HLF crazy, but seeing how you haven't done anything really stupid yet I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," the soldier answered. "Name's First Lieutenant Winston, UN/PHL Task Force. So," he added, a slightly mocking tone in his voice, "any reason why you're in Boston, Mr. Elliot? Sightseeing a touch?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Elliot smirked. He frowned slightly. "Can't say I've heard of the PHL..."

"Well I can't say I heard of any BDF, unless its Beef Dried Food." Winston chuckled a bit at his own joke, though he stopped quickly at Elliot’s nonplussed expression. "Anyway, seriously, Elliot. Where are you from and what's your deal in Boston?"

"I'm from the arse end of Yorkshire if you want specifics," Elliot replied with a shrug, "though I spent a few years shooting Convies all over the shop, really. As for why I'm here..."

He opened his jacket, letting the lining show. Five manes waved slightly in the breeze.

"I think between these and the fellas I had a 'chat' with here," he continued, indicating the deceased ponies he shot, "my 'deal' is pretty obvious. I’m here to help."

"Uh huh, I see," Winston responded, taking in the sight of five manes that Elliot had on display. "Well then, you should know that here; we call them Newfoals, Zombies, and Merry-Go-Round toys - I ain't ever heard 'em called Convies before."

"Whatever you call them, you look like you need help," Elliot said, smirking slightly.

"We had it in hand," Winston said. "Besides, why would you help me and my unit? I got ponies with me."

"I haven't got a problem with all ponies," Elliot said, narrowing his eyes. "Just some. And these ones..." He closed his coat. "These ones deserved everything I gave them."

"Hmm, so…" Winston said slowly. "What was his name?"

"Uh, who?" Elliot asked, confused.

"His name, what was the name of your buddy? Did you make it quick, or did someone else get him first?" Winston asked. In his experience, everyone had lost someone to the potion, and a guy like Elliot just screamed having shot someone he knew personally.

Elliot scowled. "His name was Sam Lake. And yeah, I made it quick. Don't see how that's altogether relevant."

“And I don’t see why I should trust some guy who comes out of nowhere,” Winston retorted. “But hey, if you’re not against all ponies you might be handy. Just don’t get in our way.”

"Sir!" Elliot and Winston turned to see both the groups the Lieutenant had sent out return. The speaker was a human male, a name-patch on his suit reading 'Carmicheal' "We've got a big number of Newfoals coming in, the damn potion cloud must've converted more than HQ thought."

"How big is 'big'?" Elliot asked unconsciously, forgetting himself for a moment.

The six looked at Elliot, having just noticed the British guy in his battered civilian wear. Before any of them could comment, Winston sighed.

"Is it a Disco or a Heavy count?" he asked.

"Around that, eighty at most." Carmichael replied.

"Son of a taint," Winston muttered. "Well that's just dandy."

"Huh," Elliot said. He flexed a muscle, rolling his neck slightly. "Not so bad."

"Not so bad?" the First Lieutenant repeated, eyeing Elliot - were he and Kraber best buddies or something?

"I've dealt with worse and with less resources," Elliot commented - and that much was true, though admittedly he hadn't exactly chosen those fights.

"Good for you, pal," Winston scowled. "I am not going to stick around to get a potion to the eye just because we wanted to do something stupid like hold the line. You want to come, that's fine by me, just keep up."

"Alright," Elliot said, feeling a bit put off by his retreat order but shrugging anyway. "I can do that."

Killing Convies was kind of his thing - these things might not be 'normal' Convies, but they were Convies. But they were running... it galled him to do so (his mind considered every inch of ground invaluable), but they knew more of what was happening than he did, and he guessed didn't have a chance of getting anywhere without them.

"Alright," Winston said. He turned to his squad. "Get ready, boys and mares. We doing a light run soon."

"Light he says," Steel snorted, causing the others to chuckle.

"Headquarters, this is Patrol one-three on Cypher Street. I got eighty plus Novembers heading to my location. I also have one civilian with me," Winston reported on his radio.

"Roger Patrol One-three, Patrol One is on the corner of Broadway and G Street. They have heavy armor."

"Headquarters, this is Crown Flight. Lieutenant Winston, is that you?"

Elliot turn to see Winston stiffen up. "Y-your Majesty, sir!"

'Wills?' Elliot thought, raising an eyebrow. 'What the bloody hell is he doing here?'

"None of that now. I am over the Reserve Channel now, low on ammo, but I can thin the herd for you. Get going, I will do what I can before I am forced to break off."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Winston barked out.

"Godspeed."

"This is Mueller of Patrol One! We turning around now! Heading toward D Streets, so get your asses going now!"

"This is Patrol One-Four, heading towards your location."

"Patrol Two-Two, finished cleaning house and on the way."

Elliot frowned slightly at the string of radio responses - it almost sounded like everyone had nothing better to do but come help them. He couldn't help but envy that kind of… well, luxury.

"Come on!" Winston shouted as he ran down the street. "Get your lazy asses into gear."

"Try to keep up, civvie!" Steel gave a laugh as they ran past C street. Elliot clucked his tongue in irritation, and tried to remind himself that as of yet, he hadn't given these people and ponies much reason to trust him.

'Going to have to fix that,' he thought.

He watched them from the rear: the group was too strange for him. The Unicorn remained in the middle, her horn glowing but never releasing whatever spell she had. The Pegasus was flying just over their heads, constantly spinning around and watching the area around them. The strangest thing was the Earth pony - she was up at the front of the group, chatting with Winston. These things in isolation weren't over-strange - the Resistance fought alongside the BDF as a matter of course - but their equipment was… well, good. He'd rarely seen a P220, the sole Pony-specific gun, in action, but he figured that whatever these guys had was far more advanced. Plus most Pegasi worked with ERAF squadrons as a matter of course.

'Questions, questions, questions,' he thought to himself. 'My entire life is becoming all about questions. Gimme something to bloody kill, I'm starting to get sick of not knowing what the fuck is going on.'

The sound of a helicopter distracted his attention, and he looked up to see a SeaKing flying overhead. It looked to have been heavily modified: it carried several missile pods on its side, along with several lighter guns onboard.

"Fancy," he murmured, nodding slightly in appreciation. Seeing a nicely modified military chopper was oddly refreshing. Most military hardware he knew of was as worn out as everything else.

"Got them in my sights." he heard Wills say. "Firing."

He heard King William's SeaKing unleash its remaining payload, the sounds of gunfire and missiles cutting off whatever cry of attack the Convies were making.

"Be advised, Patrol One-Three. I got a couple of runners after you. I did all I could, take care of yourselves. Whatever it is, there is a lot more than eighty now."

"How many?" Elliot asked out loud so that Winston could hear him. The man scowled at him then repeated the question.

"Try more than two hundred. Bastards started coming out of the alleyways and sewers the moment I tried thinning them out. Good luck, Winston."

"Fucking roaches. Roger. Book it!" Winston shouted as they neared D St. "Move, move!"

Elliot ran past the Unicorn as she stopped, turning around and unleashed her spell. Elliot blinked as the car he was passing slowly floated off the ground before it was chucked back down the street. He turn to see several Convies quickly gaining ground on them before they were crushed by the flying vehicle. The Unicorn gave a weak grin before collapsing.

"God damn it, Sharp Horn." One man ran back and lifted the Unicorn mare onto his shoulder and rushed back to the group. "Always with the fucking heroics."

"It worked."

"For all of ten seconds," Elliot growled, scowling as he saw a veritable tide of Convies rushing around the corner, each and every one of them smiling as they zeroed on them. "Well… fuck. That is a mite more than two hundred."

"Run, you idiot!" Winston shouted at him, standing on the corner of the street. "I don't care what you think, you are not badass enough for that!"

Elliot smirked slightly, and held out his arm. A moment later it began glowing - only for Elliot to get picked up by the Pegasus.

"What the bloody hell!?" he yelled.

"Come on 'hero', lets go!" he grunted, trying to lift him, and flying back as quickly as he could.

"Watch out!" Elliot saw a Royal Guard hefted a spear and threw it at him, instinctively drawing one of his daggers and batting it aside.

"Thanks, but I got the bastard."

"What do you-" he started, stopping as the yolk he was wearing activated, SMGs springing out and spinning backwards. He looked to his face, seeing his visor light up, a small vicious grin on his face as the guns fired. The guard barely had time to blink at the fact that he was still alive before he was ripped apart by the gunfire.

"Join us!" a Convie cried out as he dove from above, attempting to tackle them out of the sky. He barely avoided the dive, Elliot drawing out his hand-cannon and blew the newfoal apart. He turned the corner, seeing the rest of the group just ahead of them.

"Ok, seriously," Elliot growled. "Enough of this shit. Let me down, I am not an aviator!"

"Fine! Hey Steel, catch!"

"Wait what-BOLLOCKS!" Elliot yelled as he was chucked down, landing on the mare's back.

"Got you!"

"Gah! Enough running!" Elliot shouted as he rolled off. "You wanna see how 'badass' I am? I'll fucking show you!"

He held out his hand as the horde of Convies charged, each and every one of them charging right at him. In his hand, a giant blade materialised.

Ornately decorated, the great two handed blade extended six full feet, as long as Elliot himself. Though he held it in one hand, it did not overbalance, for the blade was impossibly light, cutting through the air with a faint ringing sound. This was Excalibur, blade of Arthur, and his weapon against those who would threaten his home. With it, he felt almost invincible.

"Fuck!" he heard one of the soldiers yell from behind him. "Where the hell did that come from?!"

"That a rune or something?" another asked.

"Does he look like he'd have runes?" a third voice commented.

"Could be another prototype. I'd kill to have the rune that does that!" another whistled.

"Oh shut up, you assholes!" Winston shouted as he paused, taking aim and headshotting a nearby Earth Pony that stumbled out of an alleyway. "Keep running, let the idiot play hero!"

"I," Elliot said quietly, not caring that the man couldn't hear him, "am not playing anything."

The Convies hadn't even paused: definitely more than two hundred of them - it was a bigger number than he'd generally taken on outside of Cornwall (and he'd been rather more... ostentatious that time), but he was sick of running and he was definitely sick of the condescending attitudes from the soldiers he'd been with.

The Convies still kept running at him. Good for them: they'd get to die first. He brought the blade to bear, pointing it right at them, and he started glowing.

"Servants of the fucking Tyrant!" he yelled, his voice amplified slightly. "Prepare for fucking death!"

And suddenly, with a howl of rage, he brought Excalibur down, slamming the blade into the ground and unleashing a wall of magical energy at the things. The crazed ponies crashed against it, their forms faltering and falling to their ground piling on top of each other in a horrific display - it was as though they were all literally running into a brick wall, and yet like the proverbial lemmings they kept coming. One Convie - or Newfoal? - against the wall looked to be crushed, as his mates piled against him, trying to break the shield, by… by running at it?! There was a crack, and something seemed to ooze from his brain, and yet he headbutted it again and again, till part of the shield was coated in grayish-pink viscera...

Jesus, what had this potion done to them?!

He raised Excalibur and the wall subsided, but amazingly, they kept coming.

"Ok, so they don't know when to quit," he muttered. He stepped forward, and began swinging.

The first swing took out three at once, decapitating them. One of them, a Unicorn, tried some spell and Elliot saw a flicker of energy appear around Excalibur, gutter, and die. Grinning, Elliot lashed out, and that Convie died. He jumped back, dodging a tackle from another, and rewarded the thing with a stab forward that impaled the thing.

And they kept coming.

Growling, he swept Excalibur in an arc, cutting three down. He reversed the swing and cut four more down. One of them, an Earth Pony stallion, lost both his legs to the swing, but was still trying to move toward him. Another pony, this one a Unicorn mare, was sliced across the face, splitting her jaw open. She kept coming, and he dodged her, kicking out and sending her flying even as he spotted another pony on his blade. He glanced backward, to see her trying to crawl toward him even as her life's blood leaked out.

He ignored the pitiful sight, instead swinging Excalibur once more in a downward arc, smashing it into the ground again. Another wave of energy exploded from the impact, and more of the crazed ponies were knocked away...

And they kept coming.

"Oh for the love of God, what does it take to make you stop?!" Elliot screamed. He stabbed Excalibur into the ground, causing yet another explosion of energy that scattered the crazed ponies like bowling pins. This only bought him moments before more of them came - he was forced to step back slightly, dodging more tackles. He cursed and swung Excalibur again, cutting through five... ten... twenty...

And. They. Kept. Coming.

What were these things? They were, he realised as he brought his blade swinging in another arc, stupid to the point of not having self-preservation in the slightest. It was as though they didn't care about living or dying at all. The Converted normally were pretty single minded, but depending on their training they were decent fighters: they understood tactics. Hell, he'd once or twice encountered Convies who'd been soldiers before, and they'd been dangerous.

But these... these were dangerous in a different way. Convies were smart. These... Newfoal things were... were...

‘Relentless’, the thought came, unbidden. ‘If they aren't dead, they'll still fight to kill you. That makes them more dangerous in some ways - they'll keep coming until they can't, and even then they'd probably try.’

This was insanity. This was beyond insanity. No Converted he had ever met had been so thoroughly single minded, so utterly unheeding of basic military protocol. These things... they were insane. There was nothing in them except dedication to his destruction, no matter how many of them he killed. Any he didn't kill outright kept on coming... and the faces... good God, that smile might never leave his nightmares, the same damn smile repeated over and over and over...

'How many died so far?' Elliot thought as he swung his sword again, his free hand lashing out and unleashing a shockwave that blasted two into a wall. He watched as they fell apart with every swing, or burst open like balloons as he hacked, and yet the others just kept grinning, even as their former comrades drenched them in their own blood and guts. 'I… I actually lost track.'

This wasn't war. This wasn't combat against an enemy dedicated to your destruction. This was mindless slaughter, nothing but a meat grinder. He had seen horrors, but they had almost made sense - a power hungry Empress and fanatically loyal servants. But these things... God, they were almost like some unholy combination of unthinking machines and... children, not knowing...

... or not allowed to know...

... any better than to do what they were doing.

"Join-us-join-us-see-the-light-stop-the-fighting-you-can't-win..."

Their voices just blended together, and Elliot gritted his teeth at the noise.

"Shut up!" he yelled, decapitating three more.

"You-will-lose-You-will-fall-Join-the-HERD-JOIN-US-IN-THE-LIGHT!"

"SHUT IT!" he screamed, and he let loose a shockwave that scattered half a dozen across the street.

"NOTHING-IS-BETTER-THAN-THE-QUEEN-HELP-US-STOP-THE-HUMANS-NOTHING-IS-BETTER-THAN-BEING-A-PONY-JOIN-THE-HERD!"

He could take no more. Bringing Excalibur down in another arc and jumping backward enough to give himself some space, he held the blade forward and aimed it right at them.

"TAKE YOUR FUCKING HERD," he screamed, "AND STUFF IT UP YOUR BLOODY RECTUM TIL IT EXPLODES OUT YOUR COLLECTIVE FUCKING MOUTHS, YOU LITTLE FUCKING BASTARDS!"

And with that, he brought the blade down again, smashing more of them aside in a great flash of light that actually cracked the ground. Bodies simply cease to be, breaking apart from the concussive force of the wall, blood spraying everywhere, guts splattering on everything. He paused for breath, coughing slightly from using so much magic, and looked up, eyes widening.

'Relentless,' he thought as he saw them, many getting up, more seemingly coming up the street to cover the loss of Convies. Almost as if he did nothing, and the cycle had just started right back over all over again. 'Absolutely relentless.'

Then he felt it, the same tingle he has been getting whenever they splashed him with potion. It was then he realized that all of them stopped, all of them smiling at him, as one being. None of them blinked, none of them seem to breath, just stopped and waiting. Almost as one, they all looked up, causing him to look up as well.

"Well… shit." He stared at the pink cloud as it fell onto him, blinding him. The same tingling sensation increased tenfold. "That - ah, crap, crap, crap, crap... this fucking itches, you little..."

He began scratching, the same filmy substance coming off his skin again, and he blinked as the stuff got in his eyes and they began watering. He wasn't sure if he didn't care anymore or he was just so furious he'd gone full circle, but there was just no reasoning with these stupid, stupid Convies.

"'Kay then," he said quietly, "fuck this."

He closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment, and suddenly he began glowing, the energy shining from him - and then it shot out, dissipating the mist of pink... stuff, clearing it from his skin and eyes, and leaving him standing in front of a very confused looking bunch of ponies.

"But..." one of them said, looking utterly bewildered.

He rolled his shoulders, frowning at them all.

"Next?!" he called out.

"Wh-what do we do?" one of them asked.

"Maybe we should capture him!" another said, and others began to cheer at his words. "Take him to Miss Sparkle for study! He clearly looks tired! We can just jump on him till he stops!"

Elliot sighed. He didn't want to do this - God knew it'd probably not be good for his long term health - but they'd left him no choice but to use his final show stopper.

"Alright fine!" he said. “Time to end this!"

He raised Excalibur up, and closed his eyes, feeling the power begin to course through him...

... and then a loud whistling distracted him, followed by a bang and a wash of heat. He opened his eyes, the power abating, and he saw the splattered remains of the first few dozen Convies, apparently killed by some sort of RPG.

"...Well goddamn." Elliot looked down to see Sharp Horn, her face stuck between being awestruck and annoyed, grabbed his leg while her horn flared brightly. "That was impressive. Kind of stupid for going it alone, but still impressive."

"Betrayer!" they shouted as one. The Unicorn's only response was to stick out her tongue.

"See ya!"

Elliot felt himself being squeezed into a small ball, before being stretched back out a split second later. He barely had time to catch himself onto the nearest object. He looked up when he felt cool metal touch his hand.

'Its.. its a bloody tank.' Elliot stared at the tank before him, recognizing the model instantly. A Leopard 2A7: these things were impossible to see - any that had somehow been transported to Britain had been destroyed years ago. Blinking, he looked up to see an elder soldier manning a grenade machine gun, smiling down at him.

"Nice show." He looked back up, "Alright, Mueller, Jungs, Feuer!"

The world exploded into noise, the tank unleashed not only the round it held, but a rocket from the secondary weapon it had, a Panzerfaust 3. His hearing was all but gone, and he turned around to see several humvees along with over two dozens soldiers.

M2 Brownings, M240s, Rheinmetall MG3s, GMG launchers, MG2019s, L1A1s, and that was just on the humvees. Every soldier had just as varied personal weapons, all of them automatics or even some grenade launchers. Several ponies dotted the line, each with a saddle or yolk with barrels on them, each one differ from the others, almost personalized.

He turn back down the street, seeing the large wave of Convies simply broke apart, some ran towards them, others tried to fly over, few even tried to use some shield spells.

All for nothing.

The human/pony forces, whoever they were, simply cut them apart. Their bullets punched through the Convies, either exploding them or tearing them apart like wet tissue paper.

'If there's any bright side to wherever, whenever I am… it's that at least they have this much to spare,' Elliot thought. It was almost terrifying, seeing the contemptuous ease with which they ripped the Convies apart, one grenade rendering a Convie to pink mist while the surrounding Convies were blown back from the force.

It was definitely more terrifying seeing the scale they were forced to fight at, though. The Convies swarmed at them, like a tsunami of colors every shade of the rainbow, climbing over the dead bodies of their compatriots, trampling the merely wounded.

And yet it wasn't enough. The tide kept coming, slowly, ever so slowly.

"Fall back!" the elder called out, "We will get the rest of them."

"Wait, what?!" Elliot turn back around, barely able to hear him as he saw the soldier duck back inside the tank.

"Come on!" Winston grabbed him, pulling him back with the group as they fell back. Elliot turned as the tank surged forward, spells slammed into it and spears simply bounced off the armor.

"What is he doing?!" Elliot yelled, shocked. "That thing's gonna get torn up by concussives without support!"

He'd seen it before - tanks might be strong, but they were always vulnerable to earth-crackers from powerful spell casters. Its why tanks were no longer considered viable anymore in the fight against the Convies, they were simply too large of a target to be used.

He look back to Winston, who could only grin at him. "Well, I think we will surprise you, Mr. One-man-army."

He was dragged back, watching as the tank began to glow a deep blood-red, still surging forward into the tide of bodies. He watched as Pegasi tried to pry open the hatch, Earth ponies bucking at the trends, Unicorns blasting away at the armor.

And yet it continued forward.

Then he heard it.

Laughter.

He turned back to Winston, shaking his head as the apparent driver began to speak.

"Come into my parlor, little flies. I welcome you with open hands! Come and gather all around!" the man laughed.

The bodies of the Convies had all but covered the tank, few were trying to make to the retreating line, but a majority of them focused on the armor vehicle.

A deep blood-red light burst forth, shown between the swarming bodies, he felt his senses explode as he felt the magic in the area tripled.

"My, how you all shine brightly like diamonds," he said before an explosion ripped the swarm apart.

The shockwave nearly knocked him over, stunned at what happen. He stood still even as the blood and body parts dropped from the sky, soon followed by the bodies.

"He… he killed himself?" Elliot said in stunned shock.

"Hardly." Winston muttered, staring at the smoking crater. "The guy likes to blow his tank up a lot."

Elliot turn and stared at him, his mouth opening to point out the smoking crater where the tank use to be until he heard the same laughter.

"Aw, is the fun over?" Elliot turn as he heard the familiar rumble of a tank, slowly crawling out of crater it formed.

"But… but how?"

"Magic." Winston chuckled, pointing his gun at a twitching Convie and squeezing the trigger. "Come on, keep up."

Elliot could only stare as the group slowly moved forward, killing whatever Convies that had managed to survive. He sighed as he moved forward, swinging his sword and lobbing off the head of a struggling Convie.

"These people are insane," he said quietly to himself. "Damn if they're not effective, though."

Still. Much as it was a necessity to clear the Convies out from a battlefield, there was something that he had been wondering: what was with these Convies?

He looked around, Excalibur dissolving into nothingness now that he no longer needed it. Might as well switch to the old Vollmer. He closed his eyes: he had seen slaughter. Hell, he had caused plenty of slaughter, especially as Albion... but this was beyond the limits of his experience. Never had Convies been so fanatical, and never had so many just rushed him like this.

"What is this?" he muttered to himself.

A rustling caught his attention, and he frowned. An Earth Pony whose front legs had been severed was desperately trying to push himself toward Elliot, that smile - albeit strained - still on his face. Elliot glared at this thing, this Newfoal, suddenly filled with resolve. He marched towards the pony, before kneeling down and grabbing his head.

He had freed the chains of Hell Blazer. He could shatter the bonds on this thing. It was just a matter of mental magic, wasn't it?

"Get off! Don't touch me, you bucking human!" the Newfoal-thing yelled, shaking its head and trying desperately to throw him off.

"Hey!" someone yelled. "What're you doing?! That's dangerous, we don't-"

He ignored whoever was warning him, instead closing his eyes and gripping tighter. He let the power of Albion fill him just enough that pushing into this thing's mind would be possible, and then...

***

... he was somewhere else. Somewhen else.

Elliot blinked as he found himself inside of a closed shop full of mirrors, all of them covered in dust and broken in some regards. The light was low and it was quiet… too quiet. The floorboards under the soles of his feet creaked, and he could hear the sounds of fighting outside.

"A mental plane of some kind," he murmured, surprised at how jaded he felt about it. He'd heard about it - even been here before after meditating - but rarely had it been like this. "Wonderful."

This raised many questions, but the obvious thing to adjust to was that this was nothing like what Elliot was expecting - something at least cleaner and more than simply just mirrors, maybe one painting of the Tyrant at least?

There was a weak whispery sound from the back half of the store, in one of the back rooms.

Summoning Excalibur - or a mental plane representation of the blade at least - Elliot started to move towards the back half of the store - it being separated by a mere tattered curtain - to get some answers and possibly free this poor soul from the potion's conditioning.

He saw the typical backroom you would expect in a store. It looked like it had survived a simultaneous storm and earthquake, the cans and all the other various wares all over the floor. The shelves had collapsed, and were also rotting, and the lightbulbs above flickered in and out.

'I don't get it, why is this place so… dirty?' he thought, going past an old stool and a piece of rope attached to the ceiling without much thought or attention to either.

The sound… it was getting louder, a pounding like hitting a hammer on a solid wall - he must have been getting closer. He wandered through the room, turned a corner, and saw it.

There was a man in a chained up mirror, its frame a black that felt… it wasn't empty. There was something behind the black, staring at the man. As if every spot was an eye. As if the very shadows were holding him in somehow, enveloping him, eating him up…

The man pounded relentlessly on the mirror, tears straining on his face while shouting, and yet there wasn't any sound coming from it. What was… what was this?

Raising his sword, Elliot brought it down to slice the chains, but the minute they were sliced in half, more sprang from nowhere, grabbing the mirror and restraining it once again.

"What the hell?" Elliot said, eyes widening. "What is this?"

He span around, a noise clanging from somewhere behind him.

"Hello?" he asked. "Hello?"

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" a voice demanded.

Elliot turned around, to see Twilight Sparkle - a much younger looking Twilight Sparkle - emerge from the darkness. Her eyes looked like they belonged to the kind of child that might decide to 'play doctor' with scissors and scalpels, not at all like the worn eyes the Commander had been described as having.

"Well?" she demanded, impatiently.

"Twilight Sparkle," Elliot frowned. "I might ask the same of you."

"You aren't sporting any of those pesky runes, and you're clearly human," this Sparkle frowned. "What are you?"

Elliot gripped Excalibur. "The man who's going to kill you. But apart from that, I'm a man who is very confused, very angry, and very happy to start causing you a lot of pain right now unless you answer the question."

It was then that Twilight let off a harsh, cruel, cold laugh that sent a chill down Elliot's spine.

"Silly human, you think just because you're an anomaly you're strong enough to beat me?" the mare asked. "I'm not even technically here."

Elliot grinned. His hand twitched to his coat, and he opened it up, showing off the manes of the five ponies he had killed during his time as the Avatar.

"We might be in the mental plane," he said, "but you know these are representations of the real deal."

"That is wrong," she said lightly, "The Elements are not slain, I know that for a fact… you're delusional, even more than that ridiculous human Marcus Renee."

For a moment, Elliot saw a jar headed american man with close-cropped blond hair and lightly glowing tattoos on his figure within his mind.

"You both are ants that think they can stop my glory," she said darkly.

"This ant can punch above his weight," Elliot smirked, ignoring the vision. "There's some pretty weird shit going on in this world, but don't be fooled. I killed the Elements of Order."

He concentrated, and projected an image of the death of Rarity, then the death of Fluttershy, and then the image of Applejack's demise, and then Rainbow Dash's, and finally Pinkie Pie's. The figure of Twilight Sparkle narrowed her eyes at this.

"Elements of Order," she repeated, deep in thought, before it slowly came to her, a sinister twisted grin appearing on her face. "I think I get it now, oh… how interesting. How very interesting… I look forward to binding your soul to my will…. monkey."

"I would like to see you try, monster," Elliot scowled. "But I think I'll love cutting your head off more."

He brought Excalibur up and lashed out, chopping through her neck… and yet it was bloodless.

"Interesting," said her head from the floor. "But foolish. Did you forget we're in the mental plane? That's a mere annoyance."

"Nice trick," Elliot scowled. "Won't work forever though. I'll be happy to prove you wrong soon enough."

"If you say so…" the Unicore mare said, and then she disappeared, fading back into the floor. "But I am not the one who blindly threw myself into the head of a broken mind."

Elliot cursed and, weighing his options, decided to press on. He marched into the darkness, throwing one last glance at the strange mirror. There was definitely something off about all of this.

He walked through a door into a corridor - the corridor was long, and so dark that he couldn't see the other end of it.

"This is great," Elliot said quietly. "Just great."

He walked into the corridor, keeping on his guard. At first, it seemed almost normal - picture frames were on the walls, with pictures of flowers and other things, happy and almost normal. Then they started getting different - mouths, gaping, then eyes, staring, then bones and skulls, equine and human alike. The corridor started getting shabbier and shabbier, until the eyes started following him, bloodshot and with tears in their eyes.

It didn't help that the entire corridor was filled with murmuring and whispering, deep in the background of the room, so quiet that he almost couldn't hear it.

...you-can't-escape-it-was-good-that-we-killed-them-ssshhhh-you-don't-know-what-you're-walking-into-it-was-good-that-we-saved-them…

He ignored the whispering and carried on regardless, but the corridor didn't seem to have an end.

"Come on," he said quietly. "I know you're out here. Face me!"

...you-can't-defeat-us-it-was-good-that-we-saved-them-you-will-be-happier-ssssshhhhhh-you-know-we're-right-stop-fighting-the-inevitable…

"Stop that damnable whispering too!" Elliot muttered. It was similar to the deranged chanting of those Newfoal things, but much, much more insidious, feeling like it was creeping into his ear.

Eventually he came to a door - it was wooden, old and rotted, and it opened with an audible creak.

...we-know-who-you-are…

And he had entered a realm of impossibility.

It was a street in a city, in the cool, blue light of twilight (the irony not escaping him). The city was barely lit, the odd light flickering in windows and doorways.

This city was a nightmare.

The buildings were ruined and broken, like jagged metal teeth reaching toward the sky. There were bodies hanging from lamp posts, pony and human alike. He could see members of Grey Squadron, True Grit, Jan Lockett and her squad, Redmond, Lyra… Hell Blazer and Sam. He could hear the chimes of Big Ben, and in the distance there was the sound of battle. Air raid sirens were wailing futilely.

"You left us to die," a monotone voice called out. He looked up, and saw one of Jan Lockett's squad speaking, cold blue lips moving, eyes staring at nothing.

"Why did you abandon us?" another voice spoke, and Elliot saw Lyra, her eyes boring into him.

"You abandoned us," a third voice spoke, Jan Lockett herself, hanging by her ankles from a sign, a neat hole in her forehead from a bullet.

"Why?" was all Sam asked from his lamp post, frowning quizzically.

Elliot ignored the bodies and kept walking, Excalibur gripped tightly in his hand.

...we-know-who-you-are-you-cannot-hide-from-us…

"Who's hiding?" he called out, trying to project a confidence he did not feel. "I'm right here. You're the one hiding behind faces ripped from my mind."

This was not Solaminan magic, methods or tactics. This was… this was a war machine seemingly dedicated to causing as much suffering as possible. This was nothing he had ever encountered before. But he was determined not to be afraid. He was not afraid.

"You were hiding before, too!" he yelled, now feeling braver. "Hiding behind the face of Sparkle! Why don't you stop that and show yourself? Or are you afraid?"

Silence was all Elliot got. Until -

"You have no idea what you have unleashed," a voice said coldly, a sibilant whisper on the air. "Your world will burn next because of you."

"Show yourself!" Elliot yelled, raising Excalibur into a guard stance.

For a moment, there was silence in the street. Wind whistled through the buildings, and the corpses, still staring at Elliot, swayed on their gibbets.

There was something wrong. The shadows at the end of the street were darker than they should have been, darker than they had any right to be. He scowled, sensing something was up.

And suddenly, there it was.

A figure emerged from the blackness, seemingly made of shadow itself. He couldn't tell what it was meant to be, as its shape kept fluctuating - sometimes it looked like an Alicorn, and other times it looked more like… a centaur? Did such things exist?

'Seriously, you literally use King Arthur's sword Excalibur and you're wondering about fucking centaurs,' he thought to himself, almost amused except for the fact that he was more terrified than he thought he could still be.

Suddenly he found himself thrown backwards, Excalibur flying from his grip. The thing had unleashed some sort of attack, and it threw him across the street, skidding on the floor until he came to a dead stop. He raised a hand to shield himself, futilely, from the figure as it approached him.

"You are nothing to me," the figure spoke, its voice quiet but echoing as it marched inexorably toward him. "I do not know where you have come from, though I know you are not from this world, but it matters not either way. You are an insect. I am eternal, unstoppable. I AM THE REGENT SUN!"

This last shout blew Elliot back further, until he slammed into a wall. He coughed and retched in pain as the thing approached him, and he knew that this thing wouldn't stop until it had killed him - what was this? Was this Solamina? No, it couldn't be - there was nothing familiar about this evil, and Elliot - as the Avatar - had broken her magic before. This was different, manifested differently… but, he could sense, just as dangerous in its own way.

The thing kept marching toward him, and he braced himself for more pain.

And then, to his surprise, Excalibur appeared - it flew from where it had landed, discarded, and positioned itself before him, pointed slightly toward the figure.

"You will not pass, creature of the Darkness," a voice spoke, and Elliot's eyes widened in shock as a figure appeared, clad from head to toe in pure white, ancient armour that gleamed like a sun. The light seemed to be literally radiating from this Knight as he stood between Elliot and the dark figure, and the silhouette stopped, as if considering its next move. "You will not touch this one. You will be driven back."

"And who are you to think you can drive me back?" the dark figure spoke.

The Knight gave no answer, merely holding Excalibur up. The light from the Knight and the shadows that swirled around the silhouetted figure seemed almost to duel one another, flickering this way and that.

It didn't even seem to mind, like the Knight was nothing more than something to amuse itself with. "Well, well. Are you not interesting to see. Tell me, little knight, what are you?"

"The one that'll leave you dead and bleeding in the dirt!" Elliot yelled, only to gasp as the being turned towards him, his very mind assaulted by thousands, nay millions of voices, screaming as one.

"Quiet boy, the adults are speaking."

And yet, just as suddenly as the assault started, it stopped, leaving Elliot gasping. He looked up to see the Knight still standing between him and the shadowy figure.

"I told you," the Knight said. "You will not touch this one, servant of evil. I will not allow it."

“Allow? Allow? And who are you to disallow me anything?"

"We are one, this one and I," the Knight replied. "Together, we are justice! Together, we are vengeance! We are the Avatar of Albion!"

"Well... Little Avatar... you make for one of the very few humans that have managed to amuse me. Come then! Show me your might!"

And as the light and the dark clashed and David's sight failed him, a voice rang out into his mind.

Wake up David Elliot.

***

Elliot jumped backwards, pushing himself away from the thing... this thing that was definitelynot a Convie. It was like it, but different - something lived at the heart of it, an evil entirely unlike the Conversion he knew. He knew that now. Whatever that figure in the depths of this thing's mind had been… it was not anything he had encountered before. He didn't know what had happened, what had broken the connection, and he didn't think he wanted to know. He was just glad it had been broken. He coughed, ignoring the flecks of blood on his hand.

"What in God's name did you just do?!" he heard a voice ask in surprise, but he ignored it. The Convie - the Newfoal - sputtered for a moment, eyes wide and mouth frothing, before expiring.

Elliot looked around and suddenly realised that he was not alone - two men were aiming guns at him, backed up by at least three ponies, including the largest Earth Pony he had ever seen, a stallion nearly twice the size of the average mare. One of them, a man in advanced-looking armour, carrying a big gun, with a bushy beard and furious eyes, grinned mirthlessly as he aimed the gun right at Elliot's face.

"Elliot?" the bearded man asked, mystified. "The fok are you doing here?"

***

Author's Notes:

...Yup. Kraber's finally here.
If you'd seen my previous creative output, this would be really inevitable.