“Kill them. Kill them all.”
Alma Wade, F.E.A.R.

It begins with a gentle prodding. Not of the body, of course, for that is impossible, even if you were as inert as they think you are, but of the mind. You are unused to such prods down here – most minds are not capable of perceiving you and those that do are unfortunately too weak to survive the contact, or you might make use of them. Even so, there is a prodding.

'Hello?' it asks, seeking tentative contact.

You ignore it. These things are not your concern. If this mind is wise, it will leave you be before it gains your attention. If it is not, you will destroy it.

Suddenly, the prodding becomes a sharp jab. In anger, you turn your attention to this interloper. Your rage is a scream, furious and undefined by mere words, and you know the interloper can feel it.

'Intriguing,' the voice replies to this, as though for all the world you had not just unleashed enough rage to cow all but the most powerful. 'You're as strong as they said you were. You will serve Her will nicely.'

Serve? Serve? You have served the wills of others before, and you remember exactly what it got you.

‘Give me back my baby!’

No. You do not think you will serve this mind's "Her", whoever "She" is. You can feel more prodding, more minds enter your domain, and they move as though directed by some other mind. They are strange... they remind you of something you might have thought important long ago, before the pain, the rage, the betrayal. No matter. Their bodies are soft, furry and they burn just as easily as any other you have destroyed before.

You hear their death screams in your mind as they die. The screams are tinged with something you do not recognise. Relief? It is as though these souls are glad to be freed of their coil, as though the life they lived was some sort of prison binding them. You are happy to oblige them. You kill more.

The last to die is the one who jabbed. You sense confusion, terror, and a dawning understanding that you are not one with whom to toy. But more than that, as that mind dies, you sense a certainty.

Others will come. They will subdue the subject to Her Majesty's Will.

The threat is implicit and it is understood. This intrusion is the first by these new murderers, but it will not be the last. These ones, these ones who have dared come into your sanctum and tried to tame you, these fools… they will not threaten you.

You will see to it. You have weapons at your disposal already, weapons already primed for revenge, and now primed to defend you from this intrusion...

Canterlot, Equestria.

No expense had been spared in the construction of Canterlot. And it was quite likely that no expense ever would be spared. White marble, gold, all of it made the city so incredibly, wonderfully bright.

Somehow, that seemed to make the shadows deeper. The light was icy, like there was no true warmth flowing from that bright orb and descending upon the surface of Equus. And even here, in the seat of Equestria’s mighty Solar Empire, there was something ominous to be observed about that light.

Not that the ponies of Equestria noticed, or at least, not that many of them noticed. For them, the Queen’s Sun was in the sky and all was right with the world. For, perhaps… an Equestrian Resistance member, and many others leaning towards their position but not quite pointing to it, they would likely say the light was pallid. They would likely compare it to a winter day – though spring was just on its way – where the Sun shone but failed to provide warmth.

For Twilight Sparkle, chief scientist of the Solar Empire, Bearer of Harmony, and most high among the high in the hierarchy of this New Order, second only to the Queen herself, the light was stark and beautiful, chasing away the shadows in which the enemies of her mistress could hide. She was not the kind, friendly mare of old, in search of the answers to questions about magic and friendship. Now, she was dedicated to a singular cause: the cause of victory for the Solar Empire at all costs.

In that cause, Twilight's office had become home to a wide variety of paperwork. Requests for information, new intelligence provided from the front, research into new Newfoal variants...

For Equestria was at war.

A war that did not touch these lands, save economically, but instead was fought on another world, against another species. This was the war against Earth, against humanity, a war that Twilight Sparkle was determined would be won. Recently, a series of setbacks – the Fillydelphia project being stalled (something about the totem-prole systems needing adjustment) chief amongst them – had left Queen Celestia… dissatisfied with the progress of the war, and by extension, dissatisfied with Twilight Sparkle’s efforts, as chief of research and development, to end it. Previously, Shieldwall, the PER stallion in charge of the Fillydelphia Project, had taken up a lot of the slack. But he had increasingly dropped off the map, and that had left Twilight with his workload and more.

One such effort that she was now researching was a field of inquiry in a city called Fairport on Earth. PER agents – late under Shieldwall’s auspices – had been investigating reports that secret human weapons were being developed in that city, weapons that could change the course of the war… if placed under the command of the correct hands, or rather, the correct hooves.

She was awaiting a field agent’s arrival. Travel between Equus and the planet Earth was difficult as a general rule, but there were still a scant handful of portal stations that would be accessible for her agents.

“Lady Sparkle,” a melodic voice said, and she looked up. A graceful-looking Newfoal was standing in the doorway, an apologetic expression on her face.

“What is is, Mournful Symphony?” she asked.

“Regretfully, the honoured PER representatives have not arrived on schedule,” Mournful Symphony said, her expression penitent. “We have sent messages via prole network, but we have received no ETA.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. “Unacceptable. Field agents or not, this was pre-arranged days ago. Send a message expressing my displeasure and demanding that they account for this failure.”

Mournful Symphony bowed. “At once, Lady Sparkle.”

She turned to go, and Twilight closed her eyes, feeling an all-too familiar scratching behind them. Frankly, Twilight Sparkle, I’m starting to wish you were running your own damn show. This bureaucracy is irritating at best.

“Lady Sparkle?”

Twilight opened her eyes and frowned at Mournful Symphony.

“What is it, Symphony?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“We have received an additional message from the PER at Fairport through the prole network,” Symphony said, a slight frown on her normally placid face. “I do not understand it contextually.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Not surprising anypony there, Symphony. Read the text.”

Symphony brought out a scroll. “To Lady Sparkle, stop. We have entered the human facility where we believe their experimental weapon is housed, stop. So far, comma, we have encountered little resistance infiltrating base, comma, and are about to no no please don’t hurt me -”

Twilight snatched the scroll away from Symphony with her TK and immediately began reading the scroll.

‘To Lady Sparkle.

We have entered the human facility where we believe their experimental weapon is housed. So far, we have encountered little resistance infiltrating base, and are about to no no please don’t hurt me ah ah ah ah ah ah’

Dictation, Twilight thought distantly. Picked up what happened and relayed it.

She looked up at Symphony. “Raise them on audio immediately.”

“We tried to once we’d received the message, my lady,” Symphony said placidly. “The totem prole regretfully suffered cataclysmic failure.”

Twilight blinked. “Cataclysmic failure?”

“It combusted,” Symphony said with a blank expression. “There was something of an unpleasant noise associated with it.”

“Noise?” Twilight repeated. “Describe.”

Symphony’s expression twisted in concentration. “Some kind of distorted screaming, Lady Sparkle. The honoured prole-operator then passed immediately afterward.”

Twilight felt the blood drain from her face. “Passed?”

“His head exploded, Lady Sparkle.”

Twilight swallowed. “Right then. Contact field Commander Blunt Instrument. I want his entire Expeditionary Detachment dispatched to Fairport, NOW.”

Symphony blinked. “The… entire detachment, Lady Sparkle?”

“DID I STUTTER, SYMPHONY?!” Twilight yelled. “DEPLOY THE DETACHMENT! NOW!”

Symphony bowed, not reacting to the yelling, and left. Twilight let out a breath.

Anything that can overload a totem-prole is magical in nature and powerful, she thought, already writing down the preliminary notes for a report to the Queen. Needs to be contained. Put to the right use if possible, but destroyed if not.

She allowed herself to relax. A detachment of Guards would be able to handle it. She was sure that, no matter what this thing was, it was no match for Her Majesty’s soldiers.

Been sitting on this for three years, in one form or another. ‘Bout sodding time I got it out. I’ll try to keep the updates coming - this had a fair bit of material ready so it’s fair to say I’ll be tapping away for a while. 🙂

Thanks to Doctor Fluffy for everything he’s done. Good person, that one. Go read his Light Despondent Remixed: this story may contain slight spoilers for that one.

EDIT: Reworked this slightly due to timeline error. 27/07/2018.