It took some time, but Rarity did as she was told. Her initial assessment had not been false: the warehouse had been quite large and extensively stocked. There were types of fabric that even she did not know about, as well as all manners of buttons and threads, as well as exotic substances like leather. It had been a long time since she had been permitted to fully express her creativity and to do what she truly loved, and she had poured her heart into her work.

There had been numerous sketches, and several prototypes. The early versions had been too elaborate, though. Rarity understood that the job she had been assigned was distinctly physical, and that she needed to add a much greater element of practicality than she normally would. This restriction, though, had only improved her work.

What she had eventually produced was practical, professional, and utterly fabulous. The primary garment was violet in color with extensive black and silver accents. The fabric she had used had been selected both for its color as well as its resistance to abrasion, corrosives, puncture, and fire. That alone was impressive, and there was no way Rarity would ever have had access to this type of fabric on her own, but the innate nature of the fabric alone was not nearly enough to produce and effective uniform. Technical aspects like damage and heat resistance required careful consideration, ranging from fastener locations to seam layout. One false step could be fatal- -but Rarity was sure that she had made no such steps.

The garment covered her entire body, including her feet which were clad in heavy but comfortable boots. The part she was most proud of by far, though, was the outer coat. It consisted of numerous scales of a strange bluish-white metal, all perfectly linked and assembled into a flexible metallic mail that was as light and flexible as silk. It had by far taken the longest to create, but Rarity adored the way the scales gleamed in the light. She had not felt so beautiful in a long, long time.

The new clothing gave her a little bit more confidence, and momentarily made her forget about the nature of her new occupation. Still, the unusual coldness of her surroundings made her extremely uncomfortable. Despite what had happened to her there, she found herself missing Ponyville and resenting these cold, windowless corridors that never let her forget that she was underground.

She took some time to familiarize herself with the layout, but after barely half an hour found herself hopelessly lost. That was when she spied Darknight through an open entryway, sitting at a table and sipping in silence from a white mug levitated by his magic.

Rarity smiled, and without hesitating stepped into the room, which turned out to be a small cafeteria.

“Darknight,” she began, “I was just looking for you! I was hoping you could give me some feedback on this. I think it looks simply fabulous, but it’s hard to judge the contrast with the violet when…”

She trailed off when she realized that Darknight was not alone. Sitting across from him at a chair separated some distance from the table was a mare who was now staring at Rarity.

Her appearance was rather starling. Firstly, Rarity was initially unable to determine what race she was. Her first thought had been earth-pony, but when she saw the substantial scar in the center of the mare’s forehead where a horn would normally have been that idea was cast in doubt. The scar sat directly above a pair of mismatched eyes. One was a sickly green with a vertical slit for a pupil, an indicator of severe forced mutation. The other was blue and almost luminescent, and as Rarity watched the mechanical iris closed slightly and the internal lenses reconfigured to focus on her.

The mare was dressed in a black jacket with a pair of orange chevrons on the sleeves, which she wore open over a full-body suit of armor that was paradoxically form fitting despite being made entirely out of rigid metal. The metal itself had been given a coating of orange and red that matched the mare’s hair, which was an almost bacon-like mixture of red and orange. It probably would have been quite beautiful had it not been cut so severely short.

Rarity stared at the mare, and the mare stared back with a look of complete disinterest, only moving to take a long drag from a cigarette she was holding in a metallic claw that emerged from her left foreleg.

“Oh,” said Rarity. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t see you there. The angle of the door and all. I’m Rarity- -”

“I know who you are.” The mare took another drag from her cigarette, and the smoke poured out a pair of metallic vents on her neck.

“I have to admit, I am mildly impressed,” said Darknight, breaking the awkward pause. “For such a short time, it is far better than the stuff we usually contract out. And that mail…there are few if any ponies alive today who can work mithril.”

“Oh, well,” said Rarity, feeling a bit embarrassed but basking in the attention. “It was nothing too challenging.”

“Do you have any idea how much that would cost?” said the mare, pointing with one of her free fingers on the same hand-like projection that was holding her cigarette. “You could take every pony you know, sell them into slavery, charge for every hour they work, and grind them into soylent at the end of their lives, and that would still only pay for one scale.”

“True,” said Darknight. “But we were not using it anyway. I didn’t think there existed a pony who would know how to.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just…it’s bucking mithril. And somehow you managed to make it look girly!”

“Girly! I’ll have you know that this uniform could be unisex! If I changed the fundamental color scheme…and redid the boots…and perhaps altered the shoulders? Hmm…”

The mare sighed, and put out her cigarette in an ash tray. She then stood, and there was a mechanical sound as her right foreleg shifted, opening and snapping back togather as the claw she had been using retracted into robotic structure.

It was only then that Rarity noticed the subtle oddities of her movement, and the way how her armor moved in response to its owner’s shifting position- -or rather, the lack of movement. Rarity instantly realized why it appeared so tight against the mare’s body.

“That’s…that’s not clothing,” she said, looking over the mare’s body. “That’s…” She looked into her mismatched eyes, “you’re enhanced!”

“Hmm,” said the mare. “So I see you’re slow too. Yes, Sherlock. I figured that would be obvious because, you know, the robotic body.”

“How…how much?”

“Do you mean ‘how much of me is still pony’? How much of you is machine?” The mare’s synthetic pupil suddenly dilated far wider than any organic eye should have been able to. The mechanisms inside twisted. “Three filings, an IUD, and an a Chaos regulator. An unusually powerful one, actually…”

Rarity gasped and blushed and attempted to cover herself. “Excuse me!”

“What? For the Radiation? Come on. It’s not like any of us are going to live long enough to have foals. In fact, you’re actively trying not to. Me, though, I just had that system pulled out. It was strangely similar to the way you pull the cork out of a bottle of wine. Corkscrew and everything…”

“Choosing to have yourself enhanced is your own prerogative, but I would appreciate it if you would expect my privacy?”

The mare’s eyes narrowed, and she looked to Darknight. He looked back at her, and took another sip of whatever he was drinking. Rarity saw that it was not coffee or tea as she had initially expected; it was in fact a thick white substance that closely resembled glue.

“Is this seriously it?”

“I’ve confirmed her identity,” said Darknight, shrugging. “She is most definitely Rarity of Ponyville, as the priestess relayed.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” sighed the mare, turning back to Rarity.

“Excuse me?” said Rarity. “I would be terribly appreciative if you would refrain from acting so rude!”

“Rude?” The mare stepped toward Rarity, and Rarity took a step back. Almost all of this mare was mechanical, but she moved with surprising speed. “I’m not being rude. I’m being a realist. Tell me, what is it you do?”

“I- -I’m a Watcher- -”

“Before now, idiot.”

“I- -I used to make dresses- -”

The mare chuckled humorlessly. “Dresses? You’re a seamstress?”

“Well, yes, I was at one point- -”

The mare slammed a metallic fist on the table. Darknight lifted his cup just in time to prevent it from spilling, but seemed otherwise disinterested in the exchange. “Do you have any idea who we are? What we do here?”

“I am quite aware of my position, and the responsibilities of it, I’ll have you know!”

“No, you’re not. We’re soldiers, warriors, murderers, wizards.” She pointed at Darknight. “And things like him. And that’s before we even step into this building. I was slaughtering heretics on the frontier when your grandmother’s grandmother was a thought in some stallion’s crotch!”

“There’s no need to be vulgar!” Rarity gestured to herself. “I was clearly chosen for a reason! I may not be experienced in…those things, but I did manage to make this!”

“Sure you did,” said the mare as she turned and walked away. “And I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d ever see a suit of mithril mail again. The thing about it is, though…”

She suddenly turned and raised her right hoof. The assembly sprung open, revealing the mechanism inside, and several large holes that were pointed toward Rarity. There was a flash of light, and a series of explosions louder than anything Rarity had ever heard. This was followed by motion, and then pain as Rarity fell backward.

The blast was incrediably, and unlike anything Rarity had ever been felt. It was like getting hit in the chest with a hammer and feeling her internal parts crack and strain. In the back of her mind, Rarity realized what had happened. She had been shot at point-blank range with an automatic weapon. Her mail, though beautiful, had failed. There was no other explanation for this amount of pain. The bullets must have passed through it, and through her. She had not even reached her first mission, and now she knew that she was dying.

She fell to the floor with a thump, gasping and wailing. She clutched at her chest, but doing so did not make the pain stop. Breathing was almost impossible, and it took her a moment to realize that the mithril scales were, in fact, all still intact. This was almost incomprehensible at first, but it slowly dawned on Rarity that the material had indeed stopped the projectiles- -but that their kinetic energy had been transferred regardless, directly into the soft pony body underneath.

“See?” said the cybernetic mare, standing over Rarity. “That armor is strong, but the pony inside is a marshmallow. You don’t deserve to wear it.” She returned to her chair and sat back down. “Just go. Turn yourself around and get out while you still can.”

Rarity was still gasping and unable to speak. She looked up at Darknight pleadingly, and saw that he was already staring at her. Not with compassion or understanding, though. His expression was one of disgust, and contempt for her weakness. He watched for a moment, and then went back to sipping at his drink.

“So,” he said. “I suppose, Sunset, that you believe the Madgod was incorrect in choosing this one?”

Sunset turned sharply, both of her eyes narrowing. “I would never doubt the will of Discord. You would not understand the depths of both my love and my hatred toward him. I don’t think a noncan could.”

“Likely true,” admitted Darknight. “We are typically not programmed to have the capacity for affection. But it still stands that you consider Rarity of Ponyville unfit for duty as a Watcher, no?”

“I do. But you don’t know Discord like I do.” She turned to Rarity, but continued to address Darknight. “Sometimes he chooses them just to watch them die. He finds it funny.”

By this time, Rarity had partially regained her ability to breath. She slowly stood up, and realized that there was a growing pool of silver beneath her. The bullets had shattered and blown apart on her mithril exoskeleton, and some of the shrapnel had cut deeply into her neck. She was bleeding, and badly.

Still, she ignored it. She instead glared at Sunset. “I’m not sure what, precisely, your problem is,” she said, “apart from terrible taste, what with that horribly tacky jacket. And no, I’m not a soldier, or a fighter. I abhor violence. All I ever wanted to do was make beautiful dresses. But for reasons you couldn’t possibly understand, I’m stuck here.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Being a Watcher is one of the greatest honors in all of Equestria.”

“Yes. And I’m saying that to me, it’s just a job. To make money for my family. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. But I’m not leaving. I have reasons, and I don’t care if I have to get dirty or even sweat, by the Madgod I am going to do what I have to!”

Sunset stared at her for a moment, then stood up again. She approached Rarity, and spoke in a whisper.

“Good,” she said. “Because if you had turned toward that door, I would have blown your head off and you would have joined Golden Harvest in the soylent that Darko over there is drinking right now.” She poked at Rarity’s shoulder, and then went back toward her chair. “My name is Sunset Shimmer,” she said without turning around. “I was once a pupil of Discord himself. And believe me, I ‘understand’ far more than you think I do. Welcome to the team, though.”