The pain was quite intense and hurt far more than Rarity had ever expected it would. She was hardly able to move as she walked down the corridors of the Watcher floors of the Unlaw Centre. It was not exactly a sharp pain if she moved carefully, but her whole body ached even at the slowest possible walking speed.

Since returning, she had removed her armor only to find herself covered in horrible bruises. Likewise, she found that she had broken two ribs, which was horribly painful in a different way. Since it was impossible to put a cast on ribs, Rarity had been bandaged tightly around her chest, and although that reduced the pain somewhat it also made it hard to breathe. Those bandages were now all she wore, as she did not expect to get shot at inside what would now have to be her new home.

Pain was not something that was terribly unfamiliar to Rarity, though. She had experienced and survived much worse back when she was still holding out hope that she would be able to have a job that did not require being shot at constantly. Some of that pain was far greater than any that she expected the other Watchers to be familiar with.

It was not the pain that bothered her that much at this moment, though. Instead, she tried to move as quickly as she could to find where Darknight was being kept. The layout of the facility was complicated, though, and once again she found herself getting more and more lost.

That was when she heard a set of light hoofsteps behind her, and turned to see Rainbow Dash approaching from behind. Like Rarity, she had forgone her normal armor and was instead completely nude.

“Rainbow!” cried Rarity, averting her eyes and covering her face with a hoof. “You’re naked!”

“We’re ponies,” said Rainbow Dash. “We’re naked most of the time. Or, what? Would you rather me wear a shirt? Or maybe some nice, tight panties? Would that make you more comfortable?”

“Don’t be vulgar! That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, I can’t help it if I’m so sexy,” said Rainbow Dash, twisting and lewdly extending her surprisingly muscular wings. Rarity found herself blushing slightly. Rainbow Dash quite clearly noticed, and smiled, showing her ugly sharpened teeth. “So,” she said. “I hear you got into a nice, messy fight.”

“No thanks to you,” said Rarity, turning her nose up and starting to walk away even though she had no idea where she was going. “If you had been there- -”

Rainbow Dash suddenly accelerated past Rarity, pushing her roughly against the wall and blocking her against it. “Then the fight would have been a lot shorter. But you’re supposed to be able to hold your own. Which I hear you did, kind of, even if you got Darkbutt blown up. I hear he’s going to lose two legs.”

“I was trying to find him,” said Rarity, feeling herself blanching at the thought. “He is here, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He is. But I highly doubt he wants to see you.”

“Well then he can tell me that. Let me just- -” She tried to push past Rainbow Dash, but Rainbow Dash pushed her up against the wall. Despite being smaller and younger than Rarity, Rainbow Dash was quite a bit stronger.

“He doesn’t want to see you. But I do. Pinkamena’s out right now, and I want a mare. So you’re going to come back to my room with me. I heard you already popped your murder-cherry, and that turns me on. So I’m going to help with the other one.”

“No thank you. I’m not interested!”

Rainbow Dash chuckled quietly. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice. But I like it when a filly resists.”

Rarity pushed Rainbow Dash back. “I don’t like what you are implying!” she said. “And to be completely frank the very idea of it disgusts me. I’m not that kind of filly. And if I was, I would much prefer Pinkamena over you.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes narrowed. “Great. Way to kill the mood. Don’t you DARE touch her. If you even mention laying a hoof on her again, I’ll cut off your legs and use you like a pillow. Got it? She’s a very delicate mare!”

“I was speaking hypothetically. And I will do what- -and who- -I want to. Which unfortunately precludes everypony here. I’m afraid I have the misfortune of having a number of RUDE coworkers. Now shoo! I’m trying to find Darknight so that I can apologize to him!”

“Did you seriously just try to shoo me?”

“Well, you deserved it.”

Rainbow Dash smiled. “You don’t even know where he is.”

“No, I don’t, but I will find him if I keep looking.”

“Yeah. In a month. Or…”

“Or what?”

Rainbow Dash moved close to Rarity once again, and Rarity felt a wing tip slide across her side. It made her shiver. It was very soft, but it was uncomfortable to be touched like that. “Or I can tell you. If you do something for me.”

“And what would that be, pray tell?”

“Do me.”

Rarity slapped Rainbow Dash’s face. Rainbow Dash looked at her, shocked, and then punched Rarity in the face hard. Rarity was nearly knocked down and reeled from the pain before spitting blood onto the floor. She thought she had felt a tooth come loose too, but if it had, she was pretty sure she had swallowed it.

“Not like that! I’d probably get swamp fever and who knows what else anyway. You’re a morphic, aren’t you? A shapeshifter? That’s what I meant! Do me!”

“Oh,” said Rarity, standing erect and realizing what Rainbow Dash had meant. “Fine. But only because I want to. Not because you told me to.”

Rarity took a deep breath and focused her magic into herself. Her coat immediately changed, shifting from white to pale blue. Her irises went next, which stung badly but was still easier than the final part of the change. That was the hair. Rendering even two colors was challenging, let alone five. It took a great deal of concentration and willpower, but eventually Rarity was able to shift both her mane’s length and color scheme to match that of Rainbow Dash.

“See?” she said at last. “I’m not a changeling, so it’s not perfect.” She looked up to her forehead, where a blue horn was still sticking from her forehead. Likewise, she had not been able to grow wings. Rainbow Dash, though, did not seem to notice. She was smiling widely and her eyes were enormous.

“O- -M- -D!” she cried. “You’re me! Or unicorn me! And I look AWESOME!”

“You look gaudy,” sighed Rarity, poking at her now much more unkempt and shorter hair. “Honestly, I cannot believe you go out in public with a mane like this.”

“I think it looks good,” said Rainbow Dash. Before Rarity could stop her, she leaned forward and stole a kiss. Rarity immediately pulled herself back.

“Wh- -why did you do that?”

“Because there’s no pony I love more than, well me. Except maybe Daring Do.” A new smiled crossed Rainbow Dash’s face. “Discord’s chocolate dipped nuts! Can you do a good Daring Do? I mean, I know she’s still be a unicorn, but- -”

“So you can ravish your childhood idol, I suppose?”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “I’m going to ravish you eventually, you know. So you might as well let me have some fun breaking you in.”

“We had a deal, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “I know, I know.” She pointed down the hallway that they had come down. “You passed it four doors ago. West side of the hallway. And my room is on the top floor. You’ll know it when you see it. Wear socks.”

Rarity shuddered as Rainbow Dash walked off, and then shifted her appearance back to default. It was difficult for her to tell if Rainbow Dash was being serious, but she knew from the news articles what Rainbow Dash had done to some of her victims. Rarity resolved to be careful around her, and wondered what Pinkamena found so appealing.

She then counted the doors as she went backward toward on her path until she reached the one that Rainbow Dash had pointed out. She turned the metal handle and opened it, entering a small alcove. After walking through it and entering the main room proper, she saw Darknight.

Rainbow Dash had not been lying about his condition. He sat in the center of the room connected to and surrounded by aggressive looking machinery that Rarity could not hope to fathom the purpose of. He was being attended by two ponies in technician uniforms: one white, and one light purple.

Seeing him, Rarity gasped, and Darknight turned toward her. Despite his injuries, he was fully conscious and aware. When he looked at Rarity, she saw that one of his eye sockets was no completely empty, and that the skin around it had been cut away and replaced.

“Rarity,” he said. “I am afraid I will be unable to help you with whatever it is you are doing. My repairs are currently not finished.”

“Repairs?” Rarity walked around to the far edge of him- -his right side- -and almost choked when she saw just how bad the damage was. The explosion had torn into his side, exposing ribs and ripping through flesh. His front right leg had already been removed, leaving nothing but a raw and gaping hole of what looked like raw meat where the sinews and nerves were already attached to small metal clips. The pink-colored technician was already working on his mangled rear leg, pulling it from his frame and carefully severing the remaining nerves and muscles. It was so badly ruined that it had to be amputated.

“Oh Discord,” whispered Rarity, covering her mouth and feeling herself on the verge of tears. “Your- -your legs! I- -I did this!”

“Somewhat, yes. To be more specific, it was the explosive. I was unable to produce a shield spell with an adequate diameter to cover both of us.”

“But- -you can’t walk, and your eye, and- -and what’s going to happen to you?!”

“I’m alive,” he said, turning his head to the machinery linked to his insides that indicated his vital signs. “So nothing different from what otherwise would have.”

“Redheart,” said the pink-colored technician, “I’ve almost finished the amputation.”

“Excellent,” said the white pony. She pushed past Rarity. “Stand back, please,” she ordered.

Rarity took a step back, and saw the white earth-pony approach a large case. She took it down from where it was standing and opened it. Rarity gawked at what was inside: a pair of pale blue limbs, their arteries and veins connected by tubes and to a circulation pump inside the case.

With practiced efficiency, the white mare took out a front leg and loaded it into a machine arm that was handing near her. She delicately connected the arteries and nerves, and then pushed the device close to the hole where Darknight’s front limb was supposed to go. When it was in place, the machine went to work as a number of tiny robotic arms and needles began to tease apart his flesh and the flesh of the new limb, slowly connecting it to his body.

“You mean you can get a new one? Just…just like that?” said Rarity, dumfounded.

“This is not the first time I have lost pieces of myself in service to the Madgod,” said Darknight. “Although it is the first time I have lost them for such a foolish reason. I am a noncan. A machine. If I break, spare parts are available to repair me. And if I die, I can be replaced with an identical model.” His eye suddenly narrowed as he glared at Rarity. “You are not. As a canon pony, you are unique and irreplaceably precious. If you are injured, you cannot be fixed so easily. If you die, the world loses something it cannot get back.”

“Don’t say that!” cried Rarity, suddenly. “Surely you can’t be serious?”

“I am. If you feel like a challenge, ask Sunset Shimmer. Her modifications were never intended as enhancements. They were replacements.”

“Not…” Rarity shivered at that revelation and the significance of it, but continued her thought, “not that! I mean you! Look!” She pointed at his side, where the pink nurse was removing the remnants of his leg. “You’re alive, just like any pony! Made of flesh and bones, just like me or the others! Darling, I don’t mean to be contrarian, but if you died, we WOULD lose something. You’re unique too.”

Darknight just continued to stare. “Then you are a fool,” he said at last.

“Excuse me?”

“I had suspected as much. Your town of origin is too poor to afford us. You were never exposed to our kind. You’ve been fooled by an illusion. A false face and the image of a personality. I am not real, Rarity. I’m not like you canon ponies are.”

“But ponies still care about you! You have friends, family- -”

“Rarity,” said Darknight, sounding increasingly exasperated. “I have no friends. I have coworkers who tolerate me. And I have no family. I was born in a tank less than three years ago.”

“Three years? But you told me you joined two years and- -”

“I was created solely for this purpose. I have served it since the moment I was shipped here. I am only unique in that I was more expensive than my non-custom counterparts. Nopony cares if I die, apart from the cost it incurs.”

“I care.”

“Then why did you seem actively intent on getting me killed?”

“It was an accident- -”

“No,” said Darknight, “you froze. You could have done seventy four separate actions to avoid the grenade. You could have picked it up and thrown it, or used Twilight’s shield as cover, or thrown Pinkie Pie on it. Instead you just stood there and forced me to save you.” He looked at his side. “It may not be apparent because I am a robot, but this hurts. Incredibly so. And it’s your fault.”

“I’m sorry.”

“An apology? I don’t need an apology. In fact, I don’t need anything of you. I expected you to have little combat experience. You’re from a farming village, and your talent is for dressmaking, not fighting. But I expected SOME level of competence.”

“I will do better next time- -”

“Or next time you could cost us something of value. Rainbow Dash, or Twilight, or even Sunset. I don’t want to see you die, Rarity, but I don’t mind if you do. I do mind if you endanger the lives of another canon pony. I am very disappointed in you, and if you make a mistake like that again? I will kill you myself. Because if you cause them to come to harm, you do not deserve to live.”

Rarity was now outright crying, but tried to do so as quietly as possible. Redheart, who had finished settint up the rear leg, approached Darknight with a small jar containing an assembly with a single large, turquoise-colored eyeball in it.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she said to Rarity. “Optic nerve reattachment is extremely delicate, and exorbitantly painful. It has been known to provide dangerously violent reactions in the subject undergoing repair.”

Rarity wiped her face, and was for the first time in her life glad that she was not wearing mascara. “Fine,” she said. She stomped off, and Redheart began the procedure.

What neither Rarity nor Darknight noticed, though, was that as Sweetheart- -the pink-colored nurse- -prepared the skin grafts for Darknight’s side, she stopped to take a note. Redheart looked to her as she set the eye into place and nodded. Both had noticed it. The Watcher unit was beginning to exhibit aberrant behavior.

Now thoroughly depressed, Rarity found herself wandering through the Watcher facility aimlessly. She would occasionally start crying, and she was now regretting her choice. Her only desire had always been to produce beautiful dresses, but she thought she could at least have some ability in this job as a Watcher. Now she knew that even that had been a pipedream.

She spent some time in this state before eventually noticing a door that had been left open. For some reason, she found this to be profoundly irritating.

“Of course,” she grumbled. “All these dreadfully empty walls, and of COURSE somepony leaves a door open. Because symmetry and neatness certainly wasn’t the ONLY thing this place has that was mildly appealing. What, where you all raised in a BARN?!”

She approached it, intent on slamming it shut. When she finally reached it, though, she saw that the room was not empty. There were two ponies inside. One was quite obviously Sunset, but the other Rarity did not recognize. She was a soft green colored Pegasus, and had long white hair that was tied back and perfectly ordered. Despite her stature and poise, it was apparent that the green Pegasus was very old.

Sunset was facing away from Rarity, but immediately sat up and pulled a tube free of her neck, which she then did her best to hide. “Rarity,” she said without turning around. “There you are. You can come in if you like. I have something I want your opinion on.”

“My opinion?”

Sunset turned. In the somewhat dim light, the pupil of her greenish eye was less of a line and more of an enormous black orb. “Yes,” she said. “Unless there is another Rarity?”

“Oh…no, I’m the only one.” Rarity stepped through the door.

“Don’t close it,” said Sunset, turning back to her work. “Whoever designed this place was a moron. I hate rooms without windows or breezes. It gets so cramped.”

“Well, I did notice that this facility leaves something to be desired. In terms of design only, I’m sure.”

“I’m more concerned with the occupants,” muttered Sunset. She looked down at the desk she was sitting at, and Rarity saw that it was covered in various papers written in highly articulate but highly obsolete hoofwriting. Or, in Sunset’s case, handwriting: she was holding her quill in an robotic hand that extended from one of her metal hooves.

There was also a hologram in front of her. Much of it was projecting in code that Rarity could not read, but a few things appeared technically legible even if they were impossible to understand out of context. Where this hologram was projected from was not clear, but as she got closer Rarity noticed that both Sunset and the green Pegasus had a set of thick metallic cables coming from ports on the back of their heads. These connected to a small device between them. In Sunset’s case, the port was just another part of her mostly robotic body, but in the other mare’s case she seemed to have an extensive implant installed beneath her long white mane.

The green mare turned toward Rarity and smiled. “Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” said Rarity. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“You wouldn’t have,” said Sunset, not looking up from her work. “Her name is Grassiehill. She’s a Grassie unit. It took me freaking forever to track one down…”

“A Grassie unit?” Rarity looked to the Pegasus. “You’re a noncan, then?”

“I am,” she said cheerfully. “I am part of the Legacy Systems division. I am a type of mobile processing unit, although my series is no longer in production. We have since been superseded by the Stonie series, who are far superior units in under all measured parameters.”

“Well, you certainly seem cheerful.”

“I do not mean to brag, but my series was lauded for its user interface.”

“Although your technical interface is crap,” said Sunset, scrolling through a hologram and turning a page on a notepad to an incomplete chart that she began to fill in.

“By a modern definition, yes,” said Grassiehill, “which is why I would politely recommend that you use a Stonie unit for this purpose. I know several who would be glad to assist.”

“No,” said Sunset. “No Stonies. There’s a reason I found you for this.”

“Why?” asked Rarity. “If the Stonies would be more helpful- -”

“They wouldn’t,” said Sunset. She twisted on her chair and pointed to the hologram and notes as if Rarity could read them. “Do you see this?”

“Yes, although I cannot say I can read it.”

“Of course. I read your records. You’re a middle-school dropout.”

“It is also possible that she does not read Middle-Equestrian,” suggested Grassiehill. “Please, allow me to translate.” She closed her eyes, and the hologram shifted. The parts of the text that Rarity had thought were code resolved into letters that she could actually read, and she found that they were actually official documents.

“Ugh,” said Sunset. “Modern lettering is just so…ugly. But I’m sure you can see now.”

“I can see you’re looking at something concerning RD Heavy Industries,” said Rarity, now somewhat intrigued. She looked up at the page and did her best to understand it. “Which would explain why you wouldn’t want to use a Stonie unit. You’re afraid they would compromise the evidence.”

Sunset smiled, if only slightly. “So you’re not as much of an idiot as everyone else says.”

“I didn’t drop out of middle school because I could not do the work,” said Rarity. “I had other reasons.”

Sunset shrugged. “Whatever. But you’re right. The only reason I’ve lived for four and a half centuries is because I trust no one. Ever, or at all. You have no idea how quick Stonies are, or how clever they can be. How easy it would be for them to change data, or wipe it, or relay it back to their manufacturer without a trace.”

“And Grassiehill cannot?”

“I am a product of Green Grove Productions,” said Grassiehill. “Now defunct, of course. I have no bias in this case.”

“She’s also a lot slower. Which means even if she did try something, I could burn out her brain before she even got a chance to touch a core file.”

“Which will not be necessary, of course.”

“It had better not be,” said Sunset, writing more on her page. She leaned back and stared up at the hologram again. Her body was strange; it bent differently than a pony body should have, and in her siting state it seemed lanker and more upright.

“Right,” she said. “So, Marshmallow, what do you see here?”

Rarity looked up at the data. “Can you scroll through.”

“Yes, I can.”

The hologram response, scrolling across various pages as Grassiehill moved it. Rarity watched intently, trying to understand any of it.

“Sorry,” she said after less than a minute. “I just don’t- -wait! Stop!” Grassiehill did. Rarity was looking up at a chart. It was incomplete, but she recognized at least what it was. She picked up one of Sunset’s notes in her magic. It was in Middle Equestrian, but it was a more complete form of the document that was represented above. “These are budget reports,” she said, turning to Sunset. “Where did you get these?”

“I have methods,” said Sunset. “Everything is recorded somewhere if you know where to look. Libraries, crystal servers, public databases. It’s all there. Plus, I may have hacked some of the systems around RD while I was walking the perimeter.”

“Hacking? Is that even legal?”

“We’re Watchers. We enforce Unlaw in its purest state. So no, and yes.” She shrugged again. “But that’s philosophy. Besides, there wasn’t much else to scan. The whole place was purged. Completely degaussed. As if they didn’t want us to get a signature.”

“So you looked deeper.”

“Call it a hunch. And boy did it pay off.” She pointed at the budget reports. “This is the required tax information. Notice anything strange?”

“If these squareish things are numbers?” Rarity looked at the paper and frowned. “Then it indicates that the budget isn’t properly balanced.”

“No. It’s balanced. The problem is that there is none.”

“None? Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean that there is no listed source of income. RD Heavy Industries has no profits, no funding. These records go back one hundred and seven years on every prime number. It’s all the same.”

“Then is it a front?”

“A front that makes actual products? All those Stonies on the main floor aren’t paper dolls. Each one costs over fifty million bits to make.”

“Then where is the money coming from.”

“I dug even deeper,” said Sunset, shifting through her notes and taking out a large and dusty binder. “My first thought was- -”

“Investors.”

“Exactly. Don’t interrupt me, though.” She paused. “You would have done well in business, wouldn’t you have?”

“Had I been given the chance, I would like to think that I would have.”

“But anyway, yes. I checked the investors. And guess what? There aren’t any.”

“What? But that’s impossible.”

“It should be. Unless the company isn’t publicly traded.”

“A privately owned research company?”

“I know, right. And all the records I could get my hooves on suggest it is, and that it has been for one thousand years. Possibly longer, but the records from before that time were destroyed in the Final War.”

“That is certainly a long time,” said Rarity, somewhat surprised. “Really, though, I can’t help but admire it. Business acumen must run in their blood.”

“And that’s where it gets really freaky.” Sunset pulled out a photograph from the stack of notes. Based on the strange miscolorations, Rarity could tell that it was a magically-taken photograph. It was of Xyuka, and she seemed to be staring directly at whoever was taking the photograph. To Rarity’s surprise, she saw herself standing in the periphery. That must have meant that Darknight had been the one who had engaged the spell earlier that day.

“That’s Xyuka,” said Rarity, picking up the picture. “She was a bit harsh, and had very strange pseudo-postmodern practical sense of clothing. But no more than I would expect from a pony of her stature.”

“That’s the thing!” cried Sunset, leaning forward suddenly and striking her hooves against the table so hard that both Grassiehill and Rarity jumped. “I can’t find records anywhere of who she is!”

Rarity blinked. “Her family has owned a leading corporation for a millennia, dearie. There has to be something.”

“There isn’t. I can’t find records of her at all. From what I can tell, nopony has ever met her.”

“What about her employees?”

“What employees?” Sunset pointed up to the hologram. “There aren’t any. Look! No employment records. There isn’t even a passenger system to that island. Nopony goes in or out.”

“Well she can’t be doing the work alone.” Rarity paused. “It’s probably the noncans. She must have her own army of workers.”

“That makes sense,” said Sunset. “But it’s scary in its own right. And bizarre.”

“Bizarre?”

“Noncans can’t think. Not independently. Is the reason why Darknight isn’t here helping me. Apart from the fact that you nearly got him killed.”

“Thank you for reminding me…”

“They don’t have insight, creativity, souls. They can do complicated tasks, but they can’t self-direct. They’re just machines, after all. Unless they’ve built a noncan who CAN do that.” Sunset suddenly shook her head. “But then we’re speculating. But you’re a social butterfly. Xyuka should be a multibillionaire. And yet nopony has ever seen her?”

“It’s not that unfathomable,” said Rarity, putting down the picture. It actually creeped her out- -it felt like Xyuka was watching her, and somehow listening. “She could just be reclusive. She seemed to me that she might tend to the eccentric side. The sort of type who favors her own work over social interaction, as obtuse as that sounds.”

“Like Twilight. Except hopefully less deranged.” Sunset put her hoof in her open hand and thought for a moment. “But that still doesn’t explain her family.”

“Her family? But you said you found no records on her.”

“No, I didn’t, but I found other records. And I have my personal experience.” Her eyes met Raritry’s. The electronic blue one shifted and narrowed slightly. “I’ve been alive for a long time,” she said, “and I’ve been in the political game my whole life, up until Discord ended that for me. I’ve met politicians, socialites, moguls, princes, you name it.” She reached out and tapped at her notes. “I never met her family.”

“You wouldn’t, if they are all as reclusive as she seems to be.” Rarity sighed. “She’s from an old and very wealthy family. Some of them have strange ways and traditions.”

“And they’re probably filthy enough to have inbred themselves as hard as buck. Degenerates.”

Hearing that, Rarity clenched her teeth, but held her tongue.

“And I could understand that,” said Sunset. “If this was some obscure, backward company. I checked my own files.” She looked at Rarity. “They were one of my chief suppliers.”

Rarity was confused. “You mean weapons. They supplied you with weapons?”

“No. If it was common weapons, I would have noticed immediately. As a general, all procurement came through me. No, this was technical stuff. Pieces of equipment used to manufacture specialized parts for weapons, high-doped laser crystals, vector producers for mutation arrays, that sort of thing. And a few secret items.”

“Like what?”

Sunset looked to Grassiehill, and then, seeming to deem her trustworthy, reached to a small box on the far side of the desk. She opened the lid. Inside, it was lined with cotton and contained a badly burned and melted and charred piece of thick red-orange material.

“This was from a suit of armor I wore three hundred and seventy years ago,” she said. “I survived things in that armor that no pony should have been able to. I thought it was just enchanted, and I didn’t ask where it came from…but…”

“It’s not.”

Sunset shook her head. She turned to Grassiehill.

“A summary of the analysis indicates that it is nanoordered, self-restructuring material,” said Grassiehill. “The primary basis is precision nanotech constructed superperiotic polymer, overlayed with internal pentocircuitry designed to utilize natural magical background radiation for power.”

“That sounds expensive,” said Rarity. She sighed. “If only they could have invested more in its color…”

“I happen to like orange,” said Sunset. “But the color doesn’t matter! What matters is, this is EXTREMELY illegal.”

“Then you were wearing illegal armor, and you never thought to ask.”

“No. You’re not understanding. It’s illegal now, but it wasn’t then. Because it wasn’t even INVENTED until seventy years ago. Only four grams of it were ever made before the scientists in charge were executed. Discord keeps the only known sample in a pale in his washroom. And trust me, I’ve seen it.” She pointed at the fragment. “And this? It makes that stuff look like a crappy joke.”

Rarity looked at the rather unassuming piece of armor, and then turned to Sunset. “And you didn’t ever think to ask where it came from?”

“I never had a reason too. And I was busy at the time. You know, fighting wars, slaughtering the enemy’s children? But in retrospect? That company has been with us since the start. Since possibly before Discord. And they are up to something.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Not necessarily?! Were you paying attention at all- -”

“The corporate world can be a very convoluted place. Combining it with the proclivities of ancient nobility only makes the situation more tiring. True, it certainly does seem very strange, but is this really something we should get involved with?”

Sunset paused for a long time, and Rarity knew that she had made a good point. “That’s the problem with being a Watcher,” she said at last. “There’s a reason why Darknight is so good at this job. Because he only follows orders. That’s all we’re supposed to do. But it’s so damn tempting…”

“Perhaps if we submit a report to Discord?”

“He sends it to his Priestesses. Half of them are so addled they can’t read. The other half tore out their own eyes for the fun of it.”

“The Queen, then? She seemed terribly concerned.”

“She did,” said Sunset, darkly.

“Why don’t we think about it?” suggested Rarity. “You can take more time to gather information. If we find anything, I can go in and see what I can find.”

“Like Xyuka will ever let you in.”

Rarity smiled, and shifted her body. She became slightly taller and younger, and her white coat became gray as her mane became short and dark. In seconds, she had almost exactly copied a Stonie unit.

“Impressive!” cried Grassiehill, clapping.

“If Stonies had horns, sure,” said Sunset, rolling her eyes.

“Perhaps if I wore a hat?”

“No,” said Sunset. “Don’t try unless you want to be ground up an FED to a Stonie. But you’re right. I’ll wait and see if I can get enough to submit this to the Centre. If they think she’s actually making Order-based armor, they’ll raider harder than Rainbow Dash raid Pinkamena’s panty drawer.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“But they’re not even the same size…”

“But until then, we need to be very careful.”

“Careful? Why?”

Sunset turned to Rarity. “Do you think it was a coincidence that right after we investigated her you got attacked by some strange cult that nopony’s ever heard of? While our two most lethal members were not with you?”

“You think the two are related.”

“I don’t know enough to think either way. But nobody is stupid enough to attack the Watchers. Normally. Somepony is getting desperate.” She looked back at her notes. “I can’t help but feel that something big is starting to move…”

Rarity looked one more time at the hologram and notes, and then suddenly let out a long yawn.

“Oh! Excuse me!” she exclaimed as she covered her mouth. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’re tired,” said Sunset. “You’ve been though a lot. You should get some rest. Even Watchers need to sleep. Except Pinkie Pie.”

“I’ll do that, if you don’t need any more help here.”

“I’m about to go too,” she said. “You’ve helped me enough for now.”

“Alright.” Rarity started toward the door, but then stopped. “Sunset?”

“What?”

“Before I go, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“You need to try to find your room on your own. If I show you, you’ll never get the layout of this place.”

“Not that. It’s just that…I was talking with Darknight.”

“You’re wasting your time. He’s not interested. Trust me.”

“Again,” said Rarity, slowly, “not that.”

“Then what?”

“He mentioned that your body…that those aren’t enhancements.”

Sunset slowly revolved in her chair. Her robotic eye narrowed, and she turned to Grassiehill.

“Grassie,” she said, “could you switch to privacy mode?”

“Of course, General Shimmer.” Grassiehill stretched slightly, and then sat down on the floor. She curled sideways and apparently went to sleep. The hologram dimmed, and an icon appeared next to it.

“Right,” said Sunset. “I’ll have to talk to him. Because that’s very personal stuff. He shouldn’t have told you.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it- -”

“Then I wouldn’t have put Grassiehill into standby. Let me guess. You’re worried that you’ll end up like me?”

“He said that if I get injured, the only way to heal me is to…to replace things. He said that’s what happened to you.”

“It’s not untrue,” said Sunset, slowly. She lifted her robotic hand and retracted it, producing an armor plated hoof again. “Every part of my body is something that has been replaced.”

“From the war?”

Sunset laughed. “The war? What do you think I am, some naïve armature? No. I left the war without a scratch on me. Four hundred years of combat, and I came out alive and unscathed.”

“But your body…”

“This wasn’t the war. This wasn’t injury. Not in that sense. I could have retired. A decorated general, a war hero, if there even is such a thing. I could have led a normal, happy life. Basked in by glory or stayed quiet. But no. I wanted MORE.”

“What more is there?”

Sunset looked at Rarity for a long moment. “I wish I knew what you knew fifty years ago. But I didn’t. I wanted power. More of it. All of it. I turned to Discord for it. I became his student.”

“You mentioned that before.” Rarity suddenly gasped. “And- -no! He didn’t- -”

“No. He didn’t. I did. I tore apart my body with mutation, and every limb I lost I replaced myself. His training cost me dearly, but I kept cutting. I could have healed from some of those injuries, but I never bothered. I did this to myself. If he told me to cut or stab or burn, I would. Because I loved him, and I loved his power. Until one day…”

“Until what?”

Sunset looked down at the floor. She pointed to her forehead, where there was a circular scar. “He ordered me to tear out my own horn.”

Rarity felt faint. “You- -you didn’t- -”

“I did. I had gone to him to make myself a god…and ended up taking away my own magic. And do you know what he did? He turned and laughed at me. At what was left of me. He thought it was hilarious. It had been a joke the whole time.”

“A joke? That’s not a joke! That’s not funny!”

Sunset smiled, but it was a sad smile. “But it is! Because he gave me exactly what I wanted. This body can kill more ponies than my entire legion could before. I built it because of him. For him.” She sighed. “But it turns out it was all pointless. I lost everything. My magic, my self, everything. What I would give to be able to taste a hayburger again. To be able to feel the touch of a stallion. To be a pony…” She looked at Rarity. “All the power I ever wanted. But there was nothing at the end of that tunnel. And he knew. He knew the whole time. I was always a joke to him. He used my body for his pleasure, and then threw me away. My role as a Watcher is a consolation prize.”

“That’s terrible…”

Sunset slowly turned back to her work. “Maybe the reason I’m so interested in Xyuka is because I’m like her. Neither of us ever had any real friends. Don’t end up like me, Rarity. If you fall, stay down. Die a pony. Keep your dignity.” She paused for a moment. “…and sleep well. Goodnight.” arcin