Homeostasis in Social Systems
Dan's Comments
DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc., Harry Dresden is the property of Jim Butcher, Carl Kolchak is the property of ABC/Universal Television, Ranma Saotome is the property of Rumiko Takahashi, Sailor Jupiter is the property of Naoko Takeuchi.

Cadence and Shining Armor were side-by-side, facing in opposite directions as the dark figures closed in. One would get a glimpse and fire, but the shadow would duck out of sight into the mass before they could focus it down.

"I can't figure out if they look like Discord or Nightmare Moon," Shining said as he tried to watch the two quadrants to his front, while trusting Cadence to watch the remaining two.

"Celestia has let me see some information on the Crystal Empire," she admitted, "There's a villain named King Sombra. When we get out of here, and Twilight isn't around, I'll tell you about him."

"It's a date," he said, "Sounds like a real horror film." He smiled at her laugh and hip bump on his shoulder.

The figure that appeared would have been a worse nightmare than what had surrounded them, except Armor knew he was on their side. Ranma was carrying a device that looked like it had come from one of Twilight's maddest fever dreams: a huge backpack attached by a rectangular metal `hose` to a large can with a stovepipe at the end. It was already making a loud whining sound, then it transitioned into the true nightmare. Twilight had once speculated about a million monkeys with a million typewriters in a room duplicating the complete literature of Equestria. The machine Ranma swung around like a fire-hose sounded like that monkey room. The narrow finger of white flame swept over the darkness and figures both close and far exploded into burst of rainbow light.

Ranma walked crabwise around the perimeter hosing the darkness away leaving an Equestrian plain with grass and trees in the distance. Once he'd completed his circuit, he adjusted the machine so it first stopped with the flame/million typewriter noise, then the whine went away.

The stovepipe changed into three smaller tubes and a framework holding them together. Ranma took off the glasses and earplugs Shining hadn't seen he'd been wearing and said something to the two ponies. The only thing reassuring about the scenes was Ranma was very careful not to point the business end of the weapon at either pony, even as Cadence approached.

"It smells like spent fireworks," she said. While Ranma never pointed it at her, he did keep the weapon between himself and Cadence.

"He's more afraid of you than he is of those monsters," Shining said, a tactical observation rather than a `boyfriend` one.

Cadence turned to frown at him, Ranma took the opportunity to run for the hills. Cadence turned to see the Sonic Rainboom the figure made on his retreat. Cadence sighed. "I get the feeling that while they are here to help us, they'll never accept our friendship."

"Considering how they were greeted on entry, I can't blame them for being wary," Armor said, "We can kill them at any time, and they have little defense."

Cadence whirled to face him. "We'd never do that!"

Armor switched to superior officer lecturing junior officer mode. "It was already done, and you then compounded the error. We've given them no reason to trust us. Accept they will fight our enemies, preserve the ones we love, and go on from there. Demanding they accept our friendship after we breached their trust in the first hour they were here, makes us no better than these elves."

"I don't have to like it," Cadence said.

"I never said you did," Armor said, "But if you don't accept their boundaries, you may move us into the 'enemies' category."

Cadence looked at the cleared field, devoid of any trace of the nightmare than had haunted them for hours, swept away in moments. "I'll remember that."
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There were 30 of them now, and aside from the four who'd headed out to speak with Zecora, they were all quietly terrified. The boasts by various fucktards on the Reddits and other forums that they had a chance to go to Equestria had been dismissed as trolling or general asshattery. A few had them posted theories about how it would be possible, and how so many people who had only had online contact could come together and plan before they moved. Many of those here had trolled the idealists who had developed those plans, but they had read them.

Then there had been the stories of those who had come back. Horror stories of psychological tortures inflicted by humans/humanoids or utterly inhuman monsters. Some of those here had trolled those previously braggadocios fucktards, but they had listened, and speculated on the identities of Equestria's new defenders.

Now they had massed in the castle of the Pony Sisters, per the previously mentioned plans, they discussed in earnest and face to face their dilemma. They were all fucktards one and all, but they weren't stupid enough to make the same mistakes the first group had.

"Look we know it's Ranma and Harry Dresden, those guys are cool, as long as we don't start anything," one of the alicorn stallions said.

"Yeah, but that's an Elder Thing, those fuckers MADE humanity 400 million years ago, by accident," another argued.

"Sailor Jupiter," a third said wistfully, "I'd like to meet her!" He laughed and got walloped on the head.

"Idiot, that what got those assholes crucified before," the first said and shook his hoof, "I'd ask if you're really that dense, but I got the proof." He shook his hoof again.

He drifted to another circle.

"Look Sergi Antanov had a character like that other wizard who traveled to roads doing little miracles and facing off bad guys in where became the AustroHungarian Empire," one of the more scholarly bronicorns said.

"Look man, I just don't want to get on that fucker's bad side," another said, "I've been outside the wire in Afghanistan, and there are a few black ops guys, in camp nice, mellow, outside, the only place safe is in their six, because they killed every other mothafucker who popped up everywhere else."

"If we understand his psychology, we can avoid that," the scholar said.

"Okay, I'm down with that," the military bronicorn said, and scratched his head with a hoof, "But don't you think this guy's more like Lazarus Long, you know like Heinlein and shit?" He looked around. "Hey when you're in camp and a storm's messin' the satellite, readin's all you got sometimes. So you, brainiac, what the hell is that dragon, Ancalagon the Black?"

"More like Tiamat, not from D&D, the Akkadian embodiment of Chaos or possibly Kur part of her retinue, Apep is too evil and destroying, or even Lotan who prefigured the Biblical Leviathan, could be why he's close to the ocean," the scholar said, "Or either or both could be examples of Raven and Loki respectively. Raven tended to cause beneficial chaos, while Loki would be a troublesome friend."

The soldier bronicorn nodded. "Ran into some of those too that Raven must be the patron saint of DIs. Fuck up your shit to make you a man, then fuck you up again to make you a soldier."

"That's one way of putting it, out of curiosity, Marines aren't 'soldiers' but their instructors are 'DIs', army are soldiers, and their instructors are 'Drill Sergeants'," the scholar said and looked around sheepishly, "Sorry, Associate Professor of Comparative Literature, I study the use and history of words in writing."

The soldier laughed. "No sweat, I got bounced from the Marines, but the Army took me. And I think I figured out how you got lumped in with the rest of us fucktards, you're to drive Sparkle crazy."

There were a few laughs among the group. Another of the 'administration' approached. "The consensus remains, we talk to Zecora, and get her to take us to Dresden, he's the least likely to fry us on sight."

"Agreed," he said.

"Why not just cut out the middle man?" Harry asked from his perch on the balcony overlooking the throne room.

"Oh, shit," the scholar said.

"Naw man, it's cool," the soldier said to the scholar then looked at Harry, "We surrender."

Most of them were actually looking forward to Dresden's chagrin and confusion. Nothing ever came easy for him, without treachery, but they were going to buck that trend and they had the hooves to do it.
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Makoto arrived at a scene of complete carnage. The instruments of the carnage were not obvious. The very dead, naked elves were conspicuous, but one armed with a stapler with a bronze railroad spike through his head, and the female covered in small wounds and armed with a pair of similar spikes told a very strange story she didn't want to understand.

Patrick wasn't giving them the usual 'shatter their souls' treatment. Instead he was just waiting for them to dissolve. "Like throwing a couple of rabid dogs into someone's backyard. Not something I'd normally do, but -"

"Did they get to the kids?" Makoto asked.

Patrick shook his head. "I got these, Bruce and Fluttershy got the others, the bulk of the force was part of the wild hunt you and Ranma took care of, and that is that, for tonight." He looked at Makoto. "How's Nightmare?"

"Curled up in ball whimpering." Makoto sighed. "I know this was a dream, and while we could be hurt in a dream, and they can't, it all feels sordid."

"For all their power, it wasn't a fair fight," Pat said, stood and kissed her on the forehead.

"That's your way of telling me to go home, while you `play`?" Makoto asked.

"Do you want to know what I did to make those two kill each other?" Patrick asked.

Makoto felt her stomach churn but shook her head. Then she stared at him. "I know you don't like elves."

"Especially child murdering ones," Pat added.

Makoto nodded and continued, "But you never did this against any of our enemies."

"Never had to," Patrick said, he changed, somehow becoming far darker, "I did against Mistress Nine, to get her loose of Hotaru."

Makoto felt a spike of horror. "Hotaru didn't see, did she?"

Patrick looked at her with an expression of horror matching or exceeding her own. "Oh course not, how could you think that?"

"There's a vanishing elf corpse who was killed by being stapled, repeatedly," Makoto said and softened her tone, "Sometimes you have to ask, just to be sure."

"No, I kept Hotaru from seeing any of it, other than a covered corpse, which could have been a manikin under a tablecloth as far as she knew," Patrick replied, "But she had to know she was free of that parasite, so she'd quit second guessing herself."

Makoto nodded. "But you're goin' huntin', aren't you?"

"Just a perimeter sweep, I'm fairly sure we got them all," Patrick said.

"Well, hurry back," she said and draped her arms over his shoulders, resting her forehead on his chin, "You know how I get after a fight."

"There's always a short walk and a soft bower," Patrick replied smiling.

"We gotta go, we gotta go!" Ranma announced as he raced into the arena, sidestepping the corpses and the blood and discarding the minigun as he ran, "Pink horse with the heart bombs is right behind me!" Ranma gasped and looked around behind him.

"Go," Patrick said, "I've got other ways to hide."

Makoto swept Ranma up in her arms and reappeared in her bedroom.

"Thanks," Ranma breathed, "Uh, you aren't letting go."

"You owe me, and this time you don't get to run away," she told him undoing the ties of his shirt, "The safe word is 'cats' and I promise to be gentle, but this dance has gone on long enough."

"Can I go back to the pink pony?" Ranma asked weakly.

"What do you think?" Makoto asked and smiled enough to give Ranma the shivers.