The lights never went out. Sunlight reached no part of the city, so it was always dark and yet always light. Regardless of this, night had come. The bar had closed, and the patrons had gone home. Only Roxanne Rainbow Dash had remained, going over the exact sequence of moves she would need to make her performance both awe-inspiring and epic. Despite Morgana’s opinion of it, Roxanne took great pride in performing to the best of her abilities.

She did not leave until very late. When she finally did leave, she could have been described as what was the pony equivalent of being tired. Ponies, of course, were machines, and Roxanne was no exception. However, the work had caused her internal systems to accumulate heat as well as extraneous code that after reorganization would become “muscle memory”. She had also made a note of every flaw she had observed developing in her joints and robotics so that she could be sure she could be properly lubricated and limber. Maintenance of her body was, to her, a critical aspect of her life.

When she left, Roxanne had changed her clothing once again. She now wore a relatively more conservative set of boots, a set of spandex shorts, and her leather jacket which was now fastened securely around her midsection. It still showed off her body- -as it was something she was greatly proud of- -but not to the extent that she would be commonly confused for still being a prostitute.

As she left, Roxanne engaged the computerized lock behind her and made her way to where her motorcycle had been parked. As she was disengaging its locking systems and prepping the onboard systems, however, she heard a noise.

“Hello?” she said suddenly, looking into the darkness around her. Her vision was good, but not optimized for night vision like Forth or Twilight’s. Still, she felt that something was not right. The streets were to empty and two quiet, andyet she was sure she had heard a footstep splashing through a nearby puddle. Years of life on the street had given her what humans would call instincts, and she had learned to trust them.

Immediately she left her bike behind and moved into the street where she would have driven it to anyway. There were no cars about, nor people. For some reason it was perfectly and terrifyingly silent.

A streetlight was illuminating the end of the alley and Roxanne took flight, fluttering her wings and leaping up to the top of it with a single jump. Her body was light, and it supported her weight as she perched on it, looking down.

“Hello?” she said, this time more angrily. “Come out here before I make you come out! And if I have to make you, somebody’s getting a beating- -and it’s not going to be me!”

She did not expect anyone to actually appear, and for a moment she was sure that the sound and feeling of a presence was just her imagination, a result of being too overheated and from had a grueling workout. Then she saw motion.

The air at the edge of the alley seemed to distort slightly, and Roxanne had to blink several times to make sense of the sudden change in perspective. Then the distortion faded, and the polychromatic surface assumed its normal white-and-blue coloration. Roxanne was surprised to see a pony wearing an Aetna-Cross insignia. She was hooded, but when she looked up Roxanne was surprised to see that she was an unusually tall and slender Rarity unit.

“Wait…I know you! You’re Hexel’s old partner, O’Toole!”

“Lynnette, actually. Detective Lynnette.”

“Oh. So you got a promotion, then?”

“Several, in addition to commendations of various sorts.” She looked behind her at the alley and the motorcycle. Roxanne was fully aware that Lynnette was blocking her path to it. “And you seem to be doing…better.”

“Yeah, I think my life is going pretty okay.”

“From what I understand, you don’t…anymore.”

“Turn tricks? Yeah. I don’t. I’m past that. So if that’s what you came for, you’re too late. And even when I did, I paid my taxes, you can’t get me for that.”

Lynnette ignored her digression. “I do believe that Hexel used to be a regular customer.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes visibly narrowed. “I may have quit the business, but I’m not a snitch. Stuff like that stays with me and me alone. I don’t give out client info, not ever.”

“Because if you’re loyal to them, they will be loyal to you?”

“You could say that.”

“Hmm. Yes, well, if you would like to know Hexel has moved on. He is in a stable relationship now.”

“With you?”

Themost subtle possible change in expression came over Lynnette’s face, but Roxanne was good at reading both people and ponies. When she saw that shift, she was glad she had not yet gotten down from her light post. “No,” said Lynnette, curly. “Not with me. Nor would such a relationship be prudent.”

“Trust me, O’Toole. If you want that, go for it while you still have a chance.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean. And I’m also afraid you just threatened an officer of the law.”

Roxanne swore under her breath. “Is that how this is going to go? Because you know I didn’t. Why are you even here? I didn’t mess with you. I’m just trying to live my life, same as anyone.”

“And so am I.” Lynnette continued to stare at Rainbow Dash. She possessed eyelids, but had not yet blinked once. “Nor do I intend to charge you with anything. You are, however, of interest in that you may know something pertaining to a case of mine.”

“What kind of case?”

“Can you come down here and talk?”

“I don’t feel comfortable with that. Hookers and cops don’t historically get along so well.”

“Yes, this is true. But I am told you are a legitimate performer now, no?”

“I am.”

“Then there is no reason for you to hide. I just want to ask you a few questions. It will only take a moment.”

Roxanne looked around, wondering why no one was around. If there had been anyone- -even a homeless person, or a passing drone- -she would have felt so much better. But the streets were empty, and the only sound was the distant and endless roar of engines on Route Eight in the distance.

“Okay,” she said, slowly descending. She was giving up the advantage of elevation, but keeping the advantage of speed. She had come to know the system layout of police ponies pretty intimately, and guessed that Lynnette was probably almost as well armored as Hexel had been in his younger years. She was heavy, and Rainbow Dash was light and agile. If this went bad, Roxanne assumed that she could bolt easily and go clean over the edge of the path and down toward the river below. There was no way a unicorn pony would be able to follow her.

Lynnette smiled as Roxanne landed. It was a sickening sight.

“This man.” A projected image appeared near Roxanne’s head. It contained two frames, both images of the same person. In one he looked like what Roxanne had come to refer to as a “tripledouche”, complete with greasy moustache and dirty smirk. The other showed a confused looking version of the same man, this time completely shaved and with an unusual skin condition. Both were terribly ugly, but at the same time, Roxanne recognized both of them.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” sighed Roxanne, trying to show no sign that she knew. “I see a lot of men. I mean, that guy’s pretty ugly, but come on. I’m a stripper. Ugly men are what I do.” She paused. “Not literally.”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you any more. This mission is level zero priority. You don’t know what that means, clearly, but in brief, I cannot give you any information that might put you or others in danger.”

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. “Danger? You mean this guy is dangerous or something?”

“Very. We believe- -I believe- -that he is involved in some very bad things.”

“What kind of bad things?”

“I cannot say for sure. But I can assure you, anyone near or associated with him is in horrible danger. I believe him to be an agent from Monsanto, and he has killed before. He will not hesitate to do so again. Human life means little to him…and neither does the life of ponies.”

Roxanne stared at the picture for a long time, and then shrugged. “Sorry, O’Toole, I’ve never seen the guy.” She pointed. “And I would remember a mug like that. Yeesh. Even when I was selling it, I wouldn’t let a guy like that brush my mane unless he spooned in three times the going rate.” Roxanne turned around. “But I haven’t, and I didn’t, so no. Can’t help. Sorry.”

Lynnette let out a long sigh. “That’s too bad,” she said. “Because I happen to know that you’re lying to me.”

A set of small police hover-drones suddenly descended, silently blocking of Roxanne’s route of egress. She swore and turned around.

“Look, this doesn’t have to go down like this,” she said, unable to stop her voice from wavering.

“No,” said Lynnette. She minced forward, never blinking her cold and now strangely hungry looking eyes. “It didn’t. But component telemetry in this area suggests that Morgana Twilight Sparkle has been here. Visiting her estranged marefriend, perhaps? Doubtful. You hate her, and she knows it. She must have been in something very deep if she had been willing to speak to you.”

“Like I said, I don’t know anything!”

“You also said you never snitch. Meaning you’re apt to keep information…hidden.”

Lynnette suddenly smiled, and Rainbow Dash bolted. She did not get far. One of the drones blocked her path, and although she avoided it another fired something at her. Roxanne cried out as several large needles pierced her skin, and then screamed in agony as electricity pulsed through her body, sending her electronic muscles into crippling spasms. She dropped to the ground, unable to move.

The drones closed in and helped to pick her up. Lynnette approached and leaned close, taking a deep whiff of perfume from Roxanne’s neck. “Such a pretty little girl,” she said. “Or you could be if it weren’t for all these vulgar piercings and ridiculous makeup, or these horrible black clothes. Such a pretty filly…with such a fragile base psychology. It almost pains me to do this.”

She grasped Roxanne tightly. The electric shock had blurred Roxanne’s vision and thoughts, but she was still conscious enough to see a pair of long segmented tendrils emerging from Lynnette’s hood.

“You- -you wouldn’t!” she cried.

“I need that information, Ms. Rainbow Dash. And I do not need your consent to reach it.”

Roxanne screamed and struggled, but her muscles were decynchronized and could do little more than make her flail weakly. “Help! HELP!” she cried. “Rape! RAPE! Somebody HELP ME!”

A hoof across her face suddenly silenced her, and she felt Lynnette’s teeth on her hair, forcing her head down and exposing the rear of her neck where her ports were located.

“A proper lady does not scream or resist,” snapped Lynnette. “She puts her head forward and enjoys it.”

As she said it, she penetrated Roxanne’s ports. Roxanne cried out not in pain but in shame and fear, but Lynnette only smiled. She took great pleasure in that kind of scream, and she immediately went to work.

The process was not difficult. Most of Roxanne’s firewalls and security protocols were meant to secure her against wireless incursion. Few safety features were present from a hardline connection, and although Lynnette could feel her struggling she was no match for a technomancer. Lynnette was able to force her way deep into Roxanne’s intimate self, feeling every inch as she moved deeper and deeper inside her. The information was in there, and finding it would only be a matter of time and psychological trauma to the source. Both Lynnette and Aetna-Cross considered the latter to be an acceptable cost.

She had almost reached it when something went wrong. The change was rapid and started subtly. Any other individual would hardly have noticed it, dismissing it as a normal motion of Roxanne’s mind as one tried to penetrate the final barriers into her core self, the part of her mind that would normally only be given to those she loved the most. Upon feeling this, though, Lynnette immediately reacted by sealing off her own mind and pulling herself out. This reflexive action was the only thing that saved her life.

A sudden flash occurred, dominating most of Lynnette’s thought: a single image, an insignia of a six-pointed star. She screamed and pulled away, using the reserves of her mind and all her technomancer training to attempt to shield herself. Part of the buried program struck her, and it was devastating but not lethal. She had reacted quick enough to avoid permanent damage, but only barely.

The hardwire connection broke and Lynnette stumbled backward, screaming. The drones that had been suspended by her own will collapsed as her connection to them faltered, and Roxanne dropped to the street.

Lynnette tried to take a step but her motor processing system had been damaged. She was no longer balanced, and the sensory input from her skin did not match her vision. Everything was out of order and strange; she was heavily disoriented and slightly damaged.

“Damn it!” she roared. “That bitch- -that whore detective booby-trapped your mind!”

Roxanne looked confused and terrified, but her own stupor was fading. She stood up, wincing at the pain in her damaged muscles. Then, angrily, she stepped forward and punched Lynnette square in the eye. Lynnette screamed and fell to the ground.

“She’s the bitch?! YOU’RE ALL THE BITCH!” cried Roxanne as she kicked Lynette hard in the face. Lynnette was indeed armor plated, so it did no damage, but it at least made Roxanne feel a little better. She was still crying and shaking, though, and more afraid than she had been in a long time. She had been violated, but fortunately- -if it could even be taken as fortune under the circumstances- -she had not been penetrated completely.

“You sick fuck,” she said, turning away. “You goddamn sick fuck!”

With that, she flew, not even stopping to try to retrieve her motorcycle. Lynnette was left alone, lying in a heap. After a few minutes, though, a smile spread across her face, and she rose slowly.