The conversation had grown strange. Elrod had grown confused by it. This was something he had come to expect. Little of the world around him made sense anymore. His mind had not been structured to comprehend the intricacies of society or conspiracies, or why Valla seemed to be talking to no one in particular and Roxanne was standing perfectly still with a darkening expression on her face.

So, he had grown bored. Deciding that he was no longer required for whatever they were doing- -if he was ever required for anything at all- -Elrod wandered off. No one seemed to notice, and none of those around him seemed to care. They did not approach him, nor he them; he passed like a ghost amongst them. They were human, and he was not, yet they did not seem to know the difference. In many ways, this was the state that Elrod had lived his entire life in: appearing human, attempting to mimic them at every turn, but never really bothering to become quite like them either.

The people did not concern him, and the flowering trees were only of marginal interest. Instead, he walked to one of the large windows and looked out at the vastness of the city below. It seemed so very large to him, and yet so small compared to endless horizons of Idaho where he was grown. At the same time, it somehow felt so much lonelier. Elrod found himself searching the tops of the buildings, trying to see where Forth might be and wondering if she might see him in turn.

“Perhaps she would like Idaho…” he mused to himself.

“Perhaps,” said a voice beside him. “Even though there is no chance of you ever returning alive.”

A pony had approached Elrod as he stood gazing through the glass. He had noticed her, but only tangentially. He had assumed she would ignore her as the others did, simply because that was the way the world was meant to work.

Elrod looked down, and suddenly the entirety of the unfolding events seemed much clearer. The pony standing beside him was a Lyra unit. Her clothing was strange but not fully outlandish: she had prepared for the occasion by donning black garments that were something of a hybrid between socks and boots. They reached to her shoulders and hips. The rest of her was bare, save for a high black collar that covered her neck. A silver disk had been ingrained in the center. An image had been engraved into it.

The Lyra pony seemed to notice Elrod staring at the silver brooch. She seemed somewhat disappointed by it. “Of all the things you could be looking at,” she mused. “Why my brooch?”

“What else would I look at?”

The Lyra sighed. “I suppose I can’t expect you to understand, can I?”

“Understand what?”

She smiled and shook her head. She gestured to the brooch with one of her covered hooves. “It’s a diagram of the Vitruvian Man,” she explained. “It was sketch by Leonardo da Vinci, but it was based on notes by Vitruvius over a thousand years earlier. But I suppose a thousand years isn’t really all that long, is it?” Her large deep-amber eyes turned upward toward Elrod. “Vitruvius, and da Vinci. In their own way, they were trying to find a way to create the perfect human. As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, it’s a goal that I also share, even if I’m as far from da Vinci as he was from Vitruvius.”

Elrod stared at her, and she smiled back at him. It was not the normal smile of a pony. Something about her was different. Elrod could smell it, but not consciously recognize what the difference was. Only that it was there.

“You’re the Cult of Humanity.”

“Well, not the whole thing, no. Our accomplishments take the effort of a great many.” She paused, her brow furrowing. She put her hoof to her chin and looked out the window. “I suppose you could think of me as our public relation’s officer.”

“Then why are you talking to me? You need to find Morgana. She’s looking for you.”

“I know where she is. I’ve had an associate meet her. I think they’ll be amenable. I believe they could even be friends if they were both anyone else.”

This confused Elrod even more. “But I can’t help you. Morgana- -”

“Morgana Twilight Sparkle has proved to be an invaluable tool. And yes. You are entirely inconsequential. But I like you better. Hence why I brought you here. Please, come with me. Let’s talk.”

Elrod did not know what else to do. He followed her. Her walk was graceful and precise, and she had a tendency to flick her tail just slightly from side to side as she moved. Yet, despite being nearly nude, none of the other partygoers seemed to notice her. They stood in their own groups, laughing and talking about things that Elrod did not understand, and he and the Lyra moved without impedance or difficulty.

She brought him to one corner of the venue, an area near a central wall that consisted of a large bench between two especially large Callistemon trees in full bloom. Waiting for them was a trio of ponies. Each of them were Lyra units, but they looked different from the first. Their skin was hairless and smooth, and all of them wore black suits over boots that seemed to be identical to those of the first. All three of them wore thick, dark glasses.

“Who are they?”

“I would think you would have figured that out by now. Associates. Think of them like bodyguards. I’m more complete than they are, but not nearly as hearty.” She waved her hoof to them, and they nodded. The trio separated, with one walking off to maintain a perimeter while the others took locations next to the pots that supported the red-flowering trees.

“Sit.”

Elrod did so. The bench was surprisingly soft, and Elrod felt himself sink into it slightly. The Lyra jumped up onto it as well, momentarily sitting in a strange manner that made her almost seem like a grotesquely deformed human. Then, instead of holding that position, she leaned against Elrod’s side. She was warm and smelled like mint.

“Why are you touching me?”

“Because you can’t really do anything to stop me, now can you?” She looked up at him with her large orange eyes. “Look at me,” she said, extending one of her booted rear legs. “I dressed this way because I knew you would be here. Do you not like what you see?”

“Why would I?”

The Lyra groaned softly. “Did you know that I’m not wearing any panties right now?”

“Yes. I was aware of that.”

“So you were looking, then.”

“Also yes.”

“And, if you had the opportunity, would you let me take you to one of the private rooms? I’m soft and adorable. We could…well, you know. I could give you a private pony ride.”

“No. I don’t think I could. You know that.”

“That your species doesn’t have genitals. Yes. It’s horribly unfortunate. I would have liked to know what it felt like. But you can at least look and appreciate me, can’t you?”

“I don’t know how.”

The Lyra held onto Elrod tighter. “It’s too bad, really.”

“For you. You want me to find you attractive so you can manipulate me.”

“Ah.” The Lyra chuckled. “You’ve been learning. I wasn’t sure it was possible for agromorphs. But Morgana’s been teaching you.”

“Maybe. Or I just don’t like being manipulated.”

“And I never claimed I was going to manipulate you. Only that I wanted you to manipulate me, so to speak. Or would have offered you the chance.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Correct again, Elrod, correct again. But there’s no reason why I would want to manipulate you. You, personally, serve no purpose here. I spoke with you once before, remember? I warned you what would happen if you stayed with her.”

“That I would die.”

“That she would kill you. I told you to separate, and that there might be still a chance. Because I will be sad when you die. And you will die. It’s too late. You’re in too deep, and you’ve come too far. I’m afraid there’s no way out at this point.”

Elrod tightened. “So you brought me here to kill me.”

“No. I’m not going to be the one to kill you. She will. And at this point, that’s the invariable outcome for all this.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Clearly, or you would have saved yourself by now.”

Elrod turned to her sharply. “Did you bring me here just to predict my doom?”

“No. I have other more substantial reasons for being here.”

A waiter approached them. He was thin and pale, wearing makeup to cover substantial bruising around one eye. His motions were precise and strong, but Elrod still sensed a level of weakness in him, like some pitiful wounded creature. The waiter held out a tray of champagne glasses.

“Champagne, madam?”

“Why of course!” The Lyra sat up and took one of the glasses gingerly in her hoof. “Would you like some, Elrod? This vintage is almost as old as I am.”

“It’s made from grapes. I don’t eat plant-based foods. It’s not ethical.”

The Lyra smiled, being intrigued by this sentiment. “Indeed. Well. Waiter, before you go.” She motioned toward one of her security Lyras. The unicorn approached the waiter and presented him and opened her coat. She produced a red velvet sack tied with gold string, and opened it with her teeth. Elrod saw that it contained a number of small objects inside that resembled flattened, coin-sized cylinders.

“Madame?” asked the waiter.

“A personal gift. From me to all of the guests here, for their generous support in our shared mission. Please be sure that every person gets one. I assure you, they are quite valuable.”

She reached into the sack and removed one. Elrod could see its surface glimmering with delicate lines of inlaid silver. Elrod immediately recognized the elemental residues of the surface alloy; it was indeed worth a tremendous sum.

The waiter seemed to realize this too. He took the small bag and placed it on his tray, then bowed. “I am sure they will be greatly pleased for your gracious generosity,” he said.

“I’m sure they will.” The waiter departed, and the Lyra smiled. “Here,” she said, passing the token she had kept to Elrod. “You can keep this if you want. Although it won’t have the same meaning to you as it will to humans.”

Elrod took the object. It resembled a large, thick coin, but when he took it he realized instantly that it was oddly heavy. In fact, it was far heavier than any substance he was familiar with.

“It weights a lot.”

“It does.”

“Why?”

“There are technical reasons. I don’t think you’d care to know them, and I certainly wouldn’t care to tell them. I can have so many much more interesting conversations with you before it’s time for the party to end.”

“Really? Like what?”

“You are not human.”

Elrod nodded slowly. “Yes. We’ve established that.”

“But it gives you a unique perspective. And I’m a naturally curious person.”

“Curious about what, exactly?”

The Lyra set her champagne on the rim surrounding one of the nearby pair of Callistemons. She then leaned her head against Elrod’s shoulder. “Look out there,” she said.

Elrod followed her gaze. He looked out at the floor. From where they were sitting, he had an almost perfect view of the entire party, and everyone in it.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I see a party. I see humans. Lots of them.”

“Exactly. And what are your thoughts on humans, exactly?”

Elrod thought for a moment. “I am ambivalent.”

“Ambivalent?” This seemed to amuse the Lyra unit greatly. “Interesting. You are aware that it was humans who slaughtered your kind. Humans that ran Monsanto.”

“And humans who created me. But I don’t know what you want me to say. I just don’t care. I don’t mind them, but they don’t serve any purpose. They’re just sort of…there. And sometimes in my way.”

“Hmm…I find your apathy fascinating, but borderline offensive.”

“Then how do you see them?

“Me?”

“You are also not human, aren’t you?”

The Lyra did not answer. Instead, she sat up and looked out at the crowd for a moment, clearly contemplating her answer. “What I see is a paradox.”

“A paradox?”

The Lyranodded. “Look at the tall ones.” She pointed, and Elrod looked. He saw several of them in a group: two women in transparent cloaks, and a man in green discussing something over glasses of wine that cost more than most people would see in a lifetime.

“Do you mean economically?”

“No. Economics is no longer relevant to the world. Socialism is as dead as capitalism, and feudalism is entering its twilight as we speak. No. I mean biologically.”

“Really?” Elrod felt somewhat interested for once. “That is something I might like to hear.”

The Lyra smiled. “I thought you would. Morgana would never have listened to me. But you might.” She faced the humans of the party. “The tall ones. There isn’t really a term for them. But they are arguably genetically perfect.”

“I am familiar with the techniques used to make them, and some of the modifications.”

“Then you know more than most. Even them, because they don’t care. Near continuous genetic modification to breed a master race of humans. They don’t get sick. They don’t age. They are immune to toxins, to failure of mental health. Tall, strong, and beautiful. And most importantly equipped to generate children. A new breed of superhuman.”

“But there are no children here.”

“No. There are no children anywhere. Or very few. That’s the paradox. Or part of it. Genetically ‘perfect’ humans, content to be the only ones of their kind. To not bother with the expense of making more of them, except perhaps one or two heirs and a batch of hobbled servants. Most of them have themselves sterilized in the first two years of life.”

“It’s their choice. If they want to reproduce or not.”

“It is. And it’s probably for the best. Because the problem goes deeper than that.”

“Deeper?”

The Lyra nodded. “When was the last time one of them did anything worthy? Don’t answer, I know you don’t know what I mean. Let me put it a different way. When was the last time their kind produced a brilliant painter, or a writer of symphonies? A philosopher, or a scientist to rival van der Kriegstein?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know them.”

“But I do. Because we have watched. For a long time. To make sure what we’re trying to do is right.”

“Is it?”

“I can only hope. But the current model has failed. That’s the problem with controlled evolution. It can fail. Badly. Everything that gave humanity worth has been forced out of them. Yes, they can run business effectively and perform managerial functions, but at this point they’re no different from AIs. Their minds have been sterilized and reconstructed to be ‘perfect’. And their souls along with them.”

“And yet they’re here. So they’re rich. Which means they are doing something right.”

The Lyra laughed softly. “I never took you for such a Darwinist. But business acumen or the ability to inherit does not make a strong species. It’s not just them. It’s systemic. These humans, here, wasting their lives on endless parties. The lower phases devoting themselves to celibate lives in virtual paradise. Anunderclass of mixed-heritage manufactured humans who can’t even breed on their own.”

The Lyra pointed. Elrod followed her hoof and saw the bar in the distance. Morgana was sitting at it, next to a woman in black. Even from a distance, Elrod was conscious that her body was not normal.

“How long?” asked the Lyra unit. “In a competition between us and them, how long do you think humanity would last against beings like her? Without the factories, without doctors and scientists to sort out the extra chromosomes or to fix the new and better diseases that develop every year? How long before uncontrolled evolution leaves this planet a smoldering wreck and humanity a forgotten dream?”

“Then what about them?” Elrod pointed to a meek, balding man with squinty eyes who was walking past, followed by an entourage of transparent-clad superwomen following him.

“Ah.” A smile crossed the Lyra’s face. “The natural-borns. That’s another paradox all its own. Your kind are carnivorous, no? Predators? You can smell weakness.”

“More like scavengers, when necessary,” lied Elrod. “And only when necessary.”

“I see. That makes me feel a little better. You’re not like the nhumi, then. A little bit more civilized. But a little bit less useful, too.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I was just trying to make a point. You can see them, but you can’t see what’s inside them. Cancer. Infection. Heart failure. Autoimmune disease. Aging. Obesity. Failure. Most of them are sick. And those that aren’t…only one in four thousand is adequate, just from a technical perspective.” She sighed. “A normal human has a lifespan of at least one hundred and eighty years. A natural born can generally expect less than sixty. Even lower if they’re poor. They just can’t tolerate this planet.”

“But you said evolution was a threat to humanity.”

“Only when uncontrolled. When it lets the planet decide what it wants.”

“But trying to control it made the bad humans. You didn’t like them either.”

“And that’s the crux of it! Look at them! Natural-born humans born into sickness and death, and synthetic humans with their aspect of humanity ripped away. Both are different, and yet both are the same. Both are INCOMPLETE.”

She stood up suddenly and took several steps away from the bench. Elrod stood as well, but did not approach her. Something was wrong. Her eyes had grown fiery, and the grin on her face seemed to have hardened.

Then, suddenly, the Lyra turned toward him and smiled. “You have to understand. Please understand, before you die, if you can. I don’t hate them. I can’t hate them. But I do pity them. It’s my purpose, isn’t it?”

“What is?’

The Lyra unit laughed softly. In her own way, she was intensely beautiful- -and yet by some imperceptible way, still incorrect. As Elrod watched her, trying to discern why, he saw the groove of her pale green horn spark with orange light. To his right, and equivalently colored frame of light etched itself around her champagne glass. There was a hiss as the energy touched the glass, and then it levitated toward her. She took a sip from it and smiled, staring Elrod directly in the eyes.

“The Cult of Humanity,” she said. “Shepherds and guardians. Lovers of humanity as a whole, and everything that comes with it. Protectors of true humans. Our only goal is to safeguard the future of the human race. Even if that means purging our previous failures.”

Elrod did his best to understand, but found that he could not. The fate of humanity just mattered to little of him, and he found he had no empathy to give to them. Yet, somehow, he found himself afraid. The things she told him made him wonder if he really was about to die.

That was when the explosions went off. Elrod was knocked backward as the metallic token he had been given forward expanded into a plume of aerogel crystal that swallowed his body, impaling him on sharp crystalline spikes and tearing his body apart as it expanded to hundreds of thousands of times its original volume.

The room was suddenly filled with screams of agony. Elrod looked out to see that his was not the only one that had erupted with pale gray crystal: the entire floor was splattered with blood and immense mounds of crystal. Any human who had even been near one of the small metal devices had been ripped to shreds. Most were impaled, but a few had been torn in half. Most of them were still alive. Their genetic enhancements would not let them die so easily.

Elrod turned his head toward the Lyra, and she looked up at him, grinning. Elrod suddenly understood what the purpose of this party was for, and who had called it. She intended to kill them all.

Across the room, Morgana heard the explosions as well. She turned her head sharply and saw plumes of aerogel crystals erupting from numerous sources. The world seemed to slow as she took in the information. Someone was using an extremely advanced, unconventional weapon. By the random placement of the explosions, they were not placed her beforehand. Somebody was attacking from within.

Jane Doe stood. Her smile grew wide, revealing the full extent of her teeth. She tore off her visor and turned around to face the room.

“Alright!” she cried. “It’s time to fuck some assholes!”

She threw open her black coat and discarded it, revealing the fact that she was completely naked underneath save for a complex arrangement of black tattoos that covered much of her body and both of her arms in their entirety.

The synth bartender responded immediately. He bent down below the bar and removed a .45 rifle.

“Hey!” cried Morgana.

Jane Doe turned as the synth fired. She raised one of her arms, and her tattoos shifted, crawling across her body to localize and harden into armor where the bullet struck her. It was deflected with a loud metallic ping. Before the synth could fire, Jane Doe was already on top of him, sinking her teeth into his neck. He managed to fire one more bullet, but it went wide and hit a bystander in the chest. Blood spurted everywhere.

“Fuck me! FUCK ME HARDER!” Jane Doe screamed as she turned around, almost pulling the synth’s head free of his body as she did so. More security came, and Morgana ducked below the bar. Jane Doe did not. The tattoos- -or what Morgana had initially taken for tattoos- -spread across her body, hardening into thin black armor that left nothing exposed save her hair. When the security drones opened fire, the bullets ricocheted off of her body. She charged with a scream and without the slightest hesitation. The black substance that covered her body forced itself forward past her hand, and she impaled the nearest living security officer in the chest with it. With her free arm, she tore off his, taking control of his weapon and unloading into anything that moved. A security drone staggered back, and two partygoers fell.

Morgana did not look, because it did not concern her. She took this as a distraction. With the barkeep dead and with security otherwise engaged, she crawled away.

“Lilium!” she screamed through her telepathic link. “Status! NOW!”

There was no pain. Elrod was increasingly becoming aware of the fact that he was not capable of it. He had no nervous system. The Lyra who now stood before him had known this, and she watched as he pulled himself free of the crystals that penetrated his body. White starch poured on the floor, but its loss was of little consequence. The instant Elrod was disconnected, his body began to regenerate.

“That won’t kill me.”

“Of course not. I didn’t intend it to.”

Gunfire erupted from across the room, and suddenly from across the entire room. More screams followed. The Lyra unit suddenly rolled on her side, ducking out of the way as one of the windows behind Elrod cracked and tore. A bullet had gone through it, and it struck the tile where the Lyra had just been, sending sparks of igniting uranium as it hit.

The two Lyra guards stepped forward. Their bodies seemed to distort, and then shifted. Their clothing was torn to shreds as they unfolded from within, their pony limbs separating and expanding as they stood on their rear legs. They drew themselves up, and Elrod knew them. They were the same creates that had tried to kill him so long ago.

This time, though, they ignored him completely. One threw itself over its smaller comrade. Bullets clanged off its body without leaving so much as a scratch. The other drew a rifle that Elrod could not recognize or even describe. Its shape was not consistent, but rather seemed to change as the Lyra wielded it.

“YOU!” screamed a voice from across the floor. Elrod turned to see a hulking security mercenary pointing, not at him but at the Lyra that had not transformed. “There she is! Get her! KILL THEM N- -”

One of the Lyra’s fired. Despite the man- -or rather ovoid ram, as the entrails he produced demonstrated- -was liquefied by the blast as one of the anthro-Lyra’s targeted him and fired. Security, however, had already been alerted. They turned their full force against the Lyra’s, shredding anyone who got in their way. Elrod began to wonder if both parties had not intended this as some kind of trap for each other.

Several large-caliber bullets passed through Elrod’s body. The pair of trees that he and the Lyra had sat between before were blown apart. Both he and the small Lyra jumped to cover, although on either side.

The battle was completely one-sided. The Lyra’s were vastly outnumbered, but from Elrod’s perspective they seemed to be nearly indestructible. Whatever weapons used against them at best were able to slow them down, while their own ammunition was able to eliminate virtually anything they chose to- -which, from Elrod’s perspective, was anything that was not a natural-born human. Elrod saw several of those running, and out of his peripheral vision saw the third anthro-Lyra tracking them down. From the screams he heard, he knew that they were not surviving either.

Only the one that had remained a pony did not fight. She remained in cover, sitting quietly and waiting. The others seemed to serve her, protecting her and keeping her from harm. Elrod, however, was not so lucky. He did not intend to die- -so he reached deep into his chest, pushing apart tissue until he felt his hand grasping the handle of his .700 pistol.

Suddenly, one of the guests burst through the crowd. Elrod paused and watched as a man with barely any face and armored in white drew a sword. It erupted with flaming plasma, and with a cry he charged one of the Lyras. He was surprisingly fast, and her back had turned. She attempted to block with her rifle, and the plasma-charged weapon cut through it with ease before gouging a deep hole in her shoulder armor. She was forced back, and the man changed his stance to prepare for a lethal thrust. The Lyra, however, raised her hand, and several circles and complex shapes of luminescent energy formed around it. She directed her fist at the man’s chest, and a strange ringing sound filled the air as the man’s torso was reduced to a cloud of red mist.As he fell to his knees, the Lyra flattened her hand and smashed it through his head.

“Trench!” hissed a voice.

Elrod yelped and turned, attempting to draw his gun. It was blocked by a violet hoof, though, and he found himself staring at Morgana.

“It’s bad out there,” he said, his voice rising several octaves.

“No shit. I have Lilium transmitting right now. The whole place is a shitshow. They’re killing everyone.”

“Who? Which side?”

“There aren’t sides, goddamn it! Stop asking stupid questions unless you want to get served au gratin!”

One of the security drones suddenly loomed over Morgana. Elrod raised his pistol and fired. The recoil nearly knocked it out of his hands and threw him against the floor, but he shot it in the neck, causing its head to slump forward. The drone, however, was largely undamaged. It raised a clawed hand- - only to be taken down by a bullet from outside.

Morgana barely managed to get out of the drone’s way as it fell. “She doesn’t have many more AP rounds,” she said. “We have to get out of here! NOW!”

“What am I supposed to do?!”

“Draw their fire!”

Morgana pushed Elrod out of cover and into the battle. He was hit, but quickly realized that they were not targeting him directly. He was able to push forward with Morgana following him and Forth covering him from outside. The level of destruction around him was impressive. Corpses of mercenaries littered the ground, as well as the still-twitching hulks of the security robots. The attendees of the party lay amongst them, either in pools of their own blood or skewered on mountains of razor-sharp crystal. None had been spared. The tall humans lay next to the natural-borns, who had invariably been beheaded.

Elrod suddenly felt Morgana trip him, and he fell, landing behind one of two large refrigerated basins. Morgana swore loudly as a bullet struck her in the rear calf, but she managed to pull herself to cover. More bullets impacted the far side of the tank, but the insulation alloy that it contained was able to block them.

Lifting his head, Elrod saw a trail of sauce and the remnants of small hors-d’oeuvres leading to the body of a blue, white-haired unicorn. Her body was riddled with bullet holes and lay motionless, her dead eyes staring upward blankly. She had not even gotten four feet from the tank before they had killed her.

“Morgana!”

Elrod looked up and saw that Roxanne had taken cover behind the second tank.”

“Roxanne! Where’s Valla?”

“Over there!” Roxanne pointed across the room. “She took one of those damn crystals to the arm- -it’s almost a half-amputation, she’s trying to stop the bleeding!”

“Damn it…Lilium, exit options?!”

“There aren’t any!” screamed Roxanne. “They’ve closed us off!”

“Do your wings work?!”

“My- -goddamn it, Morgana, this isn’t the time- -”

“Do you WINGS WORK?!”

“NO! They’re just decorative! You know that!”

“Then we need to get Forth here for evac- -”

“We can’t break the windows,” said Elrod. “Look!”

He pointed upward toward one of the windows. It was filled with several tiny bullet holes and the miniscule spiderweb cracks that surrounded them, but otherwise was in no danger of shattering or breaking. To Elrod, this was a sign that the windows were unbreakable; Morgana, however, took note of the fact that this particular window was on the opposite side of the building from Forth and Lilium.

“They’re over there!” cried a voice from the other side of the ice bins. The fire on them intensified. A scream came from the tank that Roxanne was hiding behind, although it was cut of quickly. The bullets had penetrated the far side of insulation, and the pony obediently hiding inside the box had been killed.

“Damn it,” muttered Twilight. She retracted the surface of her left hoof and checked the internal mechanism of her rifle. “Trench, bullets. Now.”

Elrod reached into himself and produced a chain of Grendel round. Morgana installed the expertly using her teeth. “We’re going to have to play this by ear. Lilium thinks the window on the far side is damaged enough that if Forth hits it with a 50mm we can break through. Maybe.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘maybe’?!” cried Roxanne.

“I mean we cut our way over, and see what we can do from there!”

Morgana leaned around the lower edge of the tank and opened fire. The boom of the bullets firing was nearly deafening, but they did nothing against the armor of the approaching mercenaries. This left Morgana at a grave disadvantage, and she wished that Lynnette had given her a proper weapon.

“Trench, you need to do something!”

“What can I do?” cried Elrod. “I can’t hit them at that range!”

“TRY, goddamn it!”

Elrod stood up, but was immediately shredded by bullets. His pistol dropped from his hands and clattered to the floor. Several bullet holes were clearly visible in its sides; it had been destroyed.

“Damn it, now what am I…”

Morgana was interrupted by a hideous scream, followed by the sound of something liquid falling against the floor. She interfaced with Lilium’s optics to get a better view. What she saw was as auspicious as it was gruesome. One of the leaders of the mercenary group approaching her had been gutted alive, and another had both of his legs shattered. The others were aiming at a black-clad, four-legged creature with long, greasy hair.

The other mercenaries screamed and tried to shoot, but each of them failed as Jane Doe continued to tear into them, laughing and screaming simultaneously as she did so. Morgana saw this as an opportunity.

“Move! NOW!”

She stood up and galloped forward. Elrod hesitated, but Roxanne did not. Elrod was left behind, while Morgana and Roxanne forced their way through the distracted crowd and toward their goal.

As they ran, Jane Doe seemed to take notice of them. She began to follow, moving swiftly on all fours. Morgana accelerated, and so did Roxanne, but Jane Doe did not. She was following, but not intending to overtake them.

Then, as they passed, Morgana saw Maurice. He was still in the same chair he had been sitting in before, and seemed entirely uninjured. On his lap, though, sat two Scootaloos who had not been so lucky. One of them was quite clearly dead, and the one wearing the suit- -Celia- -was gasping and tremoring as he gently petted her. Her entire lower body had been reduced to unrecognizable torn metal.

“Shh, shh,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. You got that? You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry, master, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize to me. Just hold on.”

Jane Doe approached him and turned her head, curious. Then she stood on her rear legs. The black armor that covered her body was skin-tight, and it was apparent that she was incredibly gaunt and that evolution had changed her proportions in a way that made her look far more divergent from her human lineage than she actually was.

“You,” said Maurice, looking up at her.

“Yes me,” she laughed. The mask over her face retracted. Her mouth was stained with blood, and strips of flesh- -both human and pony-colored- -hung from her pointed teeth. “Strange. This is something I thought you would enjoy.”

“If you thought that, you don’t know me very well, do you?” Maurice stood. “I’m tired of this. I’m just so fucking tired of you DISRUPTING MY STUFF.”

The one remaining whole Scootaloo looked up at him and nodded. Her back opened, unfolding outward. Maurice knelt down and lifted a weapon from inside her. As he lifted it, Morgana was passing. She saw its strange design and odd curves, and the distinct Chuukic script written on its side. Her eyes went wide as she realized what it was.

“MAURICE, NO!” she screamed. “NOT INDOORS!”

Maurice heard her, but only smiled. Then he pulled the trigger on the weapon.

Hundreds of projectiles fired at once, both from the end of the weapon and the sides. Each of them was a glowing sphere of intense green energy, and each traveled out in a straight line. Jane Doe was unable to dodge those headed in her direction, and two struck her in the right arm. Where the projectiles struck vaporized through her armor and flesh, and the broken limb fell to the floor. Jane Doe screamed and took one step back as her armor reconfigured itself, spreading into the wound and forward to generate a new, artificial arm in the place of the original. Then she leapt forward, driving her left hand through Maurice’s shoulder. His own right arm was severed, and it dropped to the floor with his weapon. He did not scream, however, but grinned smugly. He had long-since lost the capacity to feel pain.

The other projectiles continued outward, though, destroying everything in their path. Anything they touched was burned away. Security drones fell, as did mercenaries and civilians. The few Callistemon trees that had not been destroyed in the hail of bullets were torn away, their red stamens pouring out of them in crimson plumes.

That was not the extent of the weapon’s capacity, though. The spherical projectiles continued on to the windows and other hard surfaces, at which point they rebounded at various angles and returned back through the room, slaying anything and anyone that they had not already hit. Jane Doe was forced to dodge as the projectiles flew past Maurice, each of them calculating their trajectory to avoid hitting the man at their source.

“Holy shit!” cried Roxanne. Her speed and agility was adequate that she managed to dodge several of the green spheres, moving with what in any other circumstances would be considered breathtaking grace. She was not fast enough, though. One of the spheres hit the base of one of her wings, severing it completely.

Roxanne screamed wordlessly in horror as she looked at her back and saw the charred metal stump where it had been. The sight of it overwhelmed her, and she stopped dodging. Several more of the projectiles were still converging on her position, though.

Morgana jumped, throwing Roxanne to the ground and covering her with her body. The projectiles struck her instead, burning through her skin- -but detonating before they could do any real damage. Morgana had expected this might happen: MHI technology generally refused to destroy other MHI technology.

“My…my wing…oh God, my wing, Morgana, my wing- -”

“I see it! Leave it! We can get you a new one!”

“But my wing…it’s…it’s gone!”

Roxanne refused to move, and a shadow crossed over Twilight. She looked up to see herself staring into the pale orange eyes of a pony face- -on top of a gaunt mechanical body.

“You,” said Morgana.

“Indeed,” replied the anthro-Lyra, just before several of the projectiles converged on her. They tore through her body, leaving deep holes and spewing molten plastic from her armor onto Morgana and Roxanne. The Lyra then fell to her knees, and closed her eyes as her body was vaporized from within. She self-destructed, reducing herself to a residue of ash.

The remainder of the spheres passed around the room several more times before finally dissipating. The room had suddenly gone strangely quiet, with the only sound being the last of the security drones as they slumped forward. Somewhere in the room, Ioria had been hit and killed.

Then there was nothing. Morgana looked up to see that little was left, save for the bodies. Through Lilium’s eyes, she was able to see Valla behind her, leaning on Elrod. One of her arms was hanging on by a thin fragment of muscle, and one of her robotic rear legs was dragging behind her as she walked.

“Fuck…my fucking arm…”

“They can replace it,” said Elrod. “Don’t worry.”

Few others remained alive. A few mercenaries were twitching and gasping, their suits and cybernetics keeping them marginally alive. One of the tall humans was dragging her way across the floor, leaving a long trail of blood where her legs had once been. A few distant sobs could sometimes be heard breaking through the silence. Maurice, uninjured by his own weapon but now missing an arm, had sat back down and gone back to cradling Celia. Jane Doe seemed to have vanished.

Yet, across the room, a pony still stood. On one side of her was a still mostly whole anthro Lyra, and on the other the broken torso of one, still clutching her rifle and still able to aim. It was the one in the center that drew Morgana’s attention, though. She was dressed in black boots and a high collar, and holding one of her shoulders with one hoof. As she drew it away, Morgana saw that she had been struck by one of the projectiles. The wound was deep, and as the Lyra removed her hoof to look at it, Morgana saw that it was covered in blood. More flowed from the wound, staining the Lyra’s boot and gathering in a pool below her.

Morgana stared at the Lyra, and their eyes met. The Lyra smiled, and Morgana finally understood.

“Morgana!” cried Lilium, suddenly. “There’s a whole lot of soldiers converging on your position! Aetna-Cross!”

Morgana spoke both verbally and telepathically. “Is Forth to the window?”

“She’s on her way, but- -”

The locked doors to the floor suddenly exploded inward, and soldiers rushed in, opening fire without hesitating or even attempting to confirm their targets. Several bullets went through Elrod, and one struck Valla in the shoulder. She cried out as a disrupter arrow was shot into her lower body, neutralizing her robotics. She collapsed, bleeding heavily.

“No!” cried Elrod. He knelt down beside her and picked up a rifle.

“Agromorph! Agromorph!” cried one of the soldiers. “Switch rounds!”

They seamlessly switched ammunition to what both Morgana and Elrod knew to be herbicide rounds. One of them struck Elrod through the rifle, penetrating his right forearm. As it blackened, he tore his arm free and attempted to regenerate a new one. The soldiers advanced, and the first among them were cut down by sniper fire from outside.

“Sniper!”

The less armored among them ducked to cover, but the others advanced. Elrod looked down at Valla, who was alive but badly injured and unable to either walk or pull herself forward.

“Leave her!” ordered Morgana.

Elrod hesitated, but did so. Valla, in her blood stained dress, looked up at him, and at Morgana, and then closed her eyes. She did not protest, but Morgana had seen it in her eyes. Morgana now had one less friend.

The two anthro-Lyra’s remaining opened fire. As they did, Jane Doe appeared at their side.

“It’s time to go,” she said.

“I agree,” said the one pony Lyra. She allowed Jane Dow to reach into her pocket and remove a large disk. Jane Doe then threw the disk against the window, and it silently shattered into dust. With one swift motion, Jane Doe then picked up the pony Lyra and leapt from the building.

The anthro-Lyra’s remained for a moment, and Morgana took advantage of the opportunity. She forced Roxanne forward, and Elrod followed them. When they reached the gap, Forth emerged from the darkness above, her wings buzzing wildly. “I can’t carry all three,” she said.

“Take Roxanne and Elrod,” ordered Morgana.

“But two- -”

“Just slow their descent!”

“What about you?” asked Roxanne. Her voice sounded distant; the trauma of what she had seen and experienced was starting to hit her.

“I can survive the impact, just go!”

Roxanne nodded, but refused to move until Elrod picked her up and leapt out the window into Forth’s arms. Forth had predicted her lift capacity accurately; she began to sink from the excessive weight.

Morgana turned around one last time. The two anthro-Lyra’s looked at her, and both smiled. Then their bodies began to glow from within, coinciding with a massive surge in bandwidth as they were both vaporized.

The Aetna-Cross soldiers began to advance, but as they did, Maurice stood up. The soldiers stopped. They knew who he was, and that for a long time they had not been meant to interfere with him, at least until recently. Morgana suddenly understood, and she took the chance. She leapt from the building.

As she fell, Maurice raised his one remaining hand over his head and smiled as the soldiers opened fire and he died in a hail of Aetna-Cross bullets.