‘The Forest is Discord's church.’

The thought crossed Pina’s mind, unbidden and unwarranted.

She was not supposed to let herself get distracted. Her task demanded that she stay focused. When, sitting at a café table on the village square, keeping a lookout for the little group composed of three fillies, one mare and one man, she'd spotted the twitchy-looking stallions in the process of doing the same, but with less discretion or rigorous method, her instincts had immediately signaled her that trouble was afoot.

Then why hadn't she gone to warn either Bauer or Lulamoon of the danger brewing? She'd overheard the conspirators talk of using stolen knockout gas. Deduced that they were waiting for the couple to split up, for when they'd be at their most vulnerable. No great surprise either that two hardened professionals, who'd faced what they'd faced on Earth, were sure to venture into the Everfree Forest at some point during their visit of Ponyville. To them, almost a lovely evening stroll in the park. What better location to lay in wait for an ambush?

It was what she’d have done.

‘Still. Lucky them. Very lucky. Did not expect that. Pretty good trick the big red one pulled off. Slamming into Bauer’s legs like he did. Brutal. But headstrong. Unplanned. No modus operandi. So just plain lucky in the end.’

Witnessing the slapdash way these ponies charged blindly at a practiced military man had made her feel almost insulted by such an amateurish display. It reminded her of why she preferred going up against natural-born Imperial troops back on Earth, rather than Newfoals. Smiling zombies provided no challenge other than attrition. Clogging the guns with bodies, as one Ukrainian soldier had said. With a little training, one could easily cut a swathe through them like butter. Same with these goons, whoever they were. Newfoals were boring. Expecting Bauer to wipe the forest floor with his assailants was boring.

And Pina did not like being bored.

‘But now we have a hostage situation. Things are getting interesting.’

Following Bauer and Lulamoon from afar hadn't been boring. In fact, it had been such a long time since she'd allowed herself to do something like that, she'd had to remind herself several times she was meant to be watching out for their safety. Not for the first time, Pina silently said her thanks for having learnt adherence to The Rules. The Rules made life less complicated.

Sadly, The Rules also required her not to be alone in this kind of situation, for the good of everyone concerned, and herself most of all. She would need to call for backup soon. Suppressing a groan of dissatisfaction, Pina pressed her face against the dry, hard earth. She wanted to be alone just a while longer, lurking in waiting beneath the dense green foliage of the forest's undergrowth, surveying her next theater of operations.

In this place, the myth of a kindly, nurturing Mother Nature came to die an agonized death.

‘The spider snares the fly and the lizard eats the spider. They kill and die. It is their way.’

The creatures of the forest would fight and kill and die for food. For territory. For sex. And sometimes, they would kill for fun. As Thomas Hobbes had so finely put it, they led lives that were “nasty, brutish and short”.

She liked it here. This was her world.

Below, the ones she’d marked out as the next subjects of her attentions were milling around a squat little red building. They couldn’t see her, but from this uphill vantage point, she could see them. Satisfied that her scouting had provided her with sufficient intel for now, Pina began typing the message on her laptop.

Equestria, Icewind mused, was known for being, if not a land of milk and honey, nor anything so outright saccharine as cotton candy, at least a land where food and drink were always sweet to the tongue and replenishing for the soul. That particular bubble burst quite quickly on one's first evening as a rookie of the Royal Guard.

An army marches on its stomach, they say, but what they don't mention is that the trick lies in keeping the troops on edge, seeking a satisfaction in the heat of the action which they wouldn't necessarily get during their downtime. It wasn't that the rations were indigestible – no point in weakening the nation's defenses, after all – just that they were, well, rations.

The military’s utilitarian mindset required paring down everything to bare necessities. Just like how the shiny, squeaky-clean armor – little more than a far more durable dress uniform – worn by Royal Guards on parade bore little resemblance to equipment dented and battered from years of absorbing blows, so too did one bid farewell to blueberry pie in the evenings, replaced by hastily-assembled meals of raw oats and potatoes. All good for a healthy young recruit's body, and all lacking in much grace or delight, for those were not deemed essential.

‘The things one does for one’s country,’ thought Icewind. ‘I’d be lying if I claimed getting kicked out of all that didn't have its perks. But still, hopefully I can get back in soon, or else there won't be a country to call home anymore. No more pie, or fine tea like this...’

A delicate rattling of china brought him back to reality, for Chamomile had just set down the tray with a kettle and two cups on the table. Not for the first time, Icewind felt a slight pang of jealousy towards one Winter Truce. The elegant manner with which the mare tipped her cream-colored wings to slide that tray off her back while never turning her back on him, the customer, marked her as a most desirable source and target of affection since colthood.

“There you go, sir,” the pretty young mare smiled, “Two glasses of rooibos. It was a perennial favorite of yours, wasn't it, Icewind? You'll be glad to hear that with all these newcomers visiting our fair capital, it's become easier to get my hooves on some vitals for the shop.”

As he politely raised his glass to her while she sat down, Icewind tried not to dwell on the fact it was no coincidence she'd reminded him that the same tea he liked was made of exotic leaves, in this case imported from the Punda Miliashariki tribe of plains zebras.

‘A soft voice and some well-chosen words are a proper lady's tools,' he thought. 'Oh, darn. Was about to think 'weapons' instead there. What has soldiering done to my mind? Get a grip, lad, Chamomile Brew most certainly isn't an enemy.’

But though Icewind knew that, whichever way the wind may blow after this conversation, he could trust her not to let anything slip, this reminded him again of why he'd never formed an enduring romantic attraction for his old schoolfriend, unlike Winter.

‘She's too demure and well-mannered, somehow, if that makes sense. To my taste, anyway. Outspokenness in a girl, now, that's what I prefer. Somepony who's got some fire burning inside, who's quick to let you know if she likes you, and... I'm getting sidetracked here. Focus, this isn't a meeting about the allures of the opposite sex, you hopeless romantic fool...’

Try as he might, however, his thoughts kept drifting back to a certain red-maned unicorn… and the intriguing academic who had recently come into his life. Now there was a soul that burned like fire, perhaps bright enough for something special to flourish. Oh, be still, beating hearts...

“So tell me, Icewind,” said Chamomile. “Now that you’re no longer in the Guard, how have you been keeping yourself afloat these past two months?”

“Odd jobs,” Icewind said neutrally. “I get by.”

Chamomile nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Forgive me for being so forward, but when news reached me of your resignation, I felt concerned. Under any other circumstances, you know I'd have Papa's ear to turn toward for help.” She sighed, displaying the first sign of discomfort since he’d entered her teashop. Even though he'd taken care to send her advance notice, Icewind couldn't shake the feeling she'd mostly agreed to this meeting for old times’ sake.

“But,” the mare continued quietly, “these are strange days.”

“I don't expect Captain Fields to be very happy with me," Icewind said truthfully. “If he supported my decision, he'd already have given me the word.” He paused for an instant, reflecting on how to best proceed. “Your father is Shining Armor's elder. He was engaged in fierce skirmishes with the dragons and minotaurs when our current High Captain was still wet behind the ears.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said, suppressing a shudder. “It makes for some exciting storytelling by the evening hearthfire, I'll grant you that, and I long for him to keep at it well into his old age. But there’s always that shadow lurking beneath Papa’s tales, a lingering hint that he could well have never been around to tell them.”

Icewind briefly thought about reassuring her that the rate of deaths in action for the Royal Guard were low nowadays, but decided against it. Chamomile knew this, she wouldn't appreciate him thinking her so impressionable, and it ran counter to his goals.

“It’s good he was, though," Icewind said instead. “Else two schoolcolts wouldn’t have first been inspired to swear everlasting loyalty to Celestia.”

“You boys, I swear. A right pair you were,” replied Chamomile, tracing her hoof in a circle around the tablecloth. “It’s the only thing you ever fully agreed upon. Dreams of growing up to be a Guard one day.” Her brow wrinkled slightly upon the last phrase. “What made you cast that aside?”

No point holding back any longer. “We were sworn to defend Equestria from monsters, not join forces with them against fellow ponies,” he said, forcibly keeping his indignation from showing. “Listen to me. I know things may still seem just about normal right now, but it’s going to get a whole lot worse if nothing's done.”

“You mean the humans.”

“What else could it be? Nopony in Equestria is safe with them around.”

Chamomile took another sip of her tea, obviously contemplating all this, before she next replied. “Icewind…” she began tentatively, “Do you quite realize what you’re saying? By calling humans ‘monsters’, you're suggesting everyone who chooses to associate with them is blinkered and blind somehow. Us ponies who want to help them, and all other species lumped together.”

“Eh? No, that’s…”

“My friend, please," Chamomile raised a placating hoof, "Think to when we foals, all three of us. Back in the old town, Vanhoover. Don't you remember the magic of visitors from another land?”

Taken by her words, Icewind did think back. Vanhoover, his beloved birthplace, home to some of the greatest winter marvels Equestria had to offer. The Three-Days Wrap-Up, the Great Snowflake Delivery, and of course...

“The reindeer. Yes. Who could forget the reindeer?” A fond smile of reminiscence crept across his face. “But that’s different. The reindeer aren't... they…” Icewind’s smile dissipated as understanding dawned on him. “Oh.”

“Mmh,” said his companion, who’d begun to lightly stir the remnants of her tea with a spoon. “Dragons, griffons, zebras... we ponies have all felt a bit scared of them once in our lives. Yet have you met anypony who doesn't love the reindeer?”

Icewind folded his forehooves across his chest. “Actually, yes. So have you. Remember when Winter’s father left, and he asked for Sint to ‘bring my daddy back’ for Hearthswarming?”

“Oh, come on now," Chamomile chided him. “That was just a one-time thing, and you know he was going through a rough patch in his life.”

“It still did something to him for nearly a whole year,” replied Icewind, unfolding his forehooves while shaking his head. “He’s never been the greatest hit with people, but seeing what happened to his family made him go real tight-lipped and unfriendly.”

“I know. For a while, it drove me further apart from him than it did you. He was acting so, well, awful that I started asking myself if it's possible to get on Sint’s Naughty List just for being hard to hang around, if not for doing bad things in particular.”

“Yeah..." Icewind tried for a wry grin. “Sometimes I think it was good for Winter that I didn’t always pay much attention in class. Because he stuck to helping me out there, even if he could be terribly snide and rude, it ended up helping him back out of his shell.”

“A nice present for Hearthswarming probably helped too,” added Chamomile with a smile.

“Indeed. But that’s just it. Remember what that reindeer doe… what was her name, Ren, said when we asked if they could make us a present to offer somepony we weren't sure had been very nice this year?”

“Yes,” nodded Chamomile, finishing the stirring. “It’s the kind of phrase that stays with you.” She paused for thought. “‘We are givers. The Allfather and his Snow Maiden may have a good eye for the righteous and the unrighteous, but who discerns between deserving and undeserving? Can you tell me if a world where only those who are kind must be shown kindness, and those who are cruel must be shown only cruelty in return, is a deserving world?’”

“Pretty heavy stuff," he commented, “for her to lay down on two kids just looking for a present to help their friend be himself again…”

She shrugged. “I’ve asked myself since then, but if the reindeers are givers, who gives to them? Do they count our love and gratitude as something we give in return? Or would they still give, without expecting to receive anything back, just from the love in their hearts? I know that not all reindeer quite agree with the Allfather’s principles, though they defer to his age and wisdom.”

Despite finding himself wrapped up by her words, the thought occurred to Icewind that they were getting somewhat side-tracked. “Chamomile... thanks. That’s some of the nicest stuff I've been given to think about lately, believe me. But it shows what needs to be saved.”

“There aren’t anymore of them, you know.”

Her voice had been so low, Icewind almost didn’t pick up her words. “Excuse me?”

“No more reindeer,” she repeated sadly. “In the other universe. The Tyrant killed them all.”

Icewind frowned deeply. “Where did you hear that?” When Chamomile didn't immediately reply, he guessed the truth. "Oh, for the love of–”

With effort, he restrained himself. “Listen, I know you’re smarter than that. This sounds just like the kind of ridiculous story cooked up by dubious folk to smear the other side because they felt insecure about their own righteousness.”

Over the rim of her almost-empty glass, she looked at him with gentle, tired eyes. “The Snow Maiden has called for our reindeer to stand beside the humans. Only one reason I can imagine for the people of Adlaborn to bestow the gift of death upon anyone. The alternative would need to be far, far worse.”

Having given his own glass a little shake, Icewind finished draining his the last of his tea. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You said so yourself, the reindeer's culture is based on giving. Maybe now we’re witnessing the downside to it. Their generosity will lead them to follow whatever mad plans the frenzied species of Equus have dreamt into being.”

Chamomile said nothing, but he was sure the look she gave him was one of pity.

“You can’t talk like humans are the innocent victims here,” he insisted. “They’re meat-eaters. Doesn’t that bother you, just a little?”

The mare sat back, glancing away from him. “I can’t say that the thought strikes me as very appetizing...” she admitted softly. “Doubtless I’ll never quite understand carnivores and their ways. Yet I remember what my friend Valencia... you know, the one who does volunteer work for the animal caretakers’ guild... explained to me one time. Working with small creatures lends you an intimacy with the cycle of life…”

‘The circle of life?’ Icewind echoed privately. ‘Why does that sound familiar?’

“They teach you how to catch fish and feed them to carnivores, or to feed worms to birds,” pursued Chamomile. Her gaze drifted for a second, “the first thing they show you is a nature film. Some naturalist managed to capture an otter catching and sharing a trout with her young, and as they eat it alive, the fish’s belly splits open and spills out a mess of shiny eggs, which the baby otters climb over each other to get to, and gobble up like a delicacy.”

Mother and child dining on mother and child. Icewind turned a little green at the imagery, and she laughed softly.

“That’s nature at work, Ice,” she chided. “It doesn’t hold itself to our standards. In fact, if you want to work with animals, you’ve got to learn to work according to their needs, not to our wants. A caretaker is taught to show the same compassion for the most vicious predator as for the cutest baby rabbit. Though Valencia says she’s only ever heard of a single mare live up to that ideal, Fluttershy. Funnily enough, she's said to be a pegasus, not an earth pony like most ponies in the guild.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because we pegasi are, culturally, stewards of the weather, not caregivers. We’re accustomed to bending natural forces to useful ends, not bending themselves to accommodate nature’s needs. But clouds are easy to push around. It’s all just air pressures and humidity levels. Predation and biology however won’t confirm to our demands. Gut instinct and metabolic truths can’t be manipulated as easily as the weather, which is something most pegasi have trouble adjusting to. Farm ponies have a first-hoof understanding of that reality, hence why most animal caregivers are earth ponies. Fluttershy is the great exception.”

“Yeah, that’s all fine and good,” Icewind said, suddenly very quiet. “Have you been there?”

She blinked in confusion. “Where?”

“Caught in nature’s grasp, at the mercy of the beast,” he elaborated somberly. “I have. During Captain Armor's wedding to Princess Cadenza. When Chrysalis and her offspring brought the shield down and swarmed Canterlot. We in the Guard weren't prepared for something like that... they soon had us all covered in green slime, helpless to do anything except watch as the roaches went after fleeing, screaming civilians.”

His hoof reached out for the glass, only to pull away when he realized it was empty. “Me and Winter were stationed at a secondary entrance to the throne room. The Queen Roach herself passed us by, once, after she was done cocooning Celestia. On her way, she slowed, and turned her gaze to us…” A shudder ran down the length of his spine. “I swear to you... looking into those eyes... you remember what it means to be prey.”

“You might want to talk to a Hippologist about that experience, Ice,” she responded gently. “Sounds like you tapped into a little racial memory there, the old flight-or-fight response from back before we were sentient, back when we were just simple grazers.”

‘Hippology? Isn’t that Catseye’s subject of study….’

No! He shook his head and growled, meeting her gaze. “I don’t want to ever go through that again. And I don’t think Winter would ever dream of it. We’re ponies, we’ve evolved to hold ourselves to a higher standard than nature asked of us, but fighting a war on the behalf of predators will reduce us back to fearful animals…to livestock!”

And that was when he knew that, whatever her reservations, whatever her sympathies, the idea had began to worm its way into Chamomile’s brain – that her Winter may be like the proverbial fieldmouse in a griffon's sights, an unknowing victim destined for the slaughter.

He sat up. “We need to see each other again soon. Together with Winter. For old time’s sake.”

“Yes,” she agreed evenly, holding out her hoof for him to shake. “We should. But most of all, I think you need help getting this out of your system. Is there a special somepony in your life?”

“Not right now, no…” Icewind replied after a short hesitation.

“Perhaps there ought to. You're passionate, Icewind, yet I worry over where your passions may end up leading you. I believe the doe said it best about showing kindness only to the kindest... It's Equestria's boundless capacity for love and making our own light in the darkness that has got us through so much in the past.”

The mare held Icewind’s hoof in her own, with a concerned look in those warm, hazel-colored eyes of her.

“Please, don't forget that.”

On his way back up the Boulevard, Icewind was still mulling over her words when he felt the secret keeper hum from within his saddlebags.

Seated at the coffee table, Vinyl Scratch was feeling relaxed in the light of Celestia’s Sun. The rays streamed into Donut Joe’s through the wide glass windows that faced out onto the morning hustle and bustle of Canterlot’s Grand Boulevard. Sitting here in the sun, watching normal ponies going about their everyday lives, was a strange deal... rejuvenating, that was the best word to describe it. A weird thought, but not an unpleasant one. It had been far too long since she’d had a chance to relax like this.

In fact, truth be told, out of all the weirdness of these past few years, this and the experience of listening to a mare you’d seen die – not a recording, an honest, live broadcast – over the radio counted as the good kind of weird. And the instrumentals were provided by, unmistakably, her.

Amen to that. It sure as Tartarus was.

No Newfoals, no totem-proles, no secret police, no mind healers that promised to erase your guilt but who instead wiped away your entire self and buried your memories, no food shortage lines under opulent buildings, none of that terrible flat, pallid light that seemed to be everywhere.

Absent-mindedly picking up what was left of the donut which she'd been stirring in her coffee cup for the last five minutes –Tavi always did prefer tea, she recalled suddenly – and taking a nibble out of the soggy remnant, the DJ forced herself to hold back a tear. It wouldn't do to stain her shades.

No, scratch that. If she couldn't face her feelings here, where could she face them? Here was Equestria as it was meant to be.

Vinyl had first come to this wonderful coffee shop run by a heavyset, easygoing stallion, in the company of Pinkie Pie - the real Pinkie - after the Royal Wedding, and it had kinda become a permanent fixture for them.

Boy, those were good days, hours spent at this very table doing nothing except planning raves and throw-downs for ponies across the land, ponies in sore need of more wubs in their lives. She felt sure Isaac would have loved Pinkie...

‘But then,’ scowled the DJ, a dark look crossing her features, ‘if it weren’t for the Element Bearers, he and his doctor friend wouldn't be busy right now maintaining that museum exhibition on why harmony needed to be restored on Earth.’

Indeed, the major change in the scenery at good old Donut Joe's was the hulking biped currently sitting across the table from her. Perhaps not as close a bud as Acevedo, but a hella guy nonetheless, and more importantly, a constant reminder of how far away she truly was from the Equestria of her innocence.

Marcus took a great big gulp from whatever unholy, black, thickly steaming beverage he'd taken to consuming lately. “It’s hard for coffee to have an effect, so I settle for this,” the Marine explained, wiping his chin as he looked over at Vinyl uneasily.

Both of them stared at each other for a second, not sure what else to do. She could tell that Marcus, in a way, wanted her to be angry at him. Almost wished her to yell at him over how badly he’d screwed up. It would have been closure, of a sort.

“You okay?” asked Vinyl.

“No,” Marcus replied, awkwardly placing that cup down. “It’ll be great to use all this..." he said, gesturing at the damn runic transformation she was still getting used too, the tattoos that had overtaken his body. She knew his control was getting better everyday, but in fits of strong emotions he tended to lose it, as she knew from bitter experience. “And great to go bare-fisted up the Tyrant, but…”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “I lost a lot of things... your trust being one of them.”

“Yeah, you kind of did," she said bluntly. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Holding back a curse, Vinyl hurried to add, “We've all lost... someone... or somepony.” She tried not to choke.

Marcus placed his palms on the table, an oddly demure gesture for such an imposing man. “You’re still thinking about Octavia, aren't you?”

“Every day, Marcus,” Vinyl whispered. “When I tuck myself in at night, my back pressed against the wall, the very last thing I see behind my eyelids is her falling, falling, all those storeys... she never stood a chance, even if that recliner hadn’t... hadn’t cr–”

This time, there was no point trying to hide it. Vinyl took off her shades and wiped her eyes. She felt sure they weren’t actually wet, though, and this was now just a reflexive move on her part, her routine for whenever Tavi was brought up. And it scared her more than most things.

Silently, she put her shades back on. “No, I don’t trust you like I did before. I'm sorry, Commander, but it’s true. But I know why you felt you had to do it.”

Marcus gave one brief, grim nod, reaching for his cup. “Mmh-hmm. All things considered, you took it pretty well.”

If he’d come here to apologize, on the other hand, this wasn't going too well.

“I’m sorry for what happened, alright?” he said, trying and failing to not to sound bitter. “For everything I did that day. It was wrong, and I could have killed Acevedo. I don’t… I don’t want to think about what could have happened, if it got worse.”

“It’s not just me you need to apologize to,” Vinyl said quietly, trying to distract herself by thinking of what other high-fructose crap she could order of off Joe’s menu. The rotund stallion in question was at his usual position behind the counter, sorting through pastries, keeping himself at a respectful distance from the two warriors from another world.

‘Two strangers. Yeah, that’s depressing. All right, let’s bury the pain, I owe myself a good binge. Another donut? Or maybe some of those fancy croissants? Tavi loved those...’

“Right,” said Marcus, counting off names. “Acevedo, Anderson, Thomas–” He cut himself off. “Vinyl, I... look, we seem to be skirting around something here.”

“Around what?" asked Vinyl, tipping her seat back with affected calm. “This here is all pretty clear-cut to me. Okay, so we can’t keep this under wraps forever. But you know what? Lyra never let herself be a victim. We're talking about the mare who gave us mosta’ our tech, who almost single-hoofedly raised a rebel alliance, made it cool to cuddle colts and fool around with fillies in fifteen countries, for Luna's sake! And that makes her a miracle-worker in my book, nobody’s gonna tell me otherwise.”

Marcus shook his head, clearly not hearing the answer he was searching for, and looking at her with regret plastered across his own face. “You knew her. We both did. It's different to know her as a real mare, not just an inspiring figure standing tall and proud in one of Photo Finish's propaganda videos.” His expression grew harder. “And that’s just it.”

“What is?"

“Saint Heartstrings, Tzadeket Hador, equine Kamī, whatever you prefer,” he said, without sarcasm, but a hint of contempt. “That’s how most people know her. You don't hear them talk about the number of times she looked close to diving over the edge. The times she had to fight because no one, neither pony nor human wanted to listen to her. The lives she was forced to take because they'd rather die than accept an offer of peace.”

Vinyl looked away, frowning as the memories came back to her of her friend and leader. But something caught her eye. Marcus had manifested a light blue glow around his shoulders and apparently hadn’t realized, face clouded in anger as it was. She coughed pointedly, directing his attention back to his demi-divinity, and with a scowl he reduced the arua to a point where it wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.

“If I had a dime,” he growled. “For all the evenings when, after she'd given her last pep talk of the day and retired to her quarters, I’d find her at her desk, with Bonbon massaging her shoulders, while she just stared at the wall... the things she lived with, Vinyl. Did you know she never used words like ‘enhanced interrogation’ or ‘acceptable losses’? That mare preferred to call a spade a spade... no matter how much it hurt on the inside.”

They were silent again, until at last he broke it. “Would she be alright with how I’ve led us all?”

Vinyl looked to ponder this for a second. “Yes.” Okay, maybe she wouldn’t have approved of what he'd done to keep them quiet, but it was probably for the best not to bring that up. The Maker only knew how she'd have reacted to finding out what she unleashed. “The news is really eating you up, huh?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Marcus grumbled, taking a long swig of his fortified coffee. “She was one of my best friends, she was my superior, she was… She was a lot of things I’m not. And I envy her for that. But even so, when I heard the news, I kind of hated her. But at the same time, I felt like the worst kind of person for it, because this kind, amazing mare also started the whole fucking war in the first place…”

Vinyl held her breath, trying to not let that offhand comment get to her. This was something she hadn't admitted to Marcus. She didn’t want to hate Lyra either, didn’t want her memories of the brave young mare tarnished by the truth of the matter.

... But it was too much.

“Tavi! No!”

A grey-coated mare soaring out the window, long black mane fluttering in the wind. Not peaceful in the slightest. Screaming.

Her bowtie knocked askew. Somehow, that just seemed the wrongest thing of all.

“Vinyl?”

“Stupid mare! You! You all will be tried for treason!”

Golden armor shining proud and bright in the revealed sun.

“Vinyl, are you okay?”

“You... you fucking monsters! I’ll kill you all! I’ll rip your throats out and feed them to the dogs!!”

“Shit. Vinyl, listen to me, don’t fall into the memories. Listen to my voice, you're not there. You are not in France.”

“GARGH! MY EYES! YOU LITTLE HARIDELLE!”

The smell of something burning. Something acrid. The sickly sweet smell of potion.

“Die! DIE! FUCKING DIE!!”

“She’s just like the humans! Kill her-ack!”

Blood smearing her hooves.

“I’d rather be a human than you pieces of shit!! I’ll kill all of you! I will kill every single one of-”

“VINYL!”

Vinyl took a gasp as she returned to reality at flank speed, feeling the warmth of the body holding her. She looked up from the comforting embrace to see Marcus, slowly rubbing her back, rocking side to side to try and calm her down.

“~You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray,~” he sung softly into her ear, uncaring if his newly acquired shirt was shredded and soaked in tears. Vinyl's gaze fell upon the little coffee shop. All around them the tables were overturned, glasses spilled, windows cracked. Pastries lay splattered on the floor like cowpats.

And in the middle of it was Marcus, cradling her like a foal.

“~You never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away,~” he finished, finally looking down at her. His face was filled with sadness, but Vinyl couldn’t help but hate the way he stared at her.

Hated for him to understand her pain. To know that in some way, he'd been right.

She opened her mouth, paused, but he slowly shook his head. “Let it out, Vinyl. You needed this; you’ve kept it inside for too long.”

“I just… miss her… so much,” Vinyl sobbed, holding on to him tightly, trying to regain control of her emotions. “It hurts…”

“I know.” was all he said he said by way of reply. “Trust me… if I could, I would take that pain away from you, Vinyl.”

“Don’t you dare!” she whimpered back, before bursting into further sobs. “That’s how I know I l-loved her! Take it away and I’m just a N-newfoal!”

For a long moment, the only thing that she could hear was her own bawling. But through the tears she saw Donut Joe emerge from behind the counter, grimacing at the scene, saw him wave away the curious ponies peering through broken windows. She sniffed twice as she messily wiped away her tears and snot, and managed to put on a sheepish smile.

“Uhhhh… whoops?” she shrugged.

“...is colossal property damage a way of life for you guys?” the proprietor of the diner sighed. Vinyl and Marcus looked at each other, and burst into laughter, perhaps the first honest laugh they'd shared in far too long.

“This?” she howled. “Dude, Joe! When we really get going, we’re gonna bring down the sky! I’ve got friends that’ve dropped skyliners!”

It shouldn’t have been a funny remark, and it was definitely poor taste. But right now, laughter seemed the only appropriate response somehow.

“Don’t worry about the damages,” Marcus added in between his own snorts. “We have a compensation scheme set up with the palace… at least I think we do.”

“Shoulda checked on that before you took this gal out, Marky-Mark!” Vinyl wheezed, finally bringing her laughter back into something approaching a sane kind of chuckle.

And with perfect timing, Marcus’s android went off in his pocket, killing the mood as clean as a sniper round through the sternum.

“Hum?”

Clearly having the same trouble as her shifting mental gears so fast, he drew out the phone. Both saw that the tiny gemstone embedded in the back of the casing was flashing. Whatever was coming through, it was on the PHL’s internal magitek network, currently only otherwise available to a few PHL operatives in the Solar Empire, such as Fancypants.

Swiping his finger across the screen, Marcus called up the message, evidently not caring if she read it or not. Apparently, being privy to the truth about Lyra bumped up one’s security rating.

Colonel Renee, be advised.

At ca. 1300 hours earlier today Major Stephan Bauer was abducted by unidentified assailants.
Current whereabouts of Blue Spy are unknown. I have tracked down Major Bauer's location to a brickyard on the outskirts of the Everfree Forest, estimated 4 miles North-North-West of Ponyville, 2 miles West of Zecora's Hut.

Regret to inform you that in the interests of Major Bauer's safety, I do not have the option of a lone-wolf stealth operation. The variables are too complex to parse. Peaceful relations with locals may be compromised. Repeat, affiliation of assailants is unidentified. Swift action recommended.

Request backup immediately.

Pineapple Cutter

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna have to set up an insurance scheme with Princess Celestia…” said Marcus, shaking in barely restrained rage despite the glib choice of words.

“Just as well; I had a bet with Discord that no-one could ever capture Stephan,” Vinyl replied, attempting to mask her own concern with humour. “Those bits have got to come from somewhere…”

Seeing the look on Marcus’s face however she gave up trying to be funny and sighed. “We just can’t win, can we? Every time we get ahead, the goalposts move…” She looked down at the email. “But holy shit, man - Pina? You let Salonen's little helper trail after them?”

“Yes, and just as well, too.”

“Marcus, she's a fucking psycho bitch,” Vinyl snarled. “Yeah. I know that’s rich, coming from me, but–”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Vinyl,” Marcus said. “And she’s our fucking scary psycho bitch. I know they get on your teats, but people like Pina and Verity are useful.”

“Oh yeah,” snorted Vinyl. “You trust ‘em, send em’ off on secret missions, and then they do a bunk with the best stuff from the ammo locker and never come back. Real useful…”

“I needed the PHL’s best concentrated near Boston,” Marcus explained. “She… wasn’t.”

“Well, I am the best, and you’re not bad as second banana.” Pulling herself out of his arms, Vinyl started out the door, looking back as Marcus fiddled with his radio. “What are you doing, bro? We’ve got work to do.”

“Calling in reinforcements, and a ride,” Marcus grunted, holding up the phone to his ear. “Hello? City Command, this is Colonel Renee. I need a team prepped and ready for deployment. We have a possible hostage situation unfolding in Ponyville. Over.”

“Understood, Colonel. They’ll be ready within the next two hours. We’ll send you Sergeant Jaka and his people. Anything else you need, sir? Over,” the voice replied smoothly.

“Tell them they have an hour. Make ready, and pick up Lieutenant Scratch and myself in Canterlot. Colonel Renee out.”

‘Oh, I don’t fucking believe this. I handle bastards and unruly troops from two worlds over on a daily basis. I’ve fought Sombra’s crystal golems. I got in a one-on-one fight with Celestia, for Christ’s sake! I go to bed every night with a mare who could kill me in eighty different ways before we’re even done with the foreplay! But no, now I end up captured by these Vollidioten!’

Stephan mentally checked himself over as he leant against the pole he was tied to. His body was beaten, that was sure. The cold water of the river hadn’t helped - if any, it actually made it worse. At the very least he could still use both of his eyes.

Wherever he was, it seemed to be full of bricks. Rows and rows, stacked atop one another. Judging from the pervasive smell of bricks, in fact, he’d have guessed he was probably in a brickworks. He took a deep sniff, and caught the heavy, earthy smell of clay, and the acrid tang of charcoal. In the distance, he could hear the sound of roaring ovens.

Yeah, brickworks alright. This room must be the drying shed, where the ‘green bricks’ were left for the pressed clay to be dried out by wind and air, before they were fired. He remembered playing hide-and-seek with his father in a disused brickworks such as this on a family vacation, long ago. Here was a further sign that Equestrian architecture shared something in common with his native Europe.

‘Wonder how that’s possible.’

But those musings could wait. There was also the faint smell of wood. Not rotten wood and vegetation like he knew from the abandoned factory back home, or even the pleasant smell of freshly cut timber. It was rich, abundant woodland.

‘Okay. So we’ve not left the Everfree, then. Or we’re at least pretty close to it. Even so, I wouldn’t know which way to go to get back to Ponyville. It’s east of the forest, right? Maybe I can find a high spot or climb a tree.’

To get out of here would be the next part. Which made him wonder, why did they catch him in the first place? Maybe to extort something from the PHL? Wondering about this reminded him of one special PHL pony.

‘I hope Trixie is okay. I swear on my name, if they do anything to her I will replace their eyeballs with their nuts. And if they are mares, well, I’ll think of something equally bad. Equal rights and so on, after all.’

Stephan checked the rope. Whoever tied this knot knew how to make one. Moving his arms around wasn’t easy, but he could at least feel his hands. His fingers ran over the rope. Unfortunately, there was nothing to really grasp on. Some of his abductors were smarter than the rest, he could give them that. But they’d forgotten his legs.

He tried to move them under him and push himself up the pole. Too bad that there was no open spot he could use to pull the rope through. Freeing himself would mean either getting rid of the ropes, or the pole, which seemed pretty well seated. The former option would be easier, now that he knew what he was dealing with.

Perhaps there was one way he could free himself in no time...

‘Hey Discord, do you hear me?’

There was no immediate reply. Instead he heard only a beeping noise, like a blocked line.

‘That wasn’t funny the first time, Discord.’

‘I am sure there are some who would disagree, Stephan. Did you know that you’re eligible to compensation on your PPI?’

Stephan’s lips formed a little smile, because it looked like his abductors didn’t know about his connection with Discord, or didn’t care. Huge mistake.

‘Just wanted to say that a group of ponies have caught me and are now holding me hostage. And, don’t ask me how they did that, they were just lucky.’

‘Huh, Really? Looks like Vinyl owes me some bits.

Stephan was quiet for a moment. ‘Anyway, can you teleport to my position and get me out?’

‘Of course, it will only take a blink of an eye and-’

‘-No! Not right now. Just be on stand-by until I need you. I’ll try and gather some intel on these guys first.’

‘You sure about that Wunderboy? Sounds like a plan that can easily and horribly backfire.’

‘Which one of my plans have you ever seen backfire on me?’

‘Your vacation plans, for one.’

‘... Just to be clear, that was Marcus’s idea.’

Stephan heard something outside before Discord could answer. He frowned, staring at the doorway with concern. ‘Just be quick when I call for you, because one of these ponies isn’t giving me such good vibes...’

Short Fuse looked stone-faced over another casualty, muttering under his breath as the list of injuries grew longer with every word the stallion beside him spoke.

“... A broken rib, fractured left rear leg, and a concussion.” Blackberry quietly concluded.

Fuse sighed, then turned to the next pony. “And this one?”

“She suffered the worst under the… assault from the human.” Blackberry shuddered, glancing over his shoulder to a closed door, behind which lay the creature in question.

“That devil. He didn’t even hit that hard!” Fuse winced as he rubbed at the plasters applied to the back of his own head. “Darn, I’ve taken an anvil to the face before. Didn’t break near as much in me. What is it with these blasted chimps and their uncanny… everything?”

The student tapped his chin. “I think Corporal Strategy kinda mentioned something to that effect one time. Something about how the mass in their universe is different… or did she say the density? Either way, I seem to recall atomic structure was involved… or was it the absence of narrative causality?”

“Yeah, whatever, kid,” Fuse grunted. “All it means is, they know how to make a pony hurt like Tartarus.” His lip curled. “Bleedin’ unnatural, is what they are...” Then he noticed Blackberry was staring at him with something like awe. “What?”

“Uh, I…” the student doctor fidgeted, seeming abashed. “Just thought that was a real swell move you pulled back there, sir. Where’d you learn that?”

Fuse considered the the curly-haired, specs-wearing young adult next to him. This stallion had proven useful to him when, right after Bauer had bashed him across the skull, the first thing that happened was that Blackberry had, at great disregard for his personal safety, rushed forward with a box of bandages in-saddle to drag him out of the river, despite being far smaller than he and three times less strong.

Yet while he begrudgingly recognized the medical student’s worth, Fuse felt in his gut that this pampered and bookish nancy colt – he was fairly close to his more physically imposing friend Maximum Velocity – wasn’t the kind of partner-in-crime he’d have first selected for this, given more choice in the matter.

“Kid,” he sighed, one ear twitching as he heard hoofsteps approaching from outside, “I have a feeling yer’ gonna find out soon enough.”

The doors to the warehouse slammed open, and a group of five rough-looking ponies swaggered in with none-too-comforting smiles on their faces. Many of the fifteen-or-so other ponies in the room stiffened at the sight of the new arrivals, but Short Fuse waved his hoof at them, indicating they should stand down, and stalked up to the lead stallion, an ashen colored pegasus nearly as burly as he.

“Locksmith.”

“Short Fuse.”

“Yer late,” Fuse growled out, but the other stallion merely rolled his eyes.

“Sorry,” Locksmith replied glibly, “The train from Manehatten was held up by war traffic, Shorty. You know, the war we oppose? S’bad for business.”

“Don’t call me Shorty,” Fuse seethed, earning a laugh from Locksmith as he took a step closer.

“I can call you whatever I please, Shorty.” Locksmith smile turned grim, with a small glare. “You left Caballeron’s group to pursue some tail–”

“Do. Not.” Fuse gritted his teeth warningly, his face inches from Locksmith’s. “Talk about my wife like a common broodmare.”

“I call it as I see it.” Locksmith chuckled darkly. “You left a fine thing behind, Shorty. You were good at what you did, the Doc himself was looking at you. But instead, you threw it away for a mare who lifted her tail an’ gave you a sob story about being lost.”

Fuse gritted his teeth, his rage building up as the pony before him continued to talk, “You wanted an out, and the mare was your ticket. You’re lucky that Doctor Caballeron was so generous, letting you leave as he did. And now you come crawling back, looking for hired hooves to do some dirty work? You’re wasted on something like this, especially after pulling what I heard you did. It doesn’t take a genius to see this’ll go teats-up soon.”

“And the ‘Good Doctor’ just had to send me you,” Fuse muttered. “The bucker’s got a wicked sense of irony.”

“Because I’m the one who worked hard enough to be his right hoof.” Locksmith narrowed his eyes at him. “We have a plan in the works, it involves the new city just up t’other side of Canterlot, the Manehattan knockoff. We need a way in. The good Doc has certain clients who want the artifacts of that city, and some of the more… confidential tech.”

“Yeah, and we gave it to ya,” Fuse grumbled as he thought back to their agreement.

“Oh, don’t expect me to thank you for it, pal,” Locksmith smiled unpleasantly. “I know you’re not the one who’ll give us entrance to that city. But if ever you see that hooded toff of yours again, do send her my regards, and tell her we hope that… package we got was to her satisfaction.”

“Count on that.”

“There’s a good chap. Anyway, Doc asked me to tell you, that if ever you grow tired of marriage and of pressing bricks for a living, and would fancy going back to pressing people’s faces in, well, he might consider a spot for you. In return for certain investments, naturally.”

And with that, he turned his back on Short Fuse, giving instructions to the rest of the gang while leaving the hulking stallion to glower at his former associate. Blackberry, however, was positively wearing a look of crossed shock and excitement on his face.

“Ohmygosh,” he quivered out, gazing first at the gang, then at Fuse. “Ohmygosh! Sir, this is... I… this is like if my foalhood action figures came to life! Sir, sir, why didn’t you tell us you knew Caballeron and his gang! That’s just… wow.”

Fuse held back a snappy retort, closing his eyes to count to ten, the way Minus had taught him. When the count was up, with much effort, he replied slowly and carefully. “Blackberry, son… first thing ya gotta learn, is that life ain’t like the books.”

The student was still too overcome with wonder to notice this was the first time the brickmaker had addressed him by name. “What are you talking about? This is straight out of the books! Oh, I can’t believe I’m living this right now!”

“Kid. Stop.” Fuse’s tone was laced with quiet warning. “There’s stuff that don’t make it into those damn stories. Stuff ya don’t wanna know. Bucker over there told it true. I did want out.”

“Out of what?” Blackberry enquired with honest curiosity. “Living unbound by rules? Not having to answer to anypony? Riding into the sunset with stolen treasure?”

“Unbound?” Fused chuckled darkly. “Not when you roll with Caballeron. I’ll tell you what I wanted out from. Get caught putting a hoof outta line, they go and throw ya down into the deepest, blackest hole they can find, with nought but bread and water for weeks on end. And they’re the ones on the right side of the law. It’s worse with them who makes their own rules.”

“But surely the trick is to not get caught?”

All the student got in response was a grunt from Fuse, who turned away with a contemptuous kick of his hindleg to the ground. Shaking his head in an effort to push back thoughts of days gone by, the brickmaker ambled away from the pony gathering to sit down, hooves folded across his chest, next to the low-lying archway of the kiln.

It was his favorite spot of the factory. Many other ponies found it a bit oppressive due to the lingering, heady scent of burnt wood and charcoal, but he found he liked it, thank you very much. There was an odd kind of comfort, in being enveloped by this continuous reminder of hard labor performed for the community, even if your personal relationship with them remained aloof and standoffish at times.

A new voice whispered from behind Fuse, “I see you’re a stallion who likes a job well done.”

Fuse turned around. “Miss Weaver. Any reason why yer’ here?”

“I received word from Doctor Catseye,” replied the cloaked mare, stepping out from the alcove behind the kiln. “She’s decided to back up this improvised operation of yours.”

Fuse felt an ecstatic surge at this proclamation, a large grin spreading over his face as he got up to greet her. “Really! But that’s great! I told her we had to take the fight to ‘em. What I needed was more–”

What she said next wiped the grin off his face. “Yes, that as may be, I regret to tell you that while your devotion to this cause is well appreciated, we have little choice but to maintain plausible deniability. You are not on your own while I am here, have no fear on that score. But this cannot be allowed to lead back to Catseye.”

“Don’t worry yer pretty covered little head about it.” Fuse waved off her concerns, his grin coming back in full force. “After all, this ‘ere operation took place in the Everfree, by the time the blue mass murderer and her friends even try to understand what happened, the big bad Major’ll be nothing more than a memory.”

Stephan’s head jerked up as he heard the double doors opened wide, and a new, sophisticated feminine voice added itself to the babble from the other room;

“-what if I told you that even as we speak, a PHL mare is surveying this location and has just reported back to her superiors?”

“Eh?”

In the open doorway, he saw the large brick-red pony who’d smashed into him at the river frowning at this remark. From behind him appeared the person he’d opened the doors for – a small mare covered from head to hoof in a cloak. The only clues he had to her appearance were her hooves lightly trotting across the earthen floor. They were covered in pale white fur, rather an uncommon color for the pastel Equestrians.

She continued talking. “You didn’t think that an important representative of the Alliance of the Concordia Maxima would be taking a holiday in Ponyville without protection, Mister Fuse? He himself probably doesn’t know that he was being trailed.”

“Actually, I was expecting there’d be someone looking out for me. Just didn’t pick up on who it was...” replied Stephan, berating himself for having let his guard down in this Equestria. “Seems this place is getting to me already… I let myself get a little rusty.”

“Quite,” the cloaked mare said quietly. “You feel it, don’t you? Like a delicate scent in the air. It tastes of the first lick of cake frost, or the cool waters of an untouched forest pond. Equestria is a beautiful place, sir. What your Earth provides can be plentiful and good, but it lacks the slow-moving sweetness of this land. Now you’ve seen it for yourself, can you hate it so much?”

“Ein wenig poetisch, nicht wahr?” Stephan deadpanned.

“So ist eben meine Muse, werter Herr Major,” she responded in kind, causing a surprised Stephan to turn his head at her. He narrowed his eyes at this newcomer.

“Klei mi an'n Mors, Klokschieter,” he said in old Low German, making the mare blink.

“Well,” she said evenly, “As a knight, you'd do Götz von Berlichingen proud, sir.”

“Enough fancy talk!” The big red pony, ‘Fuse’, stomped up to Stephan, his manic grin becoming more bloodthirsty. “Sorry for the wait, boy. But ya outstayed yer welcome here. Time to go now.”

“The hell’s wrong with you? Do you know what you’re doing?” Stephan spat back, teeth set on edge. “You’re acting like you enjoy this.”

“Maybe I do. I wasn’t raised under Celestia. There’s still pony lands outside her rule.” Fuse gave him a deep glare.

Stephan frowned. “Aren’t you at all worried about the PHL mare waiting outside?”

“As long as I get one of ya, I don’t care. I’ll go out and buy the others time to escape.”

The cloaked mare glanced at Fuse. “Think of what you’re saying. Getting your hooves dirty? I’d been given to understand that Caballeron and his gang preferred the indirect approach, almost like they wanted to give their victims a fighting chance. Traps and so forth. It’s only sporting. Miss Do talks of it not unlike a game.”

Short Fuse laughed, hard, causing the cloak mare to tilt her head. “Little Miss Noble. You think my name has anything to do being indirect? Did you think I set up bombs or something? No. I was an attack dog, basically. Look at my records, it’s all there. I was sent in to take care of a problem that doesn’t want to stop being a problem. I found something that mattered to me more than that, and Caballeron didn’t want to get more problems on his hooves after my deal with Daring that ended pretty badly.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a reason her sidekick’s never mentioned again after those first few books… very different they are from the rest of the series, too.” Fuse chuckled, though it sounded affected.

The mare turned her attention back to the prisoner. “And yet I wonder. If you really were so pragmatic in planning to keep him alive long enough to suit your purposes, there's at least one action you should have done to ensure he could neither threaten you, nor escape.”

“Huh, what's that, then?”

“Break his legs,” she replied calmly. Short Fuse snorted before giving off a bark of laughter looking to the human in mirth.

“My my, look at this vicious thing,” he sniggered. “You would think she was born outside of Equestria with that kind of talk.” He turned a contemptuous gaze back upon Stephan. “Not like it's going to matter in the long run for you, monkey-boy.”

“Oh my God, you’re all morons,” Stephan sighed. “Do you even realize what you’re doing!? You could very well destroy more than just this Equestria! Billions are going to die because of you stupid, idiotic sons of bitches!”

“Billions? That’s just a number,” Fuse shrugged, pulling a hoof back. “Sure, maybe your species goes down for the Big Sleep, but in the end, it’ll be just a very bad thing that leads to bigger n’ better opportunities.”

“Quite. Except for one detail,” ‘Weaver’ said. “My little pony, you are not the one who’ll kill him. This isn’t how this works. And that’s just as it should be.”

Fuse blinked in confusion as he looked back to the cloaked mare, whose horn had began glowing with magic. Then, something small and round was yanked from a lanyard around his neck. “Hey! What are you-”

The mare crushed the tiny ball in her magic, and it shattered in a puff of glass and sparkle, like a Christmas bauble trampled underfoot.

“guh”.

The stallion’s massive form crumpled to the ground, his body beginning to spasm, voice gibbering inanely as his lips frothed.

“Ah, careful…” the mare hummed, telekinetically grabbing a stick and shoving it into his snapping jaws. “Can’t have him biting his own tongue off.”

Stephan stared at the cloaked mare in disbelief. After rolling the downed stallion into the recovery position, she spared pared the pony a pained passing glance before her direction turning to face him.

‘What did she just do to him!?’

“Shame,” she said quietly, horn still aglow. “He is quite resourceful, this one. He managed to capture you with limited knowledge, and ponies that lacked expert skills. It is so hard to find good help.”

“Is that so?” Stephan growled, struggling against his bindings, trying to break the wooden pole he was attached to.

“Yes. But he was… too forward,” whispered the cloaked mare as she gently brushed the now-shaking stallion’s head. “Too bull-headed. There are consequences for all actions.”

“Then you know what will happen to you. Each and every one of you are going to die when my friends come for me. Let me go now and you may live.”

“That’s quite a bit of hyperbole on your part. I know full well the PHL prefers to take enemies alive.” She levitated out a dagger. “You may be killers, but I realize that you value this Equestria’s innocence too much, to spill that kind of blood on your host’s doorstep.”

Stephan looked at her coldly. “I already did that more than once. Sometimes even spilled the host’s blood.” He leaned a bit forward and his eyes fixed hers. “Try me.”

“But of course.” The mare gave a small shake of her head. “I forgot who I was speaking to. Nothing could be left to chance, where the ponies in this country who distrust humanity are concerned. Fear and hatred are not what I fight for, though. Soon, that’ll pass on. It’s time for you to rest, Major. You’ve been fighting too long for too little gain. Now is the time to sleep, perchance to dream...”

She raised the dagger, aimed at his throat. This was the point when he could wait no longer.

‘Discord!’

“Sleep well, Major.” Her blade shot forward.

There was an odd frizzling noise as the blade was knocked aside from an arm jutting from the ground. The cloaked mare took a step back as the arm grabbed a table and began to pull.

“My, my,” Discord commented as he pulled himself from the ground. He stared at his bracer, frowning somewhat at the gash on it before turning back to the unicorn in front of him. “Seems like I’m the right man in the wrong place, for once.”

“Lord Discord,” she dipped her head and bowes subtly “You grace me with your presence.”

Discord frowned at the courtly display before him. “Well, well, well. Now you’re one who doesn’t seem all that surprised to see me. Ponies usually are, you know.”

“Indeed not. I was counting on you making an appearance. I need to test myself. To see if I am worthy enough for Her cause. To take you down will confirm to Her that I am committed to it.”

‘So calm...’ The draconequus felt a shiver run down his spine, and dodged out of the way, just as another dagger whisked past him.

“Oh yeah!” Discord laughed as he spun like a top, multiple arms sprouting out from his back, blades and daggers grasped in every claw. “The great Queenie will reward you, is that right?”

“My reward is your simple demise. I require nothing more than that.”

“If that’s your payment, can’t imagine you even get job satisfaction. You’ll find it hard to kill me,” Discord chuckled as he batted away another swarm of blades.

“Every monster dies eventually,” said the mare, causing Discord to glare at her. “Even you. The trickster god who imposed a reign of chaos over us, just for laughs. Humanity deserves a better savior than you, Lord Discord.”

Discord stopped in mid-spin, catching one of the daggers with his bare paw, scowling at the cloaked mare. “You want a monster, I can give you a monster. Believe me, I have been very forgiving so far.”

“No need,” she smiled from beneath her hood, withdrawing her blades. The job is done.”

Feeling the sting grow from where her last dagger had nicked his skin beneath the vote, Discord winced, and looked down at his twitching paw.

The mare’s eyes glinted. “Not even you can walk away unscathed, not with an ounce of tatzelwurm venom flowing in your system.”

“The… the what?” Discord stared in shock as his paw took on a green hue, slowly traveling up his arm.

“A pity I cannot ask Mister Fuse to send word that the package did, indeed, prove useful,” the cloaked mare commented casually. “Now, I do not claim to know what effect this will have upon a being of your stature. It would kill anypony else in a matter of minutes. But what I know, for a fact, is that it will leave you severely weakened. I have been waiting a long time for this...”

“Oh, have you now?” he growled as he clutched his arm. “Argh… I just wish Sunbutt were here to smash your face in!”

“I do this for her, for the future of Equestria.”

“Riiight... tell me, do you even know who Celly is? Because obviously you don’t.”

“Ours is not to know,” replied the cloaked mare solemnly. “And soon, I believe that will be no concern of yours any longer.”

Discord fell to a knee, still clutching his arm, glaring balefully as she calmly walked up to him. Too calmly for his taste. Something was off about this mare, but he could see that she had this all planned out. She had come prepared for him, and was counting on a venom from a creature he’d never heard of to sap his strength.

He began to cough, grimacing as he felt his strength leave him. And yet… Something about this didn’t feel right. Death wasn’t supposed to bung up his sinuses, was it?

“Any last words, Lord Discord?”

“Gesundheit.”

“Wha-”

“AH-CHOO!”

Discord had just sneezed, with a retort loud enough that it could be confused for a explosion, sending great gobs of snot the size of cannonballs hurling at the pale mare.

Reacting with well-practiced diligence, she managed to raise the hem of her cloak quickly enough to block the worst of the stuff, but nonetheless it impacted on the fabric in quite a sticky mess.

“Oh, das ist widerlich,” Stephan muttered as he watched the mare freeze for a moment, realizing what had just gone down.

She looked down, staring as the green ooze dripped to the floor. For his part, Stephan was glad to note her composure seemed to have taken a hit. Discord tried to look happy, but was feeling worse with every passing second, barely able to open up his hammerspace pocket and pull out a single Japanese kunai, which he flung at the floor before her.

“Now that’s unseemly,” she said icily. “And not a little disappointing, I have to confess.”

“Eh… Take what you can get.” Discord sniffed, rubbing his snout with his arm, a trail of ooze sticking to his coat. “Anyways, I think we are at an impasse.”

“You are wrong. I hold the upper hoof here, and it is time to sleep.”

“Yeah. No. I don’t think so,” Discord muttered as he held up a claw, forming a strange sign. “One more step, one more spell, and we all go kablooey.”

Stephan couldn’t help but wonder what Discord was talking about, until his eye fell on the blade he’d thrown earlier. A Japanese kunai, Discord seem to favor it along with other unusual weapons he had gathered in his travels to find them. The strange thing was, the blade had something tied to it, a single piece of paper on which had been printed several kanji characters...or was it hiragana?

“More tricks?”

“Yup. This one will be a blast,” Discord coughed to himself over the ghastly pun, but still kept a savage grin on his face. “The wonders of the multiverse. You can always find something interesting to use.”

“What is this?” she demanded, staring at the weapon.

“An exploding tag. Courtesy of the Hokage.” Discord groaned as he took a seat, still holding the strange sign. “Quite the fellow, loved a good prank or two.”

“Inspiring,” she replied drolly.“You travel throughout the multiverse, and this is what you have to show for it.”

“This tag can take out a building,” Discord chuckled. “Including you, spaz-tastic over there, the good Major, and all the misguided ponies. And maybe a good portion of the Everfree too. Not sure how much strength I put in it, but it is enough.”

“You are not a killer, Lord Discord. That isn’t how you operate. Lies, trickery and deceit are your forte, not brute force. Why should I believe you?”

The grin on his face forced her to take a step back. “Because I’ve experienced death once. Tends to color one’s view on how they live. No matter, you have too much on your plate. I can see you now, you’ve got all these little plans in play. You need to be alive to make sure they go without a hitch. You have all the makings of a mastermind, you need to be sure they fall through, or everything will be lost. You don’t care about the ponies here, you only care about the job. A pony believing in a lost cause.”

“Perhaps I’m willing to take that risk,” she dared him. “We all go through a near-death experience, milord. It is called living.”

“You don't know what you're talking about, so you?” Discord laughed, breaking off into a loud cough, trying to laugh as he struggled back to his feet. He look down at her as he rose to full height. The mare backed up another step as the paper began to smoke, the edges beginning to darken from the unseen flames.

“Did you forget who I am? I am Discord, Lord of Chaos. Trying to understand me is like trying to catch the wind. It's never going to happen. Make your move, little pony. I am more than capable of surviving the blast, and when I pull myself out, I will go out and see to it that your plans are foiled.”

Discord leant forward, the room becoming dark as his magic filtered out the light, as weak as it was. “Nothing’s going to come in my way. Not your little friends. None of your little tricks. And definitely not from a broken mare like you.”

Her horn shone under the hood, dissipating the ooze covering her cloak, and she tugged at it, looking very small and sad all of a sudden.

“You play the game well, milord. This round is yours,” she whispered, vanishing in a flash of light.

Stephan watched as Discord fell on his back, staring up at him, looking on the verge of losing his lunch. “Hello.”

“Discord. Can you get up?”

“I just want to sleep...” Discord muttered, weakly pulling at the floorboard, which folded on him like a blanket. “Maybe get some soup.”

“Discord?” Stephan’s only response was a slight snore. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Don’t worry,” Discord yawned, “The others are on the way. I think your marefriend is on her way as well. Everything is going to be alrigh-” He barely stifled a yawn. “Just sit tight and wait. If Ghost Mare shows up again, I’ll just blow us all sky-high...”

“YOU MEAN THAT THING IS REAL!? I THOUGHT IT WAS A BLUFF?!”

“Ow… My head. No… it’s real. Have to be. Can’t fool her with a bluff,” Discord muttered as he yawned again.

“You’re crazy.”

“Sure I am!” Discord slurred. “What’s your point?”

And then for Discord, everything cut to black.

Berry Punch sighed as her daughter raced down the stairs to the kitchen. “Ruby! What did I tell you about running inside the house?”

“Sorry, Mommy!” Ruby yelled back, quickly packing her saddlebag with snacks, “Dinky and Pipsqueak are going to be here any minute now!”

Berry let out an amused sigh, watching as her daughter strapped the saddlebag to her barrel and raced up to her, only for the filly to find herself almost smothered in her mother’s embrace. “Take care of yourself, my little berry.”

“Mommy!” Ruby blushed in embarrassment, but returned the hug. “Bye!”

“Now you be careful out there,” Berry called as Ruby rushed out the kitchen to the front door. She shook her head. “I swear, that filly is going to give me a gray mane, just watc-”

“Mommy!” Ruby cried out.

Berry’s eyes snapped open at her daughter’s fearful cry.

“Ruby! What is… it?” She hurtled into the hallway and came to a rough halt, words failing her at the sight of two Royal Guards filling the frame of the front door. Ruby, who must have opened up only to encounter these imposing figures, scrambled behind her mother, hiding from view. “Y-yes?”

“Ma’am.” The horn of one guard, a unicorn, glowed, lifting three fillies off the back of his colleague, an earthpony. “We found these fillies on the edge of the forest.”

“Oh… Um. Well, you see these are-”

“We’d appreciate that you return them to their proper homes. Sorry to bother you, ma’am.”

“Wait! I don’t under-”

“Loyal to Celestia, Loyal to Equestria. Forever Pure,” he stated curtly, before turning to depart, leaving a stunned mare in his wake. Jaw hanging open, Ruby slowly looked to the three fillies, and gaped for a few moments. Then, she recovered the use of her legs and rushed over to them.

One step she had taken as part of going ‘cold turkey’ was learning basic emergency medical procedures, in the event of coming to the aid of somepony who might have slipped ‘off the wagon’. Now, without her realising it, that training came to the fore, and she immediately checked each of the three fillies for the essential ABCs - Airway, Breathing, Circulation.

With that taken care of, she gingerly opened each of their eyes and noticed that the pupils were dilated, a symptom she associated with extreme intoxication. But no way in Tartarus could these three have ‘hit the sauce’, there was no trace of it on their breath. Something else maybe, perhaps they were drugged?

“Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo!” Ruby cried out, looking over her three classmates with concern. She shook them, but they refuse to respond. “Mommy!”

“O-oh! Yes!” Berry snapped out of her reverie, and with Ruby’s help, managed to get the three fillies onto her back. “Come along, Ruby. We’ve got work to do. I’ll leave a note in case your friends come by.”

“Okay!” Ruby replied nervously.

“What in the world is going on?” Berry whispered to herself as she jotted down a quick message. “And what do the Loyalists have to do with it?”

And then, in the back of her mind.

‘What have I gotten us involved in?’

“So, Trixie, darling,” said Rarity, who'd just finished making room at the dining table for the brunch they'd planned at Carousel Boutique between the three of them. “I always did wonder how come a mare of the stage like yourself ended up going for something more discreet and less… flashy.”

“Oh, it’s plenty flashy.” Trixie giggled, a somewhat sly smile on her face. “Just depends on the stage. Though I don’t think you'd want to know more of that.”

Rarity sighed, but nodded at this remark, while Fluttershy busied herself with her saddlebags. “That's true. How I wish we didn’t have to do this.”

Trixie stared at the ground, her levity suddenly spent. “Yeah… me neither.”

“Um… Rarity?” Fluttershy whispered as she gently placed the scrolls on the dining table. “I don’t mean to intrude on your… moping, but you wanted to show Trixie your designs. You asked me to get them because you'd run out of room in your saddlebag.”

“Oh, yes! How could I forget!” Rarity squealed excitedly, racing over to pick up the scrolls. “Darling, I want you to please take a look at these.”

Trixie sighed as she shook her head. “Rarity, listen. I’ve never really been into dresses and froufrou stuff. Even before the war.”

With a scoff, Rarity shoved the designs in her face. “These are not dresses. They're armor.”

“What?” Trixie gasped, realizing that she was looking at a sketch of herself wearing lightweight clothing that wouldn't have been out of place in a fantasy setting. It depicted her in some sort of full body suit with metal plating covering her barrel and chest. She was also wearing a hood with a mask, covering her features nicely. If she didn’t know any better, she would of thought it looked similar to a changeling in some regards.

“From what you said, you usually wear no more than a set of straps to keep your knives and bombs in place.” Rarity explained, her horn aglow. To Trixie's wonderment, a full three-dimensional image of herself emerged from the picture and took shape in the empty air.

“This 'Kevlar' is rather tough and durable. Simple enchantments allow it to absorb even sword slashes and spear thrusts. The design's plates also serve a dual purpose.”

“What do they do, then?” Trixie inquired. In response, illusionary blades floated out from beneath the plates, as well as, for some reason, carrots.

“Other than to protect, it will also carry your gear safely and with minimal fuss.” Rarity winked, levitating another design before her. “Now, your coltfriend is a little harder to provide for. See, his armor needed lots of repair after that fiasco with the Tyrant. This is just one of many designs I had in mind after looking over the basic specifications.”

Multiple designs flashed to life before her. Scores of many different helmets, and different armor. One concept really caught Trixie's attention. It resembled a knight’s plate armor, but was rendered in kevlar and ceramics, and carried something extra. “What’s that?”

“Ah yes…” Rarity flushed with embarrassment. “Fluttershy, remember the time we watched that film at the exhibition... what was it called? Ah yes, Avengers. There was this blonde-maned fellow with a shield, what was his name?”

“Captain America,” Fluttershy helpfully supplied, a blush on her face.

“Yes, him. Though your favorite was the big green giant, wasn't it, dear?" Rarity winked. "Anyway, see, Captain America using that shield gave me an idea. Granted, I know Stephan won't be throwing anything around like a discus, but after taking a closer look at what weapons the good Major uses, I decided to implement a new shield for him to use.”

Trixie watched as the shield seemingly came apart, yet that was an illusion. What fell to the ground were not parts of the shield itself, but weapons. Twin pistols, his machete, even several daggers dropped from hidden compartments behind the shield that were designed to hold them.

“I know this'll place a large amount of strain on the arm, but using a few components from Royal Guard armor to make it will allow for it to be light yet durable. It will also give him several backup weapons to rely on.” Rarity held a hoof to her mouth as she emitted another laugh. “Oh, we can make a true knight out of him! No knight worthy of the name is without a shield!” She offered Trixie a small smile. “And what's best is that he'll fly the color his country on its breast.”

Fluttershy gently nudged Rarity with her snout, reminding her of something else. “There's more."

The fashionista's merry expression turned serious all of a sudden. “Armor creation isn't my forte, but clothing is. Form follows function after all... and Stephan needs a fighting chance to take the fight to the Tyrant if he's ever alone-”

“He won’t be,” Trixie cut her off, but Rarity only closed her eyes.

“My dear Trixie, you know better than anypony that war is a disgusting thing. None of us may live to see the end of the day,” she said softly, and Trixie looked away. “Stephan barely survived the last time, and that was with help from others. This time he may be alone. But the runes that you brought us have opened many doors. When Marcus first got here, I deduced how Zecora and Sparkler ingrained them into his skin.”

“We've never dared repeat that on a human…” Trixie whispered. “Even if we hadn't fallen for the Tyrant's lie about too much magic's effect on them... I still can't believe it took the most amoral of creatures like Dr. Salonen to simply consider pushing the limits of that... how come we were never that desperate? But Marcus was special. Something about his blood.”

“Possibly to do with his mother's connection to our world," Rarity said quietly, thinking of what Discord had told her friends and Lyra, of the brave young woman she would never know. "What you need is power and time. Here, you have both." Her horn flared to life, images of different pieces of armor floating around her. “I am no expert in armor. I am just a designer. But with that comes imagination, to create something beautiful…” She paused. “Or deadly.”

All three were shaken from their train of thought at the sound of knocking on Rarity’s door. The Boutique's owner, realizing they'd have to postpone their brunch, smiled apologetically at Trixie and went to open it. “Coming!”

Rarity opened the door, her mouth open to tell the would-be customer she was still closed before taking in the sight of her. “Berry? Why does- Sweetie Belle!”

Trixie’s head snapped towards the door at the sound of the filly’s name. She watched as Berry Punch walked through the door, carrying three fillies on her back and her little daughter trailing behind her, and she tensed, recalling her last meeting with this mare… one of her, anyway.

“Look at you…You rant about the Newfoals being broken, but they’re the ones being persecuted by ponies like you. Feared by some, abused by others, despite Celestia’s words that we’re all just ponies. Despite all that, they keep smiling and keep on working to make Equestria a better place. That’s love and courage beyond compare. Their example gave me the strength to drag myself out the of the depths of a bottle. What have you done for anypony? You’re practically a traitor!”

Trixie kept her face blank, watching as the mare brought the fillies to Rarity’s couch. Berry opened her mouth to speak, only to freeze as she spotted Trixie, which instantly aroused the latter’s suspicions

‘Something isn’t right. I look like any other pony, granted I did grow wings earlier but I didn’t see her at all. She took one look at me and froze up like she was caught in a lie or something.’ Trixie frowned as she looked at the mare. It was another world, it wasn’t technically the same mare, but something didn’t feel right...

“Can I help you?” Trixie smiled pleasantly, causing the mare to take a step back.

“Um…” Berry barely had time to blink before she was dragged before Rarity.

“Berry, where did you find them?!” Rarity exclaimed, shaking the poor mother rather roughly.

“Several Royal Guards dropped them off at my house. I don’t know why! Th-they just showed up out of the blue!” Berry blurted out, holding her head in one hoof.

“Where is Major Bauer?” Fluttershy asked, looking out the window with concern.

“Who?” Berry blinked in confusion, but Trixie wasn’t fooled for a second. The mare knew who Stephan was, yet she was playing dumb. Turning, she saw Rarity also narrowing her eyes.
She held her tongue, listening as the mare kept on talking.

“The Royal Guards just dropped by and left them on my doorstep. There was nopony else with them.”

“Are you sure?” asked Fluttershy.

Berry bobbed her head up and down rapidly. “Yes… I have no idea where this ‘Major’ is,” she replied in a small voice. Trixie glanced at the fillies as one of them began to stir.

“Are you–”

“Rarity, the orange one is coming back around,” Trixie called, shooting her a small look, causing the unicorn to blink before pushing Berry out of the door.

“Well, thank you anyways! Perhaps he was foalish enough to get lost! Ha ha ha!” Rarity quickly pushed both mother and daughter out the door. “I have to attend to the fillies now, Berry.”

“Do you want me to get Applejack and Wildfire?” Berry asked as she and Ruby were shoved out the door.

“Oh please do, that would simply be marvelous!” Rarity said with a large smile, then slammed the door shut in her face. She quickly spun around and race back to the room with Trixie and the fillies.

“Did you catch that?” Trixie asked her once she stood next her, Rarity giving a small sigh to the question.

“I’m no Applejack, but I can see a lie when it presents itself,” Rarity said quietly, “But what in the world does she have to hide?”

“I don’t know…” Trixie whispered, watching as Fluttershy gave the orange filly a glass of water. “But she didn’t lie about having no idea where he was. For now, we focus on the matter that’s at hoof.”

Rarity sighed again but nodded her head, after all, Trixie was her own teacher in fighting. Unlike the others, whether they had muscle, speed, magic, oddball abilities, or natural talent, Rarity was the most normal pony amongst the Element Bearers. She was confident however that the agility of her TK was en-par with Twilight, and perhaps even more dextrous, thought lacking in the sheer amount of power Twi could put into a spell. Levitating an Ursa Minor is impressive, but stitching six dresses simultaneously! That, darling, was skill.

And that skill had brought her into Trixie’s circle of influence. Rarity consequently had been trained up to operating in a supporting role, making hit-and-run attacks on enemies, worrying at their flanks, or making precise pinprick attacks with concentrated bursts of magic. Her teacher also picked up on her affinity for gems, encouraging her to get Spike to mold special blades out of the precious stones for future use.

“Scootaloo?” Fluttershy nudged the little pegasus, who was beginning to yawn herself awake. “What happened?”

“I…” The orange filly looked up at the others, a frown on her face. “Where am I?”

“You and the others Crusaders at the Carousel Boutique.” Rarity nuzzling with concern at the still unconscious Sweetie Belle. “They said that the Royal Guard dropped you off at Berry’s home.”

Scootaloo frowned as she thought back to what happened, but her thoughts were hazy and hard to pull up. She scowled as she tried to remember, with Fluttershy gently brushing her mane to keep her calm.

“I think… I think–”

“Drop the fillies, you filthy monkey!”

Scootaloo gasped as memories suddenly flashed across her mind. She knew that voice; it was the same voice that always yelled at them for playing in brickyard outside of Ponyville.

“You brats! You melted the kiln, destroyed five shipments of bricks, and got the remainder dispatched to the wrong customers by messing up the waybills!”

“Short Fuse…” she whispered aloud.

“What was that, dear?” Rarity asked gently.

“We were in the forest, almost to Zecora’s when we started feeling sleepy. I was sitting on Stephan’s shoulder most of the way before he put me down again. But… but I heard Short Fuse’s voice calling out to Stephan…”

“How did you know it was him?” Fluttershy glanced at Trixie, grimacing when she saw the blank look the mare was giving the hapless filly. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, they would know all right,” Rarity said, her expression hardening. “I’ve had that ‘gentlestallion’ round complaining of their behaviour often enough.”

“Stephan,” Scootaloo whimpered as Trixie’s eyes grew cold. “He called Stephan a filthy monkey.”

“Where is this brickyard?” Trixie’ voice might as well been a glacier at how cold the demand was. “I’ve got a few questions for this Short Fuse...”

“On the other side of town, near the Everfree.” Scootaloo whimpered out, covering her eyes with her hooves.

“Trixie–” Raritys moved to stop her, only to pale at the look in Trixie’s eyes. They were nothing, they held no light within, only the promise of brutal confrontation if answers weren’t given.

“Move,” Trixie said quietly, prompting Rarity to step aside as the other mare stormed out.

Fluttershy and Rarity stared at one another, both frighten by the dark cloud hanging over Trixie’s face. They turned to Scootaloo, who looked quite miserable at the turn of events.

“We have to help her,” Fluttershy whispered.

Rarity responded with a small nod. “Indeed, but right now, we wait for Applejack before we head out. We may need her strength to try and control any conflict.” Rarity rubbed the back of her head. “Hopefully she can settle the matter with little bloodshed, though it’s a fleeting hope… and we can’t leave the fillies alone in this state.”

He gaze flicked after Trixie, who was racing away, and a sad sigh escaped her lips. “Of course Trixie isn’t going to let Stephan go gentle into any good night, he’s the rock in her raging river. If Short Fuse is indeed the culprit, I hope the foolish stallion doesn’t do anything to stupid.”

Fluttershy gave a small nod. “She is barely holding on… anypony can see it. She’s hurting like crazy on the inside.”

“Let us just hope she can be mended before she breaks,” Rarity nodded, and then shivered. “We saw how she fought against Rainbow earlier. If she’s that strong, and this angry…” she looked up at Fluttershy. “I think your bear-wrestling skills may come in handy!”

“You want me to release tension in her back?” Fluttershy tilted her head while staring at her, confused.

Berry crossed the village square, Ruby trotting beside her. Unusually, her daughter wasn’t skipping up and down the way she usually would, in spite of her pleas that the filly watch out, lest she fall flat on her face.

‘That’s a bad sign,’ Berry thought anxiously. ‘What’s happening to us?’

Her mind felt like a rubbish heap of images these days. There’d be these periods when she could barely remember what she’d done the previous evening, only for the memory to return with a vengeance a week later… and promptly recede to the back of her thoughts again.

It had something to do with the humans. That much she could always tell.

“Mommy! MOMMY!”

“No! Oh, no, please, don’t! Have mercy!”

She sobbed and begged, but it did not help. Cruel, clawlike hands the color of raw flesh reached out from the shadows to drag the screaming filly away.

“RUBY!”

“Mommy?”

The voice of her real daughter, soft and hesitant as a late spring breeze, snapped Berry out of her troubled reverie.

“I…” she began, stumbling over her words a little. “Sorry Ruby… mind wandered a bit there…”

It wasn’t fair, living in fear like this. Why was it that whenever something strange or unsettling occurred around Ponyville, she usually found herself caught, if not in the eye of the storm, at least by a violent gust of it? Those times when a love-crazed Big Mac dragged her house right off its foundations, or Discord made her sneeze from pepper saturation, they were enough for grey hairs to sprout on any mare. And yet everypony still blamed her when she took to the bottle… well she was off of it now, and still they treated her with disdain.

“Mommy, what’s going on?”

Berry licked her lips, wondering how she could explain to her daughter. Especially as she herself would feel so uncertain half the time, even without these gaps in her memory. They’d first manifested on that evening two months ago in Baltimare, where she’d gone after getting an intriguing reply to the ad she’d posted in the Canterlot Times.

‘Concerned single mother wishes to discuss human visitors with like-minded ponies…’

“Ruby,” she said slowly, “You, uh… you remember when you and Mommy had to go on a trip to Baltimare? That time I said you shouldn’t ever tell anypony where we were going?”

The little filly blinked, and nodded, gazing up at her mother with wide eyes. Berry struggled not to let her lower lip wobble as they stopped and sat next to each other at a nearby bench, overlooking the square, where the Whooves clan were having a picnic.

‘How did funny-faced, scatterbrained Derpy find a pony to let into her life? How’d she go from a single mother to possessing a husband and stepdaughter?’ she thought to herself. No such luck had come their way. She and Ruby were all either of them had in the world.

Again that image of her daughter being taken away from her by remorseless predators arose in front of Berry's eyes, and she forced herself to shake it off. Hadn't somepony once mentioned to her that humans were meat-eaters? She was sure of having heard it somewhere, but the details were vague. As if to convince herself that they were still together, not apart, Berry tentatively placed her forehooves around a surprised Ruby's shoulders.

“Listen, sweetie... what I'm going to ask you now may sound really, really weird. It probably won't make much sense. But you've got to tell me.” She took a deep breath. “Ruby, how do you feel about... about humans?”

There was a new hunter in the Everfree…

Trixie’s glare encouraged any animal that crossed her path to scurry away. Even the fabled Timberwolf had scarpered, whimpering, after she’d tossed it against a tree. Many times. Her blades were ready to dish out pain to anything stupid enough to get in her path. To hell with the consequences. These ponies thought they could get away with this. Well, tough luck..

“Oh, that is it,” she muttered loudly, not bothering to keep her voice down. “I’m sick of people trying to make a fool of me. Had enough of that shit before the war, but if they’ve gotten it into their heads they can do what they like to my loved ones too, they’re in for a big surprise. They’ll wish I’d merely humiliated them in public once I’m done with them!”

Armed with the weapons she’d taken the time to pick up from her and Stephan’s hotel room, Trixie had every reason to make good on that promise. A rational part of her mind was whispering to her, in a small, hopeful tone, that’s she’d cool off by the time she got there. But for now, she was livid and pumped for action, and intended to keep it that way.

Her eyes narrowed as she sensed a nearby presence, hidden amongst the trees.

“I am in no mood for games,” she called out furiously. “Show yourself, coward! Come out and face me! My name is Trixie Lulamoon, and I am fucking angry right now!”

Nothing. The Forest remained resolutely quiet, all local wildlife having been intimidated away by her stalking path to reunite with the man she loved. Then… her Spy training took over, and she whirled around, in time for her knife to parry the dagger which had been whistling towards the exposed back of her neck.

“Well met,” someone said softly. “I would have expected no less.”

Staying focused on the entwined knife and dagger, hovering over the ground between her and her unseen opponent, Trixie dug her hooves into the earth of the path, ready to face whomever presumed to trifle with a fully-alert Blue Spy.

“Come out here and FACE ME!”

As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long, for a cloaked pony – likely a mare, judging by the voice – emerged from the foliage. Seeing her, Trixie growled, preparing to draw out a second knife and bring down on this ‘hostile’.

But the mysterious figure had other ideas, as evidenced by the next words which she spoke. “Do you truly believe you are fighting for free will, Miss Lulamoon? Is that what this is about? Look around. Feel. The morning breeze in your mane, the soft grass beneath your hooves, the people you've met... You walk an Equestria that may have been yours, but isn't. Free will is, at best, a comforting illusion. And you should know that more than most.”

The cloaked mare's voice grew harsh. “Imagine you are the Blue Spy.”

At that moment, the dreamweaver awoke the sleeper within the other mare’s war-damaged mind, a carefully-edited persona planted and nurtured through weeks of careful nocturnal manipulations, tying together fragments of pain, rage and grief to form a circuit within fractured memory that could be activated at the push of a switch.

Imagine you are the Blue Spy…

Once that phrase had been spoken, it could not go unheeded. Millions of tiny synapses inside the mare’s brain that called themselves ‘Trixie Lulamoon’ – and it must be said, those words oft resonated loudly within her consciousness – responded to the unfamiliar appellation like an old friend.

It would feel right to sink into that persona, like wearing an old suit. And yet, there would almost certainly be a sense of not belonging, a sense of something being off….

...but it was lost in the blast that overtook her. Trixie herself barely had a few moments to process the abrupt spasms seizing her limbs, or the way a thousand white-hot strokes exploded like pinpricks at the back of her skull. Despite her internal struggle, resisting the flow of images short-circuiting her was proving impossible. Yet now the flood began to quell, and amid the residual static, five words pushed through.

‘You have to kill them.’

What?

‘Everyone here is an enemy.’

Enemies? The only enemies she knew amongst ponies were the Imperials and...

‘The PER have set up shop in a brickyard, believing themselves hidden. They and their human allies need to be shown how wrong they are. Show no mercy.’

Yes. That was right. PER, disgusting ponies who believed in the cause of a mad Queen.

‘Eliminate everyone. The human ally is a HVT, former PHL, a traitor to us all, who plans to use stolen tech against us. Destroy him with extreme prejudice.’

Traitors… Traitors needed to be put away for good, deep underground.

‘Trust no one. Once you have carried out the mission, be wary. These ponies are locals. Others locals may be working for them.’

Clean house then, leaving no chance for them to rebuild and start over. She had supposed herself safe, but in truth, you were never safe in days of war. Time to amend that oversight.

“Do you understand your mission?”

“Yes. Eliminate brickyard and the surrounding village,” the Blue Spy answered with a dead voice, “All targets are considered acceptable losses. Human targets are high priority, holding valuable intel that cannot be allowed to fall outside of PHL. ”

“Then proceed with the mission.” the strange mare -- !!YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER!! -- ordered, dismissing her with the wave of a hoof.

“Yes.”

The Blue Spy slinked off into the trees, silent as a ghost, and vanished without a trace. The pale male shuddered, hoping to never again be confronted by such an adversary when weakened and unarmed. Passion and rage could often be a surprising force multiplier.

But now she had harnessed the blue unicorn’s strengths and turned her loose against her own friends and allies. For the flesh-and-blood golem that now called itself ‘The Blue Spy’, the mission was all that mattered. There was only the here and now, the PER to neutralize...

Weaver sighed with relief, glad that her plans for the Spy had fallen into place. There were few minds fragmented enough for her to plant such a complex suggestion within, but in adulterating her self-identity so thoroughly as she had, Trixie had unwittingly done a sterling job of creating backdoors into her own psyche.

“I regret this, Trixie,” she whispered. “It pains me to use my talents to destroy, not create. But you were a showmare, a performer, once. Now you will show your audience what it means, when brute force misses its mark and comes for them instead.”

END OF PART 1

Author's Notes:

Oh boy, this is a heck of a chapter to make.

Lots of people came in on this, adding ideas and planning future events, and we have just started the Catseye Arc.

In the end, I like to think we did a swell job. Hopefully you will find it great as well. Let me know of any missed coding or words misspelled.

Till next chapter!