The Conversion Bureau: Opposites Attract
Pony-flavored tragic romance from Silvertie
File 01 - Background

---

The Human Liberation Front was a noble group. A coalition of the world’s truest heroes, dedicated to keeping humanity out of the hooves of those damn, dirty ponies at any cost. And like all good heroes, they had to be shunned by the government and all authorities, so they could go where they needed to go, to do what they needed to do. They weren’t the heroes the world deserved, but they were the ones it needed.

The young man standing to attention in the basketball court in an abandoned schoolground couldn’t be prouder that he’d been picked for this honorable duty. Humans had fought a lot of wars, but none had been as important as this; the first ever interspecies war. A gentle breeze pushed his cornsilk hair around, and light glinted off his eyes as he smiled.

“Boy,” a grizzled, elderly man growled at him, pacing back and forth. “You think you got what it takes to spill blood with the men?”

“Sir!” the young man responded sharply. “I do not think I got it!”

“Oh?” The old man’s brow raised in surprise, threatening to drop into a frown of irritation. “Explain.”

“Sir, I do not think so,” the young man continued, “I know so!”

The old man grinned, his mouth an island of slightly yellowed teeth in a sea of white and grey beard. “That is the kind of answer I like to hear. In fact, I like you so much, we’ll just skip to the entrance exam.”

The old man snapped his fingers, and on cue, four men lurched around the corner, rifles slung over their backs, holding a leash apiece; the leashes were bound to a single earth pony, blue and white, who was frantically struggling to get away from them, with no success.

“You see that pony?” The old man pointed. “That pony is a member of the PER. Boy, you know what that is?”

“Ponification for the Earth’s Rebirth!” the young man spat.

“Fuckin’ spot on,” the man literally spat, a gob of phlegm landing on the black concrete. “Nutjobs, to the last. You’re gonna get the honor of arrangin’ a meeting between this unholy creature and it’s creator, you get me?”

Two more large men emerged from the school proper, lugging a large crate between them. With a clunk, they dropped it and kicked the lid open to reveal a bin of weapons, military and otherwise.

“Pick your weapon, get ready for a fight,” one of the men grunted.

The young man walked over to the crate, and perused the wares within. He saw a large range of weapons that were both designed to kill, and could simply kill if creatively misapplied. Everything from a compound bow, to assault rifles. His eye fell to a tool he was more familiar with, though. Years spent splitting wood had put him in good stead with the humble axe, and thanks to boredom, he’d gotten pretty good at twirling one around. He selected it, a red fire-axe, and clutched it in his hands, getting a feel for it.

“Well, look at him,” the other crate-carrier smiled. “You confident you can take on a potion-wielding pony with that?”

“Potion?”

“Yeah,” the old man growled, motioning to one of the keepers of the pony. “Wouldn’t be sporting to just hand you a weapon and tell you to execute a pony. No, the pony’s gonna fight back.”

The old man turned, and approached the bound pony, who momentarily ceased it’s struggles.

“Alright, pony,” the old man grunted. “Here’s the deal. See that boy over there? The one swinging that axe around like he’s hot shit? You get past him, make it to the edge of the school grounds, and you’re scott free. Anything goes, we won’t interfere in your bid for freedom.” The old man turned to the young man. “You stop this pony from leaving the grounds, or you don’t get in.” One of the handlers threw a bandolier of thin glass vials at the pony, who caught it in his mouth with puzzlement as the humans unbound him. “You get ponified, we’ll shoot you dead and move right along. Got it?”

“Got it.” The young man nodded, twirling the axe, visualizing the swings. “Let’s do this.”

“Alright then. Commence the test.” The elder man stepped back, nodding at the pony. “You’re free to leave, little horse.”

The pony looked warily at his former captors, who remained still, arms folded and watching. The youth he was supposed to get past stood ready, axe in two hands.

The earth pony snorted, and broke into a brisk trot, pulling a vial out with his mouth, breaking into a full gallop to close the last remaining metres with haste. With a practiced flick of his mouth, he popped the cork on the vial, and threw it, purple fluid filling the air as he reached for a second one, and went for a tackle, intending to take the man out at the legs and bring him down for a more accurate ponification.

With a grunt of exertion, the man spun to his right, ducking as the fluid sailed through where his face would have been, to see a rampaging, gut-high creature running to crash into him. He readied his axe, and juggling it to grip it for a left-handed backswing, cut loose.

A wet swish-thwack, and something hard hit the concrete, sliding to what sounded like a painful halt. The young man, having fallen over with the momentum of the attack, got up, and closed in on the pony.

His hit had come close to his intended target, the neck - instead, it had hit the jaw, and now the earth pony sported a wicked gash along his jawline, and a mouthful of broken glass from what was left of the vial, purple fluid dripping out of his mouth. A pained moan came out of the pony’s mouth.

“F... finish it...” the pony mumbled, closing it’s eyes and relaxing. The young man didn’t hesitate, and obliged, with the pick-shaped poll, metal point glinting briefly in the sun. He was aiming for the temple this time.

He didn’t mess, and he stepped back, his axe dripping blood as he looked to the elder for approval.

“Not bad,” the older man said, pointing at the young man’s leg. “Missed a spot though, that was a little sloppy of you.”

The young man looked down to the knee of his jeans, which had a few splots of purple fluid on them, and still smelled faintly of grapes.

“We’ll get you some new pants. Congratulations, boy,” the old man grinned again. “Welcome to the Human Liberation Front.”

======

The Ponification for the Earth’s Rebirth faction was a noble one. A gathering of the world’s truest heroes, dedicated to making sure everyone went pony, so the purification could go ahead without loss of life; the world would be saved, and without a drop of blood being spilt. The ideal goal. And like all good heroes, they had to be shunned by the government and all authorities, so they could go where they needed to go, to do what they needed to do. They weren’t the heroes the world deserved, but they were the ones it needed.

Twenty floors above the streets of the city below, a pegasus mare stood at the balcony of a run-down tenement. A regal-looking mare of brick-red, with a sterling-white mane, she looked down on the humans below, not just literally, but figuratively as well. A strong-willed, well-off and generous mare, she sought to give the gift of enlightenment to humans; a gift forbidden in their society, forestalled by things like “informed consent” and “freedom of choice.”

And so, while the eyes of Equestria’s government weren’t upon her, she’d set her hooves to the task of joining a movement to bring change, doing her part in building a machine to bring enlightenment the the humans of earth. To help man save the world. And on a cold night, after her husband had been killed in a human-instigated riot, she’d finally stepped up to the plate. No longer was she a money bag, to let her coin do her duty for her. No, it was time she did her part and pulled her weight.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” the headset crackled.

“I’m ready and willing, Support,” the mare said firmly.

“Good,” ‘Support’ said. “Here’s the lowdown. You’ve got a pair of high-yield potion bombs, there. Aerosol. Prove your loyalty to us, bring Celestia’s Gift to the apes below.”

“You know my loyalty is tried and true.”

“And we thank you for it. But this is just a formality,” Support explained. “Normally, candidates are instructed to use methods that will put them in actual peril, fluid vials and a limitation on flight and magic. Of course, with your history of generous donations, we’re willing to allow you to do a flyover and simply drop gas bombs on them.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” the mare shook her head, and shifted the saddlebags on her back anxiously. “I’m not going to take any free rides because I’m rich. I’m going to do this the right way, up close and personal.”

“The point of the gas weapons is to drop them from a height.”

“Aren’t they more effective if detonated inside a building?”

“Well, yes, but it’s also far more obvious,” Support admitted. “If you’re caught, there’s no escape, and you’ll likely be shot on sight by local law enforcement.”

“Then I won’t get caught,” the mare said, tossing her mane confidently. “I might not accept free rides for my money, but I have no qualms about playing on my appearance to get what I want. They won’t suspect a rich, well-off-looking pony, no matter how suspect they are. It was the same when Shutter was human, and it’ll be the same now.”

“Very well. Get in, ponify at least ten humans, and get out. That’s your quota.”

“Only ten?” The mare’s eyes narrowed. “These canisters are rated to convert at least six dozen humans apiece, more in a high-concentration area. What a waste of bits. I’m going to convert a hundred and twenty, at least.”

“Look,” Support said. “No offense, but you’re just setting high goals, here. You’re a pony from the upper crust - you don’t have any idea what it’s like to do what you’re planning to do.”

“Excuse me?”

Support (unwisely) ignored the tone, and kept going with the (apparently grossly flawed) generalization. “You’ve probably never had a hard day in your li-”

“I will have you know,” the mare said, interrupting Support, “I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I worked hard to earn my bits and nobility, and until I got it, I had to live rough. Sometimes that meant pinching food from stalls, picking pockets. I paid them back later, with interest, but the point stands - I can handle myself.”

There was a grumbling from Support as he conceded the argument with bad grace. “Fine, okay, whatever. Let’s do this.”

The mare pushed forward off the balcony, wind rushing around her as she dived and pulled up into a shallow glide, flying low over her intended target. A glittering glass ceiling covered the concourse of the town mall, humans and ponies alike below going about their daily business. With any luck, the ponies would go unharmed, while the humans would join the ranks of Equestria.

The mare touched down, and adjusted her dress with a flap of her wings. It was a simple affair; fashionable enough to collaborate her story of being an innocent, rich mare, but also nondescript enough to be unremarkable other than “it was fancy”. And most importantly, it covered her cutie mark; if anyone saw that, it’d be a dead giveaway. They always said you could catch a PER pony by the pants or dress they wore - always obvious that they were hiding something.

Well, she’d just succeed where they all failed. Sticking her nose into the air, she pranced into the mall proper, and set about her business, casing the joint. She casually dropped sixty bits on a set of fashionable shoes as she looked around, pretending to shop for clothes. In reality, she was shopping for good places to leave a bag where it would go unnoticed long enough for her to make a getaway.

Taking her purchases underwing, she trotted into the toilets, and closing her stall, set about re-arranging her purchases. One bomb went out of her saddlebags, and into the old shoebox. The shoes themselves went on her hooves. The other bomb stayed where it was, albeit primed.

In less than thirty seconds, she was done, trotting out once more, and locating a cafe that sold coffee and cake slice.

She sat down at a bench in the concourse, and with care, ate and drank the food. She didn’t care for coffee (pig swill, tea was the only acceptable drink for a lady of her stature) and wasn’t a fan of the preservatives in the human-made slice, but for appearances’ sakes, she finished her “lunch”, careful to not leave a single crumb uneaten, and got up... sans her shoe box and bag, conveniently forgotten under said bench.

She walked the length of the concourse, making for the far exit; with the other end blocked by one cloud of gas, and this end filled with gas, the humans in the middle that escaped ponification would find it hard to escape without taking in some of the polymorphism-inducing fluid.

With a flick of her mane, she popped her saddle bag open, and the second bomb fell out; some nearby ponies and humans looked up at the sound of canister on tiled floor, and she smiled demurely back at them.

“Oopsie. Clumsy me.”

The bombs detonated with a rush of gas, purple clouds filling the two ends of the mall. The screams started instantly, humans caught unawares and getting ponified where they stood, and the ponies simply terrified and confused.

In the panic, nobody really paid any attention to the red pegasus mare galloping for the exit. Later, witnesses would report a red mare. Or a clearly-rich mare wearing a ‘fancy’ dress, such testimonies getting rolled eyes from investigators. One witness would even note the fancy shoes she was wearing - shoes that “no well-off canterlot mare would ever buy and wear, what sort of mare did you take me for good sir”?

And on the cover of the next day’s newspaper, the aftermath. A hundred and forty souls ponified by a “disgustingly masterful” PER attack on the mall. There was a thap of newspaper on table as the mare put it down, smiling smugly at the pony who’d been on the other end of the radio the other day, the stallion who’d said she couldn’t do it.

She was in.