Title:           Steel Sanctuary pt3
Author:          Writefag_is_kill
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/8R51kA1N
First Edit:      Wednesday 15th of June 2016 11:31:53 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Monday 19th of September 2016 05:50:12 PM CDT

>You are Anonymous 2.
>You’re pretty sure you should be freaking out.
>Communications are being shut down.
>It happened when you were asking about mind control and that orb, and you’re pretty certain that that’s no coincidence.
>It’s unfortunate that you didn’t get more information before it happened, because now you’re forced to make some assumptions.
>Assumption one. It doesn’t know about you, or at the very least doesn’t understand you.
>Otherwise you would be dead, it would be pretty trivial to do.
>You can surprise them then.
>Hopefully.
>Assumption two. It doesn’t understand the facilities that surround you.
>This is a fairly safe assumption, whoever it is isn’t human.
>And even if they were, they still couldn’t understand it.
>Self replicating and self improving machines quickly develop complexity beyond the creator’s design.
>And you- he was only able to build them thanks to massive databanks.
>It’s inconceivable at this point that any single being could actually understand this place as a whole.
>And whatever’s doing this wants at least some of your facilities online.
>It demands that this dig be finished.
>Odds are that nothing will get shut down unless it interferes with the dig.
>Assumption three.
>Black horse knows something important.
>There’s no reason to cut you off if she didn’t have relevant information.
>You need to reestablish communications with her.
>Assumption four.
>What you’re seeing is the stronger kind of mental control black horse was talking about.
>The being doing it has to directly control everything and can’t rely on you prime to do anything for them of his own free will.
>You needn’t worry too much about what you know, you need to worry about what they know.
>Assumption five.
>Whoever’s in charge won’t know how to use the database.
>While it seems fairly safe to assume that the neural implants will continue to work just fine, they wouldn’t be familiar with your computer system.
>In the long term they might figure something out by poking around at it, but for now they should be cut off from digital memory.
>So what does this all mean?
>Well, you’re going to have to act with some degree of subtlety.
>If your actions are similar enough to the unthinking machines going about their existing programs, you can continue to hide your existence.
>Unless you already blew your cover, of course. It’s possible they know about you from your attempts to communicate and simply haven’t found you yet.
>Maybe they don’t know enough about you to issue the order to destroy you.
>Maybe they need a name, or a location, or a general description.
>Too many unknowns.
>Next, unexpected behaviour should be unnoticed so long as there are no visible changes.
>Anything that happens within the computer network should be hidden.
>Hopefully.
>You can’t revoke other you’s write privileges on any of the existing computers.
>Not within any reasonable time frame at least.
>He understandably set it up to make sure he couldn’t get locked out.
>But perhaps you could set up your own network and rewire some of the gear to that one?
>Maybe hijack the whole place.
>If you can get enough of it under control before being noticed, you should be able to shut him down without any real risk of retaliation.
>If you get spotted too soon, you might have a fight on your metaphorical hands.
>So you need to build a mainframe of your own, and reroute everything to it.
>And you need to build it somewhere that’s hidden.
>Hiding it should be simple enough.
>Then, once you have a private network established, you need to get ahold of black horse.
>You need to know what’s going on.
 
 
>You are Spike.
>You are proud of yourself for maintaining bladder control.
 
>”TITAN? They’re real? They’re BACK? Are you SURE?”
 
>”Yes, yes, maybe, and no, but I can think of no other explanation.”
 
>Everyone knows the story of the titans.
>It’s trash.
>Sounds like the writer was trying too hard.
>That’s not important though.
>They made the world, filled it with life, and gave everyone magic.
>Then they simply watched.
 
>”What do we do? WHAT DO WE DO?”
 
 
>They watched as countless thinking beings toiled, starved, and perished as they struggled against the hostile world they were placed in.
>They watched as sickness plagued the lands, ending countless lives indiscriminately.
>They watched as the bodies they made withered and failed.
 
>”Why would they come back?”
 
>”HOW SHOULD I KNOW?”
 
>Then something unexpected happened.
>The sapient species that still lived started to settle down and tame the lands.
>They built shelter and discovered medicines.
>Life was still hard.
>None of the problems had been solved.
>But many had been alleviated.
>That’s when the Titans finally stepped in and touched the world.
 
>”We must prepare ourselves! They are NOT our masters!”
 
>”Luna, you know as well as I do that there’s nothing we can do to stop them! We can’t resist them!”
 
>They intervened in the troubled world, exerting their terrible wrath.
>All as one, every single Centaur fell over. Dead.
>Before the bodies even had a chance to cool, every sapient being in the world heard an otherworldly voice in their heads.
>”Amuse us!”
 
>”So what, we submit to them? We turn on our neighbors and allies? You’re supposed to be the princess of FRIENDSHIP, not treachery!”
 
>”You can’t have friends if you’re dead!
 
>The message was clear.
>They wanted blood, and they would get it.
>One way or another.
>Anyone who didn’t comply was at the mercy of the Titans.
>And the Titans had none.
 
>”You weren’t around last time, foal! Don’t assume to know what awaits, don’t think you know what it’s like! We are FREE, we are NOBODY’S prisoners, and I will NEVER be a slave! Besides, there may be another way. They aren’t likely to do us any harm just yet.”
 
>”What do you mean?”
 
>The whole world erupted into war.
>Hundreds of years passed, and the number of combatants dwindled.
>Everyone was exhausted.
>Everyone was weakened.
>And all throughout, the titans whispered their messages into everyone’s minds.
>”Too slow.”
>”Too weak.”
>”Pathetic.”
>They finally left the troubled world, disgusted by the feebleness of its denizens.
 
>”The visitor found something, deep beneath the surface I’m not certain of what it is, but based on the description it definitely seems to be of Titan origin. From what I can tell based on what they told me before we lost contact, something is dominating him and making him dig it up. I can’t say why that object is important but it’s pretty clear that they want it.”
 
>”If it’s being dominated, why can it still question Its own actions?”
 
>It took millennia, but the world came to a relatively peaceful era.
>Civilization rebuilt, and became greater than ever before.
>But even then, war would return.
>Any number of reason has been used as justification, but now it was their own choice.
>Their own mistake.
>Methods, weapons, and spells were refined and perfected.
>Armies continued to grow larger and larger as superstates began to form.
>And tactics grew progressively more brutal.
>Were the Titans to return, they’d be pleased. Perhaps even proud.
>The nations of the world were now capable of the havoc they sought.
 
>”Is that really the strangest thing it’s done? We need to stop this before he finishes the excavation!”
 
>”Not only that, if someone else has dominated him, don’t they have his arsenal? What if they decide to use it?”
 
>Some say they still watch, biding their time.
>But don’t worry about that, young one.
>It’s just a story.
>Stories can’t hurt you.
 
>”Right. So we need to stop the domination. Now.”
 
>”Indeed. We must find the point of origin.”
 
>”I’ve never really studied mind control magic, but you’d need to see your target.”
 
>That doesn’t make any sense.
>Nearly the whole factory is enclosed.
>And it’s so heavily defended and so totally monitored that there’s no way anything could sneak in.
>Sure, maybe they could teleport in, but they wouldn’t have time to cast the spell.
>And if it’s a ritual?
>How would you set it up? How would you get that many wizards in there?
>No, Twilight’s wrong.
 
“Says who?”
 
>”It’s common knowledge, Spike. Targeted spells require visual contact.”
 
“Yeah, but WHY?”
 
>”Well, nopony’s ever found a way to do it without! There are theories about how you might be able to do it with enough magic, they all revolve around casting the spell on every single point where the target MIGHT be, but there’s no practical way to test them.”
 
“If they have enough magic. Like, say, a Titan.”
 
>Twilight blanches.
>Luna nods.
 
>”I fear you may be right, Spike. I can think of none other that would wish to do this, nor any who would be capable.”
 
“Right, so we need to mess up a Titan’s spell. Its abilities are mostly unknown. We’re better off thinking of what it CAN’T do right now, because we’ll never figure out what it CAN do. Twilight, what’s impossible to do with magic? Not difficult, not impractical, IMPOSSIBLE.”
 
>”For us plenty of things, but for a Titan? Nothing! How could anything like THAT have the same limits as us? We’re all going to diethere’snothingwecando-”
 
“Luna, snap her out of it.”
 
>A quick slap across the face later, Twilight stops.
 
“Thank you. Titan magic is the same as yours. They’re subject to the same laws, the same universal constants. I guarantee it.”
 
>”How can you be so sure?”
 
>”Indeed! How could any beings make all life in this world if they have the same obstacles as us?”
 
“Not obstacles, limits. If you step outside and look south, what will you see? Could YOU build that?”
 
>”Of course not!”
 
“Why not? The visitor follows all the same physical laws as us. If you knew how those things work you could make them too! Chemistry behaves the same for him, lightning behaves the same, physics, mathematics, EVERYTHING works the same for him. And yet he does impossible things with ease. They’re better at this than we are, but they have to follow the same rules. What are those rules?”
 
>”Well… Law one. All forms of magical interaction require a flow of magical energy. you can’t cast a spell if you don’t have enough magic ready, or if you have nowhere to let it flow. Law two. Magic will naturally flow from a state of high concentration towards a lower concentration. Magical buildup inside of you will leak out over time, so the limit there is an equilibrium problem-”
 
“You’re drifting. There might be some way to store it perfectly, some material that it doesn’t leak through. The law here is that magic diffuses.”
 
>”Right. Law three. Magic is equivalent. You can change magic into other kinds of energy, and vice versa.  Law four, not exactly a law of magic but it still applies. Energy is permanent. It can change form and be stored, but a closed system will always have the same total energy.”
 
“The visitor agrees with you, with the addendum that matter and energy are the same thing.”
 
>”Wha-”
 
“Now is not the time.”
 
>“Right. Law five. The capacity for work in a closed system may not be increased. This isn’t widely accepted and we don’t really have any solid evidence-”
 
“Visitor agrees, with a few caveats that don’t really matter in this case.”
 
>”That’s it. That’s all we have.”
 
“Okay, that’s half the story covered. Luna, tell us about Titans.”
 
>”What is there to say? There were two Titans-”
 
“TWO?”
 
>”Two, massive beings in the sky that ignored all attacks directed at them. They didn’t even retaliate, it wasn’t worth their time. Their shells seemed impervious to everything.”
 
>”Wait a minute, how do you know that?”
 
>”Well, obviously we tried to fight back, it just didn’t work. Every few centuries they would open their shells, and everyone’s magic would grow weaker for a while.”
 
“And WHY are you just telling us that NOW?”
 
>”There are a lot of things on my mind right now! The visitor found something that looks like a Titan shell-”
 
>”IT’S RIGHT BELOW US?”
 
>”No. This object is too small and round. But it looks similar, has an intense magical aura about it, and seems nigh on indestructible.”
 
“Well, what exactly IS it?
 
>”Well, it’s only a guess, but…”
 
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You are trying to raise the sun.
>You did it once before when you were turbocharged, but now?
>You’re pretty sure you can’t.
 
“I *wheeze* I can’t do it.”
 
>”Nopony else can, Twilight.”
 
“Can’t.”
 
>You collapse to your haunches, sweat streaming down your face.
 
>”Guh. Fine, it’ll just have to be night until we can get you and Cadance together. I’ve already sent a courier to fetch her, I want as much magical power at the ready as possible.”
 
>”What’s the point, didn’t you say they could basically eat magic?”
 
>”Indeed, Spike. My intention isn’t to directly attack the Titan, rather I hope to interfere with its spells.”
 
>”Twilight. Explain.”
 
“Spells are magic formed in a specific pattern, usually structured inside the caster’s horn. When the pattern breaks down the spell fails. If we can pump enough un-natured magic into the ape’s camp with a big, sudden pulse we might be able to overwhelm the domination spell and ruin it with random noise.”
 
>”Do you think it’ll work?”
 
>”No, but it’s the best I’ve though of so far and I can see no harm in calling in reinforcements. If either of you have any plans…”
 
“Nothing good.”
 
>”Yeah, actually. You said the visitor was still trying to communicate, right? Twilight, you can make multiple colours of light spell, right?”
 
>A few minutes later…
 
“Are you sure this will work?”
 
>”Nope. It’s dependant on him still having some control, and also noticing us.”
 
>”Explain how this works again?”
 
>”We’re sending a signal using a base two numeral system referring to a standardized- we don’t have time for this. RED! BLUE! BLUE! RED! BLUE! RED! RED! RED! PAUSE!”
 
>You follow the seemingly arbitrary pattern of light pulses.
>thirty two pulses per message.
>H E L P
>You repeat.
>You repeat again.
>You repeat some more.
 
“It’s not working!”
 
>”No, it is. Look!”
 
>Spike gestures up into the night sky.
>Two separate stars are flashing in a seemingly arbitrary pattern.
 
>”Those are no stars of mine!”
 
“What does it say, Spike?”
 
>”I dunno, it’s going too fast!”
 
“This could be important!”
 
>He rushes into the royal quarters and fetches his ‘textbook’.
>He watches the lights in the sky, rapidly tapping on its display.
 
>”There was a translator tool attached to the lesson about this stuff. We’ve got a fifty percent chance of getting this right first try…”
 
“Hurry up, Spike!”
 
>”I’m going as fast as I can. This is a REALLY clumsy way to communicate.”
 
>”Then why would anyone use it?”
 
>”It’s designed for machines to process information, not to talk between individuals. Five, three, six, one, six, e, f… this is still nonsense. Unless…”
 
>He pokes around for a bit longer.
>You honestly have no idea what he’s doing.
 
>”Each document on this thing has a unique identifier number. And this one is- yep. It’s valid.”
 
“WELL?”
 
>”It’s a lesson. ‘The advent of electronic computation made obsolete nearly all static cyphers. In order to combat the ease with which encryptions could be decoded using trial and error, two differing methods were adopted… It’s about cryptography. Do you think he’s trying to say that our messages are being watched?”
 
>”JUST WHAT THE HAY IS GOING ON?”
 
>You jump in shock.
>Spike nearly drops the device.
 
“Rainbow Dash? I thought you went home when they took Celestia to Canterlot.”
 
>”You thought wrong. Dashie and I stayed because we want answers!”
 
>”Yeah, what Pinks said! WHAT happened to Spike, why is Luna wearing a cloak, where did her HORN go, and WHAT happened to CELESTIA?”
 
>”And where did everypony go? When I was baking for the camp there were WAY more ponies than this. There’s what, fifty left?”
 
>You have a LOT to explain, and very little time to do it.
 
 
>You are Anonymous 2.
>You hope they got the hint.
>It’s not safe to talk just yet.
>Soon, but not just yet.
>Ideally it would be several hours before you contacted them.
>You’re going to need to send something down there to facilitate communication, and that would draw attention to you.
>But you’re pretty sure you’ll be found out soon anyway.
>Hijacking the facilities is proving to be more difficult than you’d expected.
>All orbital infrastructure was taken with ease; you’re the one that set it up after all.
>But the facilities built planetside, especially those made before you were created, are more difficult.
>You do have a plan though.
>A rough, unreliable plan that you can’t execute on your own.
>Sadly it’s the best you’ve got, and you don’t have the time to come up with something better.
>You check the timer on the excavation.
 
{T-43286 SECONDS}
 
>12 hours to infiltrate the greatest fortress in the world and sabotage all of the redundancies you’d worked so hard to set up.
>The base was structured as 343 hexagonal ‘cells’, each with its own defences, backup power generation, computer network, and resource stockpiles.
>You didn’t want any single cell to be overly important in case you lost one.
>While they do have important differences, you’d be able to rebuild from any of them.
>Or at least, you could if construction were finished.
>Some of the cells on the periphery are incomplete, even lacking walls.
>Which is your in.
>The gates are locked to you if you don’t control the computer within the cell, and the dome over your base is nearly complete so you can’t get in from above without some serious firepower.
>You don’t have the necessary permissions to take over the computers down there.
>But you DO have the privileges to designate a backup network for all the machines, which you’re doing now.
>If you can take the computer in a cell offline, that cell will start taking orders from your orbital network.
>And sadly, that’s all you’ve got for now.
>It’s time to go loud.
>Unless…
 
{T-42862 SECONDS}
 
 
>You are Spike.
>You are antsy.
>Twilight gave a rundown of recent history to her friends, but you weren’t really paying attention.
>You’ve been trying to figure out what to do.
 
>”Have you any ideas, young drake?”
 
>Luna sounds angry more than anything.
>You’d expect fearful, depressed, resigned.
>No, she’s FURIOUS.
>She’s ready for a fight, but you’re not sure she’ll get one.
>Equestria has no army, Celestia and Luna are essentially non combatants, and it’s a bloody TITAN you’re against.
>Any hope of resisting is dependant on the visitor.
>What the…
 
“Yup. Good idea, REALLY good idea. Stand back!”
 
>A light from above has formed a large yellow circle on the ground, with warning script running the rim.
>Everypony stands well clear of the large ring.
>A streak of fire runs through the sky and slams into the middle of the ring.
>Dirt flies everywhere and a harsh shockwave assaults your ears, but it looks like nopony is hurt.
>When the dust settles, you see a metal box unfolding itself into a table of sorts, nearly as tall as yourself.
>You and Luna approach.
>Everypony else shies away.
>On the surface, you see some text.
 
{UPLINK ESTABLISHED}
{USER IDENTITY CONFIRMED}
{LATENCY: 1307 MILLISECONDS}
{T-42403 SECONDS}
 
>”What is that thing!?”
 
>”This, Pinkamena, is our lifeline. A device to communicate with the visitor.”
 
“Yeah. It’s a bit slow and clumsy compared to sending scrolls with dragonfire, but it’s a lot more versatile.”
 
{I am not the being you know, I am a creation of his; a merger of biological, mechanical, and electronic components designed to manage his facilities. The mind control doesn’t seem to extend to me, though I’m relatively certain that I’m organic enough that I could be afflicted. Who is controlling my creator?}
 
>That’s an interesting development to say the least.
>You’re not sure how you feel about that.
>You’ll worry about that later, when things are a touch less apocalyptic.
>You write.
>’We don’t know, but we suspect it to be a Titan. Whatever it wants, it MUST be stopped.’
 
{Why would you wish to stop the Titans? I was under the impression you liked them.}
 
>”How could it ever possibly think that?”
 
>Luna’s question matches your own.
>You ask.
 
{To quote: ”They created this land many years ago, and filled it with life. They blessed us with magic and then they simply watched.” Sounds nice enough.}
 
>Luna lets out a snort of derision.
>She steps forward and writes a message of her own.
 
>”I didn’t feel the need to list their lesser crimes, for that is the greatest evil of all!”
 
{Explain.}
 
>”They did NOTHING to help us. They watched as we struggled against nature, as we were plagued by disease, as we aged and died and they JUST WATCHED. EVERYONE is guilty of all the good they did not do, and I can think of none more guilty than the Titans.”
 
{Surely this Sombra I’ve read of is worse.}
 
>”Nay. With or without intervention, one day he would perish. One day he would be able to do no more harm, and one day his sins would be no more than a memory. Through our entire history, through the thousands of years that have passed since then, and the thousands to come, we will still suffer. We will NEVER be free of their evil. Now tell me, which is worse?”
 
>No answer.
 
>”So, they’re talking with the ape?”
 
>”Yes, Pinkie. Somehow.”
 
“Wrong. Get over here and follow the conversation.”
 
>”But-”
 
“Just do it.”
 
>Rainbow and Pinkie slowly move forward, nearly transfixed by the device.
>Twilight stays motionless.
 
>”Sparkle you coward, this being may be our only chance to stop the Titans. You are a princess, and it is your duty to your subjects to protect them. MOVE.”
 
>Twilight slowly lurches forward as her sense of duty conflicts with her fear.
>You receive another message.
 
{My organic components have been relocated. I’ll not tell you where to as it is possible that our conversation is being intercepted. Could this Titan make use of its victim’s knowledge?}
 
>Luna answers.
 
>”Limited access. It would need to specifically seek out information, so it won’t be able to answer any unknown unknowns. ”
 
{How familiar. I don’t suppose you’d know if it has access to information stored in electric enhancements?}
 
>”Electric enhancements?”
 
>Pinkie and Dash ask in unison.
 
“Machines built into his brain”
 
>You ignore the look of uneasy disgust/intrigue they’re giving you.
>You answer.
>’We are uncertain.’
>A few seconds pass, and a completely unrelated message appears.
 
{From what I can tell, they’re not paying attention to anything unrelated to the excavation. My facilities are too complex and numerous for any one being to fully understand. That complex is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a body, and even I don’t understand it. These two things are to be used to our advantage. Our task will grow far more complicated should the Titan discover that I exist, and based on your statements I suspect that won’t happen unless we give it some reason to suspect this. My plan is to assume total control over as many facilities as possible before being discovered. We must sabotage key structures in ways that resemble likely fail states.}
 
>”We?”
 
>Twilight’s got a good question there.
>You write in a query to that effect.
 
{I only have precision weaponry at my disposal, and they wouldn’t be sufficient to pierce the [UNTRANSLATABLE] dome. The base must be infiltrated, and that’s where you come in.}
 
>You ask ‘Why not just send a machine in to do it?’
 
{Any intruders are likely to be destroyed, so discretion is needed. My intention is to use a device to bend light around the infiltrator so that they can’t be seen. Unfortunately my machines communicate using light, so cloaking them would cut off all communications. I need infiltrators that can act on their own, and that’s where you come in.}
 
>It’s dicey.
>You’re not sure there’s any choice.
>Pinkie asks ‘If we were wounded, would you heal us like you did Spike?’
 
{You grossly underestimate the potency of the weapons in play down there. If you’re found out, odds are there will be nothing left to heal.}
 
>You don’t like the sounds of that.
>That place has changed hugely since you were last there, it would be totally unknown territory.
>And this being isn’t the visitor who saved you, it has yet to earn your trust.
>In all this sounds like a suicide mission.
>And this is all contingent on the Titan not knowing you’re coming.
>And there’s a chance this entire conversation was overheard.
>Is it worth the risk?
 
>”I’m in.”
 
>“Luna?”
 
>A chorus of surprised voices ring out.
>You’re pretty sure your voice was involved.
 
>”You’re surprised? You’re ALL surprised that I of all ponies would jump at the chance to oppose a Titan? That I’d much sooner be obliterated than live as their plaything? That I’d rather take a defiant stand than lose my freedom once more? You clearly don’t know me at all.”
 
>She writes ‘What is your name?”
 
{I don’t have one.}
 
>’What may I call you?’
 
{Whatever you wish.}
 
>’You said your body is the complex to our south. Does your creator have a name for it?’
 
{The best translation would be ‘Sanctuary.’}
 
>’Very well then, Sanctuary. I, Princess Luna of Equestria, pledge my support. May the Titan know our wrath!’
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You are waiting with baited breath.
>The strange warning light has forced a partial evacuation of the encampment.
>Not that it was hard to evacuate with so few ponies remaining.
>Another streak of flame descends from the heavens, much more brilliant this time.
>As it approaches you can finally resolve a metal box, roughly pony size, with huge jets of flame spewing out the bottom.
>Small gouts of flame occasionally fly from the sides, stabilizing the box’s trajectory.
>The box hits the center of the warning light with a mighty crash, the rockets from beneath not quite strong enough to set it down gently; the jets only sought to keep the package from burying itself in the ground, as the contents within needn’t be handled with care.
>The sides of the box fall aside, revealing what looks like the flayed skin of a giant pony laid out flat on the ground.
>This is it.
>This is what you were promised.
>The greatest armor ever to fall into pony hooves.
>The strongest weapon an equine had ever wielded.
>Custom made just for you.
>The table lights up.
 
>”This is the best I can do while maintaining a small enough frame to navigate the interior. Perhaps if I had access to military schematics we’d have fewer limitations.”
 
>”Did it just say it doesn’t have military equipment? What the hay are those cannons then?”
 
>You ignore Twilight as she moves to communicate with the strange being.
>You step toward the mildly disturbing form, and upon closer inspection you see the difference between this and simple flesh.
>The countless interlocked metallic plates that make up the device are nearly as thick as your leg, providing what you’ve been assured is the greatest protection that the strange being can muster.
>The long, rigid panels interspersed throughout, covering nearly every point that you cannot naturally bend, feel warm to the tough; the rest of the thing far cooler than one might expect given the flames that so recently surrounded it.
>The ‘head’ of the thing is by far the strangest, numerous small lights shining seemingly pointlessly, and two thin tubes protruding from the plates over the muzzle.
>The strange lights from above show four hoof prints off to one side of the device.
>Taking the hint, you position yourself over them.
>The queer object starts to writhe, the tiny panels snapping into shape as its leg latches onto yours.
>The plates wrap around your hoof, locking it in snugly as the rest of the armor quickly begins to wrap around your body.
>Within seconds, you are totally covered.
 
>”Whoa.”
 
>You must share Rainbow Dash’s sentiment.
>You take a deep breath, drawing effortlessly from the tubes placed right next to your nostrils.
>You look around.
>Directly in front of you, the tiny light shines a vision of the world as you’d seen it before entering the suit.
>To your right, you see a great deal of details about the armor’s integrity.
>’Fuel remaining: 7.46E14 J’
>’Electrical charge: 460.4 GJ’
>’Cloaking system: offline.’
>’Particle cannon: charged…’
>To your left you see a map, with a small red dot noting your position.
>And looking down…
>You look down from the heavens, seeing yourself.
>An imposing collosus of a pony, standing a full head taller than your normal self.
>The sleek black metal hugs your body perfectly matching your form.
>With one exception.
>Large black frills adorn your back and neck, rapidly radiating away the huge amounts of heat you’re generating with this device.
>You tilt your head upward and look toward the star that is not your own.
>Gazing down from the heavens, you see your smooth, faceless head.
>You start to move into the basin, ready for your mission.
 
>”Princess, are you sure you want to do this? It sounded super dangerous!”
 
>You try to reply, to assure Pinkie that you know the risk, but the mask allows no space to move your muzzle.
>In the back of your head you feel some surprise that she’d be concerned for your wellbeing.
>The two of you weren’t exactly on good terms.
>But the bulk of your thoughts are elsewhere.
>You nod instead, briefly marvelling at how the suit always moves just before you can feel yourself pushing against it.
>You try to gallop down, eager to get started as the clock ticks downward.
>The thunderous steps you make as you move this unbelievably heavy contraption force you to rethink the approach.
>This is a stealth mission after all.
>Instead, you test out what you were promised.
>The tools built into your extended body.
>The controls are supposedly crude by the strange not ape’s standards
>To you though?
>It’s incredible.
>You flare your nostrils, and the world in front of you changes radically.
>Your target location shoots forward, filling your field of vision entirely.
>You move your brow and the colours change radically.
>If Spike is to be believed, you are seeing heat.
>Or rather, some technicality about light and heat that you don’t quite recall.
>You try to swish your tail, and everything goes dark.
>A brief flash of panic hits you, but you quickly brush it aside.
>You’d been warned about this.
>You knew this was coming.
>Looking to your right, you see confirmation of what’s happened.
>’Cloaking system: Online”.
>Light is being bent around you, forming an imitation of your invisibility spell.
>While doubtlessly more effective than your own version, bending ALL light rather than just the visible spectrum, you’re robbed of all sight as the light of the outside world misses your eyes entirely.
>Along with your view from the heavens.
>You move forward, praying that however this device works, it continues to do so.
>Flexing facial muscles to control the device, you eventually switch to the strangest view of all.
>Ghostly grey objects move about in the distance, contrast by a pitch black background.
>Supposedly you’re seeing magnetic force.
>You’d been informed that everything the visitor built that moves makes a magnetic field, hopefully you’ll be able to navigate with that.
>Moving close to the outer walls, you creep close to the missing panel on the periphery.
>Your vision blurs as you approach, the forces from your own motion interfering with the only way you have to perceive the outside world.
>You peek inside, and hold still.
>Ghostly grey blurs float about casually, moving through the void.
>The display to your right flashes.
>’Reactors offline.’
>You’d been warned about that too.
>Your suit is powered by radiating heat away.
>The machines here can see heat.
>Power generation has ceased, and if you wait too long you’ll use up the power you’d accumulated.
>And then you’d have a choice.
>Be seen on thermal, or be immobile and totally visible.
>You move through the place, stepping around the ghostly objects.
>You clumsily navigate the void, making sure to constantly check your map.
>The red dot moves as you do, tracking each motion of your hooves to determine your motion.
>It shows you everything as it was when you became invisible.
>It doesn’t show you everything as it is.
>You bump into something you cannot see, a clang ringing throughout.
>Several ghostly objects start moving towards you as you quickly slip away.
>The incessant whirring of the flying machines as they try to hunt the source of the noise does little to ease the tension of the situation as your heart continues to pound rapidly, trying desperately to escape your chest.
>Dozens of the ghostly objects begin sweeping the area, fanning out from the point where you made the noise.
>You duck down, hoping they’ll fly above you.
>An apparent eternity passes as the magnetic fields fan out, hunting down the source of the noise.
>Hunting you.
>Precious seconds tick away, bringing you ever closer to Titanic ruination.
>Eventually you make your way to the point designated on your map.
>A bank of rotary fans towering at least three meters above you, visible only as grey blurs of magnetic force.
>You lean on it, obstructing the airflow as much as you can
>You wait.
>The fields grow larger as the fans accelerate, trying to compensate for the lost flow.
>Time passes as the flying machines continue to search for you.
>The fans rev up further.
>You can’t help but feel silly as you stand there, blocking fans to spite Titans.
>But you’ve been assured it will work.
 
>”The [UNTRANSLATABLE] in use are the fastest possible, performing the absolute maximum calculations per time unit/mass unit. Despite this they are not popular. The tolerances of the machine are almost zero, and essentially anything can cause them to fail. A single atom out of place can turn the entire device into scrap.”
 
>The words came as something of a shock.
>To think that something so potent could be so fragile.
>You threw everything you had at this being, and its devices could fail so easily?
 
>”They are especially susceptible to overheating. Obstruct the heat flow and it should shut down to avoid damaging the components. This is a relatively common fail state and shouldn’t attract much attention.”
 
>The fans shut down.
>You wait a little while just to be certain.
>You make your way out of the ‘cell’ before becoming visible again.
>Just to be safe.
>To your right you see the confirmation message.
>’Target disabled.’
>You hazard a peek inside, and see terror incarnate.
>The smooth walls are lined with scores of the cannons, soullessly gazing, searching for something to obliterate.
>The machines that felled you and your sister both within the blink of an eye.
>The devices that can now fire explosions capable of leveling small cities.
>Each and every one pointed right where you’d bumped into…
>A barrel.
>A simple barrel nearly brought the fury of the cannons down on you.
>The not ape warned you that, should you be struck by the full force of their fire, there’d be nothing left to save.
>Even with the protection granted by this armor your life would be forfeit.
>It’s not known if alicorns can regenerate like Discord does.
>You’re not eager to find out.
 
>”Luna. LUNA! Are you okay? Are you- great, we’ve got her.”
 
>Twilight’s voice is right in your ear.
>It’s not pleasant.
 
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You’re asking questions.
>Questions like, ‘What do you mean IF you had military hardware?’
>Questions that probably should be saved for a later date.
>Questions that might attract ire from someone with emotion.
 
>”What I mean by that is that I have no access to modern weapon schematics.”
 
>The very notion seems almost laughable.
>That there might be tools of war greater than the ones it’s displayed?
>Time to write more questions.
 
“Then what are those things down there? What is Luna wearing?”
 
>”Tools of my own design, crudely cobbled together due to lack of time, talent, and knowledge. Military hardware is designed by the very best engineers available, refined over centuries, reviewed by hoards of peers, and subject to constant revisions and field tests. The designers study not only the physical sciences, but military history as well, with decades of study devoted solely to battlefield tactics. My creator’s specialty is spatial distortion, not warfare.”
 
>By Tartarus that’s frightening.
>To think that there’s a step above THIS.
>To think that there are individuals who devote their whole lives to designing machines of war.
 
“Why would all that be necessary?”
 
>”Can it wait? I’m a bit busy. Evil gods and all that.”
 
>You can feel the blush forming on your face.
>It’s not that you forgot about the imminent danger.
>It’s more that you forgot that this… ‘Sanctuary’ was actually in a position to make a difference.
>Perhaps because you don’t understand what it’s doing.
 
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
 
>”Communication is going to get very important in a moment here. I need someone to relay vocal messages, convert to and from text. Do that.”
 
>You don’t like being bossed around.
>But that makes sense…
>And you hate doing nothing.
 
 
>You are Rainbow Dash.
>You aren't in any mood for this nonsense.
 
“What does it mean I can't help? I can make a Sonic. Rainboom. There has to be SOMETHING useful you could do with that speed!”
 
>“I'm sorry Rainbow, but I don't think that will impress it. I'll relay the message anyway.”
 
“Not impressed? How could anyone not be impressed by that?”
 
>“Why are you trying to show off to this thing?”
 
“It’s not about showing off, Twilight. I wanna get in on this.”
 
>”Rainbow! You don’t know how dangerous it is down there. Sure Luna’s being guided through, but that place makes a pit full of cobras look like… like… like a not dangerous thing!”
 
>You raise one brow as you stare at her, hovering just off the ground.
 
”Your eloquence is an inspiration to us all."
 
>“Dash, it’s BAD down there. When we first got here, Celestia was hit an instant after cresting the hill. And you know what happened? The shot tore through her shield spell, her armor, through her flesh. Luna got hit next, going down a SECOND later at very most. A gaping hole right through her chest, despite nearly every unicorn in Equestria’s military powering a shield.”
 
“I know what those cannons are capable of.”
 
>”Did you know that they aim themselves?”
 
>That’s… uh…
 
>”Or that their projectiles can explode too?”
 
>She pokes at the weird glowy thing for a bit.
>A heavy silence hangs over you as the words sink in.
 
>”I’m being told that there are 20580 cannons in that complex. TWENTY THOUSAND. Do you know what that means?”
 
“Yeah. That the ape is insane. There’s no need for that many if one could down Celestia.”
 
>”Dash…”
 
“Okay, okay. It means that if they get a shot at me I’m gone. I still wanna help out.”
 
>”Why? Why would you ever want to risk your life like that?”
 
“Some day, when this is all over, foals will be forced to read history books about this. What will those books say? Will they say that the Titans got what they wanted? Will they say that pony kind just rolled over and submitted? No. The history books are going to say that we fought back. They’re going to say that I fought back. If the way to fight back is to quietly break some weird machines then that’s what I’m going to do. And if I’m really lucky? They’ll say that Rainbow Dash beat the tar out of a Titan. If I get hurt in the process, so be it!”
 
>”I’d rather it didn’t come to that.”
 
“Twilight, are you trying to keep me here? Are you trying to protect me?”
 
>She doesn’t answer.
>You’re pretty sure you nailed it.
 
“Stop being so selfish.”
 
>”What?”
 
“If the legends are even close to true, having a Titan around would be really bad news, right? That affects the whole WORLD. Not just us. Can you imagine how Fluttershy would handle another era of strife? If I can tilt the odds in our favour even a little, shouldn’t I?”
 
>She doesn’t answer for a while.
>Finally, she lets out a long suffering sigh.
 
>”Right. The dome is apparently safe to fly over as long as you stay low, the cannons are all on the inside, and the weird thing I’m talking to has control over the ‘narrow light’ weapons. Not sure what those are, but they’re what’s supposed to keep attackers off the dome. As long as you stay low enough that those really tall cannons that occasionally poke out over the top can’t aim at you, nothing can hit you. We’ve got equipment incoming. Rainbow, come back safe. PROMISE me you’ll be safe.”
 
“That doesn’t sound too bad. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
 
>”If you aren’t… I’m going to make sure that the books say your coat was bright green!”
 
“Don’t worry, I plan on coming back. They’re going to want a model for the statues.”
 
>It’s true though.
>You fully expect you’ll be safe.
>The cannons can’t move, you just need to make sure there’s something between you and them.
>Fly over the completed parts of the dome and you’ll be fine.
>A familiar ring of light appears, this one much smaller than before.
>A faint falling star appears in the sky.
>Another metal box, this one much smaller than the previous, slams into the ground
>Dirt flies into the air making a small crater.
>If this keeps up there’ll be a lake on this mountaintop.
>The box unfolds itself, and inside you see…
 
“Goggles, a few balls, and a couple clip on earrings?”
 
>Not even fancy earrings or anything.
>Not that you’d wear those, just that it seems strange.
>Just small black clips.
>Without moving from the table, Twilight levitates them and clamps them on your ears.
>They’re kinda uncomfortable.
>Not painful or anything, just annoying.
>She brings the goggles up to your eyes and slides them on.
 
“Neat!”
 
>In the top left of your vision, there’s a number.
>As you move your eyes it rapidly changes.
>Before long you figure it out.
>It’s telling you how far away things are.
>Directly above is an altimeter, not that you need it.
>And looking out at the dome, you see some of the panels have turned green, and others bright red.
>You nudge the goggles aside and peek under them.
>Those panels lose their colouration.
 
“Unlike Luna, we’re not going to lose contact with you. Says here that the goggles can be controlled to change what they show you. It’s going to guide you through a safe flight path.”
 
>You turn to look at Twilight.
>A label appears below her.
 
>’Crazy pony’
 
>You turn and look at the balls.
 
>’Lightweight explosives.’
 
>”We don’t have enough time to take control of everything, so you’re going to help smash the rest. There are four bombs there, and you’ve got four targets that should be safe to approach. Fly up to the cannons that are poking out of the dome, throw those into the gaps they use to aim, and STAY LOW.”
 
>You jump slightly.
>You can HEAR Twilight.
>Right next to you.
>Didn’t expect that.
 
>”The ear clips. They’re transmitting my voice. Somehow.”
 
“So I get voices in my head and some goggles? No cool armor like Luna got?”
 
>”Do you want to fly while wearing something that heavy?”
 
>No.
>You do not.
>You grab your saddlebags.
>You throw the bombs in.
>They really ARE light.
>If you painted them white, you could probably pass them off as baseballs.
>How big of a blast could they make?
>You take flight, and immediately bright red flashing letters appear before your eyes.
 
[DECREASE ALTITUDE IMMEDIATELY]
 
 
>One of the tall cannons below gets highlighted in yellow.
 
>’Firing in 1.6 seconds’
 
>You think you might have seen it start tilting down towards you.
>But you don’t want long enough to be sure.
>You pull in your wings and drop like a stone.
>Seconds before crashing, you extend them and hold them against the strong winds, shooting yourself forward.
>As the green pathway below you quickly slips by, Twilight’s voice returns.
 
>“Stay low! Those cannons poking out top are strong enough to destroy METEORS. You don’t want to get hit.”
 
“Crazy ape. Why would it need to blow up meteors?”
 
>”Because Luna rained them down on it.”
 
>WHAT.
>Twilight can hear you?
 
“How can you hear me?”
 
>”Something built into the goggles. Not sure why I don’t just hear the wind.”
 
“So… meteorites? I didn’t know she could do that.”
 
>”No kidding. Princess Celestia and Luna can be really scary when they want to be. Shiney more or less had me convinced that they could hardly fight at all, and in some ways he’s right. They hold themselves back most of the time. Sure, they’re still exceptionally powerful then, but get a few good battlemages out there and they’ll struggle. But when they let loose…”
 
“Luna scares herself and knocks off her own horn?”
 
>”Yeah, but before that. You don’t want to force their hoof.”
 
“So, I kinda get why I’m safe out here? Apparently the weapons that should be blowing me apart are being controlled by the good guys, and the other ones are either being blocked by the walls or too tall to aim at me. But why not just send the machines to do this?”
 
>”We’re still trying to surprise them. Luna’s quite insistent that the Titan can dig through the ape’s memories, and it remembers us trying to break its stuff. If a pony is responsible it won’t seem unusual. If a machine is responsible, it’ll be obvious that something is taking things over.”
 
“Won’t it remember making the thing that we’re working with?”
 
>”Maybe eventually. Think of it like a giant library.”
 
“Of course you’d bring up books.”
 
>”You have access to all this information, and let’s even say you have an index so it’s easy to look things up, but you don’t know off the top of your head what’s in there. If you think to look something up you can find it easy enough, but even if you spent weeks in there, if I walked up to you and asked what the thaumatic potential of a charged cassiterite stone in an arcane field of a given strength?”
 
“I’d have no idea what you’re talking about. Gotcha.”
 
>”We’re banking an awful lot on the Titan not understanding what it finds. Hopefully all these things are too alien to it to make any sense.”
 
>You continue to cruise past the sleek metallic dome, the green band below you growing progressively more narrow.
>You look to your destination as you pick up speed.
 
>’96.8 KM’
 
“How big IS this thing?”
 
>”Big. It nearly covers the entire badlands. Almost five hundred kilometers in diameter.”
 
“Well how in the hay is Luna supposed to finish in…”
 
>’T-36212 seconds’
 
“In however long we have left?”
 
>”She can’t. We’re not taking everything down, just the most important parts. Nearly everything in there has backups but there’s only one digsite. There are a few other things that don’t have spares, but I don’t really get what they’re… what’s that Spike? Oh. Some things take too much space to put everywhere. We’re just trying to get our hooves on the really important stuff.”
 
[DECREASE ALTITUDE IMMEDIATELY]
 
>You see the tip of a cannon off in the distance highlighted in yellow.
>You drop further, and the dome climbs higher.
>Before long you’re forced to touch down.
>The green path takes a sharp turn to the right, much to your confusion.
>You look around.
>Cannons highlighted in yellow BEHIND walls.
 
“I think this thing’s broke. It’s warning me about things even though their shot is blocked.”
 
>”Relaying that message… Oh. Oh wow. Okay, so projectiles don’t travel in a straight line. They arc. These things are smart enough to use that, shooting almost straight up and having the shot fall on you.”
 
“Wouldn’t that take a really long time? Like, what if I move?”
 
>”They can shoot bombs, Rainbow. BIG ones. They don’t need to hit, they really don’t even need to be close.”
 
>Walking along the gentle slope, you finally come to an opening.
>The massive barrel of one of the meteorite cannons sticks out of the top, a large gap around it allowing for the barrel to move.
>A big red ring surrounds the gap, you can’t get close enough to peek in much to your chagrin.
>You pick up one of the small bombs, and hurl it into the hole.
>Nothing happens.
 
“It’s a dud.”
 
>”Ponies don’t have that kind of explosive, we’ll be figured out when they go off. They’ll detonate later once all our cards are on the table.”
 
>With that anticlimax, you proceed to the next dig site.
 
 
 
>You are Pinkie.
>You are worried.
 
”Shouldn't Luna be done by now?”
 
>”We're expecting it to take a few more minutes yet. It's a pretty big place. Oh, sorry Rainbow. Wasn't talking to you.”
 
“Yeah, but…”
 
>”Getting a message… the cell Luna's in just went on high alert! The machines are actively hunting her now!”
 
“WHAT?”
 
>Twilight simply stands at the glowy table, a light dusty wind blowing by.
>She seems so impassive at first glance.
>But you can hear the worry in her voice, her calm mask not quite hiding her fears.
 
>”She's still invisible. Probably.”
 
>This isn't good!
>Luna may be cruel and manipulative.
>She's definitely worst princess.
>But after talking to her minions, and after seeing what she’s willing to give up, you’ve realised something.
>She IS trying to do the right thing.
 
>”If she can complete the mission, apparently Sanctuary can report that it was a false alarm. We might not be found out yet.”
 
“That's what you're worried about? Not that she might be vaporized?”
 
>”I've been assured that only the really big attacks can hurt her. If you hear an ear splitting blast then we have problems.”
 
>Her methods may be a tad extreme.
>But she doesn't like to take chances if she can help it.
>And sometimes, in order to be sure, you have to be extreme.
 
“What do we do then? Just wait and hope?”
 
>Luna needed to stop the nightmare.
>She wasn't will to take chances.
>If her magic was the price of certainty, she was willing to pay.
>She needs to stop the Titan.
>She doesn't want to bet that Sanctuary could pull this off alone.
>If her safety is the price of certainty, she's willing to pay.
 
>”It's all we CAN do. I don't like it either. I don't like a lot of things about this situation.”
 
>She, no not Luna herself. EQUESTRIA needed to know how those machines work.
>You'd proven yourself capable of understanding them.
>You’d also made clear that you wanted nothing to do with them.
>She could have tried being less direct, tried being kinder.
>But she didn't want to take any chances, so she went with the most extreme approach she had. >And if your heartache was the price of certainty, she was willing to pay.
>Luna is NOT your friend.
>You don't like her.
>You don't even want to talk to her.
>But you're glad to have somepony like that in charge.
>Somepony who can be callous when needed.
>Somepony pragmatic.
 
“We have to get her back.”
 
>You look to Twilight.
>Her quiet concern offers no solutions.
>You look to Spike.
>He seems oblivious to the situation as he stands there.
>Dragging a stick through the dirt and muttering to himself.
>A strong gust kicks up and wipes away whatever he'd been drawing.
>He starts scratching a different pattern in the dust.
 
“Spike! What are you doing?”
 
>His apparent apathy to the situation rubs you the wrong way.
>Rainbow Dash and Worst Princess are risking their necks and he's DRAWING?
 
>”Planning.”
 
“Planning Luna’s rescue?”
 
>”No. What to do when she fails.”
 
>No.
>That’s not happening.
>She isn’t going to fail.
>You’re going to make certain of that.
 
“I want to help.”
 
>”Pardon?”
 
Her facade crumbles and reveals a delicate balance between concern and confusion.
 
“I'm not letting those two bear all the risks themselves!”
 
>”And what do you intend to do?”
 
“Whatever the monkey machine says!”
 
>”It's not a monkey. More to the point it doesn't have anything for you to do!”
 
>You don't believe her.
>She pretty much said the same thing to Dashie!
>You're crouched down underneath Twilight, not entirely sure how you got there.
>You stand in one swift motion, catching Twilight’s belly on your back.
 
>”Gwah!”
 
>You pay her no mind as her hooves flail about, failing to find purchase on the soil.
>You're too busy looking at the words.
 
>”I have no use for the pink one at this time.”
 
“But, but but… I'm an earth pony! I'm really strong! That has to be good for something, right?”
 
>Twilight returns to her senses and flies off you, ending the Pinkie back ride.
 
>”I'm sorry, Pinkie, but I think it’s best if we just stay out of the way for now.”
 
>You go silent, and drop your haunches to the dirt.
>The moon hangs still in the afternoon sky, a signal to everyone, pony and non pony alike that all is not well.
>The wind and gentle scratching of Spike’s stick scraping through the dirt are all that break the tense silence.
>Occasionally, Twilight will say something to Rainbow.
>Sometimes, she’ll call out to Luna.
>Luna’s late.
>Very late.
>Twilight’s calls become more frequent and frantic.
 
>”Luna! Luna can you hear me? Luna! Luna!”
 
>You understand her frustration.
>Stuck here on the top of a rock, unable to do anything of meaning.
 
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You are safe.
>For now.
 
“I hear you Twilight. I'm fine. Where to next?”
 
>“Where- here! Come back! They heard you!”
 
“I am well aware, but we're behind schedule already. Where next?
 
 
>Despite Twilight’s objections, your map receives an update not long after you ask the question.
>You suspect she had nothing to do with that.
>Your destination?
>Eight cells in.
 
“Moving.”
 
>”Are you sure?”
 
“Positive. Why so far in?”
 
>”And I can’t talk you out of it?”
 
“Why so far in?”
 
>You repeat the question, your tone suggesting a growing level of impatience.
>She groans out of frustration.
 
>”Ideally we'd go one at a time but they're going to start asking questions if more of the machines have the same problem. Whatever’s in this last cell, it’s apparently really important. I’m being told that securing this location is non negotiable.”
 
>You begin to move in, but are quickly stopped.
 
>”Are you crazy? Hide yourself! If they spot you walking around safely they’ll DEFINITELY know something’s up!”
 
>You return to your cloaked state, losing your sight once more.
>You navigate through the grey haze without trouble.
>Crossing the gargantuan mass of metal, you can’t help but take note of the clock rapidly ticking down.
 
T-25163 Seconds.
 
>Simple arithmetic tells you that you haven’t enough time.
>You must pick up the pace.
>You switch from your cautious approach to a brisk walk.
>It’s still not fast enough, of this you’re certain.
>And you were told that this was non negotiable...
>Stepping into a gallop, you quickly charge through the patch of void that contains the gate to the next cell.
>As the minutes tick down, you find yourself hardly tiring at all.
>The suit carries nearly all of your weight for you, trivialising what would otherwise be an impossible feat.
>You run for hours, likely setting an all time record for pony endurance.
>All the while, thunderous quakes follow your every step.
>You hope that the bigger cannons will hold off on annihilating you in an attempt to preserve their own equipment.
>You reach the first gate, a crash ringing out as you burst through.
>Apparently it had been closed, likely when you started galloping.
>You push onward, flying machines chasing you.
>You can hear their cannons firing, striking true on your suit.
>Faint vibrations ring through your body from each impact.
>You reach the third gate, and assume it to be closed.
>With a mighty machine assisted kick you knock it down.
>You see the horrible grey haze of the cannons on the other side turning to face you.
>That’s okay.
>All part of the plan.
 
 
>You are Rainbow Dash.
>You’ve just placed the third explosive.
>Only one more to go.
 
>”What is Luna DOING? I know what I said! Well, she should have given us some warning at least!”
 
>Twilight really needs to stop that.
>Surely there’s some way to talk to Pinkie without yelling in your ear.
 
>”GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!”
 
>Heeding Twilight’s word, you quickly take wing.
>The green band flies by beneath you as you move back home.
>Hazarding a glance backwards, you see the cause for alarm.
>A cloud of flying machines have popped out of by your next target, and they’re all moving toward you.
>You recognise them.
>The balls with a fan in the middle.
>You’re quite confident in your ability to outfly them.
>A shot rings out.
>A thin beam of light streaks across the sky, landing somewhere behind you.
>You press on.
>Dozens of beams rain down, and you hear several explosions to your rear.
 
>”We’re found out! Get out of there!”
 
“No.”
 
>”WHAT?”
 
“If we’re found out, then I’ve got support from above, right? That’s why I’m not full of holes? We’re taking advantage of that.”
 
>You turn around.
>Hundreds of beams of light strike the dome, burning through the tall cannons.
>Burning through the exposed short cannons.
>Burning through the swarming machines.
>Free from the constant threat of death, you soar freely towards your target.
>In You hurl the bomb into the already smouldering hole, turn around, and pump your wings HARD.
>You hear one blast, a blinding light erupting .
>Two.
>Three.
>Four.
>Five?
 
>”LUNAAAA!”
 
>That’s not good.
 
T-17320 Seconds
 
 
 
>You are Twilight.
>You are inconsolable.
>The massive flash of light followed by the thunderous noise…
>They’ll be etched into your mind forever.
>Even the massive walls of the complex below couldn’t hold against that destructive force.
>Where before there was a solid geodesic dome, a seemingly impenetrable fortress of metal, there is only a crater.
>Luna's dead.
>And you blame yourself.
>If only you’d tried harder to talk her out of going.
>If only you’d helped impress the dangers better.
>If only…
>If only you hadn’t pushed her!
>You said it was ‘not negotiable’. That she absolutely had to succeed.
>Maybe she’d have turned back? Maybe she’d have been more cautious?
>It’s too late for that now.
>You vaguely hear Pinkie saying something, but you don't understand the words.
>Doubtlessly she's trying to cheer you up.
>It's what Pinkie does.
>She gently pats your back as you sit in the dirt, her hooves stroking between your wings.
>You try to tell her to go away; there's nothing she can do to fix this.
>She's wasting her time.
>You fail to spit the words out between sobs.
>What are you going to tell princess Celestia?
>That you killed her sister?
>What if Celestia died too?
>You slip back into your hysteria.
>You can hear Rainbow’s voice coming from the machine.
>You don't listen.
>You can hear Spike, he sounds angry.
>You don't listen.
>You can hear a guttural growl.
>You can feel something yanking on you mane.
>Hard.
 
>”Mourn later, work now!”
 
>”Spike-”
 
>”No, Pinkie. There's no time to waste on this. We have a Titan to worry about! Mourn LATER.”
 
>”He's… he's right Twilight. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.”
 
>Some time passes before you collect yourself enough to follow her instructions.
>You finally begin, and repeat the familiar breathing exercise dozens more times.
>Eventually some semblance of clarity returns to your thoughts.
>How long that took, you’ve no clue.
 
>”Come here.”
 
>With Pinkie’s help, you climb to your still quivering hooves.
>Each shaky step you take towards him and his drawings reveals more and more unfamiliar symbols.
>Periodically your tear filled eyes will spot a note quickly scratched down on the side, little tidbits that make sense.
 
>’Magic problem dispell.’
 
>’Rapid diffuse dangerous?’
 
>’Pierce shell?’
 
>’Regenerate’
 
>A quick gust of wind wipes it all away before you had the chance to drink it in.
 
“What was all that stuff? I didn't recognize half of it!”
 
>Your words are still unsteady, your voice raw and quivering with the remnants of the recent breakdown.
 
>”Learned from the visitor.”
 
>”But you've been reading that stuff for less than a week!”
 
>”I learn way more quickly than I used to. Something about how he fixed my head I think.”
 
“It did something to your HEAD?”
 
>Everything is terrible.
>Luna’s dead, Celestia’s dead, Spike’s been-
 
 >“Can we focus? Would it be dangerous if a huge amount of raw magic were vented at once?”
 
>You force the thoughts out of your mind.
>Regardless of how Spike may have been changed, regardless of how much he’s actually himself, he has a point.
>There’s nothing you can do to fix the past.
>You’ve tried.
>The only option is to salvage the future.
 
“How huge?”
 
>He just stares at you.
>You feel rather silly for asking that question, the context should have made it clear enough.
>In your defence, you’re not thinking very clearly.
>The flat expression of his face belies his annoyance.
>The void of his bad eye really creeps you out.
 
“Hypothetically yes. It would be pretty destructive.”
 
>”So we're going to want to keep our distance.”
 
“What- *sniff*, what are you planning?”
 
>”It's simple, Twilight. I'm going to kill a Titan.”
 
 
 
>You are…
>Who are you again?
>It's hard to think.
>You're think bits have been hurt.
>Luna! That's right.
>You know you're in a hurry.
>You can't quite remember why just yet, but you need to move.
>Something red is flashing.
>You stand up, your hurt walky dealy being helped out by the outside hard thing.
>You start walking into the blackness, feeling yourself angled downhill.
>Some base instinct rises through your murky mind, something about preferring to walk on a flat surface.
>You turn and go around the perimeter of the cell.
>You're not sure what those words mean, but they felt right.
>You see a flashing red light.
>Time passes.
>You eventually get to the other side.
>You still can't remember what you're doing, but you know where you're going.
>You wrack your brain trying to remember why you're so hurt.
>Something went boom.
>You… you knew it would.
>You wanted it to so they'd stop chasing you.
>So… you kicked the… thing down and hid behind the wall.
>You hoped that the boom- the explosion would happen towards the middle of the cell.
>So you pretended you were running straight in.
>It looks like it worked; you seem to have been at the edge of the blast.
>You hoped that the wall and the armor would protect you.
>It seems you were mostly right.
>The blast knocked you back a fair ways. The armor held, but the contents within were bruised pretty badly.
>You can see a flashing red light for some reason, but whenever you turn your head to look at it, it retreats.
>Always just on the periphery of your vision.
>Time passes.
>You slip through the next cell without incident.
>Strangely you don't find yourself unnerved at all by your situation.
>The flying machines, only visible to you as a gray haze, don't strike fear into your heart.
>The scores of cannons, each able to mash your flesh into paste, don't even enter your mind.
>There's a fog in your head.
>Not the same one as before, this feel different.
>It’s easier to think through it.
>With growing concern and vastly increased clarity, you finally take a moment to assess the damage.
>You're pretty sure you have a concussion.
>You're far less concerned about that than you should be.
>You're pretty sure you have a fractured leg.
>Which only aches dully, to your surprise.
>You're breathing normally despite a cracked rib.
>None of the bruising which you surely have is bothering you.
>You can see a flashing red light.
>You think it’s been there for a while.
>Flashing red lights sound important.
>You turn to look at it.
>It moves away.
>You finally remember that it’s built into your armor, and that you have to move your eyes rather than your whole head.
>You chance a glance at your suit’s status display.
>Sure enough, you’re greeted with big, bold, red letters.
 
>[MAJOR FRACTURES DETECTED.]
>[AUTOMATIC MEDICAL SYSTEMS ENGAGED.]
>[INTERNAL BLEEDING DETECTED.]
 
>And below that?
>Bigger, bolder, redder, and flashing.
 
>[EMERGENCY. USER DEATH IMMINENT.]
>[SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION.]
 
>You don’t like the sound of that imminent death thing.
>But your thoughts remain focused.
>Probably some drug to keep you calm.
>You could turn back.
>It’d probably be safer.
>But you’re close to your target.
>And you’ll not be a slave to the Titans.
>Never again.
 
 
>You are…
>Well, they call you Sanctuary.
>You're out of ideas.
>You really needed that computer to go offline.
>The one that communicates with your- with Anon’s neural grafts.
>If it had gone down, they'd switch to a backup server.
>Thanks to some tinkering, it'd be YOUR computer.
>From there it’d be easy to hamstring the whole base.
>You’d be able to relay your own instructions to everything that was tied to his mental commands.
>Sure, there are physical interfaces that could be used to override that.
>But the mind controller would need to figure out how that worked first.
>And you could do a hell of a lot in that time.
>But now you’ve only got a few hours, and a handful of cells under your control.
>Your satellites have done well with destroying some of the remaining cells.
>The blue one took out a few vital cells.
>In all, you’ve destroyed some facilities that would be needed to replace the drill were it damaged.
>If you can break the drill right now, it’d take days to get it online again.
>But the fact remains that the excavation is proceeding more or less unhindered.
>You need to start considering the possibility that you’ve failed.
>It might well be that you cannot stop the excavation.
>What then?
>You’re not sure what’s going to happen when it finishes.
>It could be any number of things, you don’t even know what that ball is.
>You send a message down asking.
>No reply.
>You use your satellites to look down at the computer you gave them.
>The purple one is sitting a ways away, crying.
>Emotion is troublesome.
>Looks like you’ll get no help from them.
>The one who seemed most informed on the subject was vaporised anyway.
>You’re going in blind, so you need to work with some assumptions.
>Assumption one. Anonymous won’t die should the excavation be completed.
>You have no evidence to suggest this is true, but if he does perish then there’s nothing worth doing anyway.
>Better to assume the best than to just give up.
>Assumption two. There will be a Titan.
>Whatever that ball is, they seem to want it.
>If your understanding of their strange power is correct, they’ll have to reveal themselves to retrieve it.
>Assumption three. If you kill the titan, the domination will stop.
>The cartoonish hodgepodge of animal parts never stayed dead for long, but killing it got it off your back.
>You fully expect that the Titans would have a similar capacity to regenerate. Killing it is only a stall tactic.
>That’ll have to be good enough.
>Assumption four. There’s no cavalry coming.
>If you’re going to win you have to do it on your own.
>The only other creature that’s even remotely competent around here is being controlled, and the nearest outpost is hundreds of lightyears away.
>You definitely can’t rely on the natives. Purportedly their last attempts to destroy their creators were even more laughable than their attempts to destroy you.
>You're not worried though.
>You're incapable of worry.
>Even if you were, you'd be concerned at most.
>If it's made of matter, it can be destroyed.
>Or even annihilated if need be.
>The natives likely used crude weapons and their strange power to fight.
>The Titans, based on the fact that they were able to make this place, seem to be masters of that power in a similar way to how humanity mastered the physical sciences.
>It's technology versus magic in this fight.
>You're going to win.
>Not because you're stronger. You literally have no muscles.
>Not because you're better prepared. Even with all the tools at your disposal, this is their home field.
>Not because you're smarter. You’ve no idea how bright they are, so you can’t count on that.
>No.
>Your advantage is much greater than any of that.
>You have energy.
>And a hell of a lot of it.
>Fire helped man spread throughout the world. A source of heat, of energy that they could use from without.
>Steam power helped man conquer the world. A small crew had more energy at their disposal than massive workforces.
>Rocket engines helped man escape the world. Colonists, scientists, and entrepreneurs could use more energy in an hour than their ancestors could use in a lifetime.
>And fusion let man conquer the stars. A single reactor capable of doing more work than a million men.
>From what you've heard, Titans store their power in their bodies.
>They need to process their energy themselves.
>No matter how powerful they are, no matter their endurance, sooner or later they'll run out.
>They'll have to eat.
>You, though…
>You aren't limited by mere biology.
>Your power comes not from food, but from fusion.
>The very fires of creation serve your will.
>THAT is your advantage.
>They think they know power?
>They know NOTHING.
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You are in nearly there.
 
[T minus 4603 seconds.]
 
>Just in time too.
>You make your way towards the cooling system, only to find it guarded.
>Swarms of the flying machines surround it.
>It's almost inconceivable that you'd reach it without bumping into one.
>Thankfully you have an alternative.
>You may not have a horn, but your armor does.
>Slipping in behind some unidentifiable structure with hopes that it will shield you from the coming barrage, you tilt your head.
>The protrusion on the top of your helmet, so placed for familiarity, lines up with the spinning fans.
>You eagerly fire the particle cannon, curious to see what destruction you'll bring.
>The world turns white.
>A thunderous crash echoes throughout.
>And to your amazement, none of the cannons turn to face you.
>None of the flying machines start to hunt you.
>In fact, many of them simply disappear from your sight.
>You hear a cacophony of metal falling gracelessly to the ground.
>Your mission is complete.
>How long do you have to live?
 
[WARNING. CRITICAL CONDITION. SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION.]
 
>That's strange.
>It sounds much less dire than imminent death.
…
>Of course.
>You feel silly.
>The being that made this doesn't know your tolerances, only what it could survive.
>The machine didn't realize the durability of an alicorn.
>Still, you'd best depart before whatever substance it's using to sustain you runs out.
>Unless…
>You're taking a huge risk here.
>But the machines have stopped hunting you.
>Perhaps it's time to come out of hiding.
>Tucking yourself away as far from sigh as you can, you end your cloaking.
>You find yourself hiding behind one of the oldest machines.
>The now decommissioned lighting generator, the massive coal consuming tower of soot and ash, shields you from prying eyes.
>Behind you lies an abandoned train; the amazing device ran ceaselessly for month without ever once stopping for water.
>Constructs that could rival, nay, humiliate the greatest creations of pony kind.
>Abandoned.
>Unwanted.
>Obsolete.
>You peek around the corner, and take a quick glance at the destruction you wrought.
>It’s chilling.
>A wide hole, easily large enough for you to fit through, has formed in the large radiator that you destroyed.
>And in the wall behind it.
>And in the wall behind that one.
>And through the top of the dome.
>Each hole rimmed with red hot metal, tiny rivulets still trickling down the sides.
>To your amazement, you see no wreckage; no scrap metal laying about.
>The material that made the holes is simply… gone.
>Vaporised, perhaps?
>To think that this is the power of a mobile weapon.
>Something small enough for one pony to operate.
>Its version of a crossbow.
>What sort of terrible wrath might the creature be able to exact with heavy weapons?
>With tools that couldn’t be so easily deployed?
…
>There’s no time for that line of thought.
 
“Talk to me, Twilight.”
 
…
 
“Twilight?”
 
…
 
“Answer me, Sparkle!”
 
…
 
 
 
>You are Sanctuary.
>You are in luck.
>Black horse survived.
>Somehow.
>The logs on her status tell you she definitely should be dead.
>You'll think about that later.
>For now though…
>You've got full control of everything tied to the mental network.
>How long will that last?
>A few minutes at the most, you reckon.
>But that's plenty of time.
>First step, you swarm the drill with your nanomachines, and have them rip it apart.
>A sizeable blast rings throughout the base as the drill goes offline, the power it once drew shorting out to the ground.
>That’ll take days, perhaps even a week to fix.
>Next step. You commander a jellyfish and bring it to a terminal.
>You have it remove black horse from the list of targets.
>She should be safe now.
>Next, you-
>Wait, no.
>Inspiration strikes you.
>A quick scan of the base tells you that Anon is already rushing toward a terminal, doubtlessly intent on regaining control.
>But what if he couldn’t reach it?
>In seconds, his legs are engulfed in a swarm of your locusts, and heavy shackles anchor him in place.
>The entirety of his legs are buried in a broad heap of the grey machines.
>Why didn't you think of that before?
>No matter.
>You secure his arms too, and direct them skyward.
>No point in letting him use the weapons built into his armor.
>He might try something stupid.
>He strains and struggles, throwing the entire might of his power armor against the restraints.
>As impressive as it may be, he cannot compete with the trillions of locusts that anchor him.
>You’ll have to cycle them out periodically as they’ll run out of power.
>But eventually, so too will he.
>The greatest threat to your future has been neutralised.
>You control your own facilities once more.
>There’s still some serious issues to address.
>Like how your better half is still a meat puppet.
>But at least you’re not crippled anymore.
 
“We've got it. Tell Luna to come home.”
 
…
 
>No answer.
>Purple horse is distracted.
>You have the solution to that.
>And with black horse in such serious condition, you’re not interested in waiting around.
 
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You are-
 
“Augh!”
 
>Nursing a sore rump.
>It feels like it was burnt!
 
>”Narrow light. Huh.”
 
>You're not sure what Spike’s talking about.
>Unless…
 
“Did the ape just zap me?”
 
>”It’s not an ape.”
 
>The smell of burnt fur confirms it for you.
>Why you aughtta…
>You return to the terminal to give it a piece of your mind.
 
>”Damn it, Sparkle. Talk to me!”
 
“Luna!”
 
>You rush to the terminal, hooves stamping wildly as you go.
 
“Oh thank Celestia you're okay!”
 
>”I wouldn't say okay. What's my next target? And tell me quick, I'm sure to be found out soon.”
 
>You don't need to ask the ape.
>It's already told you.
>The writing’s on the table.
>And for once, your goals coincide.
 
“Return immediately. It should be safe to go uncloaked, but I wouldn't advise it.”
 
>”What is my next target?”
 
“That's what it says! Come home!”
 
>”Sparkle, I swear-”
 
>”She's telling the truth.”
 
>Spike’s interjection halts Luna’s threat immediately.
>Much to your surprise.
 
>”Very well, I'll return post haste.”
 
[No signal.]
 
>Why didn't she trust you?
>Why did she trust Spike?
 
>”So, that's it then? Sorta anticlimactic.”
 
“Dash! When did you get back?”
 
>”While you were crying your eyes out.”
 
>You can already feel the blush forming on your face.
>She's never going to let you live that down.
>You eagerly change the subject.
 
“No, I don't  think it's over. We just bought some time.”
 
>Dash drops to the ground again, landing much more gracefully than last time.
>And you?
>You feel a strange force tugging at your very soul.
>An experimental light cantrip confirms your fears by failing.
>Magic has left you once more.
 
>”Yes, we only bought time. And not a lot of it. Step aside, I need to use that thing.”
 
“What-”
 
>”Move!”
 
>You haven't ever seen Spike like this.
>Aggressive, commanding, driven…
>He's a bit scary, actually.
>To your amazement, he leaps atop the glowy box in a single bound.
>Despite it being nearly twice as tall as he.
 
“How-”
 
>”My good leg is very strong. Now shush, I need to ask a HUGE favour.”
 
>His good leg?
>But he shouldn’t be nearly that strong.
>He’s never been able to jump like that before.
>And everything you’ve read about dragons suggests that, while immensely powerful, they shouldn’t be able to do THAT.
>At least, not before they’ve grown their wings.
>Why is it now that he only has one good leg, that the other’s been replaced with metal, should he-
>Realisation suddenly strikes.
>He’s referring to his prosthetic as the good one.
>Which means that his natural body is the bad one.
>You’re not sure where this will lead, but you don’t expect you’ll like it.
 
 
>”Kraaaaaaaa!”
 
>You are Spike.
>You are unphased.
 
“Guh...”
 
>That may have been a lie.
>A wave of exhaustion wracks your body.
>The guttural screech rang throughout the sky, chilling everyone to the bone.
>Then came the void.
>The cold, empty darkness in the pit of your stomach.
>You've never felt this way before, but somehow you know.
>Your fire has gone out.
>More and more magic left the world until finally, naught but the dregs remained.
>Ponies all around you collapse from exhaustion.
>And still you stand.
>You can feel it, the horrible aching coursing throughout your entire being.
>The meaty bits at least.
>The absence of magic is by no means comfortable.
>But the machines that have replaced your flesh will not yield.
>You've often wondered just how much of your organic body remained.
>The changes to your outside are striking enough.
>But you've never seen the inside.
>Now you have some idea.
>Your thoughts are clear and your senses sharp.
>Your memories are hazy, and many of your muscles lax.
>But your mechanical half- your better half is uninhibited.
>The rest of the world may be crippled by arcane depletion.
>But you?
>You're just ANGRY.
 
>”Uugh...”
 
>You ignore Twilight as she struggles to move.
>She needs magic, and you cannot provide.
>Instead, you write.
 
“I need access to all your facilities.”
 
>”What?”
 
“It’s urgent.”
 
>”No.”
 
“I wasn't asking. Do it now if you want to stand a chance in the fight to come.”
 
>”Stand a chance? I wield the fires of creation; I build STARS to fuel my wrath. I am the indisputable master of the physical realm, the fabric of reality itself bends to my will. Were it my wont I’d be able to reduce this entire world to dust. How might a being of mere flesh withstand that might? How could ANYTHING match the power I wield?”
 
“By devouring the magical potential of the entire world.”
 
…
 
“Look around. What do you see? Is it creatures of every description passed out, lying in the dirt. Gasping desperately to pull breath. And where are their friends, their family, their loved ones? Where are the ones who should be helping them? Struggling to even move, no doubt. They didn't all decide to take a nap at once. They've been drained of their magic, of the very power that sustains them. Frankly I fear for their safety. They cannot live without at least some magic, no more than they can live without breath. But that is a concern for later! Right now we need to deal with the monster that did this to them, the beast that now wields all of their magic. You say your power is unmatched, but can you honestly beat the whole world's might? I know your ways better than anyone else in the world, and I know magic better than you. You can't do this on your own.”
 
…
 
“You've suffered magical attacks before. That meteor storm that crushed me? Two ponies.  What comes next will be thousands of times greater.”
 
>”Don't worry. About their safety, I mean. You don't slaughter your breeding stock. And yes, I do have enough power to crush that.”
 
“And if it’s been siphoning our magic for thousands of years? What then? What if our entire world exists to feed this one creature? What if our entire history amounts to nothing more than food? Can you fight that?”
 
>”Yes.”
 
“And can you do so without your creator getting caught in the crossfire?”
 
>”That is… a valid concern. Tell me your suggestions.”
 
“It would be faster if you just let me-”
 
>”No. Far too risky. These Titan creatures aren’t so far beyond my understanding as you might think. It has full access to all the knowledge of my creator, but must actively seek out information to make use of it. It cannot learn anything without first knowing it is there to learn. So too with I and the datalinks. It draws strength from its creation, draining energy from others to do its will. So too with I and my machines. It solves its problem with billions of tools rather than resorting to a select few. How many ponies are there to drain? How many dragons? Changelings, gryphons, buffalo… I’m sure you’ve noticed that I too tend towards quantity. It hides in the shadows and works from afar, using proxies to do its will. I’m not even on your world anymore. Trust me, I know the limitations these approaches bring, but more importantly, I know how this thing thinks. There are… nearly three quadrillion machines in my control and I can order them to do ANYTHING at will. I’ve little doubt these Titans can do something similar. It created you, or at least designed your blueprint. It knows you better than you know yourself. It knows how you work, how you think, and more importantly it knows how to manipulate you. For all I know, hell, for all YOU know, it’s already in charge. My creator trusts you a great deal, perhaps he’d be willing to grant you access to my network. But you may have been compromised. I’ll not grant you direct power, but I am willing to take your council. What must I do?”
 
 
>You have no name.
>You don't need one.
>Names are for lesser beings, those who need to rely on others.
>Those who form groups and communities.
>Names are for food.
>What you need is magic.
>Power.
>Energy.
>The biped failed you, but its efforts weren't for naught.
>You have much more direct access to the mana above.
>The countless tons of rock no longer block you.
>They no longer inhibit your access to magic.
>Within the confines of your undersized prison, you open your maw and drink.
>Metaphorically.
>Your draw deeply from the energies your progenitors left for you.
>From the livestock of your cradle.
>You can feel them fading, weakening.
>You stop.
>It would be unwise to drain them completely.
>You're still dependant on them.
>You will be for centuries to come.
>So strange that two beings seem unharmed.
>The not ape, and the half dragon.
>That ape bothered you when you first noticed it.
>You could have sworn you'd exterminated them millennia ago.
>They were of no use to you.
>Generating such a paltry amount of magic, and competing with your useful breeds to boot.
>And then this one appears, showing even less magical potential.
>That's why you investigated it so closely.
>What you found was fascinating.
>The horrendous mess that was its genome was your first hint. Your progenitors would never have been so sloppy.
>But its memories…
>Those were enlightening.
>A species that thrived without magic.
>A species that was only just starting to augment itself.
>And it was strange beyond measure.
>Born without knowledge of the world around them, they devoted decades to learning simple things.
>They even need to learn to walk.
>Not like you.
>Your knowledge is built into your genome.
>To think that such a species could succeed in the universe is laughable.
>But yet, they’ve managed well enough.
>You’ll have to visit this ‘Zeus-5’ it calls home.
>Perhaps you might discover something.
>Something that might make you the greatest of your kind to date.
>Something that can augment your magic.
>But first, you must come into your own.
>You must free yourself from the hole you’ve lived in for countless years.
>You must hatch.
>It would have been far easier if that biped had finished its job.
>It would have taken much less of your streng>It would have been far easier if that biped had finished its job.
>It would have taken much less of your strength and tired you out much less.
>But you’ve drawn enough magic to manage anyway.th and tired you out much less.
>But you’ve drawn enough magic to manage anyway.
 
 
 
>The earth trembled.
>A flash of light burst forth from the borehole. Followed by a resounding crack.
>Minutes pass.
>Thin, long tendrils of pure white light emerged.
>Wrapping and coiling about the smoking wreckage of the destroyed drill.
>They pulled.
>And from the abyss emerged a pearlescent orb, roughly 200 meters in diameter.
>The magical tendrils dissipated as the orb slowly rotated.
>The one feature on the otherwise perfect sphere, a small black indentation, locked on to a creature in the distance.
>The only being still standing.
>It looked at Spike.
>To say it ‘saw’ would be a mistake. The nameless beast had no use for light.
>But it sensed.
>And it was fascinated.
>It reached out and touched the not dragon's mind.
>What it found was stranger still.
>Whereas the other biped’s mind had been a chaotic mess of barely compatible thoughts, this one was…
>Fractured.
>Almost as though most of it weren't even there.
>It would need to examine this creature later.
>But for now…
 
SLEEP.
 
>A trace amount of magic worked its way into the half dragon's skull, and probed around.
It sought a very specific ganglion, a nerve cluster that was placed specifically for this one purpose.
>To facilitate control.
>But there was nothing but metal there.
>The impossible mesh of metal and flesh rubbed its head as pain ran through its head.
>Then, it braced itself.
>It stood tall atop the strangely glowing box and glared at the Titan with its cold, dead eye.
>It raised both claws high in the air.
>And extended the middle digit of each one.
>A vertical seam opened up on the Titan as the shell split in two.
>A gooey mass of pink flesh wreathed in light lay within, slowly pulsating.
>It was preparing to drain the thing totally of its magic.
>Such disrespect would not be forgiven.
>Unnamed ichor slowly dripped to the ground below the beast as it prepared its spell.
>Thousands of beams of light drop from the heavens, burning away the flesh within.
 
“Graaaaah!”
 
>The shell snapped closed, smoke wafting skyward as the Titan levitated itself higher.
>It sought out the source of magic that so boldly wounded it as the beams harmlessly reflect off its smooth exterior.
>It found nothing but the void of space.
>There was only one possible source then.
>The not ape.
>It wielded a strange power that the nameless neonate had grown fascinated with.
>Something that defied its understanding of reality.
>It dug through the puny being’s miniscule brain seeking answers.
>The inconceivably vast stores of knowledge it held always proved a surprise.
>So much information stored in such a paltry brain.
>Fractured, distorted information that needed to be reconstructed with each recall.
>But an impressive amount nonetheless.
>It found an incredible memory, one of lights meant to burn flesh.
>Of machines that destroyed matter itself.
>Of flying weapons that forgot to fall.
>Of innumerable tools of death which could very well rival the most destructive spells in existence.
>And each of these memories were associated with the same thoughts.
>Temporary.
>Crude.
>Prototype.
>The Titan was conflicted.
>Torn between respect, and an emotion it was never meant to experience.
>Fear…
>It had been hundreds of generations since any of their kind had felt that.
>Somewhere, deep within the most primitive parts of its brain, the flesh that grew naturally before this being’s ancestors had first cast their spells to rework their genome…
>It demanded action.
>The Titan began firing bolts of mana wildly towards the heavens in the hopes of thinning out the lights from above.
>Then came they volley of flame.
>Thousands of small flying machines swarmed out from the dome below, and from them small projectiles burst forth.
>Blasts of inconceivable proportions bombarded the Titan, blowing off chunks of its shell.
>An immediate instinctual response, one programmed in 12 generations ago, threw up a magical shield around its body.
>The top of the metal dome came apart, gaping holes opening as projectiles tore through the skies.
>The Titan threw its magical force at them, desperately trying to slow them down.
>But the harder it pushed, the harder they pushed back.
>The slugs tore through its flesh, sending violent shockwaves through the delicate innards.
>But this flesh had been specifically designed to be mended by magic.
>The wounds began closing even as the volley continued.
>Before long, the beast began to tire.
>It knew it couldn’t withstand this torture forever.
>It had to destroy the machines launching those projectiles.
>The not ape would likely be lost in the process, and would no longer be useable for study.
>A shame, but there are apparently many many others.
>It levitates higher into the sky, bullets all the while tearing through its body.
>On the inside of its shell a vast array of specialised cells began glowing, drawing the spell sigil it would use.
>The entirely instinctual process quickly adjusted for the wounds; the gaping holes in its shell ruining the primary pathways that it would normally use.
>A shockwave descended on the dome below, flattening huge portions of inconceivably complex machinery.
>The metal drake yelled some words that were lost to the din of the destruction, and slammed its claws down upon the glowing box.
>Hundreds of rockets descended from the sky, shattering the sound barrier as their thrusters lit up the afternoon night sky.
>A pathetic attempt at violence compared to the other munitions that were so recently at play.
>A bolt of raw mana collided with the first, causing it to erupt into a dense cloud of…
>Arcane dust.
>Ground up magically conductive gems.
>The next bolt came, and dissipated into a brilliant flash of light
>The dark mid-day sky was illuminated painfully across half the globe as more and more spells tried and failed to destroy the incoming rockets.
>One slammed into the Titan, its shield spell flowing through the airborne material.
>It wasn’t enough; the energy ionised the dust before the creature’s magical reserves could be bled dry.
>But then came another, and another, and hundreds more.
>Incredible brilliance illuminated the world, blinding what few observers still had strength to watch the battle.
>Until finally…
>A small charred hunk of shell fell to the ground below, the dust raining down on the smouldering heaps of twisted metal that once made the Sanctuary.
>And all was silent.
 
 
>You are Anonymous.
>You are absolutely terrified.
>And broken.
>And bloodied.
>And poisoned.
>It’s not a good day to be you.
>Last thing you remember you REALLY wanted to disable all your weapons systems and present yourself for vivisection.
>Now you find yourself strapped down to a table with far more wires and tube wrapped around your person than you care for.
>You draw a deep breath through the tube shoved into your lungs.
>Even with the drugs coursing through your veins you feel like warmed over death.
>You activate your implants and check the datalinks.
…
>You are in worse shape than you'd expected.
>The kinetic surge that flattened most of your base was mostly absorbed by your armor.
>And the E.M. radiation from the Titan dying, the massive burst of heat and light, didn't do much damage thanks to the shielding and internal climate controls.
>And still you've massive, widespread spontaneous necrosis all throughout your body.
>It appears your concerns had some validity to them.
>This strange energy is vital to their biology, and hazardous to yours.
>You've never been directly exposed to anything more than background levels before.
>At least, not for more than a few seconds.
>Having it directly used on your body was bad enough. Being so close when that clam thing started leaking it everywhere only made things worse.
>You'd sorta been hoping to augment yourself with their power once you figured it out. That's still worth considering, but it just got more complicated.
>You'll need much more data before you can determine how much is safe.
>But for now…
>Probably best if you keep your distance.
>Hanging out in space seems like a good idea.
…
>You need to build that gate.
>It's been months.
>The mission was long enough that that might not have been noticed yet; they could well believe you had to make a course correction.
>But the people back home are going to start thinking you're dead before long.
>Assuming they remember you're out here.
>But you'll need to rebuild an awful lot before that's even an option.
>Thankfully, this time you're not starting from scratch.
>And hopefully, this time you won't need to fight.
>Those laser satellites should keep your stuff safe from the wildlife.
>And you've got a decent foundation to work with thanks to the orbital industries.
>Your other you has been busy.
>But you can't rely on it to do everything.
>They went dormant pretty much the instant you were safe.
>Funny thing about having no emotion or desires. You tend not to do much of anything without them.
>It would have been nice if he’d gotten rid of the boneheads, but you can’t have it all.
>You’ll quickly put something together to keep them away.
>What remains of your gear should be plenty, you don’t need to have everything rebuilt.
>So you can afford to put it off for a little while.
>Tomorrow you'll start rebuilding the Sanctuary.
>Tomorrow.
>For now?
>You're going to watch satellite footage of the Titan dying.
>It's calming to just watch the bastard exploding.
>Over. And over. And over. And over…
 
 
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You are being shaken awake.
>Fairly gently.
 
“I feel sick, mommy…”
 
>”I'm not your mommy. If anything you could be argued to be mine.”
 
>You reluctantly open your eyes.
>A hideous mesh of metal and flesh is staring down at you.
 
“Waugh!”
 
>You try to get up- to run!
>But your legs just won't carry you.
>It doesn't move as you try, and fail to get out of your cot.
>Wait…
 
“Oh. Sorry, Spike. I- I had a bad dream.”
 
>He just looks at you.
>It's so hard to read his face now…
>Maybe he bought it?
>With all he's been through, all he's about to go through…
>You don't want him to feel shunned.
>Even if he does creep you out.
>His life will be hard enough with what comes next…
 
“So… that’s it then. We failed. They’re back…”
 
>You don’t feel as scared as you expected.
>Defeated, depressed, ashamed…
>But not scared.
>Perhaps it’s the inevitability?
>The certainty of the times ahead bring dread, but when you already know exactly what’s going to happen...
 
>”Naa. Titan’s super dead.”
 
>What?
 
“How?”
 
>”A barrage of high altitude MIRVs containing about half a tonne of arcane dust per warhead. My own personal design. Well, based on my own design.”
 
>You didn’t exactly understand that.
>But you get the feeling it would take a while to explain.
>You’ll ask later.
 
“How did I wind up in bed?”
 
>”That helped.”
 
>He gestures lazily toward a massive suit of…
 
“Luna! “
 
>”Is still sleeping. She got it worse than you. The armor brought her here, helped me get everypony indoors, and then just shut down. It's been standing there stock still for hours.”
 
>If Spike was creepy, this is terrifying!
>A black, featureless face staring right at you.
>You’ve been told it has the same cannon that shattered your shield.
>The one that made a crater in the ground from a single claw gesture.
>The one that could vaporise you at a moment's notice.
>No eyes to blink.
>No mouth to smile, or to snarl.
>No-
 
>”Can you walk?”
 
>You begin to move your legs, much more calmly this time.
>With some trouble you find yourself standing up a few minutes later.
 
>”Great, ‘cause you gotta go home now.”
 
“Wh- what Why?”
 
>”Follow me.”
 
>He leads you to the door, patiently waiting as you slowly make your way across the floor.
 
>”Right. I don’t want you to freak out or anything, so I’m going to give you a warning. We’ve been, uhh, invaded. There’s an army out there.”
 
“WHAT?”
 
>He pushes the door open before you have a chance to ask for details.
>You see them.
>Hordes of lifeless machines, each modelled to look like a giant version of ape.
>All except for the missing head.
>The unpainted steel shines dimly in the starlight as their upper appendages stick straight forward.
>Some of them turn to face you.
>The legs- arms they’ve got pointed at you have a brilliant blue light emitting from the tip,
>On its front in glowing red text you see the message.
 
[BONEHEADS GO HOME. T-6376 S]
 
“Wha- why?”
 
>”C’mon, I’ll walk you down to the train.”
 
“But-”
 
>”No. Let’s get going. They’re clearly designed to intimidate rather than fight, but I think you probably want to do what he says anyway.”
 
>He firmly pulls on his leg, demanding you follow.
>You take one cautious step forward. Then another.
>When they don’t react- when they don’t kill you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
>Your heart is racing.
>Your blood is cold.
>Being escorted through the scores of murderous machines by yet another machine...
 
>”Try not to be too upset with him. Imagine where he’s coming from. He comes to this world totally unarmed and everything keeps trying to kill him. Then, just when he’s convinced he’s safe, something turns him into a puppet. Starts to dig around in his head.”
 
>You’ve started going downhill towards the train station.
>They aren’t following you…
 
>”They don’t have mind control or any kind of telepathy at all. They can’t read minds, at least from what I can tell. His head’s been totally private for his whole life, and then something comes along and violates him. Starts changing things. Maybe even left some permanent changes, he has no way of knowing.”
 
>They’re still not following.
>You’re still scared.
>But the mind numbing terror has passed.
>Now you can at least think clearly enough to follow what Spike’s saying.
 
>”And what’s worse is that he doesn’t understand how it happened at all. Or how to protect himself. The fear that you felt when he marched in here and ate your super-spell without even flinching, the horror of seeing him rip Celestia’s infernals apart with ease… How did you feel when he first demonstrated those explosive rounds? The ones that could wipe out canterlot with a single shell, the size of one of your teeth? There was a clear and present danger to you, you had no idea how to stop it, how it worked, when it would come back... That’s how he’s feeling right now. The main difference is that he’s sending you home on a train instead of in a hearse.”
 
“Why would he call us such an awful name?”
 
 
>He opens his mouth for a moment, words clearly on the tip of his tongue.
>He shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh.
 
>”I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t even know it’s an insult, and it’s easier than saying ‘anypony with a horn’. Doesn’t need to specify alicorns too, or exempt Luna; she’s allowed to stay, I already asked. Or maybe he’s just lashing out. If the worst thing that comes of this is that he calls you a mean name you should consider yourself lucky.”
 
>His words do little to assuage your fears.
>If it’s that afraid of magic, who’s to say he won’t hunt down magic users?
>It certainly could.
>You arrive at the train, parked at the station.
>You see no activity around it, no signs that it’ll be moving any time soon.
>It’s strange to see it so lifeless. When it passes through Ponyville there’s always such a flurry of activity about it.
>Boarding, departing, baggage handling…
>Here it just looks like…
>Like another machine.
 
>”Think you can get on board on your own? I need to head back up.”
 
“What? You’re not coming home with me?”
 
>”Not yet. There are a few other unicorns to bring down here, but after that… we’ll see. Somepony needs to negotiate with him, and he’s not scared of me. Unlike you, he knows how I work. You of all ponies should understand the peace of mind that comes with that.”
 
>He gives you a quick hug around the leg, his warm scales sharply contrasting the cool metal.
 
>”Don’t worry, I’ll have Luna with me. Don’t overwork yourself, Twilight!”
 
>Then, he starts running back up the hill.
>You slowly make your way up the platform and board the train.
>It’s mostly empty.
>Except for a few guards trying- failing to raise their spears.
>And a very familiar face.
 
>“At ease. It’s good to see you well, Twilight.”
 
>A small smile creeps on your face. The first in far too long.
 
“Hello, Cadance.”
 
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You are getting up.
>Spike already filled you in on what's happened.
>Then sent you right back to bed.
>His vigor astounds you.
>While your movements are still sluggish and clumsy, he moves with such ease and grace.
>It's true that you were pretty seriously injured, but even so.
>That is not the mark of one who's been drained of their anima.
>Perhaps it isn't so necessary to life as you'd once thought.
>A deep ache fills you as you walk forward.
>You haven’t felt this weak since-
>You were going to say since the Elements purged you, or since you lent Twilight your magic to spite Tirek, but even that’s not a fair comparison.
>With the former the magic was burnt away, but only a very specific part of it.
>With the latter it was drawn from you, but not your anima.
>You wearily make your way outside, trying not to trip over your own clumsy hooves.
>Dim sunshine meets your eyes.
>It seems as though Sparkle and Princess Cadance have met up.
>Their work is… underwhelming.
>Sufficient for a ‘day’, but a far cry from the brilliance and raw power your sister brings.
>You hope that she’ll be able to take up the mantle again soon.
>You hope she’ll be able to do it at all.
>Under ordinary circumstances you’d have gone straight to her side the moment you could.
>But you suspect you can do more for her here than there.
>The camp seems so eerie and desolate with everypony gone.
>Though only the unicorns had to leave, the others felt unnerved by the imposing presence of the machines.
>To their credit, what little remained of Celestia’s soldiers had tried to stick to their post.
>But they desperately didn’t want to be there, and you knew it.
>You ordered them to guard her in Canterlot, and they were all too happy to comply.
.>Never mind the fact that you didn’t have the authority to give that order.
>Or that she didn’t really need to be guarded.
>It was just an excuse.
>And one they were all too happy to take, just to be away from the imposing presence.
>Those stupid machines.
>A warning, or perhaps more accurately a threat, that none who could cast a spell were welcome.
>An overreaction to be sure.
>Precious few could manage the spell he’d been subject to.
>And none save the Titans themselves could do so from so far away or for so long.
>His… excess caution will make your task much more difficult.
>As though it weren’t enough that he had ample reason to distrust and despise you, now he’s afraid.
>But you do have one advantage for the negotiations to come soon.
>And he’s coming this way.
 
>”Heya, Luna.”
 
“Greetings, Spike.”
 
>The young drake that you’ve come to know moves with enviable ease as you struggle along the desolate camp.
>You eventually give up and sit in the dirt, allowing him to come to you.
 
>”Feeling better?”
 
“Much. By no means good, but better without a doubt. I shudder to think how Equestria fares if I’m this feeble.”
 
>”Eh. You were hurt pretty bad, so I bet they recovered quicker. I’ve got some good news for you. No, it’s not about Celestia, sorry. Not that good. I didn’t want to bring this up since I wasn’t sure if it would change back when you started to get your magic back, but… take a look at your hoof.”
 
>With a grunt, you raise one hoof in front of your eyes.
>You see nothing unusual.
>Wait…
>You see nothing unusual!
 
>”Looks like they weren’t too picky about what kind of magic they ate.”
 
>You… You’re you again!
>You can stop hiding in shame!
>You can stop- no. You still don’t trust your own judgement.
>You told Twilight that she’d be the one to decide when you had earned the right to use magic again.
>As much as you regret picking her, deferring judgement is pointless if you decide for yourself the moment your coat turns blue again.
>You’re sticking to that one.
>And besides, you’ve no assurances that the other changes have reversed.
>You could be quite mad and have no clue.
>Even so, this news means more to you than your own birthday.
>You try to wipe a tear of joy off of your cheek, but you don’t quite have the strength.
>You’ll celebrate later. With your sister.
>Once you’ve ensured her survival.
>Once your work is done.
>First, you need information.
>You shove the joy out of your mind and focus.
 
“Work now. What news have you for me?”
 
>”Lots of stuff. For starters, he’s trying to learn to speak our language. Asking me to read him every message I send.”
 
>That’s a good sign.
>It suggests he still wishes to associate with you in some way.
 
>”Finds it really weird that everyone speaks the same language, and when I got to thinking about it, yeah. That is odd. Why can I make the same sounds as you?”
 
“I suspect they wanted us to be able to communicate readily. To what ends I know not.”
 
>”That actually might make some sense. Lemme think on that for a bit.”
 
>You’ll grant him his time.
>After all, you’re more interested in other matters right now.
>Like what you might be able to use as leverage.
 
“You're quite convinced he could have won without your help? We can’t suggest that he owes you for your aid?”
 
>”Oh sure. It would have taken a lot longer and there'd have been way more collateral damage, but he could have just waited until the Titan ran out of magic.”
 
“But it could just drain us of ours.”
 
>”Until you died, sure. As much as this might surprise you, it didn’t want that. He said something that really put a lot of this in perspective. You don't slaughter your breeding stock. Oh, don't look so disgusted. It made sense in the context. What if all of this, this way whole world, was made to feed them? You were close, the orb wasn't the egg, the rock we stand on was. The orb was the Titan itself, doubtlessly feeding off of our magic for millennia. They filled this place with life, but they wanted to prune it down to the most productive species.”
 
“Hold on, this land itself makes the magic. Not us.”
 
>”Wrong. When the Titan died, the arcane fields radically changed. It was drawing the magic downward where it pooled in the lowest altitudes. That's why there's more magic down low. And up high? Its natural tendency to diffuse was greater than the force drawing it in. Something keeps it from radiating away totally though, apparently there's no magic if you go high enough up.”
 
>How odd.
>The question that comes to mind is just how high you need go.
>Your curiosity is piqued.
 
”And now?”
 
>”Fairly evenly distributed, noticeably stronger near large urban centers. Since spells work based on the flow of magic I doubt this will help with spellcasting much, but there might be some useful applications. Back on topic though, The visitor and I are both pretty sure that magic comes from life.”
 
“And we need magic. They made us dependent on it so that we might never eschew it.”
 
 
>”And then forced you to fight, probably thinking that whoever made the most magic would win and take over.”
 
“Then peace broke out and all their plans were ruined.”
 
>”Not quite. Equestria’s population has increased quite a bit in recent history, right? And without any border expansion? Somewhere along the way someone started doing something that they never thought of. Somehow this place started supporting a lot more life. We’d have to dig deep into agricultural practiced to stand a chance of finding out what, but the point of the matter is that there was no need for fighting. Think of this world as a steam engine. They turn fuel into heat into motion. It turns sunshine into food, and food into magic. By forcing violence they were trying to make the second step more efficient, but somewhere along the line the first step was reworked. The end result was better and so they were satisfied. If population started stagnating again they’d have probably pushed for some fighting, but in the meantime it was fine to just sit and wait.”
 
>He’s put quite a bit of thought into this.
>And he’s staying so level headed despite the grim nature of the topic.
>Unexpected, and not just because of his age.
 
“I must admit to being impressed. Hardly anypony would be able to discuss such things so casually. Yet here you are, so young and not at all phased by the dark side of life.”
 
>”Eh. No point in pretending that everything’s fine. You can’t fix anything before you realise there’s a problem. For example. We could happily go on with life knowing the Titan’s dead and be caught off guard when it comes back, or we could acknowledge that it can likely regenerate itself like Discord and be ready to crush it.”
 
>That thought had occurred to you.
>And you suspect it will be more dangerous next time.
>If this one were freshly hatched, it seems fair to assume it may have been weakened.
>And its hatching was assisted. This one may have been premature.
 
“Yes… it will be back. And it might not come alone.”
 
>”Don’t worry, I’ve already got some ideas. And even if they fail, he'll be ready by then. This whole experience shook him up pretty bad, so you can be sure he's planning and preparing. Plus he knows what he's up against now.”
 
“Perhaps it would be wise to aid him. To teach him what we can of magic. Might that make a good bargaining chip?”
 
>”Maybe. But I'd have a backup plan if I were you. You're asking a lot, and even if you weren't? He HATES princess Celestia. He doesn’t like you either, but he seems to respect you at least.”
 
>You barely contain the sudden surge of rage that flows through you.
>To think that someone might judge her, or even HATE her?
>He would dare to-
>You take a deep, calming breath.
 
“A valid concern. And I doubt our knowledge would satisfy him. There are far too many gaps, and I seem to recall you saying he'd read a few books on the matter already.”
 
>”Mostly aimed at foals, but yeah. Even if he doesn't have anything comprehensive he at least knows the fundamentals.”
 
“So we need to think of something we can offer to the being that knows everything, has everything, and can do anything.”
 
>“Pretty much.”
 
”Any suggestions?”
 
>”None. Although… he’s a social species. He let slip that being isolated for so long was bad for his mental health. Maybe you can use that in some way?”
 
“Perhaps. Give me some time to think. And rest, this was far harder on me than I care to admit.”
 
>You slowly and wearily return to your hooves, and hit the hay.
 
The next day…
 
>You slowly approach the glowing box.
>The one that fell from the heavens during that long night.
>Spike follows you closely.
 
>”Alright. Just… be careful. He respects you, but he sure doesn’t like you. If you want to coax him into helping Celestia, you’ll need to make him want to do it for himself. And I’m not sure what it means exactly, but he said he’d already overstepped his bounds Not sure what exactly that means, but asking for more changes will be tough. I’m not sure any of your plans will work, but… you need to try.”
 
>You steel your nerves.
>You ignore the growing anxiety.
>You step towards the glowing box.
 
“You've truly learned to speak?”
 
>”Poorly.”
 
>That voice.
>So smooth…
>Like a rich baritone.
 
>”Ooh, that one's pretty good.”
 
“Pardon?”
 
>”He physically can't make some of the noises needed to speak our language properly, so he made a device to talk for him. First attempt he had it calibrated to sound good to his species, and it was REALLY annoying.”
 
>”Your voice is no less error 002.”
 
“What?”
 
>”File not found. He instructed the machine to use a word that its never heard before.”
 
>How odd.
 
>”You seem remarkably fluent, given it's only been three days”
 
>”Your days are longer than they used to be. I've been told somepony else has taken control of that cycle so it's probably an error on their part. Plus I started when it was always dark. Measuring time in days is foolish. Use error 006 clocks.”
 
“Meaning?”
 
>”Translation impossible. He used a word that doesn't exist in our language.”
 
“Regardless of how we track time, that still seems impossibly quick.”
 
>”He's a quick learner, and I've been spending most of my time teaching him. It'll save time in the long run.”
 
>”Hold on, I'm not a quick learner. The error 006 is.“
 
>”We really need to start naming some of your things.”
 
“All this aside, we’ve a serious issue to discuss. I've come to ask, nay, beg your assistance. My sister, if she still lives, likely isn't long for this world. I pray that you might save her.”
 
>”I've no love for Celestia. She's tried to kill me on numerous occasions and she's still technically at war with me. Why should I do anything to help her? And remember, you've nothing I want.”
 
“Were you to aid her you'd be deemed a hero of Equestria. We'd grant you the highest honor our nation, the most populous one, can bestow. You’d be a hero to millions.”
 
>”Pass.”
 
“Pardon?”
 
>”I'm not interested in that.“
 
>Why-
>Because he doesn't respect Equestria.
>honors are meaningless when they come from nowhere.
>Might as well have a dog deliver him a medal.
>That was your idea.
>You have a couple more, but that would have easily been the best outcome.
>The second plan?
>There is one thing he clearly wants.
>It isn't right of you to promise this.
>You do not have the authority.
>And the displaced will resent you for it.
>When you think of all those refugees losing their homes, blaming you, HATING you…
>You really don't give a damn.
>Your sister is far more important.
 
“You seem to have taken an interest in the badlands. Great portions are already owned, but I'd grant you ownership of all this land you've been building upon.”
 
>”You're trying to give me something I already own.”
 
“What? These lands aren't yours! You've not compensated those who held them before!”
 
>The words leave your mouth before you can think.
>You immediately regret them.
 
>”Woe unto the conquered. I'm claiming the mountain range too by the way. Be glad I don’t claim ownership of your whole world, I easily could.”
 
>You were confident the first one would work.
>And now your backup plan has backfired miserably.
>You have one more idea.
>It’ll take some time to prepare.
>But you’re certain it will work.
>You didn’t exactly want to do this. You can not see it yielding an alliance.
>If you succeed, pony kind will be beneath respect.
>You’ll be a charity case.
>Something to be pitied.
>No chance of being seen as equals.
>It’s a trade you’re willing to make.
 
>”We done? I’d like to get back to rebuilding my stuff.”
 
“For now. However, I must ask. You view the world from above, yes? Can you follow me inside a building? I wish to show you something.”
 
 
 
>You are Anonymous.
>Your patience is wearing thin.
>This black horse won't leave you alone.
>All you want to do is oversee construction.
>You quickly glance at the display to your side, and see metal flying every which way as your robots do your work.
>That's what you want to watch.
>But she's constantly demanding your attention.
>The thought had occurred that you could just block her messages.
>But…
>She put her neck on the line to help you.
>You feel like you owe her.
>Even if she was acting in her own interests.
>Now you're stuck listening to her chatter while she rides what must be the slowest train in history.
 
>”I hope it isn't rude of me to ask, but how old are you?”
 
>There isn’t really one answer to that question.
>Technically quite old, though you don't think the time you spent in transit should count.
>Less that you're just under 120.
>But that's in Earth years.
>She'd probably prefer a more localized measure.
 
“A bit over 200.”
 
>”I see. And how long do your people live?”
 
>Another difficult question.
>It varies wildly and has likely changed since you left.
>In theory you could live indefinitely. In practice though people tend to grow bored of life eventually and choose to die.
>You seem to recall reading somewhere that modern entertainment had lengthened people's average lifespans to about 500.
>You'll quote that figure. Adjusted for local time of course.
 
“1100 years or so. If nothing goes wrong.”
 
>”I see. Perhaps you don't understand our plight.”
 
>There she goes again.
 
>”I'm unsure if you've ever lost a loved one-”
 
“I have.”
 
>Fuck you too, Venus.
 
>”But you'd have lost everyone by now had you lived here.“
 
>Silence returns.
>Well, relative silence.
>The train is making a lot of noise.
>But you're thankful to hear it.
>Black horse is leaving you alone.
>You return to your ‘work’, idly watching as your robots go about their tasks.
>You’d already designed the Sanctuary, so it took minimal work to get them organised.
>Now you just need to let them do their thing.
>But it’s cathartic to watch them work.
>You know what’s going on.
>You’re in control.
>Even stuck in a small pod up in space, totally immobile and bloodied, you answer to none.
>You are your own boss.
>You are free.
>You take some time to revel in that.
>But it’s over far too soon.
 
>”We're here.”
 
>You order your display to show you the video feed from her camera.
>It’s a simple device, looking like a small glass ball hanging from her neck like a pendant.
>The camera wasn’t strictly necessary, but you decided to pretend you couldn’t spy on them at will.
>You see a relatively large building dominating your field of view.
>Three stories tall with several sections that were obviously added as an afterthought.
>She marches through the red double doors at the front and storms past the front desk.
 
>”Your majesty-”
 
>”Can it..”
 
>She goes through the snaking corridors, navigating the labyrinth with purpose.
>All along the way you see ponies laying in beds, each with a varying amount of bandages on them.
>Wait a second.
 
“Why are they all pegasi?”
 
>”This is what happens when you lose your magic mid flight.”
 
>The temper in her voice surprises you.
>Yes, she told off the receptionist, but still.
 
>”Some will survive. Others won’t.”
 
“Why don’t you heal them then?”
 
>”Because we can’t.”
 
>Seriously?
>From the sounds of it they’re just impact injuries.
>That should be pretty easy to deal with.
>Well, she DID need you to help the three that got shot…
>She keeps her quick pace through the halls, eventually pushing through what appears to be a random door.
>There are several ponies in the crowded room, some react weakly as the door opens.
>Others don’t.
>Black horse gestures towards the one closest to you, a light green ‘normal’ horse.
>One of the ones that didn’t move.
 
“This pony is going to die soon. Probably this month. Her body is worn out, her organs failing. Healing her is totally beyond us, sustaining her has become impossible. Her family will mourn, but none other will take notice. It’s simply a fact of life that those who are as old as her will die.”
 
“How old?”
 
>She walks to the foot of the bed and tilts her head down to look at the chart.
>Your display seamlessly overwrites the alien script with more familiar symbols.
 
Age: 157
 
>Only in her 70s by your measure…
>You were still in school when you were that young.
>She’s already left the room, taking your view with her.
 
“The rest of them won’t last much longer either.”
 
>She plows through the corridors, pushing staff aside as she heads to who knows where.
>Another door is pushed aside, a bit more violently this time.
>She raises a hoof to muffle the sound.
>You can still make out what’s being said, but there’s no reason to let her know that.
 
>”Any bad ones lately?”
 
>”Far too many I’m afraid. Umm... may I ask what happened to your horn?”
 
>”Combat injury.”
 
>The lack of formalities strike you as odd.
>Almost as though they’re familiar with her.
>Almost as though she spends a lot of time here.
…
>She knows her way around quite well.
>Maybe she does?
 
>”Bring me to the worst you have.”
 
>”Of course.”
 
>A minute or so of walking later the physician pushes open a door.
>Inside you see an extremely small, pale foal swaddled in a blanket. Inside of a glass box.
 
>”He has IAA I’m sorry to say. An undeveloped aorta.”
 
>You quickly glance at the chart next to the box.
>3 days old.
 
>”It’s terminal I’m afraid. Best we can do is keep the little one warm and sedated so they don’t suffer too much. Might live another week if they’re tough, we’ll see.”
 
“Why doesn’t the chart have a name on it?”
 
>”Who was that?”
 
>”This pony will die nameless. If their parents give them a name, they’ll just get attached and it’ll hurt all the more.”
 
>The venom dripping from her voice is palpable.
>You can scarcely recall the last time you heard somebody this enraged.
 
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
 
>She stomps through the corridors, knocking aside anything that gets in her way.
>You can’t see her face, but based on some of the frightened reactions she gets, you can make a guess.
 
“It’s not going to work. There would be consequences if I did what you want.”
 
>She comes to another door, this one flanked by armed guards.
>They flinch when they see her, but do not part from their post.
 
>”How is she?”
 
>The hatred is gone, replaced by a strange mixture of sorrow and resignation.
>The guard on the left just shakes his head somberly.
>She pushes her way in.
>They don’t stop her.
>Inside you see what could be best described as a giant fried chicken.
 
>”This pony- *sniff* will die in agony. She’s lived a long life, none will deny that, but still millions will mourn.”
 
>She lets out a long, trembling sigh.
 
>”We’re delaying the inevitable, but there’s no hope of recovery.”
 
>”I’m glad you understand that, your majesty.”
 
>An unexpected voice comes from behind.
>Based on how quickly she turned to face it, it seems she didn’t see it coming either.
>A light yellow scrawny horned horse stands before her.
 
>”How did you get past the guards?”
 
>”The princess is my patient.”
 
>The princess?
>Purple one is too small. Pink one has a different build.
>That must be Celestia.
>You wonder what happened.
 
>”I’m sorry to say this, but I think it would be best if we… if we let her go.”
 
>You can hear a guttural growl.
 
>”I understand, but we can’t help her. She’s suffering, and the only way to stop that is to just… set her free.”
 
>”Do you have foals?”
 
>”Pardon?”
 
>”Do. You. Have. FOALS?”
 
>The raw hatred in her voice is palpable.
>Even as far away as you are, you can’t help but feel intimidated.
 
>”I, uh, I have a son-”
 
>”If she dies, I will PERSONALLY strangle you with his intestines. ARE. WE. CLEAR?”
 
>He slowly takes two steps backwards.
>Then he turns tail and runs.
 
>”This pony… I could spend YEARS extolling her virtues, but none of that matters anymore. No matter how good somepony is, how much they try to help those around them, how much they succeed… they all turn to dust. And YOU...”
 
>You’re pretty sure black horse has started hyperventilating.
>Pretty sure.
 
>”You, who refuses to so much as raise a hoof to aid others, YOU who won’t even TRY to make a difference, YOU, who is so CRUEL as to ignore our plight, YOU! Everyone is guilty of all the good they didn’t do, and you are poised to become the most vile being imaginable. The best pony to ever live gets burnt alive, and YOU. WILL. LIVE. There is no justice.”
 
>She takes the camera off of her neck and holds it high.
 
>”You sicken me.”
 
>The camera rapidly approaches the floor.
>Then?
 
[NO SIGNAL]
 
>She wants you to teach them about cybernetics.
>And you could.
>But…
>You’ve already overstepped your bounds while here.
>Doing what she wants would be a serious breach of contract.
>And illegal.
>And impossible to hide.
>If you went that far, you might never be able to go home.
 
…
 
 
>You are Luna.
>Your rage has subsided.
>Leaving you with depression.
>How long have you been lying on the floor?
>How long since you gave up hope?
>Hours?
>Days?
>You’ve totally lost track.
>And you simply don’t care.
>Nothing matters anymore.
>You continue to stew in your own misery, until finally the door creaks open.
>You don’t move to see who it is.
>It doesn’t matter.
 
>”Princess, I, uh… I have a message for you?”
 
“Whatever.”
 
>”Uh… it just says ‘terminal patients only, contact me immediately.’ That’s it.
 
>It takes a moment to sink in.
>And then you dare to smile.
 
>You are Luna.
>You are apprehensive.
>Your trip to the front lobby was worrying enough.
>Several harsh blasts cracked through the sky as you walked through the crowded halls.
>Followed by a massive crashing sound and a shockwave.
>When you came to the front lobby of the hospital, you found a hoard of those tentacled flying disks.
>Some foolish pony tried to tackle one. A quick strike from the metal limb left him lying on the ground, groaning in pain.
>The less stupid ones started running or hiding.
>Like a foal’s nightmare, the faceless machines flooded the halls, circling around the immobile patients.
>They could do nothing but scream as countless tonnes of metal surrounded them, poking and prodding.
>One moved up to you.
 
>”Is Twilight always such a spaz?”
 
 
>Oh no.
>Not NOW.
>Not when you were so close!
 
“WHAT DID SHE DO?”
 
>”Something incredibly stupid. Don’t worry, she’ll live. Consider that a gift, maybe an apology for not helping you with this medical crisis sooner. You live in the nearby palace, correct?”
 
>She’ll LIVE?
>What exactly did that fool do this time?
>But, if she’ll live…
>Then it can wait.
>There are other concerns that are more immediate.
>Like the panic that’s spreading.
>You wish to chastise him for terrifying the patients.
>But you'd rather not take the chance that he might stop.
>Perhaps a more gentle approach?
 
“I do. Are you aware that you're frightening them?”
 
>”Not my fault that you ponies are scared of everything. Besides, time is a factor. If I take my time and try to ease them into it some WILL die. Go home, I'll meet you there.”
 
>The tentacled metal construct folds up into a disk and flies off, becoming lost in the crowd of identical machines.
>You comply.
>You step out and take flight.
>For the first time since this all began, you take the time to drink in the sight of Canterlot.
>You see crushed and twisted metal strewn about, including what looks like a massive blimp that seems to have crushed an entire city block.
>Twilight’s work, no doubt.
>But even without her influence, this city has seen better days.
>The Capital city of the world's greatest nation.
>The shining beacon of civilization that urges all to do better.
>Burnt out buildings, shattered windows, smashed carts…
>It looks like a war zone.
>A proper war zone, not like the desert basin you'd been ‘fighting’ for.
>Last time you were here it wasn't at all like this.
>All that's happened since then is…
>The Titan.
>The first time everypony lost their magic, well, you needn't imagine the terror that gripped them.
>You felt it yourself.
>And regardless of whether they knew the cause or not, the reaction was the same.
>Madness.
>And neither you nor Celestia were here to placate them.
>They didn't even know where the two of you were.
>Perhaps a riot was inevitable.
>How widespread the damage, how many cities burned, you can only guess.
>You approach the palace and fly through one of the smashed stained glass windows.
>One of the machines floats in after you.
 
>”What happened to this place anyway? It wasn’t a particularly impressive hamlet, but at least it was in good order.”
 
>HAMLET?
 
“I thought you could see everything from above.”
 
>”Not all at once! And besides, I was… occupied at the time.”
 
>Not all at once?
>You’d started to think this thing had no limits.
>That it could do anything.
>A foolish notion, but recent history had impressed you nearly beyond measure.
>To slay a Titan…
 
“A riot, I’m sorry to say. The bulk of the guard has deserted because they feared you, so there was nothing to keep it in check. The Titan drew on our magic twice, the first time with far less effect. There was a mass panic afterwards and, well…”
 
>He must think so incredibly little of you.
>Rioting just because you were afraid.
>It seems so stupid that-
 
>”Makes sense.”
 
>Really?
 
“Do your people riot too?”
 
>”All the time. We often joke that Martians would riot for two things. When their error 006 team lost the Grey Cup, or when they won it. Context, sorry. A sports tournament.”
 
>You had assumed they’d be above such things.
>To hear that they have equine foibles comes as a shock.
>And over sports of all things?
 
>”We need some place to discuss things. Some place private.”
 
>You nod and lead the way to the throne room.
>You push open the door to find the place destroyed.
>The carpet has been torn up, the thrones smashed, the jewels stolen.
>There's debris and broken glass everywhere.
 
“Ugh.”
 
>You lead the way to the courtroom.
>You push the door open and find that it has fared even worse.
 
“Really?”
 
>You guide the tentacled construct to your room.
>It looks like they've yet to repair the damage your sister caused; the charred hole where your door used to be hasn't even been boarded up.
>You step in to find that, miraculously, the interior is untouched.
>Perhaps the rioters thought your room to already be looted and didn't bother to check?
>They surely saw the signs of forced entry.
>You check under your bed and find the Sunstone untouched.
>You let out a breath you didn't even know you'd been holding.
>Best move that to a more secure location.
>There's no longer any need to hide it from Celestia.
 
>”You hide your valuables under your BED? Don't you have a vault or something?”
 
“Long story, special case.”
 
>You make your way to your reading chair and sit upon it.
>The carpet has faded slightly, showing where your smashed bookshelves used to lay.
 
“I’d offer you a seat, but I see no way you should use one. What need we discuss?
 
>”Straight to business. I might have liked you under different circumstances. Very well. You were right.”
 
>Many questions come to mind.
>But you elect to remain silent.
>It would be rude to interrupt him.
>And you feel no need to anger him further.
 
>”I didn't understand your plight. I had no idea how bad things are down here. It's almost like reading about ancient history. Likewise, you don't understand what you've done by enlisting my aid. Life is going to get way more complicated, and you’ll run into problems you’ve never even imagined. Your society, your culture and traditions, perhaps even your nation. Done.”
 
“W-what?”
 
>”Dead. No more. Ceased to be. Expired. A late society. A stiff. Pushing up daisies. Joined the choir invisible. An ex-nation.”
 
>You’d suspected this was coming.
>And you’re prepared to make the sacrifice that he demands.
 
“So, you’ve not forgiven us. You’re going to take your vengeance. The citizens had no part in this. I ask that you-”
 
>”Oh, shut up. Why do you ponies always think I’m out to hurt you? Why do you have such a persecution complex? Bah, we’ll discuss that later. First off, NO, I haven’t forgiven you. But that’s not the point. Your society relies on death. You may not realise it, but pretty much everything you’ve built up over the years will fail if ponies start living even just a few decades longer. Pension plans will bankrupt, youth unemployment will reach record highs, infrastructure will be overtaxed, natural resources will be depleted, pandemics will grow in number and severity, you’ll have a housing crises, food shortages, you’ll run out of clean water… need I go on?”
 
>You don’t like the sound of any of those things.
>It seems like a pretty bleak future.
 
>”You’re going to need to figure out the solution to most of these things yourselves, because I don’t have the answer. My people went through the same transition, but much MUCH slower. One breakthrough at a time, on new crisis at a time, and still it was messy. And even if our methods were solid, I assure you they wouldn’t work for you. You’re a different species. All problems even loosely based on society will manifest differently for you.”
 
“Is this all truly inevitable?”
 
>”Progress ALWAYS makes a mess. It might as well be a law of the universe. I don’t think your society can survive progressing this much in this little time, but you might surprise me. Be sure I’ll be watching very closely. Are you regretting doing this? Because it’s too late. Today Equestria, tomorrow the whole damn world.”
 
>You must confess that the shine has come off of the apple.
>You’d assumed that all, or at least most, of your problems would be solved.
>That you’d be going into a golden age.
>The cost seems high.
>But when you think of all the good ponies who’ve turned to little more than dust...
 
“I don’t regret it at all. We’ll face new challenges, we’ll struggle, suffer, and perhaps fail. But we’ll survive. That’s what matters most.”
 
>”Good. Because- hold on.”
 
>It floats out of your room.
>One of its tentacles starts glowing red.
>There’s a quick flash of light, followed by a yelp and galloping.
 
>”Go on! Get out of here! And don’t come back!”
 
>It returns through the doorway, the appendage no longer glowing.
>You had no idea somepony was listening…
>How did he know?
 
>”He’ll be fine. Anyway, as I was saying there’s more. A pretty big problem I’m sure you’ll agree, and we need to address it immediately. I don’t have a clue how your bodies work. I’ve tried to figure it out, I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking on it, I’ve run tests and simulations, but my predictions never match reality. My abilities will be EXTREMELY limited until I figure out more.”
 
”But, Spike-”
 
>”That was an injury. If I can figure out what a certain tissue is intended to do I can make a prosthetic and replace it. Disease will take a deeper understanding, and curing you of senescence? I’ll need a nearly total understanding of your biology. It’ll take time.
 
>Your heart skips a beat.
>Your eyes go wide.
>You forget to breathe.
>To think that ponies might never grow old again!
>You’d just expected that they’d be able to last in their twilight years.
>That he’d sustain their bodies a little bit longer.
>But to avoid that altogether?
 
“Curing senescence?”
 
>”It IS a disease. A terminal one at that. I don’t care that nearly everyone deals with it, that doesn’t change a thing.”
 
“No, no. Not that. It’s just… I’ve dreamt of this day for thousands of years. Is it truly possible?”
 
>”It is. We as a species did it to ourselves. It was a stupid gamble, but it paid off.”
 
“A stupid gamble?”
 
>”We created a virus-”
 
“WHAT?”
 
>”-And infected each and every person with it. Not all at once, we were planning on doing trial runs on small groups. Then it broke out of containment somehow. To this day nobody knows what happened. Viruses change the makeup of cells they infect. Permanently. We designed the virus to do what we wanted. We’ve done it a few more times since, it’s by far the easiest way to change anything bigger than a zygote. This stuff might be beyond me, I never had a head for biology. We’ll see.”
 
“Couldn’t it have gone horribly wrong? Couldn’t you have made an unstoppable plague?”
 
>”Well, yeah. Obviously.”
 
>These space apes are crazy!
 
>”But no need to worry about that just yet, I’ll need to know a LOT more before that’s even worth discussing. In the meantime, well… your sister got it pretty bad.”
 
>No.
 
>”I put Spike back together, but most of his tissue was still intact. For the most part I just needed to repair. But Celestia? She was cooked. Then whatever was left seems to have deteriorated pretty heavily before you found her. Most of her tissue is beyond salvaging.”
 
>No no no NO NO.
>You can’t lose her.
>There’s NOPONY ELSE you can talk to!
>You’ve had your… disagreements, but she’s the only family you’ve got, she’s been the only friend you’ve known for centuries on end, she’s-
 
>”Yeesh, stop crying. I’m just saying I’ll need a test subject.”
 
>A wave of relief washes over you.
>Even so, it takes a moment for you to collect yourself.
 
>”It’ll take a while, and I’ll probably fail a few times, but we’ll save whatever’s left of her. I see on her chart that you’re using some kind of time magic to buy time. Can you keep that up long enough? Wait a second, why is it just her?”
 
“It’s not just her, but it is rare. That spell is exceptionally difficult to cast, and even more taxing. There aren’t many unicorns who can do it, and even then they’re bad at it. There are just too many wounded, I’m sad to say. We use it as much as we can but in practical terms it simply won’t work for everypony.
 
>”But can you keep it up?”
 
“For her? The ponies of this land would do anything to keep her alive. That spell will never fail.”
 
>”Alright, I’ll take your word for it. I’d still like to get started as soon as possible.”
 
“I’ll start searching for volunteers immediately.”
 
>”Well, y’see, there’s a problem with that. Thing is I need to know how alicorns work. There’s not a lot of them. And if you two are sisters you should be quite similar.”
 
>Oh.
>That’s…
>It’s asking for unrestrained access to your body.
>All of it.
>Inside and out.
>And to be able to do ANYTHING to you.
 
“When do we start?”
 
 
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You are exhausted.
>The relief efforts have had some effect, but there's way too much to do.
>Luckily Cadance stayed with you to help out.
>The Crystal Empire got buried in snow when the magic went out, but other than that they fared pretty well.
>You're returning to the palace after a long day.
>Cleanups had to be organized.
>Crimes had to be investigated.
>Repairs had to be done.
>And the paperwork.
>You're GOOD at paperwork.
>But it seemed endless!
>All these years you'd been so proud of yourself for your organization skills.
>But it turns out you're little more than a novice.
>The burden Celestia shoulders without complaint…
>She is the true master.
>Then it happened.
>At first they were specks upon the horizon.
>Then they resolved into what looked like massive blimps.
>Made of unpainted metal.
 
“Darn!”
 
>You silently chastise yourself for using such crude language.
>It's come.
>It's going to wipe out Equestria and there's nothing you can do about it.
>It can kill TITANS. You don't stand a chance.
>There are even rumors that it's a lightning god.
>You're going to die.
>But as the metal blimps rocket their way towards the city, you make a promise.
>You swear to yourself that you'll not give in.
>You'll not go quietly into the night.
>If pony kind is to go extinct, it'll be with a bang. Not a whimper.
>He'll never forget the ferocity with which you fought.
>And by the end of the day, the whole world will know that even lightning gods can bleed.
 
>”REMAIN CALM. WE MEAN YOU NO HARM.”
 
>A likely story.
>Hundreds of disks are launched from the sides of the blimp, jettisoned without ceremony.
>But they don’t fall.
>They slowly float downward, and surround the hospital.
>You’re not sure WHY they’re going there, but you give it little thought.
>It’s time for action.
>You fire a bolt of raw mana at one of them.
>The disk goes flying, but quickly corrects its course, undamaged.
>You’d hoped you could get away with a lightweight spell.
>There’s so many, you’re going to wear yourself out long before they’re all gone.
>But you don’t care anymore.
>You just want to DESTROY.
>Your eyes go white as you float just above the ground.
>Magic crackles about your horn, far more than you’d have expected after recent history.
>But you don’t notice.
>You’re too focused.
>A lavender orb forms around one of them and closes in.
>You PUSH as you feel the ball straining and crushing the disk.
>It gracelessly falls to the ground.
>Another, another.
 
>”WE ARE HERE TO HELP WITH YOUR WOUNDED. CEASE DESTROYING THESE MACHINES IMMEDIATELY, OR I WILL RESPOND WITH FORCE.”
 
>There were words, but you were focused too much to pay them any mind.
>At first you were crushing three or four at once.
>Then a couple.
>And finally, dozens later, you’re straining against even just the one.
>Your hooves set down on the cobblestone, your legs tremble feebly trying to support your exhausted frame.
>The fire goes out of your eyes.
>You close them, resigned to your fate.
>There’s too many.
>You’ve failed.
>You…
>You just wish things could be like they were before.
>Before the ape ruined everything.
>You were happy with your life.
>You had your friends, your books…
>Sure, there were hard times, but you faced them together.
>You haven’t seen some of your friends in months!
>And even Pinkie and Dash, you’ve only seen them in passing.
>You miss them.
>And it tore you away from them.
>That wasn’t enough though.
>Not by a long shot.
>It cut Spike up, and turned him into a monster.
>It made Celestia and Luna do terrible things.
>It displaced THOUSANDS of ponies, destroying their homes.
>IT brought A FUCKING TITAN BACK.
>And because of that DISGUSTING HEAP OF FILTH, Celestia’s DEAD.
>You will NEVER have your old life back.
>IT ruined EVERYTHING.
>You HATE it.
>YOU HATE IT YOU HATE IT YOU HATE IT!
>You don’t just want it dead.
>You want it to SUFFER.
>There is NOTHING you’d like more than to STOMP on its DISGUSTING FACE!
>And the rage, the unbridled fury.
>It feels GOOD.
>You bare your teeth in a wicked grin.
>You open your eyes.
>The world seems so much brighter than before.
>The colours so much more vivid.
>And up there, in the sky, are those damn disks.
>Ruining your view.
>But you’ve bigger oats to fry.
>You turn your gaze to the blimps.
>The giant vessels that they came from.
>Why crush the ants when you can flood the mound?
>Thousands of purple lances appear in the sky, encircling the disgusting lump of metal.
>Magic floods out of your body, launching them forward.
>And for all the magic that leaves, pleasure takes its place.
>You’ve never felt so very ALIVE.
>You’re giddy with delight as you watch your spell do its work
>It pierces the hull with ease turning the hulk of metal into a pincushion.
>The machine starts to fall from the sky
 
>”THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. I’VE BEEN UNREASONABLY PATIENT WITH YOU.”
 
>Using magic feels so GOOD.
>So you’re going to use as much as you can.
>Lightning crackles everywhere over your body.
>A thick, black aura radiates out from you.
>Your horn glows with thicker, darker purple as you prepare.
>Nothing fancy.
>No subtlety.
>Just a show of raw power.
>A thick beam engulfs the blimp, nearly totally obscuring it from your view.
>The faint silhouette slowly shrinks as you continue your assault.
>And when you’re finally too tired to keep it up?
>Nothing remains.
 
>”ON YOUR OWN HEAD BE IT!”
 
>A thin beam of light pierces the sky.
>And your hide.
>And your lung.
>You collapse to the ground, struggling for breath.
 
 
 
>You are still Twilight Sparkle.
>You are still bleeding.
>But it's not an unpleasant experience.
>In fact, you feel pretty good in general.
>You can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon.
>Problem is you're struggling to stand up.
>And failing.
>Each time you think you're about to get back on your hooves, you wind up collapsing.
 
>”Stop moving! You’re going to make it worse!”
 
>Some pony comes running up to you.
>Your seem to have attracted a small crowd.
>Likely in awe of your power.
>It's only right that-
>Your legs give out again.
>You hit the cobblestone hard.
>But it doesn't hurt, you just feel too good.
 
“Here, let me help you. We'll head to the palace, seems safe there. Then we'll get you patched up and you'll be right as rain.
 
>An orange leg stretches out in front of you.
>It gently wraps around your barrel.
>You didn't give this pony permission to touch you.
>They need to learn their place!
>Your bite the offending leg.
>Hard.
>A savory metallic flavor hits your tongue.
>It's easily the best thing you've ever tasted.
>The offending pony drops you, and your head strikes the ground.
 
“Augh! The hay was that for?”
 
>Everything goes black.
 
>It's been hours since then.
>You don't know that.
>On the precipice of consciousness, you don't know much of anything just yet.
>But you FEEL.
>You feel cold, sore, stiff…
>You're in blinding pain.
>You feel like you're about to vomit, like your head's about to explode, like your insides are burning.
>But most of all...
 
>“She's waking up!”
 
>”Keep her restrained!”
 
>Most of all, you feel RAGE.
>A blinding fury that demands blood!
>You start thrashing violently only to find your legs have been restrained.
>A guttural growl fills the room.
>Yours?
>You open yours eyes, and despite the agony of light you look around.
>White walls, divider curtains showing examination tables, nurses.
>You recognize this place from when you fell down the stairs as a filly.
>This is the Canterlot infirmary.
>There are two ponies in the room with you, both wearing nurse uniforms.
>You lunge at the nearest pony, a navy blue unicorn.
>But your limbs are held in place, tied to the bed by silk rope.
>You struggle fruitlessly against the restraints.
 
>”You have a punctured lung, you need to calm down! We're not going to hurt you!”
 
>Your thrashing slows as you grow weak; blood loss and a lack of breath have robbed you of your stamina.
>You lay still, gasping for air, each breath bringing agony.
>The resting period gives you time to think.
>You remember it so clearly.
>The rush of excitement and ecstasy that burned at your every fibre.
>The fury and bliss that washed over your very soul.
>There are… fuzzy details along the periphery.
>A hoof.
>A falling blimp.
>You only vaguely remember these material things, but the emotion?
>It’s burned indelibly into your mind.
>It’s hard to focus on anything else.
>Hard, but not impossible.
 
>”How bad am I hurt?”
 
>Your voice is weak.
>Raspy.
 
>”Please don't talk your highness. You've a punctured lung, Were it nearly anypony else you'd be in critical condition! As an alicorn though, we expect a full recovery.”
 
>The blue nurse pony is keeping his distance.
>He’s controlling his voice well, but it still trembles at times.
>He’s scared of you.
>You’re frightening.
 
”The pony who brought me in. Did they have three apples as a cutie mark?”
 
>”No, your highness.”
 
>Good.
>You would have felt bad if you'd bitten Applejack.
>You need to get out of here.
>Find out what happened.
>You think you know.
>You hope you're wrong.
 
“Untie me. I'm leaving.”
 
>”You need to rest!”
 
“Do it. I’m in a hurry.”
 
>”I- I’ll go get a doctor.”
 
>Ain’t nopony got time for that.
>If this bastard is going to be a problem you'll just teleport out.
>Your horn glows a bright white.
>Nothing happens, your mana just leaks away as nothing more than light.
 
“Why is there an inhibitor on my horn?”
 
>You don't wait for an answer.
>If they think you'll be stopped by such a trinket, you'll show him their folly.
>You'll teach him why NOPONY fucks with Twilight Sparkle.
>The light coming from your horn grows brighter and brighter.
>The aches and pains in your body fade away.
>The ring grows hot.
>Pain floods your mind as the sensitive tissues in your horn overheat.
>But you can barely tell.
>The pleasure is overwhelming the pain.
>But more importantly, it’s working.
>You're overloading the inhibitor.
>It would be enough to stop even the strongest of wizards.
>But you’re no lowly unicorn.
>Most of it is diffusing as they intended, scattering through the conductive materials.
>But a little bit is slipping by.
>And finally, you you push enough magic through and disappear in a flash of light.
>You land hard in the castle’s library, glad to find it empty.
>Not even staff remain.
>You idly ponder what time it is.
>You struggle to your hooves in the darkened room, gasping for breath.
>You make your way to the forbidden section with a spring in your step that belies your wounds.
>Your injuries are barely in your thoughts.
>There’s no time to hurt. Every aspect of your mind is already active, torn between pleasure and terror.
>As you walk along the old carpet you suddenly realise what just happened.
>You did it again.
>Dark magic…
>And you weren’t even that angry this time.
>Why?
>You didn’t want to do this.
>But now...
>Now you don’t want to stop.
>You arrive at the restricted section of the library, the wing that holds all the information Celestia deemed too dangerous for the public but too important to destroy.
>The heavy oak doors in the archway bar all but the most trusted of ponies, unlocking only for the select few that have been granted access.
>You push on the door.
>After a few seconds, the spell guarding the door recognizes you and releases the latch.
>You've been here once before.
>Not long after you grew your wings princess Celestia gave you access to everything.
>Why you had to be an alicorn you're not sure.
>You'd been her protégé for YEARS, but that wasn't enough to earn her trust.
>No.
>That BITCH waited until-
>You take a few deep calming breaths before pushing your way in.
>A simple light spell illuminates the forgotten corridors.
>Long shadows stretch into the distance.
>How long the dusty halls are, how many shelves and books, you've no clue.
>Last time you were here you barely read anything.
>You plan on reading it all eventually, but at the time you were already engrossed in a tome.
>You did, however, familiarize yourself with the layout.
>You walk four rows to the left.
>You walk fourteen shelves in.
>There they are.
>Dozens of tomes, each containing forbidden knowledge.
>Field notes on dark magic.
>Dark mages throughout the ages.
>Arcane wrath: a guide for magical combat…
>There are resources in the main library.
>You've read them all yourself; Celestia was quite insistent that you know the
dangers of dark magic.
>But you've learned that she doesn't share the whole story.
>Maybe there IS a way to use it safely.
>Maybe you DON'T have to forsake it entirely.
>You grab as many books as you can and prepare to teleport to your old room.
>It'll be a long night of studying.
 
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You are apprehensive.
>A strange creature from the stars has come to your land.
>And now, this being who bares a face that could strike terror into the demons of Tartarus, who wields the power to slay Titans, who has every reason to despise you…
>He wants to run tests on you.
>And you’re going to let him.
>Not because you want to.
>You’ll do it because you must.
>Perhaps it’ll help some of the ponies of your nation, though that’s incidental.
>The purpose of all this is your sister’s wellbeing.
>You’d do damn near anything to save her.
>You return to your room to find the disk lying on the floor, idle.
 
>”You’ve returned. Excellent. There’s a pill on your desk. Take it.”
 
>You trod towards your desk without hesitation and grab a small brown capsule.
>It slides down your throat smoothly.
 
“May I ask what I just did?”
 
>”Your brain works by making and detecting lightning. That pill will let me make lightning in different parts. We're going to see how you react.”
 
“Is the lightning an allegory for how fast we think, or…”
 
>It is at this point that you realise you’re speaking to an empty room.
>You feel quite silly, even though you’re getting answers.
 
>”No. We'll have to wait a moment before we can begin. I suppose I should use that time to warn you. You will NOT be in control of yourself while we do this. You will see things that aren't there, remember things that never happened, think things that make no sense etcetera. So, nothing out of the ordinary.“
 
“What do you mean nothing unusual?“
 
>”You're organic. That brings some pretty huge advantages for adaptability, but it costs you reliability. Or do you mean to tell me your senses, thoughts, and memories are perfect? If so things just got far more interesting. Either way I should tell you, this likely won’t be a pleasant experience. It’s not too late to back out.”
 
>You think back on the long life you’ve lived.
>On the countless errors you’ve made.
>On the friends and loved ones whose faces are long forgotten...
 
“My memories are hideously flawed. Proceed.”
 
>”Lay down. I don't want you hurting yourself when I make your legs give out. And keep talking. I need to know what you're thinking and feeling.”
 
>You trot over to your bed and throw yourself upon it.
>It’s been far too long since you’ve rested in your own chambers. The softness starts to ease long forgotten aches and pains.
 
“I'm thinking about the virus your people created. Did it change anything else?”
 
>”We've made several. As an example, I'm sure you noticed my forehead is much larger than the ape’s. That's pretty new. We weren't smart enough so we changed ourselves to have bigger brains.“
 
“Anything else?”
 
>”We suppressed our desire for sugar, reduced our need for sleep, shrunk some glands you don't have names for so we'd be less impulsive, plenty of things. Why?”
 
“It’s a new concept to me. I’d never even imagined that it might be possible to redesign- what smells yellow?”
 
>Seriously. You need to find the yellow smell.
>You start chewing on your mane to dig it up.
 
>”Interesting.”
 
>The smell is gone.
>You're suddenly aware of how stupid that was.
>You spit your mane out of your mouth.
 
>”You don't normally smell colour, I assume. Next test.”
 
“No, hold on! WHAT just happened?”
 
>One moment you’re perfectly rational, asking sensible questions.
>The next you’re chewing on your own hair because something smelled yellow.
 
“I hate ziggers!”
 
>”I’ll explain later.”
 
>You REALLY hate ziggers.
 
 
 
 
>You are Spike.
>You are still part of this story.
>And now you're back in Ponyville.
>After the camp was cleared out, and some light maintenance applied, you hitched a ride with >one of the flying machines.
>And that's the first time the public saw your new face.
 
>”The horror! THE HORROR!”
 
>They took it better than you expected.
>No pitchforks or anything.
>With the exception of Pinkie everypony’s been leaving you alone.
>It's been sorta nice having Twilight's castle to yourself for the past couple days.
>But today you're going out.
>There's one pony you've been meaning to see.
>To apologize to.
>The streets mysteriously empty as you step outside.
>Making your way through town, your improved ears pick up the telltale sounds of doors locking and windows closing.
>Even Carousel boutique seems to have closed.
>Your  gently rap on the front door.
>It glows faintly with Rarity’s magic and swings open.
 
>”Hurry! Get in before it comes!”
 
>You casually stroll in and push the door closed behind yourself.
 
>”Hide!”
 
>You survey the room.
>There's a heap of bolts of cloth by the ponyquins with a purple tail sticking out of the back.
 
“Don't worry, it's safe.”
 
>One bolt of cloth rolls off and you can see big, sapphire eyes looking at you pleadingly.
 
>”Are you sure?”
 
“Positive.”
 
>What little you can see of her looks unconvinced.
 
>”Do you mind if I stay here for a while?”
 
“Not at all. What were you hiding from anyway?”
 
>”Umm, Roseluck said there was a scary metal lizard monster eating ponies.”
 
>Figures.
 
“I think you'll find he prefers sapphire.”
 
>”How do you know what he likes? Wait a moment.”
 
>Her head pops out of the intricate camouflage as a bolt of white fabric rolls away.
 
>”Oh, I'm so sorry Spike! This must all be so hard on you and here I am making you feel even worse!”
 
>She climbs out of the protection of her heap and calmly walks toward you.
>Somehow her mane is still perfect.
 
“Hard on me? Naa. Things are great! Well, my fire's still gone but other than that I'm better than ever. Listen, Rarity, I wanted to apologize. I've been pretty hard on you, and it was-”
 
>”Nope, I shan't hear a word more! It was unfair of me to lead you on like that. I must confess. You're too young for me, Spike. And by the time you aren't I shall be too old for you.”
 
“But-”
 
>”I’m so sorry, Spikey, but you’re a dragon. I’m a pony. I’ll be a wrinkled old mare by the time you’re an adult. If I'm even alive that is. How long do dragons take to mature?
 
>That’s it then.
>You’ve been wasting your time.
>Hoping, praying for something that might never be.
 
“Usually a couple hundred years... Thanks for being honest Rarity. But I don't care what you say, you'll always be beautiful to me.”
 
>”Oh, you're so sweet. But unless I become an alicorn I don't see it working out.”
 
>Wait a second!
 
“So you're saying that if you were an alicorn, things would be different? I'll get back to you on that.”
 
>You scamper back home without explaining yourself.
>When you arrive you make your way to your room and pick up a small rectangle.
>It can access huge amounts of the visitor's data.
>It's been heavily redacted of course, but even so there's centuries worth of reading at your clawtips.
>Maybe he has something useful to you?
>You search for pony biology.
>And you're inundated with results.
>Most of it makes no sense to you.
>But one document catches your eye.
 
Preliminary observations on indigenous genetics.
 
>If they're preliminary they should be relatively simple.
>Perhaps you can understand it?
>You request the document.
>Most of the data is beyond your comprehension, though a few notes do grab your attention.
 
The most populous of the native sapients is a quadrupedal herbivore. Their most interesting feature is their command over a force that doesn't fit with any model of physics with which I'm aware.
[REDACTED]
Due to their prevalence and proximity most of my observations are based on these creatures.
 
“4 kinds, blah blah blah…”
 
Despite the massive physiological differences they are all indeed the same species. So similar in fact that there seems to be no genetic marker for which kind they will be. It's even plausible that they can change types under certain circumstances much as some species can change their sex.
 
>You already knew that.
>But you neither know how it happened nor how to repeat it.
>He knows without having ever heard of it.
>That means he saw something relevant.
>You need to know more.
>And so you write to him.
 
“Ponies can transform into alicorns. It's happened before. I was wondering if you'd help me figure out how.”
 
>”Absolutely not. No chance. They're way too dangerous, I don't like having 4 running around. 4 million is right out.”
 
“I'm mostly looking into doing it for one.”
 
>”I'd rather not have five either. Besides, sooner or later you'd hand it out freely.”
 
“Would you stop me if I were to do it myself?”
 
>No answer.
>Some might think he's ignoring you.
>But you're not worried about that.
>You're sure he's just thinking it through.
>He has good reason to be hesitant.
>Nearly an hour passes before you get your answer.
 
>“If you share all the data you get with me, and I'm able to complete a project of my own, then I won't stop you. You can keep access to my datalinks. They should get you started. I need to warn you that this is a monumental task you're taking on.”
 
“I know.”
 
>”Why?”
 
“Rarity.”
 
>”Is she the one you told me about?”
 
“She is.”
 
>”Alright. Keep her away from me and we’ll be fine. I should probably come up with some more specific rules for that. Sufficed to say, anything with a horn that comes in my land is getting shot. Now, with that said, I wish you luck.“
 
“Do you think I can do it?”
 
>”Can? Absolutely. Will? That remains to be seen. It depends on how bad you want it. You can find her specific genome at dQw4w9WgXcQ.”
 
>You knew he'd gathered data on ponies, but you're surprised he was able to identify one out of millions so readily.
 
“Thank you.”
 
>You request the files. An incredible sequence of adenine, thymine, guanine, and cytosine meets you.
>Even her genome is beautiful.
 
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You are the prettiest kitchen in all of Equestria.
 
“Don't forget to sign your rump!”
 
>”I'm having WAY more fun with this than I should.”
 
“So good to hear from you, dripping yellow madness!”
 
>You climb out of bed and start flexing your wings.
>It's the only way to be sure.
 
“Right. What does this one do?”
 
>Your heart is hammering inside your chest.
>Rage builds inside you, rapidly approaching the breaking point.
>You want BLOOD.
>You let out a howl of fury as you survey the empty room.
>A swift kick to your desk breaks off one of the heavy mahogany legs.
>You grip it tightly and swing it through the air, getting a feel for the heft.
>You take off for the halls, eager to find a skull to bash in.
 
>”The Tartarus?”
 
>And just like that, you stop.
>You drop the broken wood and take a few steps backwards.
>You were really going to do it.
>You were going to murder the first pony you saw.
 
“I…”
 
>”This seems like a good place to stop for tonight.”
 
“No. No, you're going to tell me what you did to me! I could hardly see I was so mad! What was that?”
 
>”I appear to have found your murder gland. “
 
>Murder gland?
>Does he think this is a JOKE?
 
“That isn't me! What did you DO? I couldn't control myself at all!”
 
>”Ugh. That's what I said would happen when we began.”
 
“You SAID you were going to stimulate my brain! Not that you'd make me think and feel such horrible things! I trusted you!”
 
>You were such a fool.
>Putting your faith in a space monkey.
>What else has it lied about?
 
>”Ugh. What do you think your brain is?”
 
“Don't dodge the question!“
 
>”I'm not. I need to know what needs explaining.”
 
“Fine. It's the seat of thought. Everything I think goes through it.”
 
>”Goes THROUGH it. You're hugely underestimating how important it is.”
 
>You're suddenly so very calm.
>You suspect it did something to you again, but you can't quite manage to care.
 
>”No more experiments until you have a grade four understanding of brain science. And I see you don't even have a word for that. Great, just great. Where do I even begin?”
 
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You are awake.
>But you really wish at least one of those two things weren't so.
>As you lay on the cold stone floor of the forbidden library, staring off into the dark, you can't help but wonder why.
>Why are you torturing yourself?
>It would be so easy to escape this agony and dive back into the mind numbing bliss.
>Part of you knows not to. That down that path lies ruin.
>Part of you doesn't care.
>The desire is nigh on overwhelming.
>You'd never known it, but that was all you'd ever wanted.
>And here you are.
>About to throw it away.
>With great effort you stand, separating yourself from the pool of sweat, blood, and vomit you'd passed out in.
>Your legs give out the first time, but on the second try you manage to rise.
>You lean on a nearby bookshelf gasping for breath.
>The cold hard wood feels like ice, chilling you to the bone.
>You're scared.
>Everything you'd read, every scrap of data you'd found…
>It all painted a very bleak picture.
>Countless talented unicorns had tried what you'd hoped to do.
>To use dark magic without changing.
>Each and every time it looked like they'd succeeded.
>Moderating use, cleansing rituals and spells…
>They only ever delayed the inevitable fall.
>The pony in question ALWAYS succumbed to the temptation.
>They just stopped caring about the consequences.
>Already the craving is gnawing at your soul.
>Demanding that you yield to the pleasure.
>Down that road lies ruin.
>And you're still not sure if you care.
>You finally walk out.
>The sounds of your hoofsteps crash painfully in your ears.
>That's not the only harsh sound.
 
>”Right this way, your highness.”
 
>You can barely hear the words and yet they echo painfully through your skull.
>Whoever it is is approaching.
 
>”And you say the door was left open? I'll check it out. Thank you.”
 
>That was Cadance!
>She's coming in.
>You need to get out before she sees you!
>The runes begin to form in your mind, but the thoughts are cloudy.
>You're feeling faint.
>The spell fails, and worse yet she seems to have noticed your magic.
>And now she's approaching you with a blinding light emanating from her horn.
 
>”Oh, Twilight. There you are! I'd heard that-”
 
>You raise a hoof to shield your eyes from the burning rays to little avail.
>She lets out a shocked gasp upon seeing you.
>You feel a crushing vice around your barrel as her magic softly grips you
 
“Don't worry, Twilight. You'll be okay.”
 
>She sets you down upon her bony, lumpy back.
>Her abrasive coat scratches at you mercilessly as she starts walking out.
>You start retching seconds into the bumpiest ride in history.
 
>“It's going to be okay, Twilight. Everything will be fine.”
 
“Please kill me.”
 
 
>You are Granny Smith.
>You are dying.
>All the young’uns got over the whole magic dealy.
>They survived the strain of being drained of their magic, and they recovered.
>But you haven’t.
>You’re too old for that.
>Too frail to live through that strain.
 
“What time is it?”
 
>That’s all you say anymore.
>Your mind is too far gone to think much of anything.
>And so you just repeat the last thought you’d managed over and over again.
>The last thing you will ever think.
 
“What time is it?”
 
>You’re barely aware anymore.
>You don’t realise that you’ve asked that question every minute for the last hour.
>You don’t realise that there’s nopony here to answer you.
>They all got violently pulled away from you by a floating metal monstrosity.
>A machine that hovers ominously above you, which of course, you aren’t aware of.
 
“What time is it?”
 
>The panicked and pained cries coming from the hallway reach your ears, but they don’t register.
>You don’t hear Applejack struggling against her restraints.
>You don’t hear Big Mac ripping one metal appendage apart, only to be grabbed by dozens more.
>You don’t hear Applebloom whimpering in abject terror.
 
“What time is it?”
 
>You don’t feel the syringe sliding into your neck.
>You don’t notice the disinfectant being sprayed on your abdomen.
>You aren’t aware of the incision being made soon after.
 
“What time is it?”
 
>”Shut the copulate up already!”
 
>The strange voice booms throughout the room, covering the din of struggle.
>Even were you fully aware, you wouldn’t recognise it.
>You wouldn’t know where it came from.
>And you’d sure as sugar give whoever it was a whippin’ for that foul mouth of theirs.
>But you’re in no condition for that.
>Your heart gives one last feeble push before going still.
>Forever.
>And with that, you die.
>With neither a bang nor a whimper.
 
…
 
>”Why would it kill her? She was dying anyway-”
 
...
 
>”We should offer her family grief counseling-”
 
…
 
[INITIALIZATION COMPLETE.]
 
…
 
>You wake up with a start, nearly throwing yourself off your bed.
>No.
>Slab would be more appropriate.
 
>”By Celestia’s beard!”
 
>Some doctor pony on the other side of the room bolts from their chair, heading to the far wall.
>They look like they just saw a ghost.
>A quick survey of the room tells you where you are.
>And you’re not happy to be here.
>You begin marching out or the room, intent on heading home.
 
“Darn whippersnappers, puttin’ me in a morgue just on account a me bein’ dead.”
 
 
 
>You are Pinkie Pie!
>You are nervousited!
>The scary alien person clearly doesn't want anypony getting too close, but technically he only said unicorns so you're fine.
>Right?
>Besides, somepony needs to do this.
>You’d been trying to figure out how to cheer up the apples after what happened, but nothing you could come up with was good enough.
>Then you saw the one and only thing they wanted.
>Granny Smith walking to the farm.
>It had only been a few hours since she’d been pronounced dead, and only a few hours before that the machines came to Ponyville.
>It wasn’t hard to put two and two and two together.
>And that’s why you took the lightning powered carriage and came down here immediately.
>Somepony needs to let him know he’s appreciated!
>And while you’re not sure you can throw a proper ‘thank you for bringing back the dead’ party, you can at very least tell him you’re thankful.
>You make your way to the top and enter the totally deserted camp and jump out of the carriage, stick secured in your mouth.
>The unbreakable statue still lays on its side down below, a small mound of dirt forming on its side as the wind slowly buries it.
>The abandoned buildings stand strong against the wind, waiting patiently for somepony to one day need them again.
>The machines that scared everypony away lay in the dust, lifeless and unmoving.
>And down below, you see what might as well be a metal hive.
>Thick clouds of machines swarm about the soon to be dome, centered on the massive spire that climbs beyond sight.
>You can't really make out much detail at this distance, but even so you see the structure bristling with giant cannon barrels.
>Your nervousitement has become outright fear.
>But you came here for a reason.
>You move to a clearing in the camp and use your stick to scratch something in the dirt.
 
Mister alien, I just wanted to thank you. Your machines came to Ponyville the other day, and not long after some very sick ponies were feeling a lot better. I'm not sure why you decided to help us, I know we haven't been very friendly to you, but thank you.
 
I have some of your things. It's not right that I keep them, especially after how nice you've been to us, so if you want I'll show you where they are.
 
>You're not certain at first, but it seems like one of the closer machines is moving towards you.
>Then you are certain.
>Then you're certain it's moving very fast!
>You hope it's just going to follow you and pick the things up.
>It finally arrives. A floating disk of unpainted metal.
 
>”What things?”
 
>It can TALK? Since when?
 
“Umm, a few of your old cannons. The ones that don't explode. A wagon that moves itself using lightning, a few of your old flying machines…”
 
>”You can keep them. It's fi- IS THAT MY SEED POWER PLANT?”
 
“Seed power plant?”
 
>”Bad translation. That thing you have strapped to the back of the wagon. That is the one thing you may not under any circumstances keep. Step away from it. Don’t touch it, and most importantly of all DON'T OPEN IT. Where were you keeping it? Take me there RIGHT NOW!“
 
“Right away! But, we can’t use the cart. It won’t last long enough to get back to Ponyville if we take the seed power plant off. The train isn't running down here anymore so we'll have to walk. It might take a day-”
 
>”Forget that, climb aboard.”
 
>The disk sets down on the ground before you.
>A big, goofy grin covers your face.
 
A few hours later.
 
>”The horror! THE HORROR!”
 
>You're sliding through the streets of Ponyville at blinding speed.
>Everypony watching can only see a pink blur as you race on by.
 
“And that's why I'm not allowed in the bank anymore! “
 
>You've been telling your newest friend all about your exploits.
>At first you you were annoying him.
>But then you started to figure out what he liked.
>He's nowhere near as cranky as Cranky.
 
>”Oh man, that’s hilarious! I’d never have the nerve to try something like that! Weren’t you afraid that the guards would kill you?”
 
“WHAT? Why would they do that? It was just a prank!”
 
>”It’s just that- never mind.”
 
>That sure turned dark quickly!
>Why would he think that would happen?
>Oh.
>That.
>You keep zooming onward in silence.
>Before long you’re near the woods.
>The disc slows down to a trot.
 
“Turn rightish leftly, then go half straightish upward.”
 
>”There’s a shack in the middle of the woods. Is that where you were storing it? Get off.”
 
>A heavy pout gets plastered upon your face as you step off of your new friend.
 
”Did I do something wrong?”
 
>”No. I just don’t want you to get cancer.”
 
>Without another word it shoots off into the woods.
>And within a minute it returns.
 
>”Alright, you’re fine. Well.. bye.”
 
“WAIT!”
 
>The machine had already floated several meters into the sky by the time you spoke.
>It stops short, seemingly fixed in mid air.
 
“What were you looking for?”
 
>”The generator you had is a very powerful tool. Consider how much lightning you were able to draw from it. You could do that for centuries without an appreciable loss in power. That’s extremely dangerous, Pinkie. I wanted to see how much damage you’d done with your tampering, and amazingly it looks like you didn’t do any.
 
 
 
>You are Cadance.
>You're beyond worried.
>Twilight looks half dead at best.
>She's not even a shadow of the energetic little filly you once knew.
>When you found her she was completely drenched in sweat and other liquids.
>But as far as your worries go that’s a distant third.
>The second biggest concern, the wound, will heal in time.
>The primary concern though?
>You’ve got no idea what to do.
>All you have control over is her filthy state.
>And so you're trying to clean her.
>A task which is proving quite difficult.
>Partly because you're trying to keep her bandages dry. You don't want her in a bath with open wounds.
>But mostly because of her protestations.
 
>”Kyaaa! Are you trying to rip my hide off?”
 
>Her shriek of pain was so feeble.
>You persist with your scrubbing, trying desperately to get the filth out her matted coat.
>You dip your cloth in the wash basin to rinse it off, and the water is immediately stained red.
 
“Please,  Twilight. You need to drink something! You've lost so many fluids!”
 
>She sits in the empty bathtub and looks disdainfully at the mug of tea you'd prepared for her.
>Water would be preferable, but she refuses to drink it.
 
>”No. It tastes like piss.”
 
>And this too apparently.
>Were you less worried about her, you'd immediately start scrubbing her mouth out with soap.
>As it stands though, that never crosses your mind.
>She’s suffering enough.
 
“What are the symptoms of severe dehydration?“
 
>”Irritability, confusion, delirium, rapid heart rate…”
 
>She grips the mug with her magic and gingerly sips from it.
>You can hear her gagging on the sweetened liquid.
 
“How is it?”
 
>”Wretched.”
 
>She flinches away as you return to your scrubbing.
 
“I've never had a pierced lung before, but I don't think it explains why you're is such bad shape!”
 
>”It's a collapsed lung. It doesn't get much worse than that.”
 
>The snark is palpable despite being wheezed out.
>A defensive reaction, or a symptom?
>You’re not sure.
 
>”That doesn't explain why you hate that tea. What else is wrong, Twilight? You can trust me.”
 
>”Nothing else is wrong, you just don't know how to make tea. Get the palace staff to do it next time, they know how.”
 
>A weak diversion tactic.
>She’s trying to change the subject rather than answer your question.
>You won’t be mislead.
>You assume a stern, motherly voice.
 
“Twilight Sparkle. You will tell me what’s going on this instant!”
 
>”The ape attacked Canterlot. I tried to fight it off, and got wounded.”
 
“AND?”
 
>”And it hurts. A lot.”
 
“Last chance, Twilight.”
 
>An ultimatum.
>You didn’t want to go there.
>But she’s leaving you with little recourse.
>You wait, and hope.
>Hope that she can trust you.
>Hope that she’ll let you of all ponies help her.
>Silence, and nothing more.
 
“I DID get the kitchen staff to make the tea. I don’t have time to sit around waiting for water to heat.”
 
>She tenses up, but says nothing.
>This is going nowhere.
>She clearly isn't going to be honest with you.
>You gave her her chance.
 
“I went to the library to clean up. SOMEPONY left their books on the floor. And they were reading some very interesting things. Twilight, how COULD you?”
 
>”Have you told anypony? Please don't! Please please-”
 
“I haven’t yet. Still haven’t decided what to do. Now hold still.”
 
>You return to your scrubbing, uncertain just who it is you’re cleaning.
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You just sat through a very dry lecture.
>Had the speaker been pretty much anyone else, you wouldn’t have believed them.
>The notion that every thought, action, feeling, and memory could be confined to such a small part?
>Ludicrous.
>But this being has proven their every word.
>If they were wrong, could they have controlled not only your actions, but your thoughts and feelings?
>The facts are uncomfortable. Unpleasant. Depressing.
>But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
>Unlike your sister who would erase history, who would ignore unpleasant facts in a desperate hope to make them untrue, you choose to walk forward with your eyes open.
>Even if reality is grim you do yourself no favours by ignoring it.
>It’s far better to embrace truth and do what little you can to improve your condition.
 
>“And that's what you should have learned when you were eight. There seem to be some differences between you and I, but by and large it works the same. Any questions?”
 
>Everything you've ever thought, everything you've ever known, everything that you are…
>All in a lump of flesh that weighs little more than a kilogram?
>You don't want to believe it.
>But your wishes are worthless.
 
“Is there truly nothing to ‘me’ than the brain?”
 
>”That depends on where you draw the line. Your nervous system extends to pretty much your entire body, but those parts aren’t capable of thought or emotion. If you limit yourself to just that, then most of your brain isn’t you. ‘You’ can be pretty ambiguous.”
 
>Arguably even less than that.
>And even worse, ‘you’ are a slave to the unthinking portions.
>As depressing as it is, you seek to know more.
 
“How do I know that anything is real then? That this isn't all some elaborate illusion, that nopony is stimulating my brain to control my every thought and action?”
 
>”You don't. “
 
>He said it as though that were just par for the course, as though it wasn't worthy of notice.
>Does it truly not bother him?
>Or has he just grown inured to reality?
 
“What if I want to do something that my brain isn't properly equipped to do? Say I wished to override one of my stronger instincts?”
 
>”Change your biology. Stop being a pony.”
 
>An abhorrent thought.
>To stop being what you are?
>Any self respecting pony would be disgusted by the idea.
>You, however, are not self respecting.
>You've made too many mistakes, failed too many times.
>Seeking to blot out the sun may have been the worst, but it certainly wasn't the only one.
>And one thing is certain.
>You'll do it again.
>Maybe not this millennium, but sooner or later it'll happen.
>But perhaps there is hope.
 
“So, I'm designed to react a certain way to certain stimuli. What if I don't want to?”
 
>”Restructure your brain.”
 
>That's what you expected him to say.
>If your brain is who you are, and you hate who you are…
>The solution is obvious.
>Some may think your methods extreme.
>Unnatural.
>Wrong.
>But it's a far cry better than your backup plan.
 
“You found what you called a murder gland before. Destroy it.”
 
>”What?”
 
>The synthetic voice, normally so flat and detached, was now rich with emotion.
>Shock. Confusion. Disgust. Perhaps even anger.
 
“Cut it out! Burn it! Crush it! Whatever, just get rid of it!”
 
>”Did you not hear a word I said? That’s who you are! You’re asking me to kill a small part of you!”
 
“Yes! The worst part!”
 
>”How could you POSSIBLY want that?”
 
>Has he forgotten?
>Or did he not believe you?
 
“When we met you were surprised to learn I’d cut off my own horn. I told you the alternative was cutting off my own head! I meant that.”
 
…
 
“I am not a good pony. I can’t even trust myself with my magic. I don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be me. But if I am a tiny lump of flesh, then I can change. Meaningful change. Not the short lived new year’s resolution kind, not just suppressing my darker side. Permanent, actual physical change. Why should I be something I hate? Why shouldn’t I destroy my current self if it means making something better?”
 
>”You’re serious, aren’t you?”
 
“Completely. I was created by a cruel force that didn’t care in the least for our suffering. Then, I was moulded by a chaotic, hateful world. Why should I assume that I’m perfect? Why should THAT make something that cannot be improved? If I can’t repudiate my biology, if I can’t overcome it or simply turn it off, then the only recourse I have is to change it. Ever since you mentioned using a virus to cure yourself of aging, it’s been nigh on all I’ve thought about. To change who I am on the most fundamental level, to design my destiny rather than follow the whims of the Titans. I can’t do that, though it is fast becoming my goal in life. However, you CAN make that change.”
 
>A great deal of time passes in silence. Hours, you think.
>Only then do you realise you’d been shouting.
>Yelling.
>Demanding that a small part of you be destroyed.
>You must look a fool.
>Or worse, a raving madmare.
>A pony who’s lost all sense-
 
>”Keep it up and I might just start liking you. That was meaningful self reflection there. Actual critical thought on who you are. Most people won’t do that. Even my own species, which should know better by now. You look in the mirror and hate what you see, so you conclude that you must change. Most, even those far less accomplished than yourself, would be filled with self satisfaction. Most of those that saw through the illusion would smash the mirror and think the problem solved. But you? You aren’t so arrogant to think yourself perfect. I can’t do what you ask of me, it’s far too risky. I’m not doing any brain surgery without much more study, and genetic engineering is right out. Without a much better understanding of how you work I could do irreparable damage. But I will say this. It CAN be done. You CAN be better. I’ve far too much on my plate to take on yet another project right now, so the onus is on you to find out how. It’ll be a massive undertaking, likely the hardest thing you’ve ever sought to do. If you truly want to change yourself, if you truly wish to become more than a pony, you can. I’ll have a datapad delivered to help you on your way. Whether you succeed or fail is up to you, but… I think you’ll succeed.”
 
>It can be done?
>He thinks you’ll succeed?
>And he’ll even HELP you?
>The idea that you might some day be free of your urges.
>That you might DESTROY your addiction, and not just suppress it.
>That you could be more, better, SUPERIOR to even the best ponies who’ve ever lived?
>Your primary goal is still to save your sister.
>But after that, there’s nothing you want more.
>You can do none of that, however, without first understanding yourself.
 
“Right! We’re wasting time. What else needs testing?”
 
 
 
>You are Cadance.
>You still don't know what to do about Twilight.
>Is she a time bomb who'll go off at a moment’s notice?
>Or is she a sweet little filly who needs help?
>You've no clue.
>It's at times like these that you'd normally consult Celestia.
>Sadly, she…
>You don't have time to dwell on that right now.
>You could discuss it with Luna.
>But truth be told, you don’t entirely trust her.
>And why should you?
>She literally tried to get rid of the sun!
>Shining Armor is trustworthy.
>But you doubt he knows more on the subject than you do.
>Besides, there's no way he'd be level headed on the issue.
>And so, with no other options available, you trust your heart.
>You care about Twilight.
>You love her.
>There's no chance in Tartarus that she'd give up on you, and you won't give up on her.
>You barge back into her room to find her passed out.
>Unlike the last two times she's on her bed.
>An improvement, perhaps.
>The rest of what you see isn’t particularly encouraging.
>Broken windows, a smashed telescope, torn carpet…
>She even ripped up her books!
>You’re scared.
>Nay.
>Terrified!
>She destroyed BOOKS!
>The Twilight YOU knew would NEVER do that!
>You were wrong.
>She’s GONE.
>The little filly is as good as dead.
>You slowly close the door, desperately trying not to make too much noise.
>You don’t want her to wake up, not while you’re still here.
>Your blood pressure climbs, your heart races, and the door squeaks.
 
>”What do you want, Cadance?”
 
>You freeze.
 
>”Out of life, I mean. I know why you’re here right now, but why do you live? What is your purpose?”
 
>You’re… confused.
>You were expecting maniacal laughter.
>Threats of violence.
>Screaming and cursing.
>Not calm existential questions.
 
>”Princess Celestia wanted me to study friendship of all things. There were times when I thought it was stupid, but for the most part I was okay with it. I enjoyed my job, if you can even call it that. The worst part was wondering why. Why did she want me to study such a nebulous concept? Why was I getting a government stipend to have fun with my friends?”
 
“Are you okay, Twilight?”
 
>”No. Now answer the question. Please. What is the meaning of life? For you personally, that is.”
 
>You’re still scared.
>But this sounds more like Twilight Sparkle.
>A depressed, scared, weakened Twilight Sparkle.
>You reluctantly open the door again.
>Looking in, you see she hasn’t moved.
>She’s still laying face down on her bed.
>Thankfully, her wounds don’t appear to have re-opened.
 
“Shining Armor and my foal. They’re the most important things in my life.”
 
>She lets out a dry, humourless laugh.
>She starts to slowly get up.
 
>”Yeah. That’s pretty much what I figured. You just want to fuck and pop out foals. No real surprise, that’s what we’re designed to do. Maybe I should try that some day. Odds are I’d like it too.”
 
>Now you’re confused and appalled.
>Such crude language!
>She takes the time to stretch after she gets up.
 
>“I think I get it now. I FINALLY understand. Princess Celestia took a huge risk to break Discord’s cycle. I didn’t approve at first, but she was right. Some day he’d have come back. As absurd as the whole ‘reformation’ scheme was, it was her best bet. And me? I was another long shot. She wanted me to break the pony cycle.”
 
>She starts cleaning up the ravaged room using her hooves.
>For reasons that escape you, she never once uses magic.
 
>”Princess Celestia doesn’t understand ponies. Sure, she knows our bad side well enough. She’s lived through it. She saw the era of strife, she saw the three tribes war, she saw Sombra’s slave armies… she’s seen it all. But what we have right now? Equestria as it stands? It’s weird.”
 
“What are you talking about?”
 
>”Ponies. We aren’t meant to live in a society like this. We’re meant to be out on the plains, wandering and grazing. We’re supposed to eat everything, breed, and move on. We’re supposed to co-operate with a very small herd, and when we come across competitors or threats? We’re supposed to crush them into paste. Doing these things feels good. It feels right. Princess Celestia more or less forbade me from killing the ape. I thought she didn’t want me to have to live with that burden. Maybe she even said that to trick me? I can’t remember now. But it was a ruse either way. Remember when we fought that giant worm thing? Think back. It was exciting, right?”
 
>A faint tremor of delight fills her voice.
>She quits her cleaning and sits on the floor, trying to catch her breath.
>You stand dumbfounded, completely unsure of what to say or do.
 
>”Fighting is terrifying. Scarring. I’ve done it several times. Way more than most ponies ever will. Changelings, worms, Tirek… Fighting is terrible. Conquest isn’t. Victory is pleasurable. Princess Celestia didn’t want me to kill the ape because I might find out it wasn’t so bad. Killing something you really hate, something that threatens you or your herd? We’re meant to do that. It is our nature. We can’t afford to do that anymore though. For better or worse we now live in a society that can’t allow that. Go away, I need some time to think.”
 
“But-”
 
>”Leave.”
 
>It didn’t sound like a threat or even a demand.
>Despite the wording, the pleading tone suggests it was a request.
>You reluctantly comply and close the door. Not because you think she needs to be alone, but because you need to go get help.
>She’s clearly unhinged and you don’t know what to do.
>There are few ponies who know her better than you.
>But perhaps you don’t need a pony for this job.
>You’re off to consult Spike.
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You don’t remember the last several hours.
>Some might be alarmed by this.
>You however, are not.
>You’ve lived a VERY long life.
>Made innumerable memories.
>And lost most of them.
>You’ve forgotten friends, foes, joyous days, and tragic moments.
>After several thousand years, you’ve lost track of all the things you’ve forgotten.
>One more evening is not even remotely concerning.
 
>”Well, this was certainly interesting. I need to consider the data I’ve collected. But... listen, Luna. Don’t get your hopes too high. This will be easier than I expected, but it’s still going to take a lot of work.“
 
“What do you mean?”
 
>”There’s pretty extensive damage. Dead is manageable, but gone is another issue altogether. There are things that I can’t do. That nobody can do.”
 
“But what of Spike?”
 
>”His brain wasn’t destroyed. Just damaged. Parts of it are gone- replaced, rather. But there was enough left that I could piece together what was supposed to be where. Imagine a scroll with a story written upon it. Then tear it to pieces. You can, given enough time, piece it together. You can make it whole again. What if you took some of the parts and reduced them to cinder?. You can guess what was supposed to be there, but odds are you’ll be wrong about something. Minor details here and there. One synonym instead of another. A slight change in sentence structure. Celestia will live, I promise you that. She will be different though.”
 
>Your blood runs cold.
>Your heart races.
>A weight grows in the pit of your stomach.
 
“How different?”
 
>”I don’t know. Only time will tell. If you’ll excuse me, I must consider this data.”
 
>The room falls silent.
>You are alone.
 
>”Princess, are you harmed?”
 
>The room is still empty.
>But you recognise that voice.
 
“I’m fine. Enter.”
 
>Classified Document walks through the front door.
>She has several burn marks, mostly on her rump.
 
“What happened!?”
 
>”The sentry has sharp eyes. I couldn’t get close. I am sorry.”
 
>She lowers her head in a deep bow.
 
>”I failed to sneak past it when you were in distress.”
 
“The distress was my own doing. And I doubt there is a single living thing on this world that could escape his eye, you’ve done better than any could have hoped. Are you harmed?”
 
>”No. What is my assignment?”
 
>Diligent and dutiful as always.
>She always was your favourite.
 
“Are you certain you are ready for active duty? You may take as much time as you need.”
 
>”I’m ready.”
 
“Very well. I was told that Twilight Sparkle would live. A cryptic and ominous message. I want to know what she’s been doing, and why she was wounded. Treat her as a potential hostile. She’s been acting… strangely.”
 
>”Is force authorised?”
 
“You’d strike your princess?”
 
>”She is not my princess. You are.”
 
>A small smile grows on your lips.
>She’s definitely your favourite.
 
“Non-lethal. I trust your judgement beyond that.”
 
>”Your Majesty.”
 
>The enchanted necklace she bears glows faintly.
>And then she disappears.
>Invisible, not gone.
>You don’t hear her leave.
 
 
Surveillance report, day two.
 
Subject: Twilight Sparkle.
 
Summary:
Subject’s behaviour has become much calmer and more predictable since observation began. Their activities are still worrying, though much less so. Subject has spent the bulk of their time isolated, sitting silently in their room. They will periodically nod slowly, or shake their head. Else they're quite consistently staring vacant at a wall. This behavior is punctuated by a variety of odd activities (see attached log), many of which are alarming in their own right. Maintaining surveillance.
 
Summary log (all times based on the clock in the subject's room)
 
0812-0916: Silence. Presumably lost in thought.
0916-0947: Subject destroyed a mirror (seemingly the only intact reflective surface in the room), and proceeded to break the glass into dust using a broken desk’s leg. Subject did not use magic.
0947-0953: Loud sobbing.
0953-1306: Staring at the wall.
1306-1309: Frenzied masturbation.
1309-1322: Subject destroyed many furnishings, including the clock.
1322-1322...
 
 
>You are Luna.
>You are barely reading the report.
>It’s not that you aren’t interested in the contents.
>No, you’re very curious about what’s going on with Sparkle.
>As much as she’s been irritating you with her persistent mistrust and hostility toward the visitor, the one to whom you already owe more than you can repay…
>And as much as she disgusted you with her cowardice during the Titan incident, you still care about her wellbeing.
>She’s your sister’s beloved apprentice.
>And loathe are you are to admit it, she’s a fellow alicorn.
>This report could be crucial for the stability of Equestria and the wellbeing of Twilight Sparkle.
>And yet you’ve hardly registered a word.
>You’re too busy rewriting it in your head.
>Nothing major. Just a few word substitutions here and there.
 
After departing, subject stopped to burn a tapestry made to commemorate the union of the three tribes...
 
Subject went to the library to shred several books on the subject of pony psychology (more specifically on societal harmony), stating they were lies.
 
>A worrying picture to be sure.
>And yet it's almost trivial to hide the meaning.
 
 
After departing, subject stopped to "ADMIRE" a tapestry made to commemorate the union of the three tribes...
 
Subject went to the library to "READ" several books on the subject of pony psychology (more specifically on societal harmony), stating they were "FASCINATING".
 
>Three words.
>You just changed three words, and it completely changed the whole report.
>Three little words, and it suggests that nothing is wrong. That Twilight hasn’t changed at all.
>There’s no sign of the original meaning, no context to suggest what words belong in their place.
>And because of the tiny edit, there’s no indication whatsoever that Twilight burnt an ancient, priceless tapestry.
>No hint that she tore numerous tomes apart.
>No sign that she decried harmony itself to be a lie.
>And these were just words.
>Not large portions of an incredibly complex and fragile organ.
>If you can’t recognise this report, why should you recognise your sister?
>Why should you expect Celestia to even vaguely resemble herself?
>Why should you expect to love her?
>Perhaps it would be better if-
 
*SNIFF*
 
>You force the thoughts out of your mind.
>It’s beyond your control. Worry and despair will do you no good.
>Through a great exertion of willpower and sheer determination, you force your thoughts elsewhere.
>What should you do about Equestria?
>It’s been neglected for far too long.
>You’ve no standing army.
>You’ve a burnt out husk of a capital.
>You’ve riots in the streets, displaced refugees, and raids coming in along the borderlands.
>And to make it all worse, you’ve no horn.
>You can’t magic your way out of this one.
>It’s only a matter of time until a proper invasion comes, and you’ve no answer.
>Perhaps given enough time you could raise a militia.
>Perhaps you could hire mercenaries.
>As loathe as you are to rely on untrained forces.
>If only Prince Armor still worked for the day guard.
>He’d have never let it get to such a sorry state.
 
...
 
>He’d have never let things get so bad that you’d find yourself in this position.
>In fact, he didn’t.
>The crystal army was never disbanded.
>His forces never deserted him.
>He can still fight!
>So long as Equestria remains on good terms with the Crystal Empire, you should be safe.
>And you can’t imagine relations with the Crystal Empire would ever break down.
>To your surprise, you dare to smile.
>And seemingly in response…
>You hear a thunderous blast in the distance.
>A horrible otherworldly shriek fills the air.
>A chill runs down your spine as the banshee’s shriek assaults your ears.
>Gale force winds rush through your shattered window, and soon a strange metal bird hovers ominously by your chambers.
>The massive imposing heap of dark grey metal, a series of triangles with what look to be colossal fans imbedded in its wings simply hangs rock steady in the sky.
>Then, without pomp or circumstance, the side pops open.
>A long ramp slides into your room, knocking down what little remains of your window.
>And inside?
>A small barren room, completely empty save for the bench seat against the back wall.
>The message is clear and you soon find yourself boarding the metal bird despite your apprehension.
>Your mane flails about violently as you brave the gale force winds coming from the strange unmoving wings.
>The moment you clear the threshold and enter the strange chamber you can hear the door slide shut.
>An eery silence surrounds you showing no sign of the otherworldly cacophony you’d just endured.
>You take a moment to appraise your surroundings.
>A heavier than air flying machine that can hover rock steady in the skies.
>And by the looks of it, there is nopony controlling it.
>You can see absolutely no indication of a conductor, and yet it was able to position itself perfectly and roll out the figurative carpet for its passenger.
>Mere months ago you’d have openly mocked anypony who said such a thing was possible.
>You’d have laughed at the mere notion of a vehicle that could be controlled from so far away.
>And here you are.
>Not just unsurprised, but largely unphased.
>This strange being has done so many impossible things that one more miracle is barely worth note.
 
“Hello?”
 
>”sit on the bench and strap in. These sounds are normal.”
 
>With no evident path out and no other options presenting themselves you sit down.
>Dozens of straps shoot out from seemingly nowhere and bind you to the surprisingly soft seating.
>Within seconds you are totally immobilized.
 
>”We're going to start moving now. Relax.“
 
>Almost instantly you feel a great pressure against your back.
>As you are driven through the sky at what you can only assume to be a blinding pace you do your best to hide your fear.
>You suspect that this was not meant to scare you.
>That such vehicles are commonplace to him and don’t even strike him as frightening.
>If he meant to intimidate you, you’re certain he could do a far better job.
>He’s been in your head.
>He knows what to do.
>You just hope he didn’t hear you shriek when the straps bound you.
>Time passes as the back of the bench pushes harshly against you
>Minutes, perhaps? You’re uncertain.
>Then just as suddenly as the push started, it stops.
>With no windows to speak of you can’t even be sure you’re moving at all.
>With no other options you seek to calm yourself.
>You focus on your breathing.
>No attempt to control or influence your breath, mere observation.
>Time passes.
>How much, you’re uncertain.
>a few minutes, perhaps?
>And then…
>The pressure against your back ceases.
>As your heart rate returns to normal and you return your attention to the outside world, dozens of questions run through your mind.
>First off, can he hear you.
 
“Hello?”
 
>”I’m not a fan of idle chit chat. Let’s skip the pleasantries. You’re on your way to my land, ETA two minutes.”
 
“Minutes!? But… it’s at least a day away by train!”
 
>”Your trains suck.”
 
>You aren’t sure what that means, but you doubt it’s praise.
>A faint blast rings out in the distance.
 
>”That was normal. Celestia turned out to be much easier to repair than I expected. Without getting into details that you wouldn’t understand anyway, it seems as though you were designed to be easily modified. This made it a lot easier to put her back together.”
 
“So, you’ve done it? She lives!?”
 
>”No. There are a few things to iron out yet.”
 
>Not yet.
>Meaning she will.
>Meaning you won’t be alone.
>Meaning-
 
>”But before I release her into your care, I want to know you’re responsible enough to have her. I’m assuming you’ve never repaired an error 006. Yeah, you don’t even have a word for that. She won’t heal naturally anymore so it’s up to you to keep her functioning. That’s why I’m having you build most of her body.”
 
>What.
 
“What?”
 
>”Just the body, I’ll cover the life support, power supply, neural interface, all the complicated stuff. If you build her yourself I’ll be confident you can take care of her. That’s what’ll need repairs the most anyway, so you won’t have to bother me every time her knee seizes. I’ll provide the blueprints and the tools, you put her together.”
 
>You feel a soft jerk as the vehicle lands.
>The side slides open and the ramp extends.
>The un-natural light of the Sanctuary pours in through the cracks as the wall drops.
>You’re immediately assaulted by scorching hot air that reeks of some strange chemical.
>And outside, you see an incredibly cramped and convoluted skunkworks.
>You suspect it’d take weeks to map out.
>Faceless machines flying every which way, machines of unknown purpose pumping out unfamiliar objects, strange noises coming from all angles…
>The last time you were in the Sanctuary you were blind.
>And now that you can see more than faint blurry blobs, it seems far more alien.
 
>”Rule one. If you leave this cell without my explicit permission, you die. Rule two. No magic. Keep that horn short, because if I see it glow, you die. Rule three. Don’t build any weapons. Take a wild guess at what happens if you do. You can sleep in the ship and I’ll have food delivered. I suggest you get busy.”
 
>A daunting task to be sure.
>You’ve no clue where to start.
>But if this is the only way forward…
>You step out of the ship, and into the hive.
 
 
>You are Cadance.
>You are concerned.
>Ponyville has…
>Changed.
>And not subtly.
>Smashed windows, doors kicked down, rubble in the streets…
>Something big happened here.
>If the subtler signs are anything to go by it's still happening.
>The streets are largely barren, and when you do encounter somepony they keep their distance.
>Every door is locked, every curtain pulled, and every gate shut.
>The first sign of trouble was when you disembarked from the train.
>Nopony swarmed you.
>No admirers desperate to catch a glimpse of royalty, no status seekers looking to schmooze, nothing.
>It was certainly a pleasant change of pace!
>Still, it was…
>Unsettling.
>And now you come across an abandoned home, door ripped from the hinges and cast aside.
>And in the grass is burned the words “Heartless go away”.
>And now the source of the strife has a name.
>This town is torn over something called “Heartless.”
>You don’t know what those are but you don’t like the sounds of it.
>You continue on your trek watching carefully for anything that might not have a heart.
>What would otherwise be an eerie silence is broken by the sounds of trade in the distance.
>Whatever Heartless are, even they can't stop market day.
>As you approach the small burg’s heart of commerce listening to the growing din of the free market you fail to notice anything overtly different.
>At least, not until you draw close.
 
>”For y’all? A hundred bits.”
 
>”WHAT? It was ten for the pony before me! This is outrageous!”
 
>Is that Applejack?
>Is she price gouging?
>Surely you must be mistaken.
 
>”Sure was. Two hundred bits. Take it or leave it.”
 
 
>”But I’ve been your customer for years! I’ve been buying from that farm before you were even born!”
 
>”Yeah, and then you and your little mob tried to drive Granny Smith outta town.”
 
>You take flight and climb above the growing crowd hoping to get a better look.
>Sure enough you see Applejack leaning against her stand glaring daggers at a brown Earth stallion.
 
>”Look, Filthy, I ain't unreasonable. Write Granny a formal apology letter all fancy like, say you were wrong, and try and talk down the rest of them hoodlums, then leave town forever. Then MAYBE I’ll let it go. Until then it's a thousand bits.”
 
>”Or I could just stop doing business with you! Then what will you do?”
 
>”Right. ‘Cause nopony else in the whole world would want to distribute zap apple jam.”
 
>She rolls her eyes as contemptuous sarcasm oozes from her words.
 
>”This isn’t over, Applejack! Nopony crosses ME!”
 
>The yelling of the crowd below you grows thunderous.
>There’s no way you’d be able to hear the confrontation were they not now screaming at each other.
 
>”I’ll RUIN you. Mark my words, this time next year that farm will belong to me and you’ll be out on the streets!”
 
>Applejack’s nostrils flare.
>Her eyelid starts twitching.
>Her face is growing red.
 
>”Y’all threatening me?”
 
>”Threatening? By no means you simple bumpkin! I’m PROMISING you. Your farm? Gone. Your home? Gone. And that abomination you call a grandmother?”
 
>It happened fast.
>This stallion, this ‘Filthy’ as he was called, opened his mouth to speak.
>In the blink of an eye Applejack flowed over the countertop.
>She tackled him to the ground eliciting a roar of joy and outrage from the crowd.
>Filthy lands hard on his back.
>And Applejack?
>She lands right on him, straddling his exposed belly.
>But she’s not interested in that.
>She raises one forehoof above her head and brings it down hard on his muzzle.
>Then the other.
>A barrage of blows rain down on the poor stallion’s shattered face
 
“Stop this at once!”
 
>You descend upon the melee and land in the impromptu ring.
>You use your magic to pry the two apart, struggling against Applejack’s astounding strength.
> Even as you pry the blows continue.
>When you finally have them apart you see a mashed bloody mess where once there a handsome face.
>And a look of grim satisfaction on Applejack.
 
“Somepony, quick! Get this pony to the hospital!”
 
 
>You stay for a moment to confirm that the stallion will be cared for.
>Then you drag Applejack down the streets.
>She doesn’t resist.
>She simply hangs limp in the sky as you levitate her down the streets.
>She’s being totally co-operative.
>For reasons that elude you that is EXTREMELY irritating.
>You want a violent psychopath to be kicking and screaming, fighting you to the very end.
>Not calm passive behaviour.
 
“Well?”
 
>”Hrm?”
 
“Are you going to try and EXPLAIN yourself?”
 
>”He threatened my kin. I shut him up. Not much else t’ say.”
 
“I SAW. You’re going to prison, don’t think that being Twilight’s friend will save you!”
 
>She lets out an amused snort.
 
>”You’re goin’ the wrong way. Take a left up ahead- yeah. There ya go. Two blocks down then another left.”
 
“If this is a trick I SWEAR…”
 
>”No trick. Got no reason to trick ya.”
 
>You let out a huff and trudge onwards in the suggested direction.
>Before long you find the home of the local constabulary as promised.
>And once inside you soon understand her compliance.
>It's deserted.
>And not just devoid of ponies, but valuables too.
>Totally stripped of anything remotely worth stealing.
>Your jaw descends as you survey the hollow chambers.
 
>”Can I go now? Gotta get back to work. Big Mac can't cover for me all day.”
 
“What… what happened?”
 
>”They got scared and left. Can I go?”
 
“They just deserted?”
 
>”Like talkin’ to a wall. There were three of them. No way they could handle this. Can I go?”
 
“No. You're still in HUGE trouble.”
 
>”With who? Y'all might not have noticed but there ain't no law no more.”
 
>You let out a decidedly undignified growl.
>You're getting sick of her giving you lip.
>And so you use your magic to bind her muzzle.
 
>”MRMPH!”
 
>There's not a pony in this town you can trust, it seems.
>But you were never here to see a pony anyway.
>You make your way to Twilight’s palace, one of the few buildings that seem to be totally unphased by the madness.
>At least it looked fine from a distance.
>As you approach with a now struggling Applejack in tow you sat to find telltale signs of violence along the ground.
>Smashed wagons and other debris surrounding the palace, seemingly as a makeshift blockade.
>Large stones scattered about. Projectiles, perhaps?
>Scorch marks scattered about. Most on the greenery, though some lay on the cobble.
>To your disgust you even see what appears to be a small pool of dried blood.
>There must have been quite a clash with the Heartless here.
>What they want from the palace you can only imagine.
>And you can only hope they didn't get it.
>You approach the door, heart hammering away in your chest.
>You cautiously raise a hoof to knock.
>Before you can strike the door, however...
 
>”It's open! Come on in, Cadance!”
 
>Spike’s voice.
>You release a breath that you didn't know you'd been holding as you push your way in, never wondering to yourself how he knew it was you.
>The entryway seems cold and uninviting. Crude barricades block your path and seemingly every effort has been made to block out all light.
>You prepare a light spell, but somehow you can't quite hold it together while keeping your prisoner.
>As you push in a strange feeling comes upon you.
>A strange disorientation.
>Then quite suddenly your spells fail entirely.
>Applejack bolts out, running far out of reach before you can collect your focus enough to snare her.
>Not that it matters.
>You know where she lives.
>Light returns to the corridor quite suddenly.
>Even with your sight returned you don't notice the scorch marks on the rugs.
>You don't see the broken spears, snapped arrows, or twisted blades.
>Applejack’s you see, the only thing that holds your attention, is the hideous mesh of flesh and metal before you.
>Are these the Heartless?
>And to your horror, it speaks.
 
>”Sorry about all that. Had to make sure you weren't an imposter.”
 
>It not only speaks, but it has Spike’s voice.
>You flee town, not even waiting for the train to take you away.
 
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You WERE going back to Ponyville to consult a friend on a matter of grave importance.
>But then you received a rather urgent message.
>It’s happening.
>Not a mere raiding party, nor simple bandits.
>A full fledged military force had struck.
>And so you had to make a detour to Appleoosa.
>Luna had warned of this, and she was right.
>Without the alicorn sisters to resist them, without an army to do battle, Labyrinth seen fit to ‘redefine’ their relationship with Equestria.
>Not long ago you’d have been perplexed.
>But the books Shiney suggested on statecraft and warfare explain this quite eloquently, and now that your eyes are open you’re willing to believe them.
>Diplomacy isn’t based on ‘friendship’.
>There are no friends between nations.
>Diplomacy is about self interest and fear.
>And now that they needn’t fear retribution, they’re interested in Equestria’s riches.
>Again, Luna warned of this several times.
>And yet she did nothing.
>Now it falls on you.
>As you soar through the skies you can see smoke rising in the distance.
>You’re going too slow.
>You draw upon your magic and teleport forward.
>You cast your gaze down and find the train tracks have been ripped apart, preventing any reinforcements.
>They didn’t count on you.
>You teleport forward again.
>Several buildings have been burnt out, though you lack time to check which.
 
>”ALICORN!"
 
>Hundreds of burley, armored soldiers cast their gaze above as one.
>You feel a chill of pleasure and excitement run through your spine.
>And CRUSH it.
>The breathing exercises, the self imposed distractions, the stretches…
>ALL of the anxiety management tips Celestia shared with you over the years have proven effective at suppressing your fury.
>When you’d first noticed that you were quite thankful for the lucky break.
>Now you’re not convinced it’s mere coincidence.
>The hoard below you remove what look to be ballistae from their backs, likely crossbows by their standards.
>They aim them up at you.
>You scoff.
>You’ve spent so much time thinking and experimenting to try and block ape cannon that flying logs are not worthy of concern.
>You bring your shield to bear.
>Not a purple orb of light, but a cone.
>The bolts come up to meet you and deflect off of the long slope, hardly straining your shield at all.
>And unlike ape cannons, these take more than a twenty-thousandth of a second to reload.
>You narrow your shield further to a fine point and drop on what you think to be their officer.
>Propelling yourself down as fast as you can manage you again repeat your breathing exercises, trying to prepare for what comes next.
>The piteous shriek that you’d been tuning out is replaced by a wet ripping noise as your world explodes in red.
>You quickly reform your shield into a horizontal disc and expand it outward, slicing any nearby foes in half.
>And then you teleport away, moving behind a nearby house and disappearing from their sight.
>You just killed.
>Not just one, but dozens.
>And you feel…
>Nothing.
>The thought of striking down a pony still makes you sick, but slaying a hostile foe?
>Not a problem.
>Celestia wanted to stop you from killing.
>You thought it was to spare you the emotional anguish you’d have suffered.
>You were wrong.
>She didn’t want you to understand how little it would matter.
>How natural it would feel.
>You bring your shield back up and poke your nose around to check on your foes.
>Clear terror adorns their faces and they huddle together, hoping to find safety in numbers.
>A mistake.
>You start pumping as much magic as you can into a small point.
>One of the soldiers near the middle of the cluster notices a small pulsating purple dot hovering before his eyes.
 
>”SHE’S-”
 
>Too late.
>You release and the raw magic scatters; a horrendous shock wave bursts veins and organs alike of all those unfortunate enough to be near the heart of the blast.
>The few remaining combatants, the disoriented mess of a military, stumbles away.
>You levitate a all save one by the neck.
>Twenty seven soldiers struggle and gasp for breath as they climb ever higher in the sky.
>And then once they’re mere specks above, you let go.
>As minotaurs come raining down onto the gore soaked terrain you slowly march up to the one remaining soldier.
>He tries to run.
>You use your magic to bind his legs, and he trips up.
>It would be easy to slay him.
>Trivial even.
>But that’s not your goal.
>First you need to know something.
>You bind its left front leg- its arm with your magic.
>You twist until you hear the sickly snap.
 
>”GRAA-”
 
>You bind its muzzle to silence the screaming.
 
“Where are the ponies.”
 
>Not a question. A demand.
>In his panic he keep looking toward the jailhouse.
>That’s all the answer you needed.
>Now to keep this from ever happening again.
>Celestia and Luna spent millennia setting themselves up as unstoppable terrors, forces of nature that were not meant to be trifled with.
>If there is to be peace, there must be fear.
>You must be feared.
>It’s time for you to be feared.
 
“Get out of Equestria. Never come back. Never even THINK of coming back. And most importantly, tell everyone what you saw.”
 
>You turn your back on your foe and walk toward the jailhouse, hoping the ponies are safe.
>You should be disgusted.
>You should be weeping as the blood drips from your coat.
>But you did what had to be done.
>And nothing else matters right now.
 
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>You are almost home.
>Most of the ponies of Appleoosa were alive when you left.
>Looks like the minotaurs wanted captives.
>Why?
>You neither know nor care.
>Sure you could take a guess.
>And you’d probably be right.
>But it simply doesn’t matter.
>What DOES matter is that you sent a message.
>Equestria is strong.
>YOU are strong.
>And you are NOT to be crossed.
>You can’t be everywhere at once though.
>If, nay, WHEN you next need to strike, you need to be even more terrifying.
>You and Luna may have your differences.
>But you must admire her.
>She no longer needs to raise a hoof to intimidate.
>Irrelevant.
>She’s missing and the whole world knows it.
>Celestia’s dead and the whole world knows it.
>Their might no longer holds sway in the world.
>And so it falls upon you.
>Everything falls upon you.
>With Celestia gone, Luna missing, and Cadance ruling the Crystal empire...
>You close your eyes.
>You breath deeply.
>You purge your emotions.
>Your fear, your anxiety, your excitement.
>Equestria is yours.
>You are THE sovereign ruler of this nation.
>And there are going to be some changes.
>But first, you must ask your advisors.
>No, not Purse Strings, nor Clear Counsil.
>You’re asking somepony who’s been advising you since you were a princess.
>Somepony who knows more than they’re letting on.
>You use your magic to bang on your cabin’s door.
 
“How long until we arrive in Ponyville?”
 
>”About half an hour, your majesty!”
 
>The attendant on the other end of the doorway replies a little bit too quickly.
>You’d insisted that one of the stewards watch your door to keep you from being disturbed.
>It’s clear that they’re unaccustomed to serving royalty.
>Not that you particularly care.
 
“Send a message ahead. Have Pinkie Pie meet me at the station.
 
>They reply, but you don’t pay attention.
>You’re too busy thinking.
 
 
One hour later…
 
>The train begins to slow as it approaches the station.
>You don’t have the patience for that though.
>You simply teleport onto the platform to see a single pony waiting.
>The one pony you were looking for.
 
“Hello Pinkie.”
 
>Black grease stains her fur and mane.
>You are curious as to why, but it’ll have to wait.
 
>”What’s wrong, Twilight? You sound so grumpy.”
 
“Let’s go somewhere private.”
 
>”Ooh! Your place or mine?”
 
“Yours. I don’t want Spike listening in.”
 
>You start heading towards sugarcube corner.
>To your surprise, Pinkie stops you.
 
>”Other way.”
 
“Wait, you moved?”
 
>”Yeah…”
 
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
 
>”I’m not. Can we talk about it later?”
 
>You’re not sure if she’s just trying to avoid discussion altogether, or if she actually DOES want to talk about it eventually.
>To your surprise, you DO care.
>You actually do want her to be happy.
>Perhaps being a pony is more complex than you thought?
>More data is required.
 
“Alright. Lead the way.”
 
>”Keep your distance from everypony, don’t look them in the eye. They’re scared.”
 
”Of?”
 
>”Pretty much everything. Ponyville’s sick, Twilight, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
 
“That’s part of why I’m here. Can you explain as we walk?”
 
>She nods slowly, almost morosely.
>It’s very rare that you see this side of Pinkie.
>But this Pinkie?
>The one who knows loneliness, sorrow, and pain?
>The one who never smiled until she was ten years old?
>The one who tries to cheer everypony up anyway?
>She’s why you’re here.
 
>”A bunch of ponies were very sick after the Titan ate their magic. Some of them didn’t make it.”
 
>You can feel a block of ice forming in the pit of your stomach.
>This probably happened all over Equestria, and you were too caught up in your own problems to even notice.
 
>”Mostly the older ones, and the ones who were already sick. It was too much. Granny Smith died too.”
 
>And again to your surprise, you feel a strong urge to go comfort Applejack.
>Perhaps you should.
>On the other hoof, all of Equestria needs you. It wouldn’t be right to focus on just one family.
>But she’s your friend.
>But is it right to-
 
>”But the space monkey made them all better.”
 
“What?”
 
>”Cut them open, pulled out their broken bits, and put in metal ones. Granny’s not just alive, she’s living. She’s doing better than I’ve ever seen her. Granted, she was PRETTY old when I moved here.”
 
>That doesn’t make any sense.
>Why would it help ponies?
>Shouldn’t it hate ponies?
>You must have missed something big.
>Unless it’s a trick of some sort?
>One more thing to investigate.
>You really need to make a list.
 
>”When Luna saw that it built a new arm, she hoped it could replace other bits. Or rather, she hoped that we could learn to. I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to see that it actually happened. But not everypony sees it the same way. Some are thrilled that their friends and family are alive. Others are scared. It’s hard to blame them.”
 
>You stare at the wreckage that once was the town center.
>You see the Mayor’s office, reduced to cinder.
>You see broken arrows and crossbow bolts scattered about.
 
“But how did this all happen?”
 
>”Like I said. Ponies got scared. And when ponies get scared? Well, you have some experience with that. You know know how it goes.”
 
>You have no idea what she’s talking about.
>How could fear turn into all this?
>Into what looks like an outright civil war?
 
“How could mere fear turn into this?”
 
>”Why do you hate the ape? What has it done wrong? As far as I can tell, it’s done way more good than bad. It even saved Spike.”
 
>The question comes as a surprise.
>If you didn’t know Pinkie so well, you’d assume it came from nowhere.
>But there’s always an underlying reason behind what Pinkie does, even if nopony else can see it.
>Her ‘random’ quirky ways are meant to amuse, to bring joy.
>They aren’t mindless silliness.
>Maybe she’s getting at something?
 
“It’s evil and destructive.”
 
>”In what way? What has it done?”
 
“Well, Princess Celestia said it was really dangerous!”
 
>”I’m sure it is.”
 
>Something tells you she isn’t satisfied with that answer.
>She says nothing more, however.
>Not for a few minutes at least.
>It’s not until you’ve entered the woods that she speaks.
 
>”Do you hate the forest?”
 
>Now you’re just getting confused.
 
“Why should I?”
 
>”It’s dangerous. There are bears and timberwolves out here, you can get lost, if you get hurt it’s unlikely anypony will find you. If you hate the ape because it’s dangerous, shouldn’t you hate the forest?”
 
>To your surprise and dismay, that actually makes some sense.
>It takes you a little while to figure out why you don’t hate it.
 
“It’s not nearly as dangerous though.”
 
>”So you hate the forest, but only a little bit? Or are you just trying to justify your actions?”
 
>You can’t help but drop your jaw.
>Did Pinkie just imply you’d done something wrong?
>And why can’t you seem to come up with a good answer?
 
…
 
>Is she right?
>It’s not like you’ve been a paragon of tolerance and peace lately.
 
“Why do YOU think I hate it? The ape, I mean.”
 
>”Same reason as why half of ponyville hates Granny Smith now. Same reason as why they raided your home to get at Spike. Don’t worry, he’s fine. Dragon and all that. You’re scared, Twilight. This is what fear does to ponies. Myself included. Knowing this doesn’t stop it from being true. Well, this should be far enough.”
 
>Without ceremony, Pinkie sits herself under a tree.
>You see nothing special about this tree. It’s much like any other in the woods.
>You see no home of any sort here, not even a tent.
 
“Is this where you live now?”
 
>”No. There’s a small shack a bit of a ways from here where I live. Luna set it up for me to tinker with the ape’s stuff. That’s why I don’t live at Sugarcube corner anymore, I don’t work there. Sadly.”
 
“But you loved that place!”
 
>”Yeah… this is important though. Well, was important. I’m not sure now. That doesn’t matter right now though. What did you want to talk about?”
 
“Why here? Why not at your home?”
 
>”You said you wanted to talk in private, right? That place is full of eyes and ears. They watch me sleep, no chance they wouldn’t listen in on us.”
 
“Wow. We really need to catch up. But that’ll have to wait a bit longer. How do you do it?”
 
>”Hm?”
 
“Things have been complicated for me lately, and now I have a new perspective on life. Suddenly a lot of the things you say and do make a lot more sense.”
 
>”I don’t like where this is going.”
 
“You said you’d never smiled before you saw Dash’s rainboom, right? How old were you? Ten?”
 
>”Yeah…”
 
“And now you do everything you can to make others happy. To make them laugh. You appreciate a smile more than anypony else I’ve ever seen. You can’t appreciate something properly if you don’t know what it’s like to be without it. You know what true misery is, don’t you.”
 
>She closes her eyes and nods slowly.
>She lets out a long, pained sigh.
 
>”Yup. Who did you lose?”
 
>Again, the question catches you off guard.
>You’re not sure how she knew.
>Perhaps you’re letting on more than you intended?
 
“Princess Celestia.”
 
>”The rumours were true then? I’m sorry for that, Twilight. I really am. I don’t understand what she meant to you, but I know it was a lot. You want to know how I stay cheerful, then?”
 
“Yeah…”
 
>”Well, sometimes I don’t. You can’t escape suffering, Twilight. You can’t get away from pain. It’s part of life.”
 
“Why live?”
 
>”Life is about what happens between the pain. Don’t focus on tragedy. Instead, focus on the good. A cold glass of cola. Hot cookies. Breakfast pancakes. Candy floss. Hot sauce toffee. You know, the little things.”
 
“If you had to apply that on a national scale, how would you do it?”
 
>”What do you mean?”
 
“Well, Princess Celestia’s dead. Luna’s missing. Cadance is the ruler of the Crystal Empire, and not an Equestrian princess. Technically I’m in charge of Equestria. All of it.”
 
>A creepy smile starts to grow on her face.
 
“I want to try and keep spirits high. It won’t be easy. We can’t pretend that Celestia’s alive forever, and everypony will be crushed when they learn.”
 
>It keeps growing.
>Well beyond pony norms, it has become a caricature of a smile.
 
“I think I need your help with this.”
 
>”Twilight, I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life.”
 
>And there you see it.
>True joy.
>Not at the thought of the self, but for what she may do for others.
>Maybe you were wrong about ponies.
>Or rather, maybe you were right the first time?
>You need to know more.
 
“I need to go talk to some others. Could you start thinking about what to do?”
 
>”I couldn’t not.”
 
>”Yup. Who did you lose?”
 
>Again, the question catches you off guard.
>You’re not sure how she knew.
>Perhaps you’re letting on more than you intended?
 
“Princess Celestia.”
 
>”The rumours were true then? I’m sorry for that, Twilight. I really am. I don’t understand what she meant to you, but I know it was a lot. You want to know how I stay cheerful, then?”
 
“Yeah…”
 
>”Well, sometimes I don’t. You can’t escape suffering, Twilight. You can’t get away from pain. It’s part of life.”
 
“Why live?”
 
>”Life is about what happens between the pain. Don’t focus on tragedy. Instead, focus on the good. A cold glass of cola. Hot cookies. Breakfast pancakes. Candy floss. Hot sauce toffee. You know, the little things.”
 
“If you had to apply that on a national scale, how would you do it?”
 
>”What do you mean?”
 
“Well, Princess Celestia’s dead. Luna’s missing. Cadance is the ruler of the Crystal Empire, and not an Equestrian princess. Technically I’m in charge of Equestria. All of it.”
 
>A creepy smile starts to grow on her face.
 
“I want to try and keep spirits high. It won’t be easy. We can’t pretend that Celestia’s alive forever, and everypony will be crushed when they learn.”
 
>It keeps growing.
>Well beyond pony norms, it has become a caricature of a smile.
 
“I think I need your help with this.”
 
>”Twilight, I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life.”
 
>And there you see it.
>True joy.
>Not at the thought of the self, but for what she may do for others.
>Maybe you were wrong about ponies.
>Or rather, maybe you were right the first time?
>You need to know more.
 
“I need to go talk to some others. Could you start thinking about what to do?”
 
>”I couldn’t not.”
 
 
>You are Rarity.
>You are firmly gripping your shears.
>There’s somepony prowling around near your boutique.
>Who?
>You’re not sure.
>But you have a bad feeling about them.
>Ever since ponies found out you didn’t hate the new Spike, well…
>You’re being lumped in with them.
>The ‘Heartless’ as they’re called.
>Or Zaius’ chosen.
>You despise the former.
>And dislike the latter.
>Mostly because Spike says that Zaius isn’t his name, and that everypony’s saying it wrong anyway.
>You’re not entirely sure how the name of its homeland got out, but you don’t care about that right now.
>What matters is that they’re banging on your front door.
>You just keep pretending you’re not home.
>If they kick it down, you’ll pounce and plunge the shears in their neck.
 
>”AUGH! Rarity, I know you’re in there!”
 
“Twilight?”
 
>That changes everything!
 
“Okay, umm, step back from the door and I’ll open it!”
 
>You hear a frustrated groan followed by heavy hoofsteps.
>You poke your nose up and peer through the window.
>It’s Twilight, no doubt about that.
>You drop your sheers and open the door.
 
“Quick! Hurry in before anypony else comes by!”
 
>She teleports in.
>And you’re reminded that the locked door was never a meaningful barrier.
>Suddenly you feel VERY insecure.
>You close the apparently useless door.
 
“Why didn’t you do that in the first place? If I may be so bold as to ask.”
 
>”It’d be really rude. Besides, you would have stabbed me, right?”
 
“My stars! I’d never hurt you, Twilight!”
 
>”Then why were you hiding by the door with a deadly weapon in hoof?”
 
>How did…
>Did she see that?
 
>”The entire storefront is a display window. Everypony can see you.”
 
>You can immediately feel a blush forming.
 
“Oh. Umm… I didn’t know it was you, Twilight! Please don’t think I’d EVER try to do you harm!”
 
>”Don’t worry. I believe you. Can we go in a bit further? We need to talk, and I don’t want to be overheard.”
 
>You’re duly amazed that she’d forget your appalling behaviour so readily.
>Perhaps her time at the front has inured her to such things?
>You lead her to the dining room.
 
“May I offer you some tea?”
 
>”No thanks. I can’t stay that long. Way too much stuff to do.”
 
>She sits at the table before using her magic to pull a chair out for you.
>Proper decorum would have been to-
>No, no. She’s trying.
>You shan’t harp on her for that mistake.
>Even if a PRINCESS should know better.
>You graciously take the seat.
 
>“I’m trying to understand ponies. You don’t fit my current model.”
 
“I’m… uncertain how to respond to that.”
 
>”With honesty, I hope. Hrm. That’s another piece that doesn’t fit. Now’s probably not a good time though. I had a recent… revelation on the nature of ponies. And now that I’m the sole ruler of Equestria it’s very important that I understand how ponies think.”
 
“I’m sorry, sole ruler?”
 
>”Princess Celestia’s dead, and Luna’s missing.”
 
>You can feel your face growing pale.
>Paler.
>Celestia. Dead?
>It can’t possibly be!
 
“Please, Twilight! You musn’t jest about such things!”
 
>You can hear the pleading and desperation in your own voice.
 
>“You were there. You saw her. It’s only gotten worse. Please, focus. It falls on me to lead Equestria, and I don’t like what I see. Ponyville’s a shadow of its former self. I think all of Equestria’s going to follow.”
 
>Celestia.
>Dead.
>And all of Equestria’s going to be like the madness beyond your walls?
 
>”We’re told that ponies are peace loving creatures. That we’re friendly, kind, honest, loyal… you know the list. I suppose it’s true after a fashion. But first and foremost we are self serving.”
 
“Twilight, I’m sorry, but I’ve no clue what you’re talking about.”
 
>You’re lost.
>Perplexed.
>And most of all worried.
 
>”I learned something about myself. Looked deep inside, and do you know what I saw? A selfish, violent, hateful wretch. I suppose it’s a bit presumptuous to say that everypony’s like that, but since basically everypony that’s walked the path I stumbled onto turned out to be awful, I think it’s a fair bet.
 
>You’re so confused.
>It almost sounds like she’s lumping herself in with Sombra!
 
“What happened?”
 
>”I fumbled. Dropped all pretense of doing the right thing for just a few seconds. It was abundantly clear that that’s what I was meant to do. It felt so RIGHT.”
 
>Her breathing quickens.
>Her eyes grow wide.
>You can see her tremble with excitement.
>Then three deep breaths.
>And she’s back to normal.
>You have no idea what that was, but it’s certainly worrying.
 
>”It felt right, but it’s wrong. We’re meant to be a small herd. We’re meant to protect our herd and grow it, and damn the consequences. It’s our nature. And it turns ugly fast. When I learned that Princess Celestia was editing our history books, I was shocked.”
 
>Twilight is leaning back in her seat so lackadaisically.
>Not a care in the world as she accuses THE PRINCESS of censorship.
 
“She did what now?”
 
>”But it all makes sense now. Equestria is built on a lie, and she was trying to maintain it. She dreamt of a world where everyone was part of the same in group. Where we all pretended we were the same herd. Where everyone was considered a friend or family member. Where pony and non-pony alike would love and respect each other. Not because any of this is true, or even makes sense. But if she could convince us it was? We’d be tripping over ourselves for the chance to help others. She wanted it because it would lead to peace, harmony, and prosperity.”
 
“I’m sorry Twilight, but I don’t follow. What are you going on about?”
 
>”Say Sweetie Belle was an adult. She couldn’t find work. She was out on the streets, cold and alone. I don’t even need to ask what you’d do. Damn near everypony would do the same for their family.”
 
>A revolting hypothetical.
>And such crude language!
 
>”Say you saw a beggar in the streets in the exact same situation. Only meaningful difference is they’re not related to you. What do you do?”
 
“Oh, that’s easy. I direct them to one of the shelters I donate to. I can’t let them into my home, Twilight. They might be dangerous!”
 
>”Yeah, yeah. You’re doing the right thing. But how many ponies would just pretend they didn’t see anything? You’re a freak, Rarity. And that’s a good thing. We could use more freaks. Tell me. Why are you so generous? Why do you give freely to strangers?”
 
“I can't say. It's simply who I am.”
 
>She scowls, clearly not satisfied with your answer.
>You can't help but notice her eyelid twitching.
 
>”Well, we're going to have to have fun finding out, aren’t we?”
 
 
>You are Anonymous.
>You are frustrated.
>All of your experiments with the strange force, the ‘horse power’ as you've started calling it, are failing.
>In some ways that's not bad. Data is data.
>But you need a breakthrough of some sort.
>You still have no working hypothesis on how it works, and no results from your tests.
>All you've got is ways to interfere with it, courtesy of lizard bro.
>And while it's nice to have options should another space clam attack, you want more.
>You want to use it yourself.
>Perhaps if you were to try-
 
>”I can't do it.”
 
>Translated horse words reach your ears.
>You probably weren't meant to hear them, but you've been keeping a close eye on the black one.
>Listening in on her failed attempts, groans of frustration, and occasional cursing has been an annoying distraction.
>Even though your body is no longer on that planet, you don't intend to leave her near your stuff unsurprised.
 
>”I'm sorry, Tia. I can't. I don't get it. I don't understand any of this.”
 
>You check one of the many cameras trained on her.
>You're unaccustomed to their faces and have a great deal of difficulty reading them, but even so one quick glance speaks volumes.
>Downcast unfocused eyes, sagging lips, relaxed facial muscles…
>She's beyond depressed.
>Perhaps she knows you’re watching and is trying to garner sympathy?
>She lets out a deep, morose sigh before standing.
>She slowly walks away from the small heap of ruined electronics she’d made, leaving your ‘bots to remove the worthless circuits and faulty servos.
>She looks up to the top of your dome, bathing her face in the harsh artificial lighting.
>Her eyes are reddened.
>Moisture dots her face.
>Has she been crying?
>Does that mean the same thing for them?
 
>”What was I thinking. Me? Do something right? Not without you.”
 
>A quick search of their literature suggests it does.
>She pushes past a thick cloud of robots as they hurry to supply your motor assembly.
>And she walks toward IT.
>A dull grey half meter tall cube.
>All that’s left of her sister.
>You order your bots to pull away from it, and give her some space.
 
>”Can you hear me? No, no I suppose you can’t. You don’t have ears.”
 
>Inside that cube resides most of a brain, a few cybernetic components, and a hell of a lot of life support.
>You’d brought it in relatively early on, expecting her to have finished up by now.
>Nearly a week later and she has nothing to show for her efforts.
>Save for a bunch of scrap.
>She cuddles up against the box.
 
>”You’re cold. Let me warm you up.”
 
>You object to that!
>She’s not cold.
>The internal temperature is perfectly regulated.
>PERFECTLY!
 
>”I know how much you hate the cold.”
 
>She drapes her wings over the box as she lay next to it.
>You’re almost certain now that she’s just putting on a show.
>But there’s an easy way to check.
>Her brain is still chock full of your probes.
>A quick readout says…
 
 
“Oh.”
 
>There’s basically no serotonin there.
>Dopamine levels are a joke.
>You’re not entirely sure how she’s functioning.
>But that’s not really your problem.
>Why should you care for her suffering?
>It’s not like you owe her anything.
>And the horses have caused you plenty of trouble.
>Besides.
>You’ve already bent over backwards to help them.
>You can’t ever go home because of them.
>It’s not your fault she’s too stupid to grasp basic robotics.
>You even gave her the blueprints!
 
>”I’m trying, but I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can bring you back. Don’t worry though, we’ll be together again soon. One way or another.”
 
…
 
>Damn.
>Damn you and your pity.
>You WERE going to test cascade effects on energy buildup to see if you could use multiple gems to power a single action.
>But now it looks like you’ve got to clear your schedule.
>You divert one of your bots to go and ‘talk’ to her.
>Not that it’s necessary, you don’t need to have anything macroscopic anywhere near them to talk to them.
>But you’ve noticed that she’s uncomfortable talking to ‘thin air’.
>What to say…
>You probably shouldn’t come out and say you were spying on her.
>Or that you still have brain probes active.
 
“How’s it going? Getting close?”
 
>She scrambles to her fee- hooves and takes a few steps away from the cube.
>You don’t need brain probes to tell you she’s embarrased.
>And so she should be.
>She’s basically talking to a brain in a jar.
 
>”Umm, ahem, not too great? I’m sorry, I know you want me gone, but I’m trying. Please just give me a little more time! I can do this! I just need a little longer!”
 
>She’s bowing.
>Groveling really.
>She thinks you’re getting impatient. That you want her out of your sanctuary. That you’re going to pull the plug if she doesn’t finish up soon.
>Two out of three isn’t bad.
>You had a different plan to speed things up though.
 
“Do you need help? I can walk you through the process.”
 
>”Truely? You’d lend a hoof?”
 
>Hoof.
 
“Yes. But you owe me another one. We’ll start with the frame. Come along, you’re going to learn how to weld.”