Catalyst 2.0: Love

>Gilda stood before the cop with the sweetest, brightest smile she could muster.  She could see that his armaments were primed.  Little good it would have done him; she'd been hit by shock gel before, and the last time, it had only pissed her off.  She didn't mind it a bit- it meant the little facade of clothing she'd put forth was quite effective.
>Though she had to admit, after wearing the Firmware's coat, she felt like the new leather was a downgrade.
>The officer peered past her, the three stallions behind in the alley eying her with half-lidded scowls.  Gilda turned her head, looking toward them with a single, focused eye.  She gave a wink toward them.  Another convenient lie.
>She'd sent a little explanation.  A little authorization.  Offered a little cash from a private reserve she'd always kept aside for things like this.  He'd replied to her what's and why's just as she had told him.  Deep in the interface, silent, and visual.  And to her surprise, he'd not only refused.
>He played along.
>”Do you want help?” he asked.
>Yeah, she thought. As if she would be actually afraid of these guys.
>”Oh no.  We're just out having a little fun is all.”  She sent him another contradictory message through the private link she'd established with him.
>as long as you can keep folks away from what I'm about to do to these guys, you won't have any trouble.
>The officer nodded.  “Well, you seem sober enough.” he said.  “Don't take too long, things can get rough.”
>”... I think I'll take you up on that warning.” She smiled.
>She turned, and with little more than a glance back, the blue-clad, helmeted stallion rejoined his fellow, and they slowly resumed their patrol.  Gilda turned, the delicate smile only broadening.
>Oh, the things she could do.  So many, wondrous, terrible things.  Eyes and hands of authority, turned blind thanks to the atrocities they had missed when they had sight. She liked to think the officers were smiling appreciatively in their helmets, but she knew better.
>They weren't the kind to draw such enjoyment from a soldier, a murderer, a brute like her.  The lack of intervention between evils that would destroy themselves, after all, did just as much good in their minds as stopping the evils in the first place.  And all THEY had to do, was nothing.
>Gilda mulled to herself as she began to return to her tracked prey, her identity sniped victims for the night, that she should feel awful for her intent.  She really, really should have, she thought.
>Maybe later.  But probably not.
–
>”I hope your reason for this is valid, Twilight.”  The shimmering, gold-laced creature regarded her with carefully tuned words.  “To allow such a sudden leave for somep0ny so key... It isn't like you.”
>”I'm sorry princess.” Twilight replied.  She was nervous, yes.  Perhaps even frightened.  “but such a delay is... I, mean, what happened.  It's of such a personal security breach I couldn't simply-”
>Celestia, in all the golden trim of the days since Twilight had known her, simply nodded.  “I'm not saying it because I see it as uncouth to the politics, Twilight.  I'm merely worried your reaction will invalidate your position to the others.”
>”I... I don't think that's the case.”
>”Not on a personal level.” Celestia replied.  The wide open chamber echoed with their voices, and Twilight's pacing.  “You, as an individual, have done exactly what I would hope.”  She sighed. “but, this is not about your own personal feelings.  I can promise, no other p0ny will disagree with you in private about what you should have done, especially over your friends.  But, they are not here for matters that are private.”
>”I know.” Twilight said.  The circular room was twice that of her own office.  Granite, polished and no visible wearing, despite how often traversed, was embedded with gold.  It had been a long time since she'd consciously been atop such material and able to focus upon it, without a real intent.
>She walked about the room.  Tables, lit by moonlight and beneath the tall glassless windows, were littered with knicknacks.  A collection of personally important things, none of any real monetary value, were spread in no sparse jumble.  “How could I do anything else, though?  How could I just let something so... awful, just...”
>Twilight stopped.  She spied a small cube, made of wood.  Into it, there were loftily drawn patterns.  Bright colors against mahogany, they at first seemed to be floating against the table made of the same wood.  When she came to it, she sat before it.
>Rendered speechless then, she lifted a hoof to drag across it's surface.  Even through the heel of her bodysuit, she could feel the demure elevations of the patterns.  “you... You kept this?” she asked, barely able to breathe.
>Celestia did not reply.  She sat at her throne, closing her eyes, and lowered her head.  “Twilight... You once asked me, when you were still just a filly.  'What is eternity like, Princess?”
>Twilight lifted the top half of the box.  The emblazoned, pink butterflies split apart.  Inside, a cylinder wound against cloth.  Magically bound, she knew, the odd curvatures dragged against the custom made cloth.
>She knew, because she'd combined the pieces into the music box.  A tree, the only one of it's kind, from old apple acres.  Infused silk, from Rarity's shop.  The music began to hum, the pure wind from Rainbow's captured cloud pushing between the fibers to form the sound.  The inner patterns, of course, had been done by Pinkie.  And the song...
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHK1vmyC-xw )
>She used to hum it to her animals, when she was sad.  When she knew they still needed comfort.  When she didn't think she could offer it, yet, still had her voice to soothe them.
>It drifted, whispering across the room in a magical flow.
>”It's just like I suspect any other life is, Twilight.”
>The violet pony sat before the box, watching the silk shiver.
>”I need not children, for the kingdom itself is like my daughter.”
>”I don't understand.” Twilight responded.
>”How could you?  You have age to worry you.” Celestia remained still. “The daughter I see growing is Equestria itself.  I see it do things, I see it learn, and change.  I see it grow, Twilight, and all I can hope to do is be a good mother to it.”
>black ooze.  Her rolling eyes, the sizzling puddle as she collapsed.  The look on Fluttershy's face would never leave her, Twilight knew.
>”But that means I must see it's mistakes.  I do not know to which direction it will lean- if it will embrace the life of peace and joy I have so desperately tried to impart upon it.  Or, if it will be yet another place from which a future, loving society will look upon with nightmarish fear.  In seeing Equestria grow, Twilight, I am forced to watch how it acts.  And now, she has reached an age in which I can teach her little.”
>Twilight shivered where she sat.  She was listening, of course, but her mind was split.  Pure, unrestrained musical notes seemed to ripple through the tapestries around her.
>”What you have created in the 'digital' has given a means to a grand changing of thought.  Of wonderful revolution.  Even with all the magic at my disposal, I never dreamed of the things I can see now, simply by looking out my window.”
>”But they're just tools, Princess.  Ways to make our lives easier.  Allow us to focus on what really matters- the harmony we've tried so hard to maintain.”
>”There is something you must respect.  You have formed Equestria into what it is today.  When you created that certain somep0ny, you gave to the world a new form of life.  It was stoic, though, and as you said, like a tool.  The digital, was meant to be without emotion.  Without soul.  It was meant to be efficient.”
>”He is the precise antithesis of that.  You don't really believe that HE lacks a soul?”
>”It isn't me you have to convince, Twilight.”
>The music continued on the breeze in the chamber, Twilight's posture wilting.  She suffered tears, though they did not manage to leave her eyes.
>”The instant the digital became real, his soulless efficiency rendered him separate from the elements of harmony.  To this end, he was completely, and entirely free. That means he may very well turn to into something utterly wicked, all thanks to the mistakes of his sister, Equestria. While I'm glad he grew around such caring p0nies, well...
>Whatever direction he goes, will be entirely up to him and what Equestria does to nurture it.  And you will be forced to watch, as I do.”
>Twilight shook her head.  Back and forth, the pain was only in her mind.
>”Eternity, Twilight, is merely life, on a scale so grand I could not possibly submit you to it.  I do not know if what I have tried to cultivate in my infusion of the elements will persist.  I can only watch.  I can only smile, or mourn, as I am bound by my love for that child.  I could never allow myself to truly harm her.  That's the test of virtue's you face, I fear.  Not your own for you know how you would act in the positions he would be put in. He, however, shows the world the face of the digital through his actions.”
>Twilight began to sob where she sat.  She just looked at the music box, the wavering view caused by tears tempered by the sharp, perfect clarity of her idle AR vision.
>”I wish I could impart upon him the Elements, or at least an understanding of them.  I cannot.  He is free.”
>”He...” Twilight growled the words to herself. “He would NEVER, do anything evil.  Not without reason.  Not without provocation.  He may not hold magic or the elements, but he is a kind and wonderful soul!”
>Celestia hesitated. “Twilight Sparkle... My Prized student...  With all he has done, the fact he loves our world is so well known to those with wise eyes. With his importance, his spirit and free will, what is it you think these evils have been trying to corrupt?”
–
>Gilda stood atop the stallion with a simper.  Her claw held his muzzle shut, her eyes wide open, heartlessly staring downward.  He was struggling, fruitlessly, in her grip.  Spit from his muffled cries greased her palm.  Her claws dug millimeters into his flesh, bloody trails oozing to form black-red pools around the metal ground past his head.
>She was absolutely still.  His friends, cut, bruised, and bleeding, laid motionless in the alleyway.  Holes in their body suits led to flesh, and the flesh led to deep, glistening gouges.  Gilda lifted her other claw, her sudden, jerky, yet accurate movements giving her avian neck an exercise as she wiggled her freshly bloodied talons.
>”You know,” she said.  “I had sooooo much trouble learning the pony language.” she said.  “Only had what I learned from a friend in flight school.  Maybe you heard of her?  … Nah.  You're not the history buff type, huh?”
>She'd snipped tendons in his legs.  Expert knowledge, plenty of practice.  It had not felt different than the first time she'd used it on those changeling fucks.  Only this time, it had such a wonderful personal flavor.  The way he wriggled, helplessly, simply set her heart fluttering.
>”It was all just one word.” she said.  “It took so damn long for me to understand it.  I'm just now coming to realize what it really is; everytime I've talked, I've danced away from the term.  You know why?”
>He tried to cough.  He heaved into her claw, dryly.
>”Lemme give you a little detail.” she said.  “see, I had a mate, once.  That's where my confusion came from- that word.  Mate.”
>She dragged her free claws along his belly.  The talons split the bodysuit, and perforated his skin in a long, quiet slash.  She let them continue, along the curvature of his muscles and bone.  She lifted in one quick swipe, sending a strip of ruined thermal cloth floating away.
>”Didn't think nothing of it, cause I didn't know the word at the time.  Then the purge hit.”  She counted off on her talons, extending them from a fist. “One little, two little, three little eggs, smashed before my eyes.  And not once did I acknowledge I cared.  I got back at them, though. Oh boy, did I ever.”
>She drew crimson patterns on his neck.  She felt him swallow what little air he had while he wept noiselessly beneath her.
>”I had to join up with ponies to do it.  So I had to learn the language for real, of course.  Then, when I realized the definition of the word, I realized why I so wanted to murder those faceless black-coated FUCKS.”
>She tugged his muzzle down and leaned, tilting her beak further along her throat to look into his crying eyes.  “See, those p0nies had things they called compassion.  Things they called loyalty, things they called honesty and kindness.  And they got so much strength from all those things.  I watched a single pony rip hundreds of them to shreds, for the sake of her friends.  For their goddamn virtues.  Even griffons have to respect things that can give such unrelenting will to kill an evil, parasitic bitch, no matter the cost to their own lives.  But even then, I still didn't understand the word.”
>She rummaged around with her razor sharp talons, below the waist of the stallions bodysuit.  He opened his eyes wide, his torso feebly trying to use it's weight to pry from her other claw's grip.  He knew what was coming.
>”Funny.  My mate said the same thing when I did it to him.  You know, it's still a matriarchy back where I'm from.  The girls TAKE what they want out of the boys.  We have a word for... well, this,” she squeezed.  Hard. “But not what the p0nies called it.  And they were so much NICER with it, it was always consentual.”
>Surprised at his own bodies reaction, snot and saliva dried and replenished out of his mouth.  She continued working on him while she spoke.
>”We can, too.  It's just a physical response, after all.  My mate said it was kind of like broken glass leaving him.” She grinned.  “Later he added it was half melted metal splinters mixed in.  Gotta enjoy the imagery, huh?”
>His struggling was reaching a crescendo.  He knew what was coming.  She clutched at his face, slicing long strips of flesh as her claws moved against his cheeks.
>”See, that word, that thing I fought with such rage and hate and blind goddamn devotion to try and get back even though I knew I never would? The thing guys like you don't ever actually realize exists when you break legs and beat women in front of their men?”
>Gilda grinned.  His body was prepared, weather or not he wanted it to be, so she took to unzipping the lower half of the thermal weave beneath her crimson spattered leather jacket.
>”Well, we griffons don't have a word for love.  And for guys like you, that don't seem to think it needs to be respected, this seems like a fine way to exercise the idea.”
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