Catalyst 2.0: The Tower (pt. 2, complete)

>The moment the elevator doors opened, you heard verbal jabs of no weak countenance.  Trading between voices you knew as familiar, a tactless, gravely woman was being eclipsed by that of a healthier mare.  Arguments were sliced away with an angry, implacable precision.
>The office door, elaborate and heavy, was cracked halfway open.  Lines of guards to either side, every head turned to your smaller, weaker frame.  You walked past the, little in terms of care or worry afforded them, even as they began to peer between one another.  Your presence, so it would seem, was entirely unwelcome as such an apparently critical moment.
>Yet, they did not stop you.
>As you first peered inside, a strange mare stood.  Clad in tight black, a pink mane drifted past her chin to frame dully violet eyes.  She regarded you with only an up and down glance, closing her eyes and shunning your own gaze.  She recognized you, it would seem, and was not elated with your presence in such a place at such a time.
>You came across an unbuckled white container. Square and colored with consecutively thinning lines, it had split down the center and unfolded into several small trays.  They held a number of sharp looking devices, gauze, and plastic tubes containing fluids unfamiliar.
>Past it stood Gilda, her body bare and slouched.  What you assumed was her clothing rested in a crumple on the floor nearby.  A small crowd of white-clad p0nies tenderly observed her, hovering items they pressed to her that hissed.  Wires and bands hooked to her, small holographic monitors linked to displays.
“Are you alright? What happened?”
>Your voice having stabbed a lull, the energy of the room was promptly murdered.  Every eye turned to regard you, and the world within the office froze for the announcement of your arrival.  You were unabashed in your honest concern.
>Then Gilda shook her head.  She laughed, though it seemed to hurt her.  “You went and made a mistake again.” she said to you, wheezing as she was injected.
“What? Why?”
>Gilda looked back to Twilight.  “You showed up.”
>You turn to look back at the purple p0ny.  She turns away after a wicked, frozen glare.  You approach.
“I'm taking it things didn't go so well.”
>”Not at all.  Gilda got just what we needed. More than that, even.” Looking outside her window, she remained quietly, cruelly still.
>You peered outside, standing by her.  What you had done, you did not fathom.  What she had, you were about to learn.
>”Why didn't you tell me you were copied?” she asked you.
>Fear became tangible in the form of flavorful, bitter air.  Your jaw locked, and you looked down at the ground.
“I didn't know, at first.”
>”At first?” the words left her as if slowly drawn across a razor, allowed to ooze free from a painful red line.
“I thought I was me.  You can see how I might believe thinking like myself was irrelevant.”
>She grunted.  “Well it's not.  You understand? Do you have any idea the kind of standard this has started? The kind of things that need to be considered now?”  She didn't dare allow herself to look you in the eyes.  She enjoyed her uninterrupted explanations, and inspiring her further would surely only incur wrath.
>”Finding Nightmare was a needle in a haystack.” she said.  “But at least we had leads.  Now, we have to contend with the idea there are copies of her.  Old copies of Chrysalis.”
“If that were true, don't you think you would have found at least one of them by now?”
>”They're vain enough to isolate themselves, that's true. But they aren't stupid, and they knew perfectly well how to hide.”  She started to walk toward her desk.  Her horn glowed, booting the system from afar.  “So it would seem, you did as well.  Even from us.”
>You turn to watch her walk.  You glance back at Gilda, whom grunts as the medics fiddle with a gelatinous tumor upon her chest.
“If I could have come back in any other way, at any other time, I would have.”
>”So why didn't you then?”
>You shake your head.
“I don't know.  It's fragmented.”
>”Convenient.” Twilight said.
>Gilda replied.  She had to stop between every few words, her breath singed and haggard.  “Did you ever stop to think that he's telling the truth?” she said.  The exhalation from her beak whistled faintly.  “He never really had the capacity to lie about you girls.  Don't think he ever shut up about that Rarity chick, when we weren't fighting.”
>”Doesn't mean a single important thing.”  Twilight took a seat, and folded her forelegs atop the desk.  “I've had a lot of time to think.  To research.  To study the old data about you.  What Gilda said she's done, what I had to do to get her back here... Well, it only confirms a lot of very black, dangerous things.  All of it, centered on things just coming to light about you.”
“Twilight... I never, ever intended to be... Whatever I am.  I'm only trying to live with everyone taking advantage of it.”
>She slumped into the chair, and stared at the ceiling.  “Rainbow is still alive.”
>The name.  A lush terror rustled in your gut, and for a time, you find yourself incapable of breath.  Only when it begins to hurt, do you remind yourself of it's necessity.
>”She was copied.  Just like you.  Where Luna got her, I don't know, but I think it was from the old Ebon Pegasi research mainframes.”
>You remembered Rainbow.  You remembered she'd died during the purge. But, who were the Ebon Pegasi?  You kept the idea inside.  You let it skitter about, though caged, muzzled, and hungry.
>”We have to find a way to contact her.  We can't just let her fade- we'll need her, to understand the depth of what the copying process does.”
>You take a long drag of air.
“It feels horrible, doesn't it?”
>”What?”
“That moment of realization.  The instant you realize, someone close to you is nothing more than a jumble of math on a chip the size of bottlecap.”
>Twilight hung her head, hooves in her lap.
“But at least you acknowledged me as something alive.”
>”I never said such a thing.”
“Yeah.  You never said otherwise, either.  You didn't even say a damn thing about me, even though, according to you, I was copied by Luna.  Just like Rainbow.”
>You didn't want to admit it like this.  But what other option did you have?
“all the methods are locked away and scattered, but they're all at least in the same place.”
>You tapped the side of your head.  Draping you with visible scorn, she snorted and looked away in disgust.  “I made a promise to Rarity.  I wouldn't do a damn thing to you, all for the sake of ignorant comfort.  Now you're suddenly changing your mind? Why should I even bother to go back on my word?  For whose sake, should I open yet another can of worms?”
“My daughter's.  That's the only reason I'm here.”
>Holographic screens lit up her desk.  Though she tried to hide behind them, she watched you through the intangible surfaces just the same.  Her own emotional shield of glowing, hovering colors, riddled with output screens, numbers, and passing monitors for personally tailored programs.
>Gilda laughed.  The eyes of the room fell upon her, and your disgust for her expression melted as she spoke.  “You know,” she said. “You weren't scared of getting shot up, blown up, burnt up, or any other neat way to die I could list off with all this shit they're pumping me full of.”  She gave you a smile with glazed eyes.  “But you were always terrified of screwing up.”
>She let out a low, shuddering gurgle.  “Never thought you'd grow a pair of nuts over a diva and a screaming kid.  Whatever.  Big sis is so proud.”
>With that, the closest medic began to yell.  He waved his fellows off.  She fell to the floor in a heap, a heavy thump announcing her collapse.
>Twilight used her forehooves to stand on the desk.  “What happened? What's wrong?”
>”Her lungs are damaged from the mercury intake. She isn't getting enough oxygen, and her vascular system is already messed up from the gel stitching in her chest wound.”  Deft movements over her frame, the medics started to clamor around the case for a reasonable remedy.  The obvious lead, pausing inexplicably, turned to Twilight.  “Should we save her?”
>Twilight, without any reasoning in your mind, hesitated.  She actually stopped, in order to consider her options.
>The unfamiliar, black-clad mare trotted around, trying to get different angles upon the scenario.  She was very obviously worried, though if it was from natural instinct in the proximity of a dying creature, or familiarity with Gilda, you had no idea.  You looked back from her, agape, toward Twilight.
“Should? SHOULD?!”
>Twilight gave no answer.  In that single frame of reality, you knew that the medics were not here by Gilda's ill requirement.  They were there by Twilight's orders.  And she had not given them the command to keep her alive past pumping her for information.
>The realization of such from the suited, orange mare had her stepping beside you.  Not knowing her, perhaps, made you appreciate her when she yelled.  “What the hell is wrong with you, Twilight?  She's going to die right here in your office!”
“This is how you reward people that work for you, Twilight?!”
>Pensively, she eyed the both of you.  “We can't lose any data she might still have.”  With a leaden sigh, she flopped carelessly back into her chair.  “Fit her with replacements if you can synthesize them.”
>The lead looked back to his fellows, and held his hoof aloft for them to stop.  “Ma'am? Replacements?”
>”Do it fast, but only so long as you do it well.” She said.  “I have an inquiry team set up for the Crystal Embassy.  She needs to be on that team.”
>”You really want to fit her with augments like that?”
>”Do.  Your.  Job.”
>He turned toward Gilda.  His horn started to glow, and another member had to intervene with his own levitation ability to lift the heavy, half-dead griffon.  They hovered her out of the office in no small sense of trepidation, leaving behind materials then unneeded, scattered about the area they had been attending her in.
>Both you and the unknown mare gawked at Twilight.  She met the looks with jaded, distant glances into her screens.  “Get out.” she said.  “I need to think.”
>As you began to leave, if only for the restraint of boiling anger that burnt the tips of your ears, she spoke.  “We're talking later.  Don't you dare think otherwise.”
>You barely heard her.  The warble in your ears, the sound of your own throbbing, furious heart, had very nearly strangled the words away.
>If there was anything Twilight Sparkle deserved at that moment, in a tower full of friends and armed guards willing to die for her, it was to be well and truly alone.
--
>You fumed.  Your words were a jumble of self-targeted, condescending fluidity, the sense of which was only made to your own mind.  You argued unreasonably with yourself, pacing before the couch of Rarity's penthouse room.  The white mare was forced to watch, her initial hope having been obviously for good, or at least palpable news.
>The fact you had little more than your own bubbling anger and the energy accompanying such simply made your own voice spew barely fathomable, unexpected hatreds.  Avoiding the words was impossible; they had been upon your lips the entire time, yet had gone unspoken for the respect you'd once had for the purple pony.  That barrier well and finely destroyed, Rarity remained aghast, and truly afraid at your flowing, consistent outburst.
>After all, she had never seen you in such reprehensible form.  Things were getting worse by the syllable, you knew, but there was nothing you had found then that could have stopped you.
>While you plunged your hooves into the soft carpet, the weight of your stomps melting into the material, it only frustrated you further. You couldn't even physically release what you were feeling, and had swallowed several screams because of it already.
>Twilight wasn't just disregarding you.  That, you could take; you had even, in some ways, grown accustomed to it.  You trusted that she had known more about your internal digital workings, and therefore, your thoughts, that you had once believed that in her intellect she would have made things better.  She knew more about you, than even you did.  Or, so you once believed.
>Now, her incitement of your anger had endangered the possibility of a solution to your plight. In so doing, it meant an unsuspecting, undeserving little filly- one of your own blood and brain- was going to be submitted further to her own unintentional delusions.
>Not to mention Gilda.
>If she couldn't be trusted with granting some leeway with a creature willing to toss herself into such fatal dangers, how could she be trusted with the very things she could completely manipulate? The ones she could literally collar and control?
>Rarity was trying to run interference. It was the solitary activity from another being in the entire tower that had managed to stop you from simply going berserk.  It was not just your own sake you were angry for, and you couldn't risk doing something dumb enough to ruin their chances, over your own.
>and the restraint had you shuddering, burning in your flesh.
>Why had you EVER trusted her, when she had such ability?
>”Darling, she has to prioritize.” Rarity said.  “There are a hundred things she could be doing, she can only solve one thing at a time, and this might be the one she needs to in order to even be able to get to the others.”
“Yeah, and none of what she's doing involves you, me, or Sweet Heart.”
>”That is being a bit selfish.”
“Selfish?  When I get to see a woman dying in front of her, and find out she never planned for her to survive in the first place?  That a risked life means nothing if it's unsavory?”
>You shake your head.
“To me, she just invalidated the purpose of so many beings I thought I could dare to respect.”
>”What?” Instantly even more concerned, Rarity walked toward you and blocked your path while you paced. She looked you dead on, and your glare cooled just enough to allow you jaded thought.  “Who, praytell?  That griffon?”
“Don't you start in on Gilda, too.”
>”Her history with us is not exactly pristine, Dear.”
“Yeah, and I was a great buffer for the things that happened with Chrysalis.”
>”You have no reason to throw yourself in with that... Monster.” She said.  Her hoof went under your chin, forcing you to look back at her from your sudden, half-hearted focus on the empty television. “You might have enabled it, but by Celestia, you most certainly had a very different purpose and by no means intended anything of what happened.” She bit her lip.  “Don't do something... Unlike you.”
>Heat built in your lungs. It escaped your nostrils in a fervid snort.
“All I want, is for Sweet Heart to be in a place where her she won't be threatened into doing things like I've had to.  I owe that to her.  I owe that to you.”
>”Owe? Darling,” she flicked her tail, and sat back. She cradled your chin with both hooves, lowering her head to look at you with perfect, frightened sapphires. “Please don't be mad when I say this, but... In every sense, you shouldn't even be here.  You should be dead.  You don't owe the world a single thing.  I can't even begin to imagine how you have coped this far.”
>You grunt.  Your eyes close, and a flood of black, bile glazed words slides back down your throat.
>She continues.  “But, here you are.” she said.  “You're trying to make things better, like you always did.  And...  And now I have to watch you...” her eyes watered in the sockets, the flesh of her pale cheeks trembling. “It's like it doesn't stop for you, and all I want to do is make it all go away.  But here I am, holding the stallion I thought was long gone, and I can't make it stop.  I can't even give my own daughter peace.”
>What she then said ruined your self-indulgent rage.
>”It isn't just you that's hoping that you'll do the right thing.”
>All you could manage was a tightly lipped, soundless stare.  Rarity, seeming to sense your urge to clutch at the furor, began to curl up.  You had to say something.  Anything.  So, you did the only thing you could think of.
>”Where are you going?” she asked. Her voice was a squeaky whimper, bringing you pause.  You turned to face her, and returned to touch your nose to hers.
“I have to see how Gilda is holding up.  If Twilight even lets me.”
>”Why would you ever care?”
“I have to do something.  And I can't be around like this when Sweet Heart is sleeping. She might pick up on files in my head neither of us wants her to.”
>”But...”
“I can't explain it, Rarity.  Literally.  All I know is that Gilda was there, the entire time.  She was saving my life, over and over, without concern for her own.  Maybe I can find out why SHE even cared, and why I'm even standing here having this conversation.”
>What followed, you didn't really believe.  Not as you passed the guards, nor the way the ivory mare you then further adored passed off her wishes to protect your sleeping daughter.  Not as you left for the cybernetics bay, with her by your side the entire time.  It felt uncomfortable and stupid, leaving Sweet Heart with an armed detail, but what was rendering more concern was what Rarity was doing.
>In all her pride, and what you had always perceived as vanity, she was whispering under her breath.  With what you could hear, you could only make out a few things.  One, was pondering what she would say to Twilight.
>The other, was rehearsal of thanking Gilda for all the terrible things she'd done for you.
--
>The Overlook.
>Empty chairs filled that poorly lit, dark place, and a circular walkway was tightly wound to the edges of the room-sized hole in it's center.  The world below was sealed off with metal and clear plastic, allowing the view to the events within.  You shuddered as you entered; Rarity, in wondering why, had a small epiphany of her own after inquiring.
>After all, you'd first been in that place when Rarity was getting several pieces of shredded spine removed.  The image of that gaping hole in her back was dulled little, as you brought yourself near Twilight to peer below.  Like a twisted replay of a time gone by, Gilda was upon her back, her chest splayed open like a chemistry school dissection.
>You first reaction was to wince and turn away. Rarity's was to close her eyes, and deny herself the sight.
>That strange orange mare, you finally noticed again.  She was in the room with the rest of you, circling the far side of the enclosure.  Her magenta eyes kept peering up between Twilight and down below, her worry belied from the speed of her pacing.
>When again you looked, you saw the room was emptied for Gilda's body.  The subtle, accurate movements of pointed robotic arms protruded from a ring that vertically encircled her, running the length of the bed.  They poked and prodded with sharp tweezers, sizzled and whirred with glowing tips on needle like fingers.  They moved over her, plucking away slimy looking bits from the inside of her flayed chest flesh.
>You tried to gather Twilight's attention.  It proved easier than you expected.  Was she controlling it, or merely watching it?
>”What?!” she exclaimed.
>Your ears flicked at first.  You gurgled up urge to step back at her tone, under the instant and powerful sensation that you had done something wrong.
>But no.  What you were going to say, at first in what you had expected to be a vain attempt at glossing your request, was split in twain.
“What the hell happened to you, Twilight?”
>Rarity, horrified, tried to pat a hoof against your shoulder.  You held it tight with your own, the foreleg crossed over your chest.
>”What is that supposed to mean?” Twilight scowled.
>You snort.
“You're standing over the split body of a woman that was ready to die to help your friends.  Friends who's pleas you're utterly ignoring for the sake of your own peace of mind.
What the fuck do you think it means, Twilight?”
>”Gilda deserves NO sympathy.”
“You're completely right about that.  But now that she's made the first move to try and do something at least better- and not just for herself.”
>”One thing. ONE, thing.  It doesn't repay a moment of what she did to this tower.”
“Most of the damage was my fault, Twilight.  Well, the chassis fault.”
>”And if we let her run free? She would have torn the place apart looking for you-”
“And your guards probably would have killed her like a cornered dog, had they gotten the chance.”
>Rarity came up closely beside you, nudging at you insistently.  You sighed, and shook your head.
>Twilight sneered, peering between the griffon below and you.  The arms were draping some sort of yellow, barely transparent material across Gilda's open-air cavity.  Rarity, finally, allowed you a moment of silence.
>”Twilight, dear... You've been acting strange, ever since he got back.  I... I don't know what to do.” she said.  “I'm watching the stallion I love, my daughter, my best friend...  I just want to know why.  I think we all would.”
>The arms began to buzz about, silenced by the thick panes of plastic.  A filtering hologram formed a square, blocking out the damaging light that would have burnt through, while still allowing observers to actually watch. It was forcibly adhering the film to her bones, forming a layer around it in an unfamiliar net, tightly encasing her ribs.
>What the hell was Twilight doing?
>The orange mare, still visibly worried, had taken her eyes off the griffon.  In her black body suit, she continued to pace, eyes shifting with the conversation.
>Twilight swallowed hard.  “Ever since the first defragmentation attempt, there's been a signal.”  She said.  “Right after the outburst.  Right after I put you in the first collar.”
>Rarity looked to you.  When you didn't respond, through confusion and ignorance, she remained otherwise silent.
>”It was an upload signal.  To you.”
>You put a hoof to the collar.  It remained hot; you had surmised such had been natural.  Rarity intervened, forcing you to stand up straight. “What is it sending?”
>”I don't know.  I found the signal a while back, but it was really well hidden.  It was encrypted on a level I didn't recognize, up until...” she sighed.  “Up until I got the LunaCorp. Codes.”
>The orange mare visibly stiffened. Were you the only one in that room watching her?
>”Why on Equestria would she be sending him codes?”
>”Kill codes.  Files.  Control codes. I have no idea.”  Twilight turned to look back down at the automated operating table.  “Keeping him collared was a failsafe, but... It was more than that, I guess.  I wanted to trust him again. How could I with that constant data stream?”
“The dream... Sweet Heart's been picking up on it.”
>”What?”
>Rarity's eyes widened gently, her thoughts lost for mere seconds.  She looked back to you, worry glazing those sapphires; when next she spoke, she had to swallow beforehand.  Even then, her voice still squaked.
>”Ever since he came back, my daughter... She's been having terrible nightmares.  He was going to talk to you about it, but you started arguing-”
“Gilda almost died. I think that warrants a little anger.”
>Twilight's jaw tightened.  “She IS dead.”
“What?! Then what are you-”
>She held up a hoof, then pointed down at the robotics.  You turned to watch, a tidy, straight scar sealing up Gilda's open chest.  “Doing something I really shouldn't.  Keeping her alive.” she said, shaking her head.
>A singular needle penetrated the griffon's throat.  A plunger depressed, filling an artery with a clear liquid; thick in appearance and slow to inject, the idea it had the consistency of peanut butter did you few favors in neglecting the imagined pain it would have induced.
>The moment the syringe left her throat, clean, shining, and empty, Gilda's eyes opened wide.  Her chest elevated as she gasped through her nostrils, her dilated pupils shooting back and forth in their sockets.
>The shuttled down to the bottom of the table, and Gilda rolled to sit.  She clutched at her chest, lifting her talons away to peer at the bloodless, immaculately healed wound.  She looked up, then around.  Her eyes met with the orange mare across you, followed by a wave.  She stumbled from the table, and as she did so, her movement elicited yet another sigh from the violet pony.
>”I'm sorry.” Twilight said.  “I just... with everything she told me and that signal I found, I couldn't let myself trust you.  And Rarity was so... Blinded, it was just-”
>You looked, fascinated and frightened, at Gilda down below.  When Rarity spoke, the words that passed her lips had you chilled to stillness. ”Blinded? Twilight, I've known things about him from the moment I saw him in the lot that even he doesn't realize.”
>”What? You knew he was-”
>”We lived with and loved each other for months before he died, Twilight.  I might not know the things he's done during the gap, but I know who and what he is.  And you can trust him.”
>”That's what I mean Rarity.” Twilight responded.  “He can be... modified.  Abused, programmed.”
>”Quite.” she said.  “And with everyp0ny trying, even you,” she looked up at you with the faintest of smiles, while the panic in your skull dissolved. “He's still got the same heart he left with.  Why haven't you recognized that yet?”
>She smiled up at you.
>Goddamnit, Rarity.
>”I...” Twilight flopped to her haunches.  “Ugh, I really don't need this now.”
>Below, Gilda was trying her claws at the door.  She was energetically shouldering it, a very far cry from what you'd expect out of a fresh surgery patient.  She finally turned and looked about the room, grumbling to herself in the mostly soundproof room.  She finally looked up and thumbed toward it over her shoulder, then gave a shrug and shake of her head.
>Twilight's horn glowed.  You saw something you couldn't recall about Gilda; the glow of AR visual overlays in her eyes.  Twilight spoke. “No.  The other door.  You need to be tested for stability.”
>Gilda gave a look to the side.  Then, a wide, vivacious smirk crossed her beak.  There was no serenity, in that bitch griffon's smile.
>”I've got to go head back to Canterlot.” Twilight said.  As Gilda made her way out of view, you felt a vibration through the floor.  An opening door.
>”Whatever for?” Rarity asked.
>”Cadence's illness has gotten worse.  She hasn't been able to attend any of her responsibilities for days, and my brother is at his wit's end because of it.  I've got to go and do something, or tempers are going to boil and there's going to be a lot of damage to the nations relationships.”
>”You're no politician, Darling.  Should I help?”
>Twilight shook her head. “No.  I'm going to offer up Gilda as a witness.”
“What? She just got out of surgery, she shouldn't even be moving.”
>Twilight glared. “The situation with the Crystal kingdom right now is... Well, calling it “thin ice” is nothing short of a miraculously uninformed understatement.  We have the only worthwhile survivor of the entire event.  Besides...”
>Gilda came back into view.  What you saw had you stepping back, taking a deep, almost angry breath.
>She was wearing one of the chassis violet coats, the Firmware's emblem on her flank.  The white undersuit crept up to cradle her neck in cloth of odd visual sheen, a perfect cutout forming around the edges of the violet uplink in the back of her neck.  Gilda played with the white, hooked gloves that left her talons bare, her palms and the back of her claws covered.
>Her lungs, you realized, were no longer natural.  The film you saw, the sudden scarring of tissue.  The way she was moving, so naturally and powerfully straight from the operating table.
>The most physically dangerous woman you'd ever met, and ever fought alongside or against, now had fully fledged cybernetics to her name.
>Rarity spoke up first. “A-are you sure that's... wise?  Not the witness portion, I mean, but, taking her like THAT into Canterlot...”
>”No.” Twilight replied. “But she easily would have died from her own exertions, and any accounts of the events would be gone. I'm not so arrogant to think we have better options.”
--