He had no idea where Midnight went. He had sent a few ponies to take care of the dazed and confused ponies in the building they had found Thunder in. A couple of civilians had somehow been missed by the advanced evacuation and had to be escorted while others kept Thunder's attention away from them. Their numbers were dwindling, their weapons were having no effect, and everypony was hurting. To make things worse, Thunder had just exited a junction. The ghoulish pony seemed to be radiating an intense aura, as if he were in the clutch of somepony else's magic. The aura was wrong – it twisted, shifted, and warped, like water flowing upward and inward upon itself, allowing Thunder to be seen clearly but whatever was behind him to be blotted out. It looked at them, lifeless eyes a ghastly greenish white, a foul substance secreting from his nose, mouth, and ears. It was as if he was little more than a container and housed a wretched candle that exuded a pungent smog as it burned.