Introns

by chrumsum

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Random
Length: 14456

Chromosome's scraps and gubbins. Don't expect much.

Sometimes things just don't make the splice. They flop out of the nucleus and float around, adrift. These are those drifters. Non-poetically, this is a compilation of stuff that I'll never finish or publish. No drafts, just the unseen and the unclean.

Everything is rushed. Nothing is edited. And nobody is safe.

Published 2013-05-29 02:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-29 02:40:01 UTC

17412-Q: Ponyville

“Come on Spike! We’re going to be late!” complained Twilight Sparkle for possibly the fifth time. The pale magenta unicorn was dashing through the tree house library, books and scrolls flying through the air as she fumbled to get her notes in order.

The baby dragon yawned heavily and muttered half-consciously.

“Mmm...too early. Not enough sleep. Need at least...4 more hours.”

“Too early? For Celestia’s sake, Spike, it’s past 10:30 and I am not...going...to be...LATE!” She punctuated this last point by seizing Spike’s quilt with her magic and tearing it out from underneath him, sending the perplexed and now very much awake baby dragon sprawling to the floor. Picking himself up and spitting out a wad of paper, Spike shot Twilight Sparkle a frustrated look. The unicorn, engrossed in her search for the speech she had prepared diligently in two hour blocks for the last week didn’t notice, and shook a hoof at him absently.

“Don’t just stand there, go wash up and get ready! We need to be at the ceremony in TWO HOURS!” she exclaimed, in a panic.

“Two hours?” grumbled Spike. His tail dragging in mourning of the lost potential snooze, he crept off to the bathroom, muttering all the way. Splashing water on his face, the small purple reptile had a feeling today was not going to be a good day.

Precisely fifteen minutes, three arguments, and one unfortunate incident with a bookshelf later, the two friends were walking through the streets of Ponyville toward the hill overlooking the town. The sun glowing in the clear blue sky, the pegasus ponies had clearly gotten up earlier than than them in order to prepare the sky for the event. Shuffling Twilight’s notes for her speech, it wasn’t long before Spike started to complain again.

“So why is it that I need to come along exactly? I mean, you don’t need me to do your speech, so why can’t I just go back to bed? Because that sounds like a great idea!”

Twilight heaved a frustrated sigh. “Because, Spike, it doesn’t matter whether you need to do anything or not. This is an incredibly important event for Ponyville! And it’s my duty, and yours, to be there and to celebrate this grand achievement.”

The dragon looked at her skeptically. “Twi...it’s a well.”

“It’s not just  a well, it’s a wishing well! And a wishing well is a fantastic thing to have! After all, it’s not just superstition, you know! After all, I’ve read several books on the subject.”

Groaning, Spike rolled his eyes as a contented Twilight Sparkle commenced another one of her lectures.

“You see, when a wishing well is placed in exactly the right place where magic fluxes intertwine just right (as described in ‘Magical Forces in the Physical and Metaphysical World: An Anthology’), and it’s supplied with enough energy coming from wishes and desires, they become actual sources of power that can make magic far more powerful and controllable. Some ponies even believe that it can become its own conscious magical entity! Can you imagine?!” she said, beaming with excitement.

“Oh yeah...that sounds really interesting!” said Spike with feigned enthusiasm that he hoped would quiet down the overly eager scholar. “But as soon as that’s done, I’m going straight back to-”

“Oh, look, we’re here!” interrupted Twilight Sparkle, her eyes glittering.

They had finally put the empty houses and streets, and the distant hum of many excited voices had overtaken the otherwise gentle breeze and silence of the peaceful hillside as throngs of ponies assembled before the structure protruding from the crest. Twilight accelerated her trot into a gallop.

“Come on Spike, I have to be onstage at any minute now!” said the unicorn as Spike struggled to keep up with her pace.

“Any minute? We still have an hour and a half!”

KiNG

In the blackness of the cavern, something moved.

Something cold and hard-skinned, ancient and slick, slithered along the floor of the dank crevice. Its many thin, needle like feet clicked nearly inaudibly as its antennae flicked about, searching. Mandibles chattering, it seemed to glide between the stones, around the pools of frigid water, and over the mold that had made the moist cavern their home.

The creature was immune to the heavy rank of rot that seemed to seep from every pore of the cave. Decomposing cadavers of who-knows-what throve with its brethren, making the stifling odor reassuring. However, the ancient creature did not know happiness, or comfort. It knew only hunger, pain, and survival. It knew only that the mouse cleaning its whiskers with droplets of water trickling from a stalactite was unaware of its presence, and that made it prey.

The creature suddenly tensed like a taught steel cable, and it clamped its sharp mandibles on the mammal. The mouse panicked, instinctively squealing as the nightmarish creature wrapped around its body. But its fear meant nothing to the creature, and it simply held to the mouse’s throat, tightening its vise-like grasp until, finally, its throat ruptured. As the prey became limp, the creature paused, its sensitive antennae checking for a pulse of life. Satisfied, it began to feed.

Tearing into the soft flesh, its body lashed from side to side as it burrowed into the folded innards. The creature’s teeth and chitinous fangs shredded the red meat and greedily flicked it into its waiting maw. So busy was it in its meal, it didn’t notice the vibrations of a pair of hooves clicking against the moldy cave floor. Jerking upright, sending a spray of blood into the air, the creature’s antennae wavered at the scent of a familiar breath. Chittering, it abandoned its prize.

A pony held out a hoof, and the centipede wound itself up his arm, resting on his shoulder. In the blackness of the cavern, the figure smiled sadly as the insect tickled his ear with its spindly feelers.

“Benjamin, my poor Benjamin,” sighed the pony as the centipede wove between his ears and mane, “Is this what we’ve come to? Starved to picking upon the rats and vermin?”

Benjamin flicked its antennae to and fro, nestling its thin head in the crook of the pony’s jaw. Its feelers stroked his fur apologetically. “Yes, yes, I’m hungry, too...” said the pony with another dismal sigh. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this either, Benjamin. Perhaps the time has come. This land has dried up, the prey gone. I think it’s time we--”

The pony suddenly jolted and scurried backwards, sending Benjamin into a frenzy, winding along the length of the pony’s abdomen and resting nervously on his haunch. It watched with beady black eyes as the pony’s ears bent to an unheard voice.

“King...?” whimpered the pony, lowering his head. Benjamin became completely still, antennae once more flickering in panic. The pony’s pupils shrank, and it swallowed hard. “But we’ve been waiting for so long... We’re hungry, and so are you. We can’t stay here, we must move--”

The pony jolted upright once more, and screamed, hooves frantically grasping at his stomach. His cries shattered the stillness of the cave, the haunting echoes of his screams throbbing in the darkness. Benjamin, terrified, fled from the writhing pony, coiling itself upon the safety of a nearby stalagmite. As soon as the pain came, it subsided, and the pony lay still on the floor, tears pouring from his eyes. Panting, he nodded slowly.

“Yes, King. I’m.... I’m sorry...”

The pony gingerly rose to his hooves, as if expecting another wave of pain at any instant. Sensing the pony’s distress, Benjamin tenderly wound its way up his hind leg and wrapped itself around his ear. The pony looked up thankfully at the centipede.

“We wait.”

***

“My goodness! It’s... perfect!” gushed Rarity, batting her eyes in admiration. Twilight Sparkle smiled with pride, levitating a neatly-woven picnic basket beside her. Trotting up from behind them, Applejack whistled appreciatively as they admired the view.

“Ah gotta hand it to ya Twilight, this sure is something,” she said with a nod as their three other friends came up behind her, “Sure as sugar worth the walk. We shoulda had you organize these picnics more often.”

The six ponies oohed and aahed in wonder. They stood in the middle of a sprawling, overgrown field. Rolling hills of deep, green grass seemed to sway as a cool breeze wove between them. Brilliant flowers dotted the immaculate plain with vibrant splotches of blue, red, and yellow. The entire picturesque scene was completed by a warm spring sun gleaming in the sky. Just barely after high noon, the heat of the sun and the cooling breath of the northern wind created the perfect temperature.

“It’s simply magnificent,” breathed Rarity. “The perfect place for a picnic! How come I’ve never heard of this place before?”

“I’m not really sure,” said Twilight Sparkle, with a slight shrug. “I guess it’s just because it’s so far away from Ponyville that no one really sees the point in coming all the way out here.”

“Oh, man,” whistled Rainbow Dash as she glided above them, “It’s grass for miles! I should totally come here to train more often. I could test some serious tricks!”

Applejack knickered from below. “And without any collateral damage,” she mumbled under her breath. Her complaint was easily drowned out as Pinkie Pie squealed with excitement, her frazzled pink mane bouncing messily.

“Can you believe we have this entire place to ourselves?” she gasped eagerly, bounding alongside her friends as they walked through the tall grass. “We can shout and scream and play and tell stories without any grumpy old ponies telling us to ‘turn down that racket’ or ‘get away from their priceless heirlooms’. I mean really, who needs some dusty jar anyways? Or is it a vase? What’s the difference, really, they’re both pots. And is it even breaking and entering if you don’t actually--”

“Pinkie...” said Twilight testily, shooting her friend a sideways look. Pinkie Pie returned the glare with a quizzical blink.

“What? It’s a serious question.”

Twilight didn’t even try to follow up the statement. Applejack and Rainbow Dash exchanged unimpressed glances, but Rarity seemed too engrossed in the scenery to take note of Pinkie’s rather typical antics. Twilight Sparkle looked over her shoulder. A dozen or so paces behind them, Fluttershy was lagging behind. Dragging her hooves through the thick grass, she walked carefully and uncomfortably, as if she feared somepony had dropped something important and that she might step on it.

“Fluttershy, come on already!” complained Rainbow Dash, crossing her hooves in front of her chest and reclining in the air. “You’ve been lagging behind the entire way.”

“I’m sorry,” came Fluttershy’s hushed apology as she swept her wide blue eyes over the plain, “I just don’t... feel right.”

“What do ya mean, sugar cube?” said Applejack in confusion, stopping.

“I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right about this place. Like something’s going to go wrong.”

The six mares looked expectantly towards Pinkie Pie, who did a quick inventory of her knees, tail, and ears. Her critical expression turned once more into a beaming smile. “No twitcha-twitch here, Fluttershy. Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“Yeah, come on!” reasserted Rainbow Dash, “There’s nothing here but grass and flowers. Now quit your whining, and let’s go. I’m starving!”

With a slight nod, Fluttershy trotted towards them, wings shivering anxiously. “Alright... if you say so. I just don’t know if we--”

This last word turned into a shriek of terror as Fluttershy dropped into the grass and vanished with a wail.

“Fluttershy!”

Horrified, the five ponies galloped over to where their friend had only been a moment before. Brushing aside the tangled grass, they found blackness. A thin, gaping hole, just wide enough to fit a pony, was dug into the dirt. Tunneling downwards, the slick surface glistened in the sunlight until the depths of the hole became too dark to see into.

“Fluttershy?” called Twilight Sparkle nervously down the hole. Her voice echoed and returned to her with no answer. “Fluttershy, are you alright?” she called again, panic creeping into her voice. She pulled away from the hole, looking to her friends in hysteria. “What do we do? What do we do!?”

“I’ll tell you what we do!” snorted Rainbow Dash angrily. “We go after her!” Before anypony can stop her, Rainbow Dash hopped upwards and slipped down the hole. The remaining ponies stared in shock ar her wail of surprise at the length of the pit. Looking nervously at each other, they idled there for a moment. When nothing came from the hole, they nodded to each other. First Twilight Sparkle, then Pinkie Pie, and finally Applejack, dragging a protesting Rarity by her tail. One by one they vanished down the pit, and the darkness swallowed them whole.

***

Applejack had to do all she could to keep herself from yelling as the seemingly endless chute took her on its turbulent course. Dipping and weaving, she plunged through darkness, her heart in her throat as she blindly slipped through the dank rock walls. When the slide turned into a sharp drop, she couldn’t stop a yelp from slipping from her throat. Hooves tucked to her chest, she plummeted downwards before the tunnel sharply turned upwards, and spat her into the air. Flailing her hind legs, she soared, airborne, before finally finding water.

The rushing of the air turned into the muted crash of water, and with a gulp, Applejack swam upwards. Breaking the surface, she gasped for air and fumbled for a firm grip. She struggled in the pitch blackness, panicking. Where was she? Before she could open her mouth to cry for help, there was a pop, a fizzle, and a burst of light. A strong purple glow chased away the thick blackness.

With a heaving gasp, Applejack threw herself onto the now-visible land and dragged herself to safety. Rolling onto her back, she coughed out the water in her lungs and let her breath return. Sighing slowly, she rose to her hooves, mane and fur matted and dripping. Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy looked at her, concerned, as she shook herself dry. A magical light radiated from Twilight Sparkles horn.

“Is everypony alright?” asked Applejack, panting slightly. An indignant huff came from behind her as Rarity dragged herself out of the water as well.

“Oh, I’m just fine, thank you for asking!” she seethed, her styled mane now hanging in a sopping mess. “No, really, no one mind me at all. I just adore being dragged into a muddy hole in the ground against my will.” With a downward glance at herself, she whimpered at her matted fur.

Applejack rolled her eyes and trotted over to her friends, placing a hoof on an unnerved Fluttershy. “Y’alright, sugarcube?” she asked sympathetically. The jittery pegasi gave a rapid nod, tears in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to...” she started, before her voice trailed off in a mortified squeak. Rainbow Dash gave her a slight nudge of her elbow.

“Don’t worry about it, Fluttershy. What’s done is done. Nopony’s hurt, that’s all that’s important, right?”

“Exactly,” said Twilight Sparkle with a motherly nod as Applejack fetched her soggy Stenson from the pool they had fallen in. “For now, we just need to worry about finding a way out of here.”

Having accepted her state as currently hopeless, Rarity abandoned attempting to dry herself and instead looked around. “Speaking of which... where is here?”

The six ponies cast a concerned look about them, taking in the slick, craggy walls and the low ceiling dotted with dripping stalactites. Cold, dank air hung around them, clinging to their already wet coats. Beyond the light cast by Twilight Sparkle’s horn, there was nothing but inky shadow.

“Some sort of cave,” Twilight Sparkle guessed. “We must have fallen down some sort of natural chute that leads to--”

“Echo!” trilled Pinkie Pie, making her friends jump slightly in surprise. Her voice echoed off the walls of the cave, much to Pinkie’s satisfacted giggle. Her friends gave her a glare before Rarity cleared her throat.

“Well, how are we going to get out of here?” she asked, an hint of worry creeping into her voice. Twilight Sparkle looked upwards at the hole from where they had fallen.

“I’m guessing there’s no going back up that way, huh?” questioned Twilight Sparkle, and Rainbow Dash shook her head.

“Hole’s too small, and the sides are really slippery. We’ll need to look around for another way.”

With Twilight Sparkle at the head, the six ponies went forth in the dark abyss, the beams of purple light bouncing off the slick surface of the damp cave. As she walked, Twilight Sparkle couldn’t shake off the most peculiar sensation of being watched. It clung to her the same as the chilling air of the cavern. Despite her light bathing the cave, the glow only got so far before shadows overtook it again, and crevices in the rock could be hiding anything. Then there was the smell. It was faint at first, reeking of mold and dust. But as they walked through the tunnels, it grew gradually stronger, the dank perfume creeping into their nostrils with the odor of rot and death. It did nothing to alleviate the eerie stillness of the cave.

She could tell she wasn’t the only one who felt nervous. Rainbow Dash flapped her wings quietly, as if afraid to wake something. Applejack kept looking over her shoulder, whistling with false cheeriness. In the middle of the group, instead of usually lagging behind, Fluttershy was trembling furiously. Beads of sweat were pouring down her brow, and her feathers were twitching incessantly. Her breath coming in short gasps, she looked about her every step of the way.

The narrow walls of the tunnel gradually gave way and expanded upwards. Murmering in awe, the six ponies found themselves in a sprawling natural chamber. Steppes of stone etched from eons of flowing rivers crawled with thick lichen and slime. The horrid smell of decomposition was unbearable now, and Twilight Sparkle brought a hoof to her muzzle in protest.

“What... is that?” she complained, twisting her head about and focusing her light to find the source of the stench. There was nothing but the glistening of water and rock. It was as if the odor was seeping from every pore of the cavern.

“Ah think we’ve got a bigger problem than the smell, Twi,” said Applejack morosely with a point of her hoof. “Look!”

They had been going down a straight shot up until now. Here, the cave diverged into different directions. Tunnels, ridged from the course of water, went in several differing directions. The six friends looked at each other in confusion.

“Which way do we go?” polled Rainbow Dash, swooping upwards.

“Mmm. Nowhere,” came the unearthly reply.

With a jolt, the ponies instinctively came together at the sound of the foreign voice. For a moment, they were too stunned to speak, until Rainbow Dash alighted and leered into the darkness. “Who said that?” she demanded. There was a rasping, wheezing laugh in response.

“Ponies. Ponies in my cave. It’s been long. Too long, hasn’t it, Benjamin? We’ve waited. Oh, yes, we’ve waited.”

Rainbow Dash flared her wings indignantly, but before she could raise her voice to berate the unseen speaker, Applejack shouldered past her and took over.

“Listen, mister, we don’t mean no trouble. My friends n’ Ah accidentally fell down down this here cave. We’re just lookin’ for a way out,” she said neutrally, eyes sweeping the shadows. Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes and perked her ears. The voice laughed again, its chilling tone reverberating in the cave.

“I can’t help. Because you can’t leave. Not yet, no, not yet,” it said teasingly. Twilight’s brow furrowed, and her ears angled. There was the strange voice but... something else. As the voice continued to speak, strange sounds joined it. At first it was distant, sporadic. But as she concentrated, it became louder and more constant. Like the clicking of metal on stone.

“Listen here, pal,” hissed Rainbow Dash, snorting, “there’s no way that we’re staying in here, so tell us how to get out, or else!”

“No, no. Can’t leave,” droned the voice, as the chittering grew closer and more insistent. “He doesn’t want you to--”

Twilight’s eyes shot open. There! With a huff, she craned her neck, and shifted the magical energies in her horn from a glow to a concentrated beam. Like a violet blade, the light sliced through the shadows and illuminated a lone figure not too far from them, which yelped and covered its eyes in pain. Almost at the same time, the strange noises stopped.

“Ah!” cried out the figure, stumbling backwards at the sudden light. “P-please, don’t do that! My eyes...!”

“Who are you?” demanding Rainbow Dash flaring her wings and launching herself towards the figure. Before she got far, she was pulled back as a strong set of teeth grabbed her tail.

“Eavy vere, fugarcube,” Applejack warned, pulling her back with her mouth. Unwillingly, Rainbow Dash struggled, before begrudgingly landing with on her haunches with her hooves crossed. Looking between her friends, Twilight Sparkle lowered her beam, lighting up only the pony’s hooves.

He was a pathetic, dismal figure. His fur might have been navy blue once, or maybe it was a dark green. It was impossible to tell through the accumulated filth and grime that matted the emaciated pony’s fur. His frail hooves lowered from his face, and thin, bloodshot eyes still smarting from the light looked over them. Rimmed with dark bags, it and caked with crusted salt and dust, his eyes seemed almost painted on they were so sullen. Cautiously, Twilight repeated Rainbow Dash’s question.

“Who are you?”

The skeletal stallion sniffed, slowly coming to his hooves. “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. What matters is you. Here. With me.” The same dismal monotone hung in his voice, but his ears were laid flat against his head and every hoofstep was cautious. His strange eyes flicked between each of them, resting for a moment longer on Twilight’s horn, as well as the terrified Fluttershy. Twilight’s eyes narrowed at the pony. She didn’t like the way he was looking at them. It was... unsettling.

As he turned, she caught a glimpse of his flank, and his cutie mark. At least, where there would have been a cutie mark. The fur on his flank was sparse and frayed, and splotched with a thick-caked crust.

“Twilight... please, can we leave?” whispered Fluttershy, her voice trembling. It sounded as if she was fighting as hard as she could to suppress bursting into tears. “He isn’t...” She fumbled with her words, before whispering hurriedly, “Right. He isn’t right, this place isn’t right. We need to leave.”

The pony stopped again. And he grinned longingly with crooked, bent teeth. “Mmm. Yes. You’ll do. You’ll do.”

HEROICUS DE SIDERAE

This humble tale serves to, one:

Capture history so that

it may ne’er be lost.

Serves to, two:

Capture the courage of

our Queen Siderae

that it may ne’er be lost.

Serves to, three:

Acclaim her deeds so

that they may ne’er be lost.

Glory be to her Queen-ship:

the chosen of the origin

of this dust-worn,

flame-basked,

flood-drenched earth.

Glory be to her Queen-ship:

conqueror of time,

soldier of fortune,

wisest of ponies,

first of the alicorn,

founder of the Golden Kingdom.

Praise be to Canterliope!

To you i owe these words,

to you i owe this page,

to you i owe my mind,

and unto you i give my soul,

praying to be enlightened

Your fortune unmatchable,

glorified by the piteous tales

that only scratch the surface

of the infinite page you allow

us mortals to carve.

Should our chisel cut deeper,

we tear the fabric rather than

glimpse your soul.

Canterliope, give me your hoof.

Give me your star-speckled

words and the strength to

turn life into ink.

Pour in me the inspiration plucked

from the heavens and the

will to make the unimaginable

feats tangible to we poor ponies.

Hear my plea, oh Muse,

Grant my request so that

my tale may laud your name.

Partition the second

--

Siderae the Mighty stumbled

beneath the monstrous force

of Behemoth’s ancient breath.

Gasping for air, her hooves sank

in the swirling sands, her fur

was scoured by the stinging fury

of the sharp granules thrown

askew by the gale.

Her teeth clenched tightly

around Constantine, her god-blessed

blade, she rose against

the roar of the ageless monster.

Soundless, deafening, her

cry of defiance was sharper

than her sword, sharper than

the red glow of Behemoth’s

eyes through the scathing

veil of dust. Leaping forth,

her mane was grazed by Behemoth’s

stony claws, and they slammed the

fluid earth with tidal force.

Like a serpent, the pulse rose from

the sands, hissing with the sound

of a thousand stirred stones.

In the sandstorm, Behemoth bellowed:

“My blood is yours, I gave you life;

My breath is yours, I gave you will;

Your flesh is my stone ground to

dust and cast across the void

of space. The earth you tread is mine,

and the blood you spill is your own.

Father and daughter, earth and air.

You shall suffer your insolence, child,

or rise above this plain upon my

corpse!”

The air boomed and throbbed with

every word crashing from his

tremendous lungs that have inhaled

air before air itself. A titan, a monolith;

Behemoth, Beast-God of Earth shattered

the pillars of stone that dotted the

dunes of blood-stained sands.

Its pillar-like legs a hundred fold the span

of Siderae, it swept a craggy paw in vain to

strike the furious white gnat that was the

valiant pony.

Rising upon the wave of sand that

the ageless God invoked, Siderae ascended rapidly,

blinded by the shrieking gales of earth and,

at the pinnacle of height, threw herself skyward.

Constantine flashed, seizing the shards

of light that dared slice the tumultuous

skies violated by the uprising earth.

Letting her blade spin freely above her,

and as the force of the ground took her

back from whence she came, she screamed:

“Gods end where legends are born, and my heart

shall not scream in pain as I pierce yours.

Mortal folds have no place for Gods;

our lives are too short for their likes.

Now fall to me, Father and Creator,

fall so that we may rise and live!”

Partition the Third

--

The Third Age, born in the dusk

of the Second, whence our world was

seared and purged of Them, the race

that precedes us, for their raping

of Nature and their blasphemy towards

the Gods. Their black arts that stained the

sky, poisoned the earth, and tarnished

the seas have passed and left unto us,

their replacements on this world, the

beauty which they once destroyed.

Now once again they sleep, three Gods almighty.

I invoke their names, and shiver;

Would my words rouse them from their

black slumber?

And yet I invoke them; Behemoth,

Leviathan, Ziz.

You that destroy, you that create,

you that spawned your own demise.

The demise: a mare whose heart

was grand and vast as yours with courage

and hope.

A mare, the daughter of Metaesus the blacksmith.

He in turn, son of Silvam the wise,

he in turn, son of Bellusius, the valiant.

A mare, living within the country side,

where her father’s forge was the only

light in the inky-blue night for leagues

among the untamed wilderness.

This mare was named Siderae, named

after the stars beneath which she was born,

and for the glimmer of her blue eyes.

None can be sure what brought those

fateful seven words to her tongue that day.

“Father, I want to go to war,” spoke Siderae.

Her father ceased his metalworking mid-stroke.

Leaving the red-fired steel upon its anvil, he

levelled his world-worn gaze with that of his daughter’s.

“Why, my child, would you desire such a thing?”

he questioned, a heavy weight in his heart.

“I know not,” she admitted, “Words cannot explain

what the soul yearns for, and yet it must be expressed

lest it drive a soul mad.”

The earth pony with the red mane and blue eyes

looked down at the gravel of her father’s forge.

“But it burns in me, Father, it burns like the fires of

your steel, the metal that builds, the metal that strengthens,

the metal that kills. Something in my very heart cries

for battle, cries for the clash of blade and shield.

I want more than this, Father, can you not see?

I want more than to be the humble daughter of

a blacksmith in the middle of the vast plains.

I want my name to be known, my blade to

be feared, and my will to be admired.

I want an eternal throne in history!”

“Pride and arrogance can only lead

to destruction, Daughter,” spoke Metaesus wisely,

hammering the metal at hand with skilled blows

from his hammer. “And more so, the battlefield

is no place for a mare. Leave the senseless violence

and bloodshed to we stallions, foolish enough

to indulge in honor, and to take and lose lives.”

Siderae’s eyes became harsh and defiant with

anger. “Pride? What know you of pride, Father?”

she questioned fiercely, “What beasts have you slain?

What empires have you conquered? What

treasures and hordes have you amassed, and

what books speak of you in legend with

tremors in their words?

Black Hole

It’s too dark to see.

The Magpie

One hoof, two hoof, three hoof, four.

Knock, knock, knock, who’s at the door?

Beak white as bone,

Bent-back crone,

Mortuary, mortuary, who would’ve known?

Five hoof, six hoof, seven hoof, eight.

If you’re picked, then it’s far too late.

Shade, to and fro,

Shout, run and go,

The Magpie, the Magpie, and now we all know.

-Old Earth Pony Nursery Rhyme; Title Unknown

***

“Fluttershy? Are you home?” With a polite knock against the door of the neatly kept hut, Twilight Sparkle called for her friend inside. Stepping away from the threshold, she exhaled slightly and looked upwards at the sky. The clouds rolled through the pristine expanse, carried by a cool breeze that whispered through the branches of the forest, making the summer morning slightly more bearable. It carried the pleasant green aroma of the plants and flowers, and for an entrancing moment, Twilight closed her eyes and let the smell waft over her. The sound of the opening door pulled her out of her reverie.

“Oh Twilight, thank goodness you’re here,” murmured Fluttershy, poking her head through the door. Her eyes were creased with concern, and her hoof trembled slightly as she pushed open the door, allowing her friend to enter. “I’m so terribly sorry for pulling you out here on such short notice. But this was really important.”

Twilight Sparkle shook her head as she trotted inside. “No problem at all, Fluttershy. I’m always one for giving you a helping hoof when you need one.” She laughed slightly to put Fluttershy at ease. “I needed the walk anyways. I’ve been stuck inside all day sorting books and helping Cheerilee select books for her new curriculum. Now then, where’s the problem patient?”

Fluttershy’s home was crawling with all sorts of mice, rats, and shrews. They darted in and out of hoof-made homes and nibbled at bowls of food. None of them, however, was the reason Twilight had made her visit. Her brow still furrowed anxiously, Fluttershy trotted past Twilight out of the foyer and into the living room. Biting her lip, she stopped in front of a re-purposed lamp, and looked from the bird perched upon it to Twilight as she placed her saddlebag on the floor. “Here he is,” she said quietly.

The vulture sat upon the lamp without moving a muscle. His gangly, fleshy neck was perfectly immobile, locking his beady eyes and yellowing beak into an unnerving stare. It was clear that he hadn’t been washed in a while; his black feathers were lackluster, and the barbs were frayed and unkempt. Even as Twilight approached him, he didn’t make a sound, nor stir a wing. He simply stared straight ahead. If it weren’t for his occasional blinking, he could’ve been stuffed for all Twilight knew.

“So what’s wrong with him, exactly?” asked Twilight, looking away from the eerie fowl. Fluttershy fiddled nervously at the stitches in the carpet.

“I… That’s the thing, Twilight. Idon’t know. He’s been like this for three days now. I can’t get him to eat or drink. He just sits there.” Fluttershy looked up at her friend with wide, cyan eyes. “He’s never been like this before. He usually goes flying in the afternoon, and always eats plenty. Normally he loves it when I clean his feathers but… it’s like cleaning a statue now.”

Twilight rubbed her chin in contemplation, then reached into her bag for her books. She pulled them out carefully, spreading them on the nearby table. A Foal’s Guide to Fowls. Voracious Vultures. Keep Calm and Carrion: Studies in Ornithology. Cracking open the first volume with her magic, the unicorn mumbled under her breath as she ran a hoof down the index.

“Let’s see… Avian malaria, bumblefoot, fowl cholera…” She looked up from her book. “Does he have a fever? Coughing, losing feathers, wheezing breath?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “If it was something like that, I would have fixed him right up already. But I’ve tried everything. It’s like he’s just… sitting there.” After a pause, she added with a murmur, “Like he’s waiting for something.”

Twilight peered over the top of her book, giving her friend a quizzical stare. She clapped the book shut. “Well there’s nothing in here about avian paralysis. Maybe this next one.”

Leafing through the pages of Voracious Vultures, Twilight had to admit to herself that while Fluttershy’s bizarre theories were unlikely, the vulture was starting to get to her. Its eyes were dark enough to make its pupils invisible, turning its eyes into glistening marbles. It was as if it was staring at everything and nothing all at once. That black, soulless stare was putting her fur on end. Not to mention it was making it hard to focus on the words in front of her.

Suddenly, the breeze outside picked up, sending a gust through the house. Billowing into the house, the curtains ballooned in the wind, and the pages of Twilight’s book flipped furiously. Snorting in frustration, Twilight let her book fall to the ground and stood. Fluttershy jumped slightly at the brusque movement.

“Mind if I close the window?” she asked tersely. Fluttershy nodded meekly, looking to the vulture, who hadn’t seemed to even notice the sudden gust. Grumbling under her breath, Twilight pushed aside the billowing curtains and grabbed the edge of the window.

The vulture screamed.

Its wings threw open wide, spreading the seedy black feathers in a grim storm of tar-like rain. Fluttershy shot backwards as the vulture pumped itself into the air. Its bottomless black eyes flared and sparked. Shrieking again, its demented cry writhing from its twisting gullet, it shot towards the window. Twilight didn’t have time to say a word. Crying out as talons clawed at her neck and mane, she covered her eyes. Her ears throbbed as the vulture’s wings beat at the air, and there was nothing but tar-black feathers and glaring, hateful eyes.

Then it was over. With another shriek, the vulture tore itself free of Twilight and shot through the window. Like some nightmarish bat, it flew upwards, its black, ragged wings flaring. Within moments, it vanished into the silent blue sky.

***

Twilight had lost count of how many times Fluttershy had apologized now. Mortified, the pegasus had pulled her friend to her hooves, desperately apologizing on behalf of the mad vulture and herself. After three cups of tea and dozens of “I’m so sorry”s, Twilight finally felt her heart slowing and her cold sweat evaporating in the blissfully oblivious wind. Her head clear, she eventually managed to excuse herself, and with her saddlebag in tow, she departed from Fluttershy’s hut and headed back for Ponyville.

And yet, as she walked along the dusty path to the town square, the wide black holes of the vulture’s eyes still seemed to be watching her. Every time she blinked, every time her eyes flicked from pony to pony, the vulture seemed to be there, for just the slightest moment, black wings spread. The cawing of a perched crow echoed in the cavernous void of its feathers.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that ponies stared at her in confusion as she seemed to ignore their friendly greetings. It wasn’t until a hoof shook her shoulder that she jolted out of her trance.

“Twilight? Hello? Anypony home?” Pinkie Pie trilled in her ear. Twilight jumped in surprise as the bounding pony smiled broadly. “Well jeez! Talk about having your head in the clouds! I was shouting over and over to get your attention, but you had your face in a grump and I had to give you a shake to get you out of your funk!”

Twilight Sparkle blinked at her friend. “Do you need something, Pinkie?”

“Nope! Just saying hi!” With another grin, she fell in step with Twilight, and the two of them trotted along, crossing the bridge over the river crossing through Ponyville. A crow cackled indignantly, fluttering away from the pair as they came too close to its perch.

“So what made you look all glum, Twilight?” asked Pinkie Pie.

Twilight sighed heavily. “It’s Fluttershy’s vulture. I went over to see her because it was sick, and it flew off.”

Her ears flattening sympathetically, Pinkie Pie smiled sadly. “Aw. That’s too bad. But I’m sure it’ll come back. Birds always come back to the roost.” When she failed to see a smile cross Twilight’s face, she gave her a light nudge. “Oh come on. You can’t let a bird-brain get you down! I know what’ll cheer you up! How about a dee-licious treat from Sugarcube –“

A gravelly, obnoxious caw cut her off mid-sentence. Looking up with a scowl, Twilight found a jet-black crow watching them from atop a lamppost with its thin, yellow eyes. It cried out again, its call grating and mean. Within a moment, another crow fluttered down to join it on the lamppost.

“What is it with all these crows?” Twilight asked Pinkie Pie, forcing herself to look away from the black birds. “I’ve never seen this many around Ponyville before.”

“Me neither. Noisy, aren’t they?” Smiling giddily, Pinkie Pie gave the best imitation of the crow’s call she could, cawing loudly. They answered in turn, louder than her. Taking it as a challenge, she cawed even louder. Twilight couldn’t help but giggle as her friend struggled to outdo the shrieking birds. The heated contest escalating as more and more crows landed amongst the rooftop of the town hall and nearby houses. Panting, Pinkie Pie collapsed to her haunches.

“Phew… okay, you win. I give up!” she wheezed, sweat dripping off her forehead.

But the crows only got louder. Wailing and coughing in a hellish choir, their calls grew in volume. Their eyes glinting malevolently, they scrambled restlessly at their perches with their talons, flapping their wings furiously.

“I said you win! You win!” screamed Pinkie Pie over the shrill cries. Twilight couldn’t even hear her. Clutching at her head as the piercing cawing drilled into her brain, ponies around her did the same, shouting in panic and fear as the screaming escalated. Her eardrums rang, her heart raced, and it was as if at any moment her head would explode from the violent sound.

And just as suddenly as it began, it all stopped. The crows snapped their beaks shut, settled their feathers, and sat primly at their posts, as if perfectly satisfied with their graceless performance. Pinkie didn’t notice.

“ –need to get so rude! Talk about a bunch of sore losers!” she screamed hoarsely. Stopping herself as she noticed the abrupt silence, she smiled meekly. One by one, the ponies looked around, whispering to each other in muted tones, looking nervously up at the crows. Then, in the silence under the eyes of the crows, there was a sound.

At first, Twilight Sparkle wasn’t actually sure if she was actually hearing the insistent tapping noise. Her ears still throbbed from the crows’ screaming. But it came again, and again, echoing through the streets of Ponyville. With each tap, a shadow grew larger and larger over the ponies, stretching over them like a thick tarp of inky black night. And then they saw him.

The gryphon.

His stride, while heavy-footed, was slow and deliberate. He leaned heavily with a clawed, wrinkled hand on a cane that swung lazily along the ground. Creeping forward with thin, pale legs, the ponies around the town hall hurriedly parted to let him pass. Their wide, anxious eyes followed his oily black feathers, slicked down the back of his neck and clinging to his body. It gave away the nauseatingly acute crook in his gut below his rib cage. His long bony neck supported a head that seemed too big for his body, and a flat black box hung from it.

But what sent a chill down Twilight’s spine wasn’t his unnatural gait. It wasn’t his ragged, folded wings that bent like those of a gargoyle against his sides. It wasn’t his cold, dark shadow that wrapped around her as he passed. It was his face.

His long, hooked white beak protruded in front of him like a vulgar nose, and an unsettling, mask-like grin wrinkled his flesh and stretched up to his eyes. And perched atop his beak was a pair of round, wire-framed glasses. The sun caught the opaque glass and shot back blades of light. It looked as if the gryphon was ablaze from the inside, and the burning light of the inferno was pouring through his eyes.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t pause. He simply looked straight ahead, that same grin on his lips, limping towards the fountain in the center of the square. Coming to it, he stopped. After a brief pause, he placed his cane down by his feet. Turning, he sat down on the edge of the fountain, and placed his hands down on either side. And he didn’t move from that spot. He just sat, facing the crowd as if they were his congregation, and stared at no one in particular, glasses shining and smile unchanging.

None made a sound. Even the crows did not stir a feather. Forcing herself to stand and tearing her eyes away from the grimly smiling figure, Twilight turned to Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie? Aren’t you going to say hello to our… new…” Her wavering voice trailed off as Pinkie Pie’s pupils shrank into minute pinpricks of fear. All around her, ponies were slowly backing away from the gryphon. Whispers flitted through the crowd like frightful ghosts.

“Can’t be him…”

“The crows. The crows are with him!”

“It’s…”

“The Magpie,” whispered Pinkie, her mane noticeably drooping. Twilight blinked in confusion.

“The who now?”

“The Magpie!” she shouted hoarsely. Falling backwards away from the gryphon, the terrified pink pony shrieked in terror. “The Magpie!”

The name echoed in the crowd, escalating in panic. In a flurry of hooves and shouts, the crowd scrambled and dispersed, like leaves scattered in the fall wind. Ponies galloped frantically, pegasi shot into the sky to flee.

“The Magpie is here! The Magpie is here!”

Twilight vainly tried to stop one of the fleeing ponies, but they all rushed right past her, flattened ears deaf to her shouting, and wide eyes blind to her waving.

“Wait, stop! Everypony calm down, there’s no need to–“ She was cut off as a bulky stallion rammed her out of the way, sending her sprawling to the ground. Clutching at her gut in a surprised daze, nopony stopped to help her up.

And the Magpie just sat and smiled.

***

“Hold still, Twilight! This is hard enough as it is without all your fidgeting,” scolded Spike. His patient sighed and held as still as she could. With a final tug, Spike finished wrapping the gauze around Twilight’s foreleg. “There. That should do it. Probably gonna have a nasty bruise, though.”

“Thanks, Spike,” said Twilight, giving her scraped leg a quick shake. The bandage was already making the wound feel much better. But it wasn’t doing much good for her restless mind. She got up shakily, and gave her assistant an appreciative rustle of his crest. But as Spike put away the medical gauze into the first-aid kit Twilight had insisted they buy, he gave her a quizzical look.

“You still didn’t tell me how you managed to get yourself banged up like that. I mean, it’s not like you’re involved in many contact sports or anything,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Twilight measured her words. “I was… bumped.” When Spike didn’t look particularly convinced, she sighed and gave him the whole truth. “Alright, fine. I got trampled.”

“Trampled!? What happened?” gasped Spike. Twilight looked forlornly out the window of her loft. It was high noon, and the blazing summer sun was baking the streets of Ponyville. She sighed again.

“I… somepony new arrived in town. A gryphon. And when all the ponies in the town square saw him, they freaked out and ran all over the place.”

“A gryphon? Was it Gilda again? I mean, she’s pretty annoying and all, but I don’t see why that would throw Ponyville into such a –“

“No, not Gilda,” interrupted Twilight, turning on her hoof. “They were shouting something about a magpie.”

Spike scratched his chin. “A magpie? Like the bird?”

“Probably. But that doesn’t make sense. It wasn’t a magpie, it was a gryphon. Why would everyone be so freaked out over a gryphon? He didn’t even say anything or hurt anyone.”

She hadn’t even finished speaking by the time Spike had fished a heavy book on birds from one of the top shelves of the library. Staggering under its weight, he dropped it with a thump on the ground. He stepped aside as Twilight flicked through the pages with a glow of her horn.

“Magpie... bird species... intelligent... carrion eaters...” She looked up from the book and gave Spike a confused look. “It doesn’t say anything in here about gryphons.”

They both sat there quietly before Spike shrugged his shoulders and offered, “Maybe it’s a Ponyville thing? Would explain why we don’t get it.”

Twilight mulled this over before giving her assistant a slight nod. “It’s possible. Maybe that ‘Magpie’ did something in the past. Don’t we have a book of Ponyville history?”

“Uh... I think so. Didn’t you complain about how bad it was, though?”

“It’s a disgrace, is what it is,” scowled Twilight, clucking her tongue. “Even Granny Smith knows more about Ponyville than that–”

The elder mare’s name stirred an idea in Twilight Sparkle’s mind. “Granny Smith! That’s it!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “She’s sure to know who this ‘Magpie’ is. I’ll go see her right now.”

As Twilight galloped up the steps to her loft, Spike looked out the window in concern. “You sure you want to go right now? I mean, this can wait, right? It’s pretty hot out there. You know. For a pony.”

“No time to wait, Spike,” replied Twilight as she fumbled with straps of her saddlebag. Bouncing down the steps, she cocked her head at her concerned assistant. “I’m getting to the bottom of this. Meanwhile, you look through that book and see if you can find anything about that gryphon.” As she put her hoof against the front door, she turned and gave him a sly grin. “And maybe give this place a quick sweep, too.”

Slipping out the door and shutting it behind her, Twilight took two steps outside of the shade of her home before the heat came down like a mallet. The brutal summer heat was fierce and violent, beating down on her as if to melt the fur off her skin. The soothing breeze that had once been coursing between the huddled Ponyville houses had withered and died, leaving Twilight to stumble into the stagnant air with sweat pouring down her brow.

As she tediously marched under the the beating sun, Twilight’s eyes flickered from house to house as she passed. Every shutter was locked, and every curtain drawn closed. It took her a moment before she realized she was the only pony in the streets.

And yet, hundreds of pairs of eyes watched her from the shadowy eaves and rafters of homes. Rustling their feathers in the cool darkness, the crows watched Twilight as she trudged past Carousel Boutique. Normally, Rarity was open at this time a day. But today, a sloppily scribbled “closed” sign hung from the front door.

Sugarcube Corner was in a the same state. Twilight had been hoping to be able to check up on Pinkie Pie to see if she was alright after the stampede yesterday. But it was as if the sunlight had evaporated every last soul in Ponyville, leaving nothing but a haunting ghost town. Twilight flinched despite herself as the crows perched above the doorway into the shop cawed threateningly at her. She backed away from them, their wings flapping and beaks snapping angrily. A shadow fell over here, blocking out the sun, and Twilight Sparkle screamed as wings beat at the air.

“Whoa, whoah, Twilight, calm down! It’s just me!” Slowly opening her eyes as a friendly hoof touched her shoulder, Twilight Sparkle found Rainbow Dash, her mane disheveled and her eyes squinting slightly in the light.

“Rainbow Dash? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same,” she retorted, helping her to her hooves. “Where is everypony? I woke up from my nap, and the streets were totally empty. And there’re all these... crows everywhere. What happened?”

Twilight wiped the sweat from her forehead. “The Magpie happened,” she said sarcastically. Rainbow Dash looked at her blankly.

“Who?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” explained Twilight. “What I do know is that some gryphon showed up in town square, and everypony freaked out for no reason. They called him the Magpie. Whatever that means.”

“Huh,” Rainbow Dash said with a frown. “How come I’ve never heard of this guy before?”

“Probably for the same reason I haven’t. Neither of us are from Ponyville. I think it has to do with that. That’s why I’m going to see Granny Smith. I think that gryphon has something to do with Ponyville’s history.”

Rainbow Dash nodded, and as Twilight continued on her way, she flew close by for a while before coming to the ground again.

“Never been this hot before,” she muttered. “Can’t stand it.”

Twilight Sparkle exhaled heavily in agreement. Behind her, the crows croaked angrily as they headed off through the silent streets of Ponyville. They glared angrily, cheated of their victim.

***

It was an unsettling march to Sweet Apple Acres.

Skirting the apple trees to keep in the shade as much as possible, Twilight found neither Applejack nor her brother Big Macintosh in the orchard. The leaves rippled in the heat, giving the illusion of figures shifting behind their trunks as Twilight and Rainbow Dash nervously eased their way towards the farmhouse. As with the houses in the rest of Ponyville, the windows were dark and sealed.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash exchanged sceptical glances before giving the door a curt rap. In the thick heat and black shadows, something stirred behind the glass panes of the farmhouse. Something like a whimper and frightened squeal slipped through the cracks of the door.

Unnerved, Twilight Sparkle knocked again. There was a sound of hooves clumsily creeping towards the door. Twilight felt her fur prickle as she heard somepony panting heavily on the other side. Reaching for the door again, a voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Get outta here!” hollered Applejack from behind the door. “I... I’m warning you! There’s nopony here for you to take! You hear me? Nopony!”

“Applejack! Calm down! It’s just me and Twilight!” shouted Rainbow Dash, cutting off the hysteric mare. There was a silent pause, then the sound of locks and latches sliding free. The door opened a crack, and a single emerald eye peered through. Looking them up and down, the door swung open wide.

Applejack was a mess. Her normally cautiously managed ponytail was frayed, and loose strands of her mane surrounded her face in a chaotic halo. Her eyes were wide, and her coat was matted with sweat. Her Stenson was nowhere to be seen.

“What are y’all doing outside? Get in, quick!” she whispered harshly, ushering them inside. Twilight sighed with relief as the cool shade of the farmhouse rushed around her as she stepped inside. With a nervous twitch in her hooves, Applejack locked the door behind the two ponies.

“What’s with all the security, AJ?” asked Rainbow Dash.

Applejack looked at her incredulously. “What with him around? Are ya crazy? Ya can’t be too careful. In fact, why in Equestria are the two of you even out here?”

“For that exact reason, Applejack,” said Twilight evenly, following her friend into the living room. Big Macintosh, who was absentmindedly rolling an apple back and forth across the floor, gave them a nod as they entered. Granny Smith’s rocking chair was empty; neither she nor Apple Bloom were anywhere to be found.

“Where are Apple Bloom and Granny Smith?” asked Twilight with a cock of her head.

Without looking Twilight in the eyes, Applejack sat heavily on the couch. “Manehattan. Went to visit the cousins during the off season. Like every summer.” Twilight’s brow furrowed uncomfortably. Applejack’s curt tone was unlike her. There was no familiar warmth in her eyes which flitted from window to window, as if expecting to find something waiting for her outside.

“So,” started Twilight carefully as Rainbow Dash reclined against a wall, letting herself cool off, “would you guys mind telling us why you and Ponyville have decided to bunker down like you were expecting a dragon attack?”

Applejack blinked, looking at her brother incredulously. “What in the...” she stammered. “Have y’all been living under a rock? Don’t you know who’s out there?”

“What, the Magpie?” interjected Rainbow Dash. The two siblings jumped as if they had been electrocuted.

“Don’t say his name,” rumbled Big Macintosh. His normally lazy eyes were ablaze with fear. “He’ll hear ya.”

“Alright,” snapped Twilight Sparkle, “this is getting completely ridiculous. He’s just a gryphon!”

“No, Twilight,” said said the farm mare, her eyes darkening somberly. “He’s not just a gryphon. Don’t y’all remember the nursery rhyme? The stories?”

Twilight Sparkle looked back at Rainbow Dash, who gave her a look as blank as hers. “That would be a no,” she said.

“The... well, ya know... he’s the...” muttered Applejack. She lowered her tone, bringing her head close to Twilight’s. “He’s the harbinger. The harbinger of death.”

For a moment, Twilight didn’t say a word, staring dumbly at Applejack with a bewildered look. Then she burst out laughing.

“You can’t be serious. The harbinger of death? That’s the most insane thing I’ve heard since–”

“It ain’t a joke, Twilight!” shouted Applejack. Twilight flinched in surprise. The sudden blaze in her friend’s eyes scared her far more than this “Magpie”. For a split second, she saw the eyes of the vulture. Then they were gone.“This ain’t just some silly little urban legend us little earth ponies came up with. He’s real. He’s real and he was there when my parents...”

Her voice trailed off, and she glared at her friend, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “This isn’t Zecora, Twilight. This is evil.”

Then she turned on her hoof and stomped out of the room, anger burning inside of her. Twilight started off after her friend, an apology rising in her throat, when Big Macintosh rose before her and blocked her path. He looked down at her imposingly.

“Ah think y’all better leave now,” he said simply. There was no threat in his voice. Only resolve. Twilight tried to say something, but instead just sadly nodded her head. Walking back to the door, with a reluctant Rainbow Dash in tow, she looked back at the stallion.

“So what are you going to do then?” she asked weakly. Big Macintosh’s eyes didn’t change.

“We wait. We wait until he gets who he’s waiting for,” he said slowly. As he reached to close the door, he added, “And we pray to Celestia that it ain’t us.”

And with that, he shut the door, and left the two of them outside. The sun seared the napes of their neck as they stared at the door in disbelief. As the two ponies turned away from the fortified home, Twilight tried to make sense of what she had been told.

“This is crazy,” she finally said after they had been walking for a while. “All of Ponyville’s gone into a total lock down out of superstition and old mare’s tales. And everyone is too scared out of their minds to think logically!” She stomped a hoof in frustration. “I’m not going to let this happen.”

Rainbow Dash looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“You can’t judge a book by its cover,” lectured Twilight sagely. “You have to read it to find out what it’s truly about.” She shot her friend a determined look. “I’m going to talk to this ‘Magpie’. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Rainbow Dash stopped in her tracks, then flapped her wings rapidly to catch up with her friend. “Wait, are you sure that’s such a good idea?” she said with a hint of concern. “I mean... you heard what Applejack said, right?”

With a spin, Twilight faced her friend, frowning. “You can’t be telling me that you’re actually buying into this hooey?”

“Well yeah, I mean, no, I mean...” she said, flustered, “not exactly. But AJ looked really freaked out. I think there’s more to this than we think.” Without dignifying this with an answer, Twilight turned tail and continued her walk for the town square. Following her reluctantly, Rainbow Dash glided closely behind. “There’s never been this many crows, either...” she said under her breath.

They didn’t speak to each other until they crossed the bridge in the town square. The sun at their backs, the shadows were lengthening around them, casting pillars of darkness to stretch towards them like claws.

And the greatest shadow loomed over them, cold, daunting, waiting. Stretching across the sun-blistered earth of the town square, it spread its black wings silently.

The Magpie just sat and smiled.

The thousand eyes of the crows stalking their every move in the waning sunlight, the two ponies trudged towards the immobile gryphon. His bespectacled eyes flashed, blinding them momentarily. And every step towards the sitting figure seemed to become harder, the sun punishing every motion. But finally, Twilight Sparkle came to a stop before the Magpie. Rainbow Dash alighted behind her, rubbing a shoulder anxiously.

Twilight cleared her throat and spoke. “Excuse me, sir?” The Magpie did not answer. He seemed to stare right through her with his shining glasses. She tried again, offering a weak smile. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead and off her snout.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle... and I... um... Well, welcome to Ponyville!” she said as brightly as she could muster. The Magpie remained silent. That same eerie smile never left his face, as if it was cut into his skin. The sun was giving her a headache. And the crows were beginning to caw menacingly.

“Hello? Can you hear me? What’s your name? Who are you? Why are you here?” With each increasingly frustrated question, she was only met with silence. As she bit her lip angrily and opened her mouth to berate the jet-black gryphon once more, Rainbow Dash interrupted her.

“Twi, just stop, alright? This isn’t a good idea,” she said anxiously. Turning on her angrily, Twilight gave her friend a steely look.

“What? Are you going to chicken out on me now? Look at him! He’s just a... crooked old bird!” But Rainbow Dash shied away, her eyes flitting between Twilight and the sky.

“This... I...” she stammered, her eyes becoming thin with fear. “I’m sorry Twilight.” Before her friend could say a word, Rainbow Dash staggered away from her, eyes locked on the sky as she furiously flapped upwards.

“Rainbow Dash, wait!” shouted Twilight after her. “Why are you running? There’s nothing to–” She stopped as a dark shadow obscured the sun, then passed. Twilight looked upwards.

Up in the pale blue sky of Ponyville, dozens of vultures flew in slow, lazy rings.

Staring upwards, as if hypnotized by their slow flight. The sun burned their outlines into her retinas. And it was then that she realized that she was being watched.  Not just by the crows, not just by the vultures, not just by the gleaming eyes of the Magpie. But from every house, ponies watched them, the gryphon and the pony, from the safety of their shuttered windows. They watched with anxious eyes and bated breath, waiting to see what the two would do.

Slowly, Twilight turned under the hostile sun, and brought her face close to the Magpie’s. She stared into his eyes, unafraid and fierce.

“I won’t let you do this. You hear me?” she hissed, seething. “I won’t let you do this to my town. I won’t let you do this to my friends. I will stop you.”

The Magpie said nothing. He merely smiled as he always had, and exhaled softly. His breath wrapped around her nostrils and crept into her throat. Twilight reeled.

It smelled of death.

The two of them stood there, beneath the crows and vultures. Silent, resigned, and burning inside, Twilight Sparkle left the Magpie by the fountain and returned to her library, purpose fueling her heart. And in the streets of Ponyville, all was still as the sun abandoned its assault and died beneath the horizon.

***

The town slept restlessly. The night passed in a blur of mumbled oaths, nervous ticks, and glassed eyes staring at every door and window. Ponies whispered and stroked their fillies and colts, keeping them close as the dead veil of night froze the window panes and numbed their souls. Then the sun came, scorching the earth and weathering the ponies. Ponyville held its breath. It held its breath as the crows waited for the choice to be made, pecking at the dust and flocking to the ghoul that sat in the town square. The heat would bake the streets until it retreated once more. Thus each day passed, slowly, painfully, gratingly.

And Ponyville withered and darkened.

Sweet Apple Acres dried and crisped; the fledgling trees rotting themselves free of their leaves, and the youthful buds turned brown with lack of water. The rivers turned to dust, and the carefully painted facades of the Ponyville houses turned pale. The sky, left to its fate by frightened pegasi, gradually clotted with swollen black clouds bloated with rumbling electricity and rain.

For eight days, Ponyville hung in doubt, gripped by the cold claws of the Magpie and burned by the sun in a deadly fever. And on the eighth day, the sickness boiled.

None of the residents of Ponyville could remember the last time the Ponyville Tower bell had rung. The old clock tower was mostly a relic, nowadays, a memorial to the founding of the small town. Its dusty rafters were abandoned, and the old face barely kept time anymore. But it stood there, waiting patiently like a father for a son to come home. And now it was calling to them. The solid echoes gave them a grip, an anchor in this nauseating world of shadows.

One by one, they pulled loose their locks, pulled furniture from their doorstep, and crept from their holes like frightened mice. Looking upwards at the looming thunderheads and leering crows, some clutched cleavers, frying pans, and hammers in their teeth. Anything that could give them some comfort in the shadow of the Magpie. In their sullen hoard, they marched for Ponyville tower. In their huddled mass, they stood together, anxious and waiting. In their fear and tension, a pony stood before them.

Mayor Mare cleared her throat awkwardly, standing atop the rickety podium made out of some crates dragged from a nearby house. She mumbled something to a forlorn Rainbow Dash, who flew overhead to do a head count, and addressed the resident of Ponyville.

“Fillies and gentlecolts...” she began uncomfortably. “I don’t think I need to explain why we’re all here today.” She sighed heavily, removing her glasses and wiping them with shaky hooves.

“It’s been more than a week. We’ve been stranded within our own homes, hoping to wait out the coming shadow. But the shadow has not passed.”

A voice blurted out from the back of the crowd, a mare. “Why hasn’t anypony died?”

Several mumbled in frightened agreement, echoing the question.

“Who is he waiting for? Somepony has to be to blame!”

Waving a hoof to try to calm the ponies, Mayor Mare answered honestly. “I don’t... I don’t know who he’s waiting for.”

“Who does he want? Why hasn’t anypony died?”

“I don’t–”

“We can’t just keep sitting her, scared out of our minds! We need to do something!”

“Well we–”

“Enough is enough! He has to take someone, sooner or later! I’m watching my fillies starve and I can’t–”

“Everypony please be quiet!” shrieked the mayor, her voice shrill with panic. A dead silence fell over the crowd. Panting hard, she stomped a hoof. “I don’t know! Alright? I don’t know who the Magpie is waiting for. This has... never happened. Never in the history of Ponyville has the Magpie stayed in one place for so long. He comes and goes but this... this is unheard of.” Her voice trembled slightly, and she wiped her glasses again. Then Rainbow Dash piped up from the back.

“Somepony’s missing!” she called. A shudder went through the crowd. Mayor Mare slipped her spectacles back on, staring at the airborne pegasus in disbelief.

“That’s impossible. Everypony knows to...” She bit her lip anxiously. “Who’s missing?”

The ponies looked around, looking for a missing familiar face. Somepony gasped.

“It’s Twilight! Twilight Sparkle isn’t here!” chirped Pinkie Pie from her spot in the crowd. Immediately, an unsettled mutter went around the ponies.

“Twilight? But she’s always punctual!”

“Why wouldn’t she come to an emergency town meeting?”

The mayor tried in vain to bring some sort of order back into the congregation, shouting and pleading for silence. Rainbow Dash shot down the podium, pushing a startled mayor aside.

“Will everypony just chill! There’s no reason to get all worked up over this! We need to focus on the problem at hoof, instead of just–”

“And why wouldn’t we be worried?” protested a voice. Its owner shouldered through the crowd, a pitchfork gripped tightly in a foreleg. Applejack joined Rainbow Dash on the podium, pushing her aside. “We’re all here! We risked our hides comin’ out while that blasted death bird waits for one of us to keel over so he can drag us off, and Twilight didn’t even have the decency of showing up!”

Rainbow Dash’s wings fluttered anxiously. “I... I’m sure there’s a good reason!”

A stallion shouted from the back of the crowd. “I bet Twilight’s in cahoots with the Magpie! I saw her talking with him in the town square.” There was an angry mumble of agreement.

“She did what?” hissed Applejack incredulously. She shot Rainbow Dash a demanding look. Rainbow Dash opened and closed her mouth soundlessly before finally hanging her head, resigned. It only made Applejack angrier. “And Twilight wasn’t even scared of the Magpie,” she continued, addressing the crowd.

“Then why hide? Why now?”

Applejack’s mind slowed. “Because... because she knows,” she said softly. The crowd murmured in confusion. “Because she knows,” repeated Applejack, her voice rising and her heart beating fast. “She knows who he’s here for. She knows who the Magpie’s come to take away!”

“Who!?” came the single answer.

Applejack’s voice felt dry as tinder as she hissed the answer. “He’s come for Twilight Sparkle.”

A stunned silence settled over the crowd. Applejack continued, something hot and angry rising in her chest. “The Magpie’s here for Twilight! That’s what he told her when he talked to her. And now she’s hiding.” There was a murmur of agreement, this one darker and angrier.

“She’s been hiding for eight days now! Hiding from her fate! And she’s been leaving us to suffer for it!”

The crowd shouted their agreement, teeth and hooves clenching around their weapons. The thundering skies and bleak fears coalesced into a single thought. Anger. And somepony to blame.

“No more fear!”

“I’m sick of hiding!”

“She can’t do this! We can’t be punished for her!”

Applejack felt her heart swell and darkness creep into her throat. Baring her teeth, she raised her pitchfork as the sky rumbled with electricity.

“She won’t let the Magpie take her? Then we’ll give her to him! For Ponyville!”

The crowd roared and stomped, eyes flashing and weapons quivering.

“For our foals! For our families! For Ponyville!”

***

With a groan, Twilight Sparkle slowly raised her head from her book. Blinking her eyes free of sleep, she sniffed and looked down. The book she had been reading was drizzled with a thin line of drool. Asleep again, she scolded herself. With a melancholic turn of the page, she skimmed the words, her sleep-addled state only picking out every other sentence. It had, as expected, nothing about the Magpie.

She was about to place the thick book back with the other failed attempts when Spike gingerly slid himself between two large stacks.

“Geez, Twilight. Are you still going? It’s been almost seven hours now,” he said, concerned. “You need a break.”

Normally, Twilight would have stubbornly refused the idea of rest and shooed off her assistant, but she was too exhausted to care anymore. Rising on shaky hooves, she levitated her book on unicorn history onto a precarious tower of books.

Since she had returned from her fruitless talk with the gryphon sitting patiently in the town square, she had locked herself in the library. De-shelving her entire collection, she spent day after day poring through historical works, hunting for the shadow of the Magpie.

His name only appeared in whispers, between paragraphs. Only hinting, never truly revealing. She scoured every word of numerous tomes on folklore and urban legends, but she only found nursery rhymes, allusions in the ends of fables, and never any solid evidence towards who he was or where he came from. It seemed a hopeless chase.

Twilight plodded into the kitchen, where Spike was setting up a platter of tea. With a tired but content smile, she levitated the tea pot, pouring herself a cupful, and blew on it. Steam rose lazily from the brew.

“Thanks, Spike,” she said from behind her frazzled mane. “I guess I haven’t been taking the best care of myself these past few days, huh?”

Spike poured himself some tea as well and sniffed it appreciatively. “No kidding. Maybe if you slept at night you wouldn’t be using your books as pillows,” he reprimanded.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized, taking a small sip. It scalded her tongue slightly. “I’ve just been so caught up in this Magpie business. He’s paralyzed the town and it’s just so frustrating that I can’t do anything about it!”

The small dragon tapped his claws thoughtfully along the side of his mug. “Maybe it’s time to send a letter to the princess asking for help?”

Sighing heavily, Twilight hung her head for a while, then looked up with a feeble smile. “Yeah. I guess so. Kinda hoped I could solve this on my own... And I think I’ll take this one,” she added as Spike beamed and plonked down his mug to take a letter.

“Are you sure? You’ve been working on this so hard already.”

“Maybe, but I started this, and I’m going to finish it.” With that, Twilight took her tea into the study, giving it a sip. The warm feeling of it in her throat had already put her in a more pleasant mood. Setting herself up at her lectern, she dipped her quill into the nearby inkwell and pulled up a sheet of parchment.

Pressing the feather to the paper as she began her letter, she chuckled slightly. “I’ll tell you this much, Spike: I can’t wait until this is all behind us and we can get a good laugh out of it.”

A brick flew through the window, showering Twilight in a rain of shattered glass.

With a cry, she collapsed away from the lectern, her inkwell breaking on the floor.

“Twilight?!” shouted Spike from the next room, “Twilight?! Are you alright?”

“Stay away from the windows!” she shrieked in response as another large stone burst through another windowpane. As it landed heavily, Twilight could then hear the shouting. Loud and jeering, the voices of hundreds called her name, screaming in anger.

“Coward! Traitor!”

“You can’t hide from him, you bastard!”

“Take the Magpie with you!”

“Twilight, what’s going on?” squealed Spike, crouched behind the kitchen counter, his eyes wide with terror. The two of them jumped as something heavy slammed into the door.

“Just don’t move, Spike! Whatever you do, just stay where you are!” Summoning the magic that dwelled inside her, Twilight lifted the piles of books and slumped them against the door in a makeshift barracade just as the it began to splinter. Ducking her head beneath the windows, she galloped to Spike. Twilight grabbed the dragon and held him tightly. Tears poured town his eyes, mixing her with her sweat.

“Listen to me. Listen!” she said rapidly, her breathing erratic. “We’re going to be just fine? Alright? Nothing’s going to happen to us. We’re going to be all–”

There was a ripple of light, and a blazing torch flew from the darkness outside onto the library floor. The dry heat of the past week took its tool instantly. With a furious speed, the flames spread from page to page, engulfing the library in a hellish red light. Covering her eyes as the flames leaped towards her, the heat singed Twilights Sparkle’s fur. Coughing on the smoke, she stumbled away from the inferno.

“Spike, stay here,” she wheezed. “Hide in the fire. Don’t let them find you.”

His eyes went wide, tears rolling down his cheeks. Twilight grabbed her assistant and pulled him close. “I’ll be back for you,” she breathed, wrapping her hooves around him. “I swear.”

Releasing him, she gave him one last pleading glance before turning and diving into the flames. All breath left her body as the flames took it for their own. Pushing headlong through the cinders, she broke free of the flaming books and collapsed onto the stairs to the loft.

The front door was awash in heat and fire, and shouts of rage still poured through the windows. So there was only one way out. Staggering upwards, she coughed violently as smoke filled her lungs. Kicking open the patio windows, she doubled over the railing of the balcony, choking from the soot and gasping for the heavy air. The flames licking at her flank, she prayed for Celestia to catch her, and jumped.

For a moment, she was weightless, nothing but the heat of her burning library touching her fur. Then she struck the ground. Twilight cried out in pain as one of her hind legs bent underneath her and twisted. Struggling to rise to her hooves, she collapsed backwards. With a crackling wail, the last of her library was consumed by the fire, the tree becoming nothing but a flaming pyre.

Eyes burning from the tears and ash, Twilight stood, her sprained leg shooting jolts of pain. And looking up, she found the eyes of hundreds boring into her. Their eyes glimmered vengefully in the light of the fire, weapons gleaming like the oily feathers of a crow.

Breathing hard, she turned and limped away as fast as she could. With a soundless roar, the mob lurched and followed.

Hooves beating at the ground, throwing dust into the storm-ridden skies, they chased her as she staggered through the streets, begging for someone to help her. They chased her as she fell to the ground crossing the bridge. Crying and screaming, Twilight Sparkle dragged herself along the ground, dragged herself towards the looming shadow. The crows watched silently. The vultures flew over head in the stormy clouds. And the Magpie just sat and smiled.

Then, howling in blind rage, the mob fell upon her.

They beat at her with hooves, knives, chair legs. Anything that could hurt and draw blood lashed at her furiously. Twilight couldn’t hear, she couldn’t think or speak. She could only feel pain as her fur became matted with blood and her bones ached and cracked.

“Die, die, die for the Magpie!”

She could drag herself no further. Rolling onto her back, her screams drowned as her throat filled with blood and saliva. A figure loomed over head, etched in the sick light of the thundering clouds.

With a bellow, Applejack brought down her pitchfork and silenced Twilight Sparkle once and for all.

Cackling, the crows took fright and scattered.

The crowd fell still. Panting, sweating, shivering, the armed ponies stared numbly at spread-eagled body. With a grunt, Applejack ripped her pitchfork free. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she looked at what was left of her friend. Then, one by one, the ponies looked up to the shadow at the fountain.

The Magpie, eyes vomiting light in the bleak darkness, did not stir.

“Well what are you waiting for?” hollered Applejack, her knees weak with faltering adrenaline. “You got what you came for. You got it.” The crowd mumbled in agreement.

But the Magpie just sat and smiled.

Confused, frightened eyes flitted to and fro. The weapons in their teeths quivered, uncertain.

“Why isn’t he leaving?”

“This isn’t right. Why is he still here?”

“Who else does he want!?”

Applejack flinched as something struck her on the cheek. She wiped it away. Water. Looking upwards with wide, horrified eyes, she stared at the sky as it crackled with thick thunder. Then the skies tore open, drowning the town in a torrential downpour. The shattering sound of the rain made them deaf, smearing their vision and matting their fur.

“Oh dear Celestia, no,” whispered Applejack.

There was a silence as the ponies looked at each other. Then one gritted their teeth around the cleaver in their mouth.

“Well it’s not gonna be me!” she shrieked.

The mare swung her head violently. There was a warm spray, and a stallion collapsed backwards, a gash in his throat. As he collapsed into the roaring waters, the crowd shuddered. Then, raising their weapons, they screamed and tore into each other.

Blades and teeth flashed in the thunder, hunting flesh and seeking blood. Applejack fell backwards in horror as two mares gouged at each other with kitchen knives, eyes blank with nothing but ravenous blood-lust and the rage to survive. Hoove struck, blood poured, and ponies screamed as they were torn apart and thrown to the ground. There was nothing but rain and screaming and blind anger.

The rain water turned black with the blood of the crowd. Applejack, collapsing away from the furious horde, found nothing but two eyes shining in the downpour.

The Magpie just sat and smiled.

Shivering with anger and fear, Applejack scooped up her pitchfork and staggered towards the Magpie. Something hot and wet sprayed across her face, and a pony collapsed into the mud. But she didn’t care. Each hoof striking the ground with purpose, Applejack stalked towards the smiling death-bird with her pitchfork raised.

Behind her, lightning flashed, and a black, winged figure screamed in the rain. Applejack turned as Rainbow Dash tore through the turbulent air.

“You did this!” she screamed, her voice tearing. “You did this!”

Applejack fell into the reeking waters as Rainbow Dash slammed into her. Her blue fur dripped carmine, one of her wings nauseatingly lopsided. Rainbow Dash’s eyes were nothing but fire, nothing but hate. As she raised a stone above her head, Applejack fumbled for her pitchfork. Water poured into her eyes, and as she thrust the fork upwards, the last thing she saw was the boulder bearing down on her skull.

***

A songbird rustled its wings, shaking sparkling dewdrops from its feathers. The storm had finally passed, and the heat ended. The little bird chirped and whistled its content little song to the blue skies. It was the only joyful sound amongst the muted cawing of the crows.

In the town square, the Magpie sat pleasantly. The bouncing, gleeful sunlight had dried his feathers and warmed his coat. His glasses glittering in the light, he never stopped smiling. Then, his knees cracking, he pushed his weight onto his hands and came to all fours. Reaching up with a wrinkled claw, he adjusted his spectacles, and reached down for his cane. It had gotten caked with dark red mud. He gave it a quick shake to clean it off.

It sank in the mud as he took it in hand and pushed his weight onto it. Walking forward slowly, he stopped before an eviscerated corpse. Leaning down gently on his aching knees, he prodded the still flesh of the pony. Then he looked up at the carnage, the splayed limbs and frozen eyes.

The smile never leaving his lips, he reached up to the thin black box hung around his neck. Fumbling with the latch, it eventually sprang open.

As the vultures came down from the skies and the vultures alighted upon the bodies, the Magpie tied the clean, white napkin around his neck.

When Spike arrived with the royal guards, they found nothing but bones, greasy black feathers, and the slight rank-sweet odor of carrion.

Err in Dusk

Buzzing in lazy figure eights in the sweltering heat, the fly seemed to have forgotten where it was going. For a full minute it had spun lazily in place. Its insistent wing strokes were the only sound in the cramped, heavy room. But Gyroscope forced herself to keep her eyes on the prize. Even if that prize was such an unseemly pony such as Slack Jaw. Sitting behind his desk, hunched over a small sheet of paper, his bulk almost seemed to engulf the chair beneath him. As the monstrous pony adjusted his weight, the chair whined in protest.

Come to think of it, thought Gyroscope numbly in a heat-induced fever, Slack Jaw was quite a feat of nature. How this obese, thick-skulled pony managed to keep himself from keeling over from the unbearable heat was beyond her. Nothing but a thin trickle of sweat between his beady little eyes showed his awareness of the summer heat. The pathetic fan in the corner wasn’t doing much to keep them cool, to be sure. Its rusted blades clearly hadn’t moved in ages. And the air conditioning unit loosely attached to the slats of the window wasn’t helping either. The smell of sweat and moldy sandwiches was starting to give her a headache.

The fly seemed to agree with this. It gave on more unpleasant buzz, then plopped down to the desk to take a well-needed break. The sudden silence was deafening. Slack Jaw blinked his thin, leery eyes and coughed. Gyroscope jerked to attention as he brought his meaty foreleg up on the desk to recline on. His jowls wiggled slightly as he talked.

“One thousand bits,” he said slowly. Gyroscope blinked incredulously.

“One thousand bits? Are you kidding me?” she scoffed angrily. “Have you even seen the condition your cranes were in, Slack? It’s a darn miracle that I even managed to get them turned on, much less actually working. One thousand is crap and you know it. Fifteen hundred.”

Slack Jaw didn’t say anything, chewing something in his mouth dumbly. It was like watching a cow chew its cud, and it was starting to get on Gyroscope’s nerves. With a low grumble, Slack Jaw looked down at the paper again, slowly reading again the extensive list of repairs Gyroscope had done on the dock’s loading cranes and hydraulics systems. He looked up again.

“Twelve.”

“Fifteen.”

“Thirteen.”

“Fifteen.”

“Fine, fine,” grunted Slack Jaw, his weight shuddering back as he ran a hoof down his face and caught the drip of sweat right in its tracks. “Fifteen it is. But that’s as good as I got. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” said Gyroscope with a satisfied smile. She didn’t offer a hoof, nor did he. Instead, he fumbled for a crummy checkbook in one of the crammed file cabinets. With a grunt of effort, he ripped a page free, sending grimy slips of paper fluttering in the moist air, and wrote methodically on it. Double-checking his work, he pushed it across the desk towards Gyroscope with a grunt, as if parting with the check pained him. Smiling pleasantly, Gyroscope took it from him and slipped it into her saddlebag. As she hopped out of her chair, the skin of her flank peeling uncomfortably from her chair, Slack Jaw grumbled under his breath.

“Shoulda got a professional. Woulda been less ‘spensive.”

With a flick of her tail, Gyroscope gave Slack Jaw a withering look as she pressed her hoof against the door.

“If this deathtrap was up to code, Slack,” she said primly, “you could’ve gotten a professional.”

The dense pony didn’t argue as Gyroscope slipped through the door out of the oppressively hot office. Stepping outside, Gyroscope closed her eyes and reclined against the doorframe. Finally, she could breathe.

Well, as best as one can breathe during the blazing summer at the Manehattan docks.

Contently placing the check into a discreet pocket of her saddlebag, Gyroscope reached down and grabbed the handle of the bulky red toolkit she had used for the job. Her jaw strained slightly as she pulled it upwards, tools clattering inside. It was like music to her, the sound of a getaway from the commonplace and the droll duties of home.