In Another Life II: Chance's Folly

Chapters

Healthy Class Relations
Meeting of the Minds
A Midsummer Night's Ambush
The Start of Something New
The Outing
To Reflect...
Enter the Cavalry
Captured...Alive
A Grander Scheme
Hot On His Heels
Not So Fast!
Rescue in Progress
Ghost Train
Stop the Unstoppable
Beside the Dying Fire
Done For the Day
Introduction

Healthy Class Relations

It was ten minutes into class, and the teacher was nowhere to be seen. The worktables that went from the front to the back of the room were filled with ponies of all ages sitting silently, staring at the front of the room. Assortments of tools were precisely placed along the table tops while large hurks of clay had been plopped into trays in the center of the room.

Hoofsteps were heard from outside the classroom and a tall skittish mare suddenly waltzed into the front of the room. Her fur was gray, her mane was purple, and a pair of glasses sat precariously on the bridge of her snout. She walked over to an official looking teacher’s desk and snatched a clipboard from one of the drawers with ease. She had obviously done this a million times before as noted by her quick and carefree motions. It seemed that being late was her specialty.

She looked at the class and scanned down the list of names on the paper, nodding silently at each she read. Quickly tossing the clipboard back onto the desk, she addressed the class.

“Every once in awhile, a student comes up to me asks: “Ms. Press, why do you teach pottery?”” She smiled and walked a bit closer to the front row of worktables. “They say it just like that. Why do you teach pottery class…why you? Why not baking...or music, or sewing?” A frown puckered into her face. “I mean, surely it must be in my nature to teach you something feminine and motherly?”

Her jaw tightened. “Well I’ll tell you why I teach pottery, it is none of your business. Alright? And I don’t want to have any conversations about what a kind and caring pony I am.” She took a long pause and breathed in deeply. “I AM A POTTERY GENEIUS!”

“In pottery college my nickname was the Clay-Tiger! Because my knowledge will bite your face off! So don’t you question Ms. Press or you’ll get bit...ya' bit. YA' BIT!”

Taking another pause, Ms. Press returned to a cheery attitude and clapped her hooves together. “So, seeing as it is the first day for all of us, everypony can free-form with the clay today, just to get a feel for it. And we’ll start our first project tomorrow, ok?” No pony said a word in response. “Wonderful!”

Everypony slowly got up from their seats and went over to the rusty metal dish in the front of class. A quick crowd formed around it, but pretty soon everypony had a piece of clay and was getting to work.

For awhile the class worked in silence, still shaky of the introduction they just been given. But over time, some ponies brave enough slowly began to converse and pretty soon everypony was enjoying themselves. Smiling at the casualty that had come over her class, Ms. Press got up from her desk and began to converse with her students.

She introduced herself individually, learned nick-names, found out interesting facts, picked out the students she disliked, and decided her favorites. The normal teacher duties.

As she moved down the rows of worktables, something caught her eye, and she stopped in her tracks. Adjusting her glasses, she made sure she had seen what she thought she just saw. She did.

An angry grimace creaked its way onto her face. How had she missed it? Something this important and she didn’t even see it! Gosh was she stupid! Why hadn’t the community center board told her!? Probably some new “be nice, see everybody equal” garbage that had been put in place for this person.

Of course if this was just another pony she definitely wouldn’t be reacting like this. But unfortunately, it wasn’t. Sitting at one of her worktables, kneading some of her clay, playing with one of her tools, was a human, a measly, male, dopey looking human.

He had on him a gangly old brown cloth of some sort that looked like a cross between a coat and a cape. He had brown hair, slight amount of acne, these weird fur pelts on his…feet, and a placid expression on his face as he fooled with the clay.

Forcing a cheery smile, she briskly passed several other students she meant to talk to, and made her way straight to the bi-pedal buffoon. Hearing the clicks of her hooves against the linoleum, the human looked up.

“Hello there!” she greeted politely, “I don’t believe I caught your name?”

The human blinked a moment “Oh, its Alistair.”

Ms. Press smiled an even more uncomfortable and forced grin. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you Alistair. What are you making there?” She gestured her hoof to point at the ball of clay he was playing with.

“I’m not really sure what it’ll be just yet. I haven’t worked with clay before.”

Ms. Press nodded in approval. “Well you keep up the good work!” Turning around, she made her way back over to other students and continued her routine introductions. Twenty-minutes later, the bell rang and the class quickly filed out the front door. Ms. Press stood behind the exciting crowd, wishing them fair well.

“Goodbye class! Be prepared for tomorrow’s project, it’s going to be a doosy!”

Once everypony had left the room, her smile quickly disappeared and was replaced by a face of utmost annoyance. Slamming the door, she plopped herself down behind her desk and relished in her anger.

“Of course I’m not notified” she said to herself, “If I had been, this would be over by tomorrow. But no, I’ll have to start preparing tonight then.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her desk and began to write a letter. “Better get started on this, they’ll want to be notified of this immediately.”

Meeting of the Minds

Alistair comfortably strolled down the hallway towards the front doors. It was the end of a great day and he couldn’t wait to get home and enjoy it even more. Maybe read a book, maybe screw with something in the basement, maybe take a nap (yes, a nap sounded appealing).

And of course Twilight would want to know every pin prick of a detail that had gone on today, no doubt. He would be happy to pour out all his positive feelings of what laid ahead of him this summer. But the first thing he’d want to tell Twilight about was his pottery teacher, Ms. Press.

Her loonie-ness was something straight out of a children’s novel and the fact that it was happening in real life made the entire situation feel unreal. It was perfect. Smiling, he continued to walk to the front doors until a bother crossed his mind.

He swore he was forgetting something, something important. Looking through his cloak pockets, he rummaged around to see if he had forgotten something back in the classroom. Nope. All he felt was lint. He kept on brushing against the bottom with his fingertips, trying to remember what exactly he was missing. A few seconds into this he felt something peculiar on his hands, something slimy.

Looking down at his front pockets, he flinched in horror and let out a low yelp. Light smears of gray had somehow been slapped across clothes were his hands had been. Squinting his eyes he realized what exactly the gray was…clay. He had forgotten to wash his hands after class!

Acting fast, he sprinted further down the hallway and found a stallion’s washroom he had passed earlier. Pushing the door open with his rump, he briskly walked over to a faucet. Rolling up his cloak sleeves, he put some soap on his hands from the dispenser and flipped on the water.

He scrubbed his hands in silence, the soggy sticky lumps of gray dropping off his hands as the hot water rinsed it away against his palms. He kept on scrubbing until all but the least of residue was gone completely. Content, he happily hummed a tune as the last bits of clay receded down into the drain.

Grinning, he looked at himself in the mirror. Attempting his best military mare impersonation, he gravely spoke in the gruffest voice possible. “It’s time to hit the power and go a million miles an hour!”

Making the best super sonic whoosh that he could, Alistair took of sprinting. Bumping his shoulder against the washroom door, he threw it open in a blast and continued dashing towards the front doors.

For a few seconds the bathroom was still, no pony seeming to be inside. Seeing that it was safe, a blue pony slowly poked his head out of one of the stalls and looked around to see if anypony was still there. “What in the Hades was that?” it said to itself.

Later that day, somewhere else in Ponyville, two ponies sat seriously at a kitchen table. They were of adolescent age, clearly friends, and clearly discussing something important. A can of soda sat on each side of where the ponies were, but both were untouched by their owners. Gray and white light flittered through the windows as a level of overcast hung over the late afternoon sky. A large hanging lamp was set just over the table, flipped on to allow some cheeriness to be allowed into the room.

“So yeah” said one of the ponies, a colt earth pony with unnecessarily shaggy blue fur. “I was just getting out of the stall and wham! There he was, standing right there, talking to himself.”

“Talking to himself?” Repeated his companion, a colt as well but notably shorter, red furred, and with a straighter mane. “Do you think he saw you?”

“No. I mean I hope not!” Shrugged the blue pony as he rubbed the back of his neck. “If he did he probably would have done something weird, maybe squawked or started talking to me.”

The shorter pony chuckled “Yeah, more than likely.”

The taller pony nodded and finally took a sip of his drink. “Celestia!” He loudly cursed.

“What’s the matter!?” His friend asked, mildly startled and nearly spilling his drink.

The blue pony blushed and pushed his hoof through his mane, further shagifiying it. “It’s nothing. I just…I don’t…I really…”

“Dude, what is the matter?” His friend repeated sternly.

The blue pony bashfully tapped his hooves on the table. “I…I just don’t know how to feel about this, Jam. Like this doesn’t feel real, at all. It feels weird. Really, really, really weird.”

The red pony looked at him with agitation “Well what are you expecting, Commodore? You randomly saw a human in the bathroom. Of course it feels weird, it is weird.”

“Like, I know I didn’t almost die or anything” Continued the blue pony as if he didn’t hear anything. “But I think I’m actually in shock over this. Which sounds really stupid when you think about, but still. It feels like it didn’t happen.”

The shorter pony smiled. “Maybe it didn’t happen and the human cast a spell on your brain to make you think it happened when it actually did happen but it makes you want to question whether it did or didn’t happen.”

“No really!” continued the blue pony, not letting the subject matter go easily. “This has never happened before. Something this random occurring to me. It feels wrong, out of place…weird.”

The red pony raised his eyebrows in disapproval. “Commodore, a human walking around isn’t that out of this world. Just forty years ago there was that one in Canterlot who--”

“I’m talking about right now, Jam!” Shouted the taller pony. “Something right now, in the present, happening! This human has been in Ponyville, for what, three weeks since Mayor Mare made the announcement?! I don’t think anypony has really “gotten used to it”. So excuse me for getting a bit flustered!”

The shorter pony paused a second and looked away, a bit unsure about what to say. “Why do you care anyway? Why’s this bothering you so much? It doesn’t seem all that important to you, or me.”

“I don’t know!” admitted the taller pony, “I really don’t know. It just seems significant some how.”

His friend wouldn’t let him go that easily. “But why? Why the sudden interest in bi-pedals?”

The blue pony slammed his hoof down onto the table. “Fine! You want to know why? I’ll tell you why!” The blue pony leaned across the table to get closer to his friend. He began to speak in a loud whisper, as if somepony else was listening but he still wanted them to hear.

“There’s something big hanging in the air, right in front of everypony’s face. It’s a mystery that no pony else seems to be all that concerned with. Everybody’s passing it off as “normal” and “run of the mill”. I see it as something different, something important and deserving of attention. There’s a mystery ahoof Jam, and we’re just the ponies to solve it!”

The blue pony looked upwards at the ceiling as if staring into a sea of twinkling stars. “Just think about it, Jam. We’ll be the ponies that discovered everything about a human that no pony saw was worth the time. Doesn’t that just sound amazing?”

The shorter pony stirred uncomfortably in his chair and smiled the best he could. His friend’s behavior was clearly out of character. “But Commodore…come on. Is there really that much to “discover” about this human? There’s movies, and books, and theatrical productions. Who’s to say one isn’t made about him? What use would we be?”

The blue pony bit his lip to hold back a scream. “Jam, you sound just like what I bet every other pony in Ponyville is thinking right now. There is a million things we don’t know about this human and I intend to find out more before some stupid…thing comes out and tells everypony before we can!”

“What about Twilight Sparkle?” The red pony continued. “The human lives in her house, doesn’t he? She probably knows everything about him. Why not ask her?”

Shaking his head, the shaggy pony would not budge. “I want to find this stuff out first hoof, get my facts directly from him. This is my adventure and I want to lead it. I don’t want it to be ruined by just asking a librarian for the answers.”

His companion sighed and face hoofed. “You’re calling it an adventure now?”

“Yes”

The red earth-pony was slightly taken back by this. Opening his mouth, he was about to say something but stopped himself. A level of submission went through him. “Alright then, Commodore. Let’s go on this adventure of yours.” He waved his hooves in the air to emphasize the word ‘adventure’. “Seems like a gosh-darn waste of time if you ask me.”

The blue pony laughed. “Like going on a magical adventure of self-discovery and friendship while uncovering the mysteries of the past and carving new light into the world while constructing a better future to save the world of pony-kind is a waste of time? You crack me up, Jam.”

“I’m serious dude; I think you’re wasting your time.”

A Midsummer Night's Ambush

It was hard to tell how long he’d been awake. There was no clock in his “room” (if you could call a cot in a bathroom a room) but it felt like he had been tossing and turning for the entire night. His hair was mussed and his blanket was rumpled but he could almost certainly recall never falling asleep.

Shutting his eyes tightly, he attempted to speed up any wave of drowsiness to affect. Nope, nothing. In fact, he could feel even more lively and awake than he did a few seconds ago. Tossing his blanket to the floor, he slowly rose out of his cot.

No sense in waiting to be tired, he thought to himself as he felt around for the door knob. Wrapping his hand around it, he slowly creaked open the large wooden door. Making a small opening, he slithered out of the crack in the door and quickly shut it behind him.

Despite the almost complete darkness surrounding him, excluding the flitters of moonlight through some windows, he could easily tell where in the house he was. He was standing in the atrium of the Golden Oaks Library, also known as the humble abode of a certain Twilight Sparkle. Since he’d been calling the downstairs bathroom of the building “his room” for the past month, he supposed he could also call the building home.

Thankfully with Twilight and her little dragon sidekick Spike sleeping upstairs, there was no way they could’ve have heard his stirring downstairs. Despite this, he knew he wasn’t in the clear. One false step and one of them would be down here, and no way could he deal with the embarrassment of them seeing him out and about at this hour. He was staying here for free after all, and a major screw up like that would be all it would take for him to be kicked out and on the streets looking for a new home. At least, that’s what he thought would happen.

Standing still for a moment, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the black around him until the room he was standing in was a faint grey mass of outlines instead of an absolute blind spot. Feeling prepared, he made his way towards one of the outside windows. Pulling out the latch, he swung the spiny glass square open and slid over the ledge. Not stopping, he hoped onto the front grass, barefoot, and pushed the window closed.

Sighing happily, he looked around to the new world he had just thrust himself into. Most of the wooden and thatch houses were still in the night, but a few had lights on in certain areas, silhouettes moving about freely. Moonlight baked downwards from the sky, almost fully illuminating the entire earth. He swore the moon was brighter in Equestria; it’d never seemed that alive and beautiful back home. Then again, most things weren’t very alive and beautiful when he had left.

Shivering lightly, he immediately regretted not putting on something a bit more heavy. He’d left his brown cloak back in his room, which only left him with wearing his normal underlings of brown trousers and a green shirt. The night felt colder then usual and he considered going back inside.

He shook his head to erase these thoughts. He could manage; he was only going on a short walk, not a trek through the arctic. Looking around once more, he decided to go down the street to his left. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he made his way down the dirt road to no where in particular.

-----------------------------------------

His mind wandered as he walked, diverting any attention he had to his surroundings and instead focusing on every little thought that fluttered through his brain. He could see what he was doing; he just paid it no mind.

He had more important things to focus on anyway. The little images he could make out on the moon, a cool song that would fit the atmosphere and this little story he had going in his head about a young pirate who wanted to be a captain. This is what interested him and so; this is what he focused on.

He was so stuck in his own little world that he didn’t immediately notice the flash from behind him.

Stilling walking, he barely turned his eyes, not thinking much of whatever he just saw. Flash. This time his brain actually registered it.

Shutting off the thoughts in his mind, he casually stopped walking. Waiting, he expected the flash once more. Flash. Turning his head slowly to the side, he peered out of the corner of his eye to catch a better glimpse of whatever it was.

Flash. There it was again. Turning his entire body around he looked at directly where he thought the light was coming from. He waited a few seconds hoping to see the flash of light again. But he was met with nothing. Standing there, he continued to look off in front of him. Tensing up, he awaited another flash.

But instead of a flash he was greeted by the sound of something whizzing over his head.

Not thinking twice, Alistair dived off to his side and rolled onto the ground as more objects flew past where he had just been standing. Rolling off the dirt road, he ducked behind a bush.

Taking cover behind the shrubbery, he could hear more objects fly over the top and puncture into the leaves of the bush. Parts of the dirt road popped with the impact of something against them, sending bits of dust into the air. Ducking his head further down, he shrieked in fear.

More and more objects wisped around him as it seemed the entire world froze in time. All he could seem to hear was his own voice and the objects flying towards him. There was no escape for him, he was trapped.

Panicking, Alistair began to scream in fear as the endless flurry of whizzing objects continued to pellet his position.

“STOP!” he howled desperately. “SOMEONE HELP ME!”

The pace of the flying objects did not decrease with his pleas, and leaves began to fall rapidly off the front of his cover. He could feel his time running out, this bush wasn’t indestructible. Trying again, he wailed for help.

“SOMEONE! I’M GOING TO DIE! HELP ME!” A massive volley of objects smacked quicker into the bush. “PLEASE!”

Lights in certain houses began to turn on, as the entire neighborhood was being awoken to the scene. With other ponies alerted, the whizzing objects suddenly stopped flying.

Hyperventilating, it took Alistair a few seconds to realize he could no longer hear anything coming towards him. Realizing his safety, he sighed in relief. It seemed he was out of the jungle, but he wasn’t taking any risks.

Acting on pure adrenaline, he foolishly poked his head out to see if anything would hit him. Trembling violently, he waited for something to slice into his face and send blood curdling down the flesh of his skull. But instead of the piercing pain of a projectile, he felt nothing and heard only the sound of silence.

Ducking his head back down, he continued to wait for anymore crossfire from his front. Still being met with nothing, he made the smart decision to get the heck out of there! Getting to his knees, he looked to his left and right to see if anything else was going to attack him.

Feeling some sense of security, he hopped to his feet and bolted off down the opposite side of the road, adrenaline carrying him every step.

-------------------------------------------

He tried his best not to make a ruckus climbing back through the window, but the fear and excitement fueling him made it difficult to be subtle. Tiptoeing back into his “room”, he clumsily shut the door behind him and flipped on the bathroom lights.

Walking over to the bathtub, he plugged the drain close and turned on the hot water. Steamy water blasted out of the nozzle and quickly filled the bottom of the tub with just enough liquid to submerge a pencil.

Rolling up his pants, he dipped his feet in and watched as the grimy caked in dirt seeped off his feet and into the water. He could feel as the tough flesh on his toes became soft and red with the relaxing midnight scrub. Taking in the comforting warm water and the now humid air, he could feel his nerves beginning to calm.

Being clean always calmed him down, no matter what circumstances. Back home he’d never had the liberties of plumbing and heated water, but he still tried his best with scrubbing his hands in the nearby river and the occasional purity spell. Now that he was in Equestria; the luxuries of perfect hygiene were right at his fingertips. Another fact proving that Celestia’s domain was undoubtedly a paradise.

Feeling most of the filth gone, Alistair reached towards the water spout to drain the water. As he reached, he felt something tugging at one of his pant legs. Looking down at it, he could see what looked like a stick lodged into the loose fabric by his feet.

Pulling it out gently with his pointer and thumb, he brought the thin piece of wood to his face. Upon immediate inspection he could tell that it wasn’t a stick, but a dart from a blowgun. He’d never spent much time around weapons before, but the occasional reads of Twilight’s encyclopedias kept his knowledge of frivolous and odd things on the up an up. The strip of wood was too skinny and pointed, and a light coating of feathers were put on the edge of one end, no thinner then a sheet of paper.

Well that explained what was being shot at him, tiny pointed pieces of wooden death. But that didn’t explain the “who” or the “why” of his midsummer night ambush. Maybe the dart has some clues hidden on it, he thought to himself. I need to calibrate the optic sensors first.

Squinting his eyes, he tried to make out any significant markings or identifications on the tiny projectile. Perhaps there was a company or something that made these darts. However, his investigation was suddenly interrupted by the faint clumping of hoofsteps upstairs.

Jolting in surprise, Alistair quickly pulled the plug on the water and hopped out of the tub. Wiping his feet with a nearby towel, he tossed the dart into his pocket and bounced into bed. Reaching over his head, he flailed wildly for the nearby light switch. Clipping the piece of plastic with his fingernails, the room switched from light to dark.

He could still hear noise above him, something that sounded like a mix of pacing and talking. No doubt Twilight doing her…something in the middle of the night. He considered going up the stairs and asking her what the heck was going, but he suddenly felt pretty hesitant to go on anymore adventures.

Yawning, he turned himself over and began to stare at the wall he couldn’t see. Twilight’s voice still echoed from upstairs as he began to nod off and eventually collapse into his pillow.

The Start of Something New

Ms. Press smiled wickedly in her vacant classroom. In her hoof was a small white ball that she continuously tossed up and down into the air. Her hind legs were folded up on top of her desk, as she leaned back in her comfortable and expensive swivel chair. The shades to the windows had been pulled down hastily, so at several areas the plastic shutters were either bent or crunched, allowing in asymmetrical gleams of light at random.

The clock at the top right of the room clicked away with the passing seconds, making her giggle with delight as the time for action became closer. For weeks she had been fussing over this exact moment, worried that something completely out of nowhere would topple the fragile events she had set in motion. But now that she was here, minutes away from the expected time of arrival, she felt more than ready to carry out her scheme.

The scheme in question, was the capture and smuggling of a pesky little human that had been plaguing her existence ever since she laid eyes on him. His mere presence among the rest of the class mocked her abilities as an agent, and the longer he remained unaware of her attempts to subdue him, the more enraged she became.

True, her first attempt had failed, but that was just because she was horridly unprepared for the situation. What had started out as covert surveillance of his activities and home life, turned into Ms. Press trailing him through the night and attempting to knock him out with volleys of sleeping darts.

However, she had no time to dwell on her mistakes, and that experience in question had told her all she needed to know about the dopey-looking loser. He could jump out of the way quickly enough, and scream pretty loud, but from her observations, he couldn’t fight off a sick parasprite if he tried.

This revelation made the entire capturing process of her plan loads easier, leaving only the processing portion to be the trickiest. But she didn’t fret, this wasn’t a solo job, heck no!

Peering up at the clock, she smiled an even wider and more maniacal of a grin. Only a few more minutes to show time!

Alistair paced hurriedly down the street. It was almost 4:30 in the afternoon, and he was going to be late. Why couldn’t have you just waited there?, he angrily asked himself as he speed walked. Now she’s going to deduct points!

Ms. Press, at the end of class, had asked for him to swing by the community house later in the day to chat about his progress in her pottery class. And although he’d tried his best to look understanding and unfazed by her request, he’d been sweating buckets since noon. He’d never been involved in formal academics before, but the way his grey furred teacher had worded it, he felt like it was horribly bad news.

Even though this was just a summer screw-around course, he would not tolerate getting a poor grade on the first thing he ever got graded on. He had kept a quiet but attentive attitude all through the past weeks, trying his hardest at whatever project Ms. Press threw at him. If she was going to give him trouble about his classroom performance, well, it least he wouldn’t be late to hear it!

Gritting his teeth, he began to sprint down the street, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Darn it! He’s running now.”

“Should we run too?”

“No, it’d be too obvious. C’mon, just keep walking, I can still see him.”

Jam and Commodore picked up their pace, but continued at a slow trot. Both of them faced forward, their eyes focused on a peculiar looking human in a brown cloak, walking down the street in the afternoon sun, with not many ponies around. Considering the circumstances, it would have been near impossible to loose sight of him, but both of them didn’t want to take their chances.

Their “investigation” had started with a trip over to Golden Oak Library to possibly speak two on one with the guy. However, right as they could see the building, the human had quickly thrown open the front door and took off walking onto another street. Seeing that he was in a hurry, the two made the polite decision to trail him to wherever he went.

“Is that the community house?” asked Jam, leaning his head over to Commodore as they walked.

“Yeah, I think so. I took a few art classes there when I was little. Had to go every Saturday morning.” Commodore paused a second, thinking to himself. “That means that he’s doing a course there, or something.”

Jam blinked. “You really think so?”

“Why not?” shrugged the shaggy blue pony. “If he can successfully integrate into Equestrian society without harming himself or others, then he is fully liable to all rights guaranteed to that of a naturalized citizen.”

Jam smirked, “Looks like somepony’s been doing their homework.”

Commodore didn’t respond, squinting at something ahead of them. Suddenly, he stopped walking. “He’s going inside. Look.” He pointed his hoof towards the front of the building. The human pushed up against the double doors with its shoulder and disappeared into the building.

“We’ve got to follow him!” declared Commodore. “Come on!”

Jam opened his mouth to object, but before he could, his friend was already galloping towards the front doors.

Ms. Press could almost explode with anticipation. It was 4:30 on the dot and the human would be there any moment! She’d prepped everything to say, do, and express right when he walked through the door, and even then did she find herself a bit nervous. The more and more she planned, the more likely it seemed she would fail.

Wringing her hoofs together, she got up from her chair and began to pace around the front of the room. There was nothing else she could to completely assure that her mission would be a success, there was no way. But her inner anxieties gnawed at her stomach, telling her that much was still to be done.

Beginning to sweat, she nervously tossed her white ball up and down into the air. What if he realizes something is ahoof? What if he doesn’t even show up? What would the rest of the organization think of me?! I can’t bear to hear anymore of them! All that teasing, laughing right in my face! What did I ever do to deserve this!? Why is it always me who--

“Enough!” she screamed to herself. “You’re going to be fine! If that little brat thinks he can slip through your hooves again, you’ll smash them right into his face!” Her gray fur seemed to turn red with rage as she seethed deeply thorough her snout. A million images of violence flashed through her mind, as every possible form of pain was inflicted on that cheeky, two-legged, gangly faced freak.

As hate filled every able space within her, she felt a thickening layer of calm on her nerves. All of the worries slowly soothed out of her and were replaced with nothing but pure raw hatred. Her concentration immediately returned.

Smiling, she confidently walked back over to her desk and sat down. Tossing the ball back into the air, she glanced once more at the clock.

Alistair made his way down the linoleum hallway in silence, his fur shoes muffling out any step he made against the shiny waxed floor. Just a little farther and he would be in Ms. Press’s room, ready to receive her judgment. The worries he had felt earlier still burned in his chest, making his steady approach all but more uncomfortable.

The silence of the entire building wasn’t helping either. It unsettled him, which was odd considering he loved the quiet. Peaceful mornings looking out the window were some of his favorite times of day. No, this silence felt different, strained, like tension was building somewhere. Like a violin cord being stretched and strained so tight, that at any moment, it would unexpectedly snap.

Perhaps it was just the cramped hallway, he thought. Small areas had freaked him out since before he could remember. And small areas with danger…well, he got the picture.

Turning a corner, he peered down another hallway almost identical to the ones he’d just been walking through. All the doors in the hallway were shut except for a single one left agar at the end of the corridor. He was here, it was show time. Taking a deep breath, he slowly approached the room step by step, as his body began to jitter. Here we go again…

Commodore peered his head around the corner. Right in front of him, just a few short yards away, was the human, slowly walking down the hallway. Turning to Jam, he silently gestured with his hooves to continue following him. Nodding once, Jam understood.

Poking his head back around, Commodore gasped and turned to Jam. Leaning close to his ears, Commodore lightly whispered something. “He’s going into one of the rooms. I say we follow him in there.”

Jam looked shocked for a moment then quickly shook his head in disagreement so fast that little bits of his brown mane fluttered to the ground. “I don’t think we should do that, we might get in trouble, or worse.”

Rolling his eyes, Commodore spoke once more. “It’s now or never, dude, and I’m planning on choosing the latter.” Looking around the corner once more, Commodore slowly made his way around the bend, and towards the opened door.

Alistair slowly stepped into the darkened classroom. His body cast a shadow from the open hallway door, allowing in a steady flow of light while the room itself offered next to nil. Moving to the front center of the room, he looked from left to right to see if anypony was around. “Hello?” he called out, “Ms. Press, I’m here.”

He heard no response from anywhere in the room. Had she forgotten? Was she running late? He was about to call for his teacher again, when he heard brisk hoofsteps coming from behind him. Turning around, he saw Ms. Press quickly approaching him from out of the darkness.

“Alistair!” she called out cheerfully, “I’m so glad you could make it! How’re you doing?”

Alistair tried his best to smile. “Oh, uh, I’m fine…just had a quick walk over. Thought I was going to be late, but, uh, got here on time.”

Ms. Press warmly smiled to him and shook her head in agreement. “Well it’s very good that you came, because like I said earlier, we have a few things to discuss about your performance in class.”

His face turned pale in horror at the mention of ‘performance’. “W-What do you mean by that?”

She chuckled to herself. “Oh, nothing like that Alistair! I wanted to congratulate you on the fine progress you’re making so far.”

He looked puzzled. “My progress?”

Ms. Press chuckled once again and continued. “I’ve seen the items you have made. vases, pans, that alien spacecraft with differing color patterns and tentacles coming from the sides.”

Alistair raised his hand. “It was a flower pot, actually, Ms. Press.”

She waved with her hoof. “Whatever. You’ve been doing a fine job so far, and I believe that a proper award is definitely in order.”

His eyes lit up amazingly. “A prize…for me!?”

Ms. Press nodded. “It’s always been a tradition of mine to award the best student of the class. A student who shows an aptitude to listen, learn and listen. And you, Alistair, are the most perfect and special candidate to receive this offer.”

She moved back over to the worktables section of the room and turned around to face him. “I’m going into the backroom to get your prize, but before I forget.” She dashed over to her desk and gently set a white ball on top of the table. “I’ll be right back!”

Sprinting into the barely visible part of the room, a sound of a door opening and then closing could be heard, followed by what sounded like the locking of a door.

Alistair stood vacantly for a moment, waiting for any noise to come from his teacher. Hearing nothing, he immediately bounced over to her desk, giddiness overtaking him. The very sight of the peculiar white ball had attracted his attention so much, that in the course of twelve seconds, he was now more interested in whatever the ball was than what his prize would be.

It occurred to him that maybe the ball was his prize, and Ms. Press going into the backroom was actually an elaborate way of saying that he could take it.

Reaching with his right hand, he picked up the object and was able to wrap all of his fingers around it. The weird thing was no bigger then an orange but heavier then a brick, and he swore he felt liquid sloshing around inside of it. He brought the object close to his ears and shook it. Yep, definitely liquids, and maybe some tiny pebbles too.

Maybe it’s a cup or a lamp of some kind, he thought. A toy? Plastic water balloon? Food container? He mulled over what the little trinket could be, but nothing in his mind could match the description.

Perhaps it was some weird pony thing that nobody had told him about, like when Twilight took him to the movies and forgot tell him the pictures didn’t actually come out of the screen, and before he knew it he was being taken out of the theater by an usher, while screaming: “But it looked so real!”

He held the hard white orb in his hand and kept on staring at it, hoping that something would appear in his head. He’d been so transfixed by the wonderful ball of plastic; he hadn’t even reacted to the voice he heard behind him.

“E-Excuse me?” said something that sounded very deep and flat in tone. “Can we, uh, talk to you for a moment?”

“Hmmmm?” said Alistair, not paying attention as he turned his body around to face where the voice was coming from. He flinched slightly at the sight of the figure, but that was just in some weird sense of surprise that the voice had actually come from something.

To his right, standing just at the border between the classroom and the hallway, was a tallish looking colt, with bright blue shaggy fur, and an even shaggier dark blue mane. A Cutie Mark of a game controller was on its flank.

Alistair stared at the pony from hoof to head, examining him for anything that would indentify the pony as an adult. This was mandatory of course, to check what amount of respect he should address to the stranger. Twilight had emphasized good manners almost immediately since his arrival, and he’d been following them ever since. Seeing no sign of age on the pony, he nodded to himself, suddenly a bit less worried on what to do. Dramatically clearing his throat, he responded.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, friend? My mind was somewhere else.” His tone was as casual as he could muster, a bit deeper then usual, but he always found himself doing that when he met new people.

The blue pony gulped slightly, and kept a placid expression on his face. “I, uh, asked if I could speak to you, on s-something important.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows in legitimate query. “What would that be? Are you a Royal Guard, or a detective of some sort?”

The colt let out a quick sigh and wrung his hooves together. “No it’s a, uh, inquiry…on, uh, personal matters that I, uh, I mean, we would like to get a better…” The pony’s speech trailed off as his eyes began to dart around the room.

“Ooooooooooh!” realized Alistair with a seeming understanding. “You’re a reporter, right? For a newspaper? I didn’t think they let young ponies get a job so quick!”

“Uh, yes!” blurted the pony. “I’m a reporter! And I’m, uh, doing an article…on you!”

“Me? Really?” asked Alistair with moderate disbelief. “Twi—I mean a friend of mine, said that some ponies might ask me some questions, but I never expected something like this.”

The pony bobbed is head rapidly. “Well…this one’s special, especially for you! Now why don’t you come outside with me… so we can discuss this further.”

Alistair shrugged his shoulders. “Alrighty then, lead the way.”

The two made their way out of the classroom and into the hallway. Standing right outside the door, was another pony. This one was a lanky, dark red colt, with a curly brown mane, and a pair of glasses on its snout. He seemed to be bothered by something, holding an annoyed expression as he eyed the reporter with disdain.

“And this,” introduced the shaky reporter, “is my…close friend and associate: Jam Roly-Poly. We’ve been on, uh, several stories together, and he was very…eager to help me on this one. Weren’t you, Jam?” He eyed the red pony excessively, like he was trying to tell him something.

The red pony rolled his eyes. “Commodore, I’m not playing this game. You said you’d tell him the truth.” The pony turned to Alistair. “I’m really sorry, he didn’t know what to do, and this was all kinda last minute--”

“Jam!” yelled Commodore. “Don’t throw me under the cart! I was going to tell him once the interview was over. I wouldn’t lie that much.”

Alistair looked at the two ponies, confused. “What’s going on? What’re you talking about?”

Commodore sighed. “We were trying to get an interview with you, and I, really we, thought that the best way to seem professional was pretending to be news reporters. That way, you’d trust us and stuff.”

“Hey!” retorted Jam, “This was mostly your idea, I only partially agreed to it.”

Commodore glared at him. “But you still agreed to it.”

“Because you insisted.”

“Because this is important.”

“Says you.”

“So…” uncomfortably cut in Alistair with a nervous smile, “About that interview. Should I just stick here with you guys, or come back tomorrow, or should we organize a meeting spot, or something along those lines?”

The two ponies turned to look at him, slightly surprised. “You actually want to go through with this?” asked Jam, “100% serious?”

He shrugged. “Twi—I mean the friend, said she’d handle the media and all that jazz, but you guys aren’t the media and you seem nice enough, so why not? I’ve got nothing else to do but putter around for the rest of the day.”

“That’d be great!” shouted an ecstatic Commodore, “That’d be really great. Thank you!”

Alistair beamed. “You’re welcome.”

Commodore turned to Jam then back to Alistair. “Alright, so we’ve got our man, now all we need is a safe and quiet place to conduct the interview. Somewhere put off but still comfortable. And I know just the place. Follow me!” He jumped up from where he stood and sprinted down the hallway at full speed, not even checking if anypony was following him.

“Does he do that often?” asked Alistair.

“Oh yeah” responded Jam, “All the time. Come one, we might loose him.” The two made their own way down the long corridor, moving as fast they could.

As they were about to turn onto another identical looking hallway, Alistair stopped for a second and looked back towards Ms. Press’s classroom. Thinking for a moment, he shook his head. “She’ll understand”, he mumbled to himself. Getting back into a stride, he followed after Jam, not looking back again.

Ms. Press had been hiding in the supply room closet for at least twenty-minutes, and she still didn’t hear explosion from her classroom. Unclipping the gas mask from her face, she silently slithered back into her room, curious and a bit ticked on why she hadn’t heard the tell tale boom.

It was hard to see anything in the room at this point. The closed shades and the setting sun had pretty much drained all light from the room. However, from the almost complete darkness, she could tell that something had gone horribly wrong. The bomb still sat on her desk, the door had been left open, and the human was nowhere to be found.

An awful feeling creeped into her mind as she frantically dashed over to her desk. Holding up the small white ball in her shaking hoof, she knew that her plan had failed. The firing mechanism must have malfunctioned or maybe it was the timer. Had she not put enough primer into the chamber? It didn’t matter. Her plan had failed once again and she was back at square one.

All of her hard work had just went straight down the drain, and it was all because of that plain-faced, knuckle dragging monster slipping through her hooves once again! Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t she just win for once? Why was it that any time something positive could happen, the world always found some way to ruin it for her?

She felt like exploding, as if every single inch of her body had been turned into dynamite and she would combust into a fiery cloud of rage. Clenching the white ball in her hoof, she tossed it at the wall with full force. The small device bonked against the concrete, and fell to the floor with a barely audible dink.

At that immediate moment, the ball exploded in a bright yellow flash, and purple smoke began to fill the room. Thinking quickly, Ms. Press sprinted to the open hallway door and slammed it shut. Now no pony would have any evidence against her!

She felt the thick violet smoke seep into her lungs as her eye lids became heavy and difficult to balance. Her head became twisted and she could feel her blood beginning to cool. The brew of wild flowers and radishes had made her potent sleeping gas some of the best she ever made. Sighing happily, she fell to the floor as her vision faded out. She needed some much needed rest anyway.

The Outing

The Sugar Bowl was probably the coolest hangout in the history of hangouts. Its cramped interior, greasy food and loud employees really sealed the deal in creating the atmosphere of a homely main-street diner. It was hard to tell if it was the manager making snide comments at the customers, or the fact that somepony always left the door open that the joint always seemed to keep ponies coming back.

On this particular summer afternoon, as several preteen colts and fillies hung around outside chatting about whatever school yard gossip they could muster in a season without school, an important event was formulating inside.

Alistair hacked once, coughed twice, and spit a great big chunk of his food onto the plate. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he winced in disgust at what he’d just eaten.

“Yu dn’t lk haybugers?” asked Commodore, sitting across from him with a mouthful of food.

He shook his head wearily. “No, I don’t think I do.” He reached forward and drank from his glass of water, but even then did he gag at the left over bits of dried…whatever he just ate, in his mouth.

Jam smirked. “I take it you’re not very keen on the herbivore’s diet?”

Alistair responded by pretending vomit to fully emphasize his opinions on the meal. Commodore laughed at this and bits of food came spurting out of his mouth. Jam and Alistair giggled.

“Shut upppppp” said the blue colt, mildly amused and mildly annoyed.

It was hard to tell how long the three had been there. It all started with a single order of fries, then another, then some drinks, refills of the drinks, consideration of ice cream, and now full meals for each person. A clock sat somewhere in the place, but none of them had glanced up at it since they had entered.

The sun still sat in the corner of the sky, letting down a fair amount of light, but it was apparent to anypony with eyes that it wouldn’t be there for much longer.

Alistair yawned. “Have you guys seen the new Incarnate movie?”

Commodore nodded. “Yeah, I saw it with my Dad a few days ago. It was ok. The ending was kind of lame though, especially since they left it off at a cliffhanger. They didn’t do that with the last one.”

“They weren’t expecting for the first one to have sequel”, responded Jam. “They actually felt a necessity to tie up all loose ends instead of leaving it off for a third movie.”

“I really hate how they always do that. Just end it already, two movies is enough.”

“Such is the world of Manehattan film productions” joked Alistair.

Commodore raised one of his eyebrows. “Dude, this isn’t to be rude or anything but…you seem to know a lot about pop-culture, considering the time you’ve been here.”

He tapped the top of his head with his pointer finger. “Encyclopedias and newspapers, my friend, you have no idea how much you can learn from em’.”

Commodore looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meet to put you out or anything, I was just…”

He put his hands up in defense. “It’s fine, it’s fine, no offense taken. And besides, you can write that down with the others.”

“What?”

“The others. The other stuff you wrote down earlier, for the interview.”

The shaggy blue pony had to think for moment to recall what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah, the interview! Gosh, I’d forgotten all about it.”

Jam rubbed the back of his head. “Jeez, I forgot about that too. How long have we been here?” He craned his neck around to get a good look at the restaurant’s clock. “Wow, guys it’s almost seven.”

Commodore face hoofed. “Aw man, I gotta be home soon. I have to babysit my brother again.” He stamped his feet against the ground in frustration.

“You have a brother?” asked Alistair.

“Yeah, four years younger than me and a big pain if you ever get to know him.”

“How so?”

Commodore sighed. “He does these…things, you know? Really annoying garbage that he always seems so successful in pulling off.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You will if you meet him, trust me.”

Alistair shrugged and took a sip of his water. Jam and Commodore bounced into their own conversation.

“So Jam, in Sensei Mauri Ferrai Tensei, I was able to max out the emperor arcane to full PP.”

“And?”

“I think we might stand a chance in beating the Hand of Fate, if you can port your character onto my system.”

“Do you have the right adaptor?”

“I do, got it at the Game Hut yesterday.”

“Alright, sweet. I think my guy has enough ED but his DPS may be a bit lacking.”

“Just grind in the dungeons, you can max up levels quicker that way.”

“I would if I had enough quick-save beads.”

Alistair continued to listen to their long, impossible to decipher discussion about a game he never played. He sipped his water for as long as he could, until the two finally got bored.

Jam bumped his friend in the shoulder. “Commodore, I have to start heading home. I told my mom I’d be back by seven thirty.”

“Alright” he said rising out of his chair, “let’s get going.” The two got up and walked towards the door. Alistair quickly got out of his chair and followed after them.

Out front, a few colts still hung around from earlier. They were difficult to get rid of. Their bikes were propped against the front of the building as they stood around in a circle, discussing a topic so important that they had to speak as loudly as possible for everypony to hear it. They were noticeablely younger than the three, perhaps by about one or two years. Still, that didn’t stop them from being jerks.

“Hey bud!” one of them called as they passed by, “Hey guys, I wanna talk to you!” The three continued to walk with their backs to the group, pretending to not take any notice. “Hey nerds!” another one called, “Whatcha’ doin’ with the hero? You get somethin’ special for him?”

“Yeah” another one shouted, “I didn’t know a monkey-man could be a nerd!” The group of colts burst out laughing, high hoofing each other in an odd show of victory. The three made their way across the street, the roar of giggles still incredibly audible behind them.

Jam and Commodore balled their hooves tightly and grit their teeth, but continued to move along as if nothing happened. “Freakin’ hate those kids” muttered Commodore. “Bunch of dips” agreed Jam.

Alistair said nothing, breathing deeply as he stared down at the ground. Stopping for a second, he turned around to face the punks. They were a few shops away now, but they still took notice of Alistair glaring at them. Picking up with their act, they went in full force.

“Oooooooo, he’s a big hero!”

“What a tough little hero!”

“I’m so scared!”

“What’s he looking at?”

Raising his right arm towards the colts, he pointed his index finger towards the group of bullies. Propping up his thumb, he shaped his hand into something menacing, something resembling a gun. He stared daggers at each and every one of them.

“What the heck is he doing?”

“Jeez, this hero’s messed up!”

“Hey bud, whatcha doing?”

“Is he going to start crying?”

Biting his lip, he uttered a single word aloud, loud enough for the colts to hear. “Bang.”

Before they could laugh, a concentrated bolt of blue light shot out of his finger tip and screamed towards where they sat. The beam smacked into the side of The Sugar Bowl, charring a spot on the bricked wall. Not thinking twice, the group of macho colts scattered while screaming and hollering to one another in fear. Turning around, Alistair stormed back towards a stunned Jam and Commodore.

“Let’s go, I want to get out of this place.”

To Reflect...

Twilight Sparkle slowly trotted through the kitchen, a warm steaming cup of tea following after her, suspended by just a hint of levitation spell and a dash of careful brewing. Moving step by step, she emerged steadily from the tiled room with the warm beverage leading the way.

Moving over to her special work chair, she set the drink down gently against the coffee table. Scooting herself onto the comfortable wooden furniture, she smiled intently at the sitting Alistair, who was just across from her. He sat arched on the sofa, his hands folded as he kept a placid expression, his normal expression.

“So” she said, raising the tea to her lips, “I want to tell you outright that although you technically did break the established curfew we had in no way am I angry or upset that you did.”

Alistair looked up at her with weak eyes. “Are you sure? One hundred percent?”

“Of course”

“Alright” he said nodding his head, still looking a bit nervous.

She took another sip of her tea. “But I still need to know what you were doing out so late. It can be dangerous in Equestria at night.”

Alistair sighed. “Ok, I will.”

He began his long story, starting from being late to his meeting with Ms. Press, all the way to him walking through the front door just minutes ago. She was incredibly tempted to interrupt when he mentioned the two mysterious individuals “Commodore Blip” and “Jam Roly-Poly”, but she refrained until he was finished.

His body became rigid and twitchy as he informed her about his outburst in town. He nervously justified his actions and stated repeatedly that he had no intention to hurt anypony. She acknowledged all of this with a nod, continuing to listen as told her of what happened afterwards.

He described the congratulations and encouragement the two kind ponies gave him, stating that the gang of bullying colts “totally deserved it”. He ended his tale with telling Twilight about the future plans they made, and his late night return home.

He paused. “So that’s about it, I guess.”

Twilight took another sip from her tea. Holding back no longer, she beamed brightly at him and slammed the mug down against the table. It was amazing the glass didn’t break.

“Alistair!” she exclaimed, “That’s amazing! You’ve finally met somepony! You’ve done it, after all this time, you’ve done it!”

He looked guiltier than ever. “Twilight, I could have killed those other ponies.”

She waved the air with her hoof. “Oh, that’s fine. You wouldn’t have done anything too severe, second or third degree burns most likely.”

Alistair sighed, not thoroughly convinced by her assurance. Noticing this, she quickly got out of her chair and reached over to him, setting her hoof on his shoulder.

“Look,” she said gently, “the important thing is, you’ve met two nice young colts who seem to really enjoy being around you. Isn’t that an accomplishment in itself?”

He crossed his arms. “It was them who approached me, not the other way around. And besides, we’ve only hung out once, I doubt that means we’re now best friends for life.”

Twilight shook her head. “Alistair, you’ve got to stop looking negatively at these kinds of things. The first step has already been taken, why don’t you wait and see how things progress before doubting it?”

“But…”

Twilight leaned in a bit closer, her hoof still on his shoulder. “Alistair, it was years before I ever was able to make a lasting relationship with somepony that wasn’t the Princess or Spike. You’ve been here, for what, two months now? And your already friends with two other ponies.”

She leaned a tad bit closer and poked her hoof on his chest. “Hold onto what you did today, because it was special and memorable and important. You have no idea how many other ponies wish they could have done what you did today. I can vouch for myself on that one.”

Alistair looked up at her and smiled, the sourness that he held earlier now completely gone. “Thanks for that Twilight.”

She smiled back. “Don’t mention it; I always like helping a friend in need.” Offering him her hoof he kindly accepted it. With a light tug, she pulled him to his feet. “Now come on, I want you to try some of the cannis root tea I made.”

The two walked toward the kitchen.

“Could I just have some water instead? Or milk?” asked Alistair. “I’ve never really been a fan of the whole hot beverage scene.”

Twilight looked shocked. “Y-You don’t like tea? That’s impossible!”

He shook his head. “Nope, I’ve never liked the stuff, too hot and too varied in flavor for me. There’s also the aftertaste to it, like that weird smell you get in your nose after drinking. Blech!”

“Well,” said Twilight as they walked into the kitchen “I’m sure I can find some way to convince you. Mind control maybe? Hypnosis?”

He laughed. “I’d still probably hate it.”

The rest of the night was a comfortable contrast to the stressful shenanigans of the day, adding some much needed closure that both friends needed direly. It was a fantastic day.

Enter the Cavalry

Shale Press pushed aside her thin white shades and quickly glanced out the window. It was still night, from the last time she checked, and the all-night sofa/quill store’s bright red lettered “24 Hour Sofa and Archaic Writing Utensil Service” sign still blasted electronic light through her windows, baking her entire meager apartment in brooding crimson light.

The place wasn’t much to look at, a cramped living quarters that tried its best to look homely and welcoming despite the mounting factors of too little space and too many things in that space. It was still well kept, all items carefully placed in respective locations with the carpets and counters routinely being washed.

Sighing, Shale leaned her head around and peered at the digital clock she kept on the kitchen counter. She already knew in the back of her mind that more than likely it was time, but she still wished for the off chance that her instincts were off.

12:01

No, right on the dot as usual. Letting the white shade go, she made her way around the coffee table towards her bedroom. As she walked, she could see an impressive looking shadow forming behind her flank from the leaking red light. She smiled as she entered the room.

Not even bothering to turn the lights on, she stepped over to her closet and pushed open the foldaway slides. Brushing against the several hanging outfits inside, she pulled the slides shut from the inside, sealing herself in.

Sighing once more, she felt around for the white wall inside the small space and rigidly knocked her hoof against it three times. The white wall pneumatically hissed once and suddenly broke away in two, revealing a hidden chamber she hadn’t stepped into in at least a month.

The room was a hexagonal ball, with the floor comprised of flat steel, while the sides and top formed upwards into a blocky pyramid. If examined in its entirety, it would look like a digital blip on an arcade screen. Long blue lights circled the entire space on three levels, one low, one mid, and one high, giving the enclosed chamber an incredibly sci-fi look.

In the center of the room, symmetrically placed on a darkened square of steel, was a lone mirror. It was oval in shape, taller than her, and with a black outline around the edges.

Stepping farther away from the door and closer to the mirror, the white wall quickly shut itself with another hiss, trapping her inside the mirror’s domain. She’d been expecting it; it’s how it always was.

Approaching closer to the mirror, she stopped just short of a yard from it and slowly leaned down onto one of her knees, her hooves resting across them. Looking up at the mirror, she waited for a response.

Almost immediately, the glass oval shimmered and fogged as the reception was being connected with HQ. She bit her lip in nervous anticipation as it seemed that an image was beginning to come through.

The mirror displayed a foggy, but still moderately clear image of stallion face staring directly into it. He wore large circular reflective glasses and had orange fur about him. The rest of his face was difficult to make out, possibility on intention of concealing his identity from those lower than him. He was smiling.

“Ah, Agent Press,” acknowledged the stallion with a mocking sense of welcome “it’s nice to see that you’ve finally patched into me. You’re three minutes late.”

Shale Press stared at the stallion with a hurt but still professional demeanor. “I’m sorry Director, the time slipped away from me. It was fully my responsibility.”

He nodded his head. “Yes, and I hope that it doesn’t happen again.” The stallion adjusted his glasses casually. “Now, I remember asking for your written report on the current situation down there in Ponyville. I would hope it was simply lost in the mail because you seem to be late with that as well.”

Press felt something heavy and painful drop into her lower stomach. She’d been preparing her response for the past day, but she still felt vulnerable answering. “W-Well, actually sir…um…something important came up and I became a bit…side tracked. It will definitely get done by tomorrow I can promise you that.”

The stallion raised an eyebrow. “Really, you’re actually late writing it. That’s odd, especially considering your normal punctuality.” He rested his hoof onto his chin. “Tell me, what precisely came up that was so important to distract you from the orders you’ve been directly given?”

“…I…” she attempted to utter response but it seemed the ability to speak had been taken from her. She could feel the world beginning to slow down as her head became light and the color drained from her face. For a few painful seconds the room was silent.

The orange stallion chuckled to himself and smiled a dry grin to her. “What’s wrong, has your brain finally given up trying to hide the blatant lie you’re keeping from me?”

She didn’t move muscle, but her eyes screamed in agony, their slight quivering detail was all the colt needed to know.

“Oh, but you probably don’t get what I’m referencing, do you? Well let me make things a little bit more clear for you. How were those two escapades you went on without informing headquarters of either your tactics or the very existence of the plans themselves, hmm?”

Shale looked horrified. “H-How do you--”

“How do I know that it was mere coincidence that the sapient was placed in your “class”, that you’ve tried and failed twice to capture it with your own pathetic means, that you want nothing more than to see that sad little creature beaten into the ground, that you are an incredibly inept and useless tool that has definitely outstayed you’re usefulness?”

He glared directly through the mirror at her, his tone becoming more direct and less condescending. “Let’s just say that this little device is more than a two-way mirror.”

Shale knelt numbly on the cold metal floor, her eyes refusing to form tears. She felt nothing in her heart, mind or body. She felt a growing sense of emptiness that echoed quickly all throughout her frame. She felt as if somepony had cut her open and poked at everything that’d had been bothering her the entire summer. She felt like a failure.

The orange stallion took note of her silence and leaned back from the mirror. Rubbing his face with a handkerchief, he spoke lowly and without emotion to her. “The situation in Ponyville has been passed to Agents seven to seventeen, effective immediately. You are hereby suspended from all field activities and are requested to return directly to HQ to face reevaluation of your position in the organization. Director out.”

The image of the stallion slowly shimmered away from the mirror and was replaced with the simple reflection of the room. All was quiet within the sterile chamber, not a noise coming from the room or its single inhabitant. It stayed that way for hours.

Not too far away, outside in the grayness of night, a screeching train horn blew through the still air. The chugging of the engine rumbled through the town, shaking all houses unfortunate enough to be close to the tracks. A trail of white smoke, appearing more solid than gas, trailed wherever the metal behemoth went.

Approaching the Ponyville train platform, the scraped steel brakes screeched gratingly as the machine stopped at its destination. The train stood there a moment, the only sound it made coming from the scorching engine that still burnt brightly. A cold approaching autumn wind brisked through the air, as single door from one of the passenger cars slid open.

A group of ten brawny and lean stallions emerged from the opening quickly, all stepping quickly down the car’s steps and onto solid ground. On the poorly lit station area, it was hard to make out any distinguishable qualities, but it could be seen that each one of them carried a hefty saddlebag on each side of their body.

Walking down the platform in a clustered group, they remained silent as they moved down the train station steps and onto the main street road of Ponyville.

Captured...Alive

Alistair and Jam leaned over Commodore’s shoulder, carefully examining the fine piece of craftsmanship he held in his hooves. The sleek white piece of plastic sat vertically upwards, its electronic screens emitting a faint glow under the shaded tree where he sat.

“What kind of Tiny-mon is that?” asked Alistair, not averting his eyes from the screen.

“Blastoid,” responded Commodore, not looking up as well. “He’s a water type, and since I’m in Fire Oak City, all the Tiny-mon here, no matter if their fire type or not, have a weakness to water types.”

“Oh,” he said simply as he continued to stare down at the screen. “Can multiple people play at once?”

“They can, but another Joyboy is necessary to sign in as another player. An adaptor cord is also needed to connect between the two battles.”

“Does Jam have his Joyboy then?”

Jam shook his head. “Na, I left it at home. It’s still fun to watch though.”

Alistair nodded his head and looked down at the screen. The blue pixel monster that was on one side of the screen shot a blue line at another monster at the other side of the screen. Several bars of texts popped up as the line collided with the monster, feeding back statistics and damage levels.

Shaking his head, Alistair tapped on Commodore’s shoulder.

“What?” the blue colt asked slightly annoyed at being disrupted from his game.

“I think I’m going to head home now, I got some work to do.”

“Really?” asked Commodore. “Its summer time and you don’t go to school, what work could you have?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s some stuff my caretaker wanted me to do. It can’t wait.”

Commodore shrugged. “Alright, you gotta do what you gotta do. Speaking of which, you still up for coming over next week?”

Alistair smiled unsurely. “I don’t know, wouldn’t it be kinda…awkward around your parents? I mean, I don’t want to intrude or anything, and if their doing something important that’s fine, I can wait to come over another time.”

He shook his head. “Dude, it’ll be in the morning so they’ll most definitely be at work. There’s no chance you’d even see them.”

“What about your brother then? What’ll he do?”

“I’ll tell him to go to his room, like I always do. He won’t be a problem.”

Alistair shrugged. “Alright, if it’s that custom fit…I’ll come.”

“Yes!” yelled Commodore victoriously. “Now I can finally show you how games are supposed to be played, on a console!

“Hey,” said Jam, “portables are still dang fine systems and you know it!”

“They are, they are, but there not as good as consoles.”

“Consoles just have flashier graphics and more hardware power, nothing else.”

“Graphics and power are a pretty big things Jam.”

“Not always.”

“Most of the time.”

“Like when?”

“When--”

“Guys!” shouted Alistair, “I’m going now. See you.”

“See you,” said Jam as he adjusted his glasses.

“Remember,” reminded Commodore, “next week, don’t forget.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I hope so.”

Alistair walked slowly down the dusty pathway, purposely kicking up bits of soil to make little dirt clouds as he walked. The sun shown painfully over his head, making his brushed brown hair burn as it collected more and more heat. Touching the top of his head, he felt the blistering light seem to scald the inside of his palm.

The dirt itself on the path seemed to have been so burned by the summer heat, that it had mysteriously changed in color from brown to yellow, giving the impression that the landscape had suddenly turned into an out of place desert. To contrast against this, the Everfree Forest sat on both sides of the pathway, green as can be and shaded from the sun’s reach.

Continuing to walk, he thought over what precisely he would do once he got to Twilight’s house. Everything else he could think of seemed menial and anti-social in comparison to hanging out with Jam and Commodore. Perhaps he’d made the decision to go home too early.

He considered walking back, maybe just saying that he’d changed his mind, but he quickly decided against it. It’d be awkward to come back after walking away, he thought to himself. And then they’d know that you lied to them, what kind of impression would that give them?

Shaking his head to push the thoughts out of his mind, he continued to walk forward. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with himself the rest of the day, but he knew could figure something out.

“Agent Eight, do you see him?”

“Yes, I see him.”

“Should we proceed?”

“No, wait for him to pass, the angle will be better.”

“Yes sir.”

Alistair kicked another cloud of dust onto the ground and jolted as he heard an unsettling rip from one of his fur shoes. Grudgingly peering down at his feet, he could make out a large tear along the right foot’s front, fully exposing the tips of his toes to the sun.

Cursing to himself, he stopped for a moment and slowly slipped the damaged and undamaged shoes off his pasty white feet. Holding them in both hands, he continued down the pathway, the scorching dirt already burning his unprepared feet.

“He’s passed.”

“Ready to commence?”

“Absolutely.”

“Deploy projectile…now.”

“Yes sir.”

The shinny metal sphere hurled out of the lush green Everfree Forest. Bouncing once against the dusty road, it picked up in speed and flew straight towards the unaware Alistair. Turning his head to the noise, he moved just in time for the object to slam him square center in the face, sending him full force to the ground.

Landing on his shoulder, he yelled out as pain shot up through his face and collar bone. Struggling to his feet, he began to hobble forwards but quickly stopped in his tracks. Now, right in front of him, just were he’d been facing, was a silent phalanx of five stallions blocking the road, staring coldly in his direction.

Turning around in fear, he could likewise see another line of five stallions blocking the way he just came. For a painful second he looked at both groups, and knew all to well that he was trapped.

As on queue, two ponies from his front charged at him, their faces closed in a solemn sense of violence. One of the two leaped forward with unsuspecting agility and smashed his right hoof into Alistair’s chest.

Feeling a flash of adrenaline and rage, Alistair decked the stallion with his elbow and drove his first into the bridge of its snout. Yelping once, the stallion fell down, cradling the wound that was now spurting blood.

The other stallion, which now stood at a small distance from him, pulled out something sharp and square from behind his torso, a dagger. Clenching the knife tightly in his teeth, the stallion hopped effortlessly into the air and pointed the blade downwards toward the standing Alistair.

Not thinking twice, Alistair conjured lightening into his right palm and blasted the un- expecting assailant with a single bolt of electricity. Launching upwards, the pony was sent flying backwards into the forest, a trail of smoke leading the way.

Clenching his hurt knuckles, Alistair spun around as he felt something heavy and painful tackle him from behind. Falling face forward, he screamed out as his skull impacted savagely against the unforgiving earth. The stallion pushed aggressively against his back, the full force of his very weight beginning to crush him.

Roaring in rage, another stream of electricity erupted in his hands as he blasted the stallion off him. Moving back to his feet, he caught a glimpse of three more attackers moving in on him. They came towards him in a triangle formation, each one symmetrically placed away from the other one as they slowly circled in.

Preparing more lightening in his hands, he felt something hard and circular impact against his back. Buckling over in agony, he could see the three ponies running towards him now. Forcing himself upwards, he blindly punched through the air, nailing one of the stallions in the jar.

Lightening appearing in his hands, he savagely grabbed at the two other stallions, sending thousands of painful electric volts into their unsuspecting bodies. Screaming in pain and surprise, the colts fell backwards against each other, and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

“Come on!” he screamed. “COME ON!”

The three remaining colts, two in front of him, one behind him, nervously looked at one another, and then quickly pulled out several more metal spheres from their adjacent saddle bags. Tossing them in a storm of motion, the objects swarmed towards him in a flash.

Diving to the ground, he blasted the two colts to his front with bolts to the chest and quickly slid back to his feet. Sprinting towards the frightened last colt, he yelled out with full rage as he raised his fist high above his head.

Shutting his eyes in anticipation, the stallion quivered as Alistair laid a single direct strike straight into the colt’s face. He could feel the speed force slamming against the stallion, as he fell to the ground without even a sound.

“Is that it!?!” he yelled to the road. “Any one else wanna take a shot!?! Who wants to be a…” He trailed off, realizing the silence around him. No one else stood in his way.

The adrenaline in his head seemed to suddenly shut off with the realization; taking with it any resistance to the pain in his body. Immediately, his back felt achy and twisted, his face sliced and stingy, and his chest cracked and sore, the several blows he’d endured feeling like hundreds. He groaned buckling over as his throbbing body’s ills hit him all at once, catching him off guard. Taking a couple deep breaths, he slowly moved himself back up and began to inspect his wounds.

He felt around his cheeks, gently tapping at the emerging bruises from there to his mouth, hoping that no teeth had been knocked out the scuffle. Sticking his hand down his shirt, he felt around the crest of his chest for any trails of cuts or bruises. Finding a small patch on his right lower rib and pectoral, he moved his hand back out of his shirt.

Rubbing the back and top of his head, he pinpointed several regions of his skull where swelling was beginning to take place, giving his head a slow and heavy feeling. Last but not least, he felt around his back for any noticeable damage, and winced as he felt a nasty and still bleeding gash on his side. Swallowing fear, he continued to look around his body, searching for anything he’d missed.

While doing this he noticed that the left shoulder area of his shirt had been ripped off, the entire cloth gone exposing his skin to the sky. “No…” he said to himself sadly, “not the shirt, my good and only shirt…” Rubbing his naked shoulder dejectedly, he felt an overwhelming sense of loss for the tiny piece of his clothing, ruined and gone forever.

Kicking a little dust cloud with his toes, he looked around at the crowd of ten stallions that lay before him, all unconscious, burned and bleeding, all harmed by him alone. Rubbing his fingers along the tops of his hands, he wiped the excess blood onto the thighs of his pants and spat onto the ground.

Closing his eyes in anguish, he bent down at in odd hunch and sighed. He felt some peace return to him but he couldn’t help but think about his special clothes, ruined now. He knew he’d have to get new ones now, ones that weren’t his, ones that be from this world and not the other one. He didn’t have much from the Realm of Solitude, only the clothes on his back, and those where starting to leave him.

Shaking his head sadly, he pushed himself back to his feet, and opened his eyes.

“Well, look at you,” said a familiar female voice from behind him.

Turning around, he was perturbed to find that his pottery teacher, Ms. Press, was standing calmly among the lines of injured stallions, her height seeming to be elevated as all around lay quietly on the ground.

Her straight purple mane was tied back in a pony tail while her gray fur looked freshly washed and kept. But the most striking characteristic to him was the odd personality she had about. Her tone and body language suggested power, control, but with a weird touch of courteousness and patience. It seemed that a completely different mare was standing in front of him.

“Ms. Press?” he asked as if confirming the fact she was there. “What are you doing here?”

She chuckled and walked a bit closer to him. “Oh, just going for a stroll, admiring the view. It was quite a sight, let me tell you.”

He raised his eyebrows, confused with the circumstances. “View? What view?”

Smiling, she stepped a bit closer to him. “You, of course.”

“I don’t think I know what you’re referring to, Ms. Press.”

She condescendingly shook her head. “Don’t act coy; you know exactly what I’m referring to.” She gestured to the battle scene. “This, all of it.”

“Oh…you saw that…”

“Yes, I did.”

He paused for a moment contemplating what to say. “Am I in trouble?”

“Yes,” she said casually, “but not with the authorities, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He sighed in relief. “Oh, thank goodness! I was sure that somepony would—wait a second, what did you say?”

“Me?” she answered, surprised with him acknowledging her. “I didn’t say anything; I simply said that the authorities aren’t after you.”

“No-no-no, you said I was in trouble, but not with them.”

She smirked. “My, my, aren’t you the observant one today. Certainly a change of pace from your normal complacent and dim-witted personality.”

He furred his brow. “Thanks for the compliment, jerk.”

“Is that anyway to treat lady?” She asked with a mocking sense of surprise. “Especially one that’s here to subdue you for your crimes.”

He sternly folded his arms. “I don’t particularly see how I’ve done anything wrong. These ponies attacked me, I defended myself, there’s no law against self-preservation.”

“No, there’s not,” she said while shaking her hoof, “but your crimes stretch far wider then what took place today, and although most in Equestria believe you to be innocent, a higher power thinks otherwise.”

He stepped back slightly, his palms held up in defense. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

She stepped over a fallen stallion and approached him even closer. “And that, my fair little ape, is where you are most certainly wrong. You’ve done plenty already you just don’t realize it.”

He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. Thinking for a moment, he began to slowly back away, his palms still held up in defense. “Look, I don’t know what in the hoof you’re even talking about, but it’s getting late and my caretaker might be wondering where I am. It was very nice talking to you Ms. Press, but I have to get going.”

Shale Press was now only a few yards away from him. “Is that really how you’re going to end this conversation, walking away?” She flashed forward in the blink of an eye and smashed her front hoof into his face. “Because I’ve got plenty more to say!”

He stumbled backwards from the strike, but quickly recovered to a fighting stance. Swinging with his left arm, he aimed a punch directly for her side. Dodging under it, she countered with another hoof to his face, sending him farther back.

“You’ve been playing a high stakes game since you first infected this realm with your presence, human.” She charged forward and slammed her head into his ribs.

“Whether you realize it or not, you’re very existence here has tainted the flow of events, tarnished how the world is supposed to be handled.”

She aimed another hoof at his face, but he quickly sidestepped it and grabbed her swinging leg. Conjuring electricity to his hands, he fiercely held onto her as waves of lightening shot up through his hands.

A spiking sensation of pain and fire wailed through her foreleg and spread throughout her entire body. Every nerve in her body screamed out, the pain coming from every direction. She tried to wring away from his grasp, but the electricity and his grip were too strong.

Twisting her body around, she sent her elbow crashing into the side of his neck with every ounce of strength she had. Gasping for air, he let go of her foreleg and fell to the ground, his mouth desperately gaping for air. Stomping once on his chest, she aggressively pressed her hoof against his torso, pinning him to the ground.

He struggled slightly against her force, but stopped as she drove her hoof further into his torso. After a minute of this, he no longer stirred and simply quivered at the pain she continued to inflict.

As quickly as the fight had started, it was over, her opponent broken and lame. And although it had been her who’d delivered the final blows, she felt disappointed that the moment hadn’t lasted longer. She’d dreamed of this fight for almost three months, imaging each and every strike she’d endure onto him, savoring every detail of his pained and weak expressions. And now, as he lay helplessly on the ground with her hoof at his throat, she knew all to well that her hate was not satisfied.

“Can you hear me!?” she said to him. “Can you hear what I’m saying?”

He mumbled something unintelligible and attempted to reach forward at his face. Stamping her other hoof on top of his hand, she continued to speak.

“You fought well considering your circumstances, hero. But I hope this was a valuable lesson in instructing that you’re not only outnumbered but outclassed and outmaneuvered. You will always lose when up against us, or me. Just thought you should know that.”

He groaned and slowly nudged to his side, not seeming to hear what she said.

“Hmm, you’re loosing consciousness, eh? Let me help you with that.” She raised her hoof of his hand and quickly brought it down on the top of his head. With a loud konk, his eyes rolled back and his breath became heavy.

She smiled at the motionless Alistair. “Lights out, boy.”

Several hours later, as the sun began to move towards the mid edge of the sky, and the heat of the day began to wane with the light of the sun, Commodore and Jam walked side by side down the same beaten path, discussing their incredibly productive day.

“Normally I’d think that Chogath has the better stats, but apparently when given a single attack potion its speed in battle is decreased.”

Jam shook his head. “That’s why you never use rock types; they always have weird defects when using any enhancers.”

“No way, that hasn’t happened with my Garren or Dak monsters before. I think it might just be exclusive to Chogath.”

“No, there’s still a heightened possibility for them to be affected, they just have higher resistance.”

“Where’d you find this out?”

“Strategy guide, they still have a few copies at the Game Hut.”

“How much was yours?”

“Fifteen bits, it was on sale.”

“Darn, I only have ten.”

“Don’t your parents give you an allowance?”

“Yeah, the ten bits I have is this week’s allowance.”

They walked a bit farther down the road, arguing as they went. However, once reaching a certain section of the path, Commodore stopped in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jam, looking at his friend.

Commodore seemed to be staring intently at the dirt along the road, as if something was buried beneath it.

“Jam…do you notice anything…off about this road?”

The red colt tapped his chin with his hoof. “Hmmm, well…I don’t see anything that striking it just looks a little--”

“--Messed up,” finished Commodore, “like something happened to it, recently.”

Jam sighed and shook his head. “And what makes you think that?”

Commodore walked over to the misshapen area of the road. “The lines, the marks, the depressions, they’re fresh, otherwise they’d have been brushed over by the weekly street sweepers.”

He shrugged. “Ok, but what makes you think something happened?”

Commodore glared at him, frustrated with his intolerance of mystery. “Hello? Don’t you see it? Weird lines and drag marks all over a random stretch of road, topped off with inexplicable indentations in the dirt. Of course something happened!”

“Could have been some little foals,” said Jam as he walked over to him, “maybe just playing around in the dirt. My brother does it all the time.”

“Shhhh!” said Commodore as he looked down at the road. “There might be something I’m missing. Be quiet a sec.” He stooped his head down and slowly trotted around the area, inspecting every spec of dirt that looked significant.

Moving away from his detective buddy, Jam haphazardly walked around the crime scene occasionally looking over at Commodore as he searched. Pushing his hoof through his curly brown mane, he looked up at the sky, trying to determine the time of day.

Looking back down at the ground, he continued to slump about, not paying attention to where he was going.

“Are you almost done?” yelled Jam from across the roadway.

“Almost, I think this branch may have some hoof prints on it.”

Face hoofing; Jam took another step forward, as something important crossed his eye. Stopping, he tilted his head to the left, just to make sure he’d seen what he thought he’d just seen.

“H-Hey, Commodore,” he called, a bit nervous, “I think I found something.”

“What-what-what?!?” he yelled as he bolted over. “Is it a hoof print, a weapon, magic scorch marks?”

“No,” said Jam as he reached down and picked up the item with a shaking hoof, “it’s just this.”

Staring at it for a second, Commodore wheeled back in horror as he realized what the item was.

“Jam…is that what I think it is?”

“Y-Yes, I think it is.”

In Jam’s hoof, suspended just by just its tip, was stray green piece of cloth, thick with dried blood and stained by dirt. It looked exactly like a fragment of Alistair’s shirt.

A Grander Scheme

“Do you have to bandage the human?” asked Shale Press with disgust and indifference. “He’d very much suffice without it.”

The timid yellow colt shakily answered as he continued to roll a reel of medical tape around Alistair’s bruised shoulder.

“W-Well ma’am, the Director gave us specific orders to ensure a one-hundred percent safe processing of the sapient at all times. This includes health concerns.”

“It would do fine without us licking its wounds,” she spat, “a little gangrene never hurt anypony.”

She got up from her kitchen chair and moved over to the windows. Quickly peering through the wispy shades, she made sure that no pony was watching them through the cover of darkness. In her line of work, preparedness was a key factor in success and she’d had quite enough unexpected occurrences foiling her plans. Brushing the shades away, she turned back to the colt.

“Where’s the rest of your group? I didn’t get to have a word with them as we carried this loathsome sack of unconscious meat back here.” She gestured her hoof to the sleeping Alistair as he lay on her sofa, undisturbed to the environment around him.

The colt uncapped a bottle antiseptic with its mouth and began to dab Alistair’s facial cuts as he responded. “They’re probably back at out provisional headquarters, resting up and preparing for what comes next in the plan.”

Shale folded her hooves. “And where precisely is this headquarters?”

“Rooms 304 to 306 at the Whispering Oaks motel, its right next to the bowling alley.”

She shook her head disdainfully. “A bit foolish having all of your rooms in one vicinity, you attract unwanted attention. You should have considered different motels or at least separated rooms.”

The colt sighed as he injected a syringe full of antibiotics into Alistair’s wrist. “Yeah well, we got here just the other night and plan on leaving just as soon. We aren’t particularly prepping any long term operations in this ditch.”

She glared at him. “Watch your tone, boy. If you haven’t learned your place in this organization yet then I’ll be happy to instruct it to you.”

The colt looked down sheepishly. “Yes ma’am.”

Peering over at the digital clock she kept on the counter, Shale nodded to herself. Quickly trotting over to the entrance to her bedroom, she called once more to the colt.

“I must speak with the Director at once. Do you think you can handle the human by yourself?”

He nodded strongly.

“Good. There’s a syringe full of sleeping potion next to the microwave. If you even suspect that it’s waking up, inject the serum as quickly as possible before it realizes what’s going on. Think you can handle it?”

He nodded once more.

Slipping into her darkened room, she briskly pushed aside her white fold away closet and stepped in. Bumping her way past the few hanging clothes she had in the closet, she felt around for the hollow white wall in the back. Tapping her hooves thrice against its surface, the wall hermetically hissed open.

Stepping into the hexagonal chamber, she impatiently walked over to the mirror that sat in the center of the room. Standing instead of kneeling, she tapped her hoof expectantly against the plate metal floor, her urgency taking away any formality the meetings were supposed to have.

Slowly, the reflection of the mirror began to shimmer with a white fog, replacing the picture of the room with a completely different image. The face of the Director slowly materialized into focus, his orange fur and mirrored glasses being clearly seen through the dodgy connection. This time he looked intently through the glass, his normal patronizing attitude gone.

“Agent Press, why are you contacting me at this hour? You should be traveling to HQ at this very moment as we discussed earlier.”

Shale straightened her legs together as she responded. “Something came up, sir. Developments in the capture of the human to be precise.”

He impatiently waved with his hoof. “Yes-yes, Agents seven to seventeen should have intercepted it by now, I already know this.”

“No sir, something else involving that,” she smiled in anticipation of what she was about to say. “The aforementioned agents were unsuccessful in subduing the human, every one of them were defeated in direct combat with the target.”

“What!?” yelled the Director. “How could that be!? Those were eleven well-trained agents with heavy combat experience. Two of them are in the Royal Guard for crying out loud!”

Shale shrugged. “It seems he was more then what our intelligence suggested. Observations can never account for everything.”

The Director restlessly rubbed the top of his forehead. “And did it get away…again? Do we have to send in a bloody army just to tie down a single creature with rope?”

She grinned even more, trying very hard not to look proud. “Actually, Director, once the human had easily dispatched the pursuing agents, it was I who was finally able to subdue the little whelp.”

“Really?’ he said as he raised an eyebrow. “You? After you tried and failed twice, you finally were able to succeed on your third go?”

Shale nodded her head. “I can understand that you question my abilities, but covert liquidations were never my specialty to begin with.”

He shook his head. “And do you have any proof that you accomplished this seemingly impossible task?”

“Yes, this.” She held up her right foreleg to the mirror, fully showing the burned fur and skin where Alistair had grabbed her with his electric palms. The wound still stung, no amount of ointment or bandages seeming to quell the sharp and ringing pain. She had specifically gone against treating the wound immediately, knowing that it would be a solid piece of evidence for her case.

“Hmmmmm,” acknowledged the Director, “it seems that you have convinced me Shale Press, not only of your story but also of abilities. I should’ve never doubted your talents despite the minor hiccups you faced. Good job.”

She smiled happily. “Thank you sir.”

He put his hoof up to stop her. “Let’s not celebrate too early, there’s still work to be done. The matter of transporting the human comes next and this part may prove to be the most difficult.”

“What have you arranged?”

The Director looked around on his side of the mirror, searching for something that was in his mysterious quarters. Sighing to himself, he looked back at Shale. “I can’t seem to find the diagram I set up earlier so I’ll just describe it to you:”

“At nine o’clock tonight a passenger train will be coming into station there in Ponyville. It will be empty. You and the other agents shall board the train while inconspicuously placing the human inside the cargo hold. Remember to fully seal it inside the supplied shipping crate that agent twelve has about him.”

“After half-a-day’s journey, the engineer will mysteriously stop in an isolated location within a mile radius of HQ. You will remove the human, still in the shipping crate, and transport him manually to the base’s loading dock. To give you cover, half of the group will spilt off into a separate group while the other group shall be with the package. If asked by a civilian, your cover story is that you are an archeology team searching for Discord-era relics in the forest and the crate you are carrying is the excavation equipment. Any questions?”

Shale raised her hoof. “Just one sir…what are we going to do with the human once we reach HQ.”

The Director smiled, his mirrored lenses reflecting Shale’s queried face. “You leave that to me. Director out.”

Hot On His Heels

“Gone!” said Twilight Sparkle in a flustered and panicky tone that she was best at. “What do you mean he’s gone!?!”

“Gone” repeated Commodore indifferently as Jam elbowed him in the stomach.

“What we mean,” added Jam, “is what we told you is all we know. The only thing that was left along the road was the drag marks and the piece of his shirt.”

“Are you sure?!” she said as her mane began to dishevel. “Nothing else, not even a hint of where he went?”

Jam shook his head.

Twilight bit the tip of her hoof and began to pace around the library’s ground floor, her hooves already rubbing indentations into the woodwork.

“Alistair’s never done something like this,” she moaned, “He’d always listen to the established schedule we made, only once deviating from his normal routine.”

“When was that one time?” asked Commodore.

Twilight Sparkle turned to him, her eyes slightly watered and accusatory. “Last week, when he first hung out with you two.”

“Oh,” he said uncomfortably, looking down at his hooves.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m blaming you!” reiterated Twilight quickly. “I just…it’s a coincidence that’s all. I know that something bad happened, in no way would he willingly do this.”

“Is there anything we can do, Ms. Sparkle?” said Jam. “Should we contact the Guards, tell the mayor, put up posters?”

Twilight shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, I can find him…I just need the cloth.”

Holding the small bloody piece of fabric towards Twilight, her levitation magic lifted it from the top of Jam’s hoof and hovered it over to her eyes. Dropping it in her own hoof, she winced as the small item fluttered into her grasp.

Looking down at the horrid clue, she sighed. “It’s all my fault…I promised to protect him, to look after him, right after we first saw each other…and look where he is now…” She sniffled.

“I feel so responsible, so guilty. I’d like to think this situation is out of my control…but some how I know it’s not…I could have been more protective, I could have monitored him closer. And yet, I didn’t…”

She bit her lip as a small tear rolled down her cheek. “Useless…so useless, that’s what I am. And the longer this stupid thing takes, the more danger he’ll be in.”

Jam swallowed heavily, just as worried as Twilight. “What exactly are you doing?”

Taking in a deep breath, Twilight’s horn began to shimmer with a pinkish aura as light began to reflect of it in a circular pattern. Lifting the fabric towards her horn, it too became enveloped in pink energy and fizzled slightly with a light hum.

“I’m using the blood on the fabric to establish a tracking bond,” she said quietly. “Wherever his body has been, my magic will make a trail right to him. How long this might take, however, is still determinant. I never counted on having to track down lost friends.”

“Stop,” said Commodore as he stepped forward indignantly. “There’s no way you could have predicted this would happen, no pony could. You don’t need to beat yourself up over something you can’t change.”

Twilight shook her head. “Can I really believe that? I definitely could’ve cast some spell, some power to ensure him protection…and I didn’t.”

“Look, you can’t just--”

Twilight put her hoof up to stop him. “Please, just leave me to the spell. I need to concentrate on this.”

She turned away from the two and stared up blankly at the fabric, her eyes glassy with emptiness. Taking her wishes to heart, Jam and Commodore moved to the other side of the library and took a seat on a reading bench, letting her alone.

They remained quiet for the duration, uncomfortable with speaking to each other. The fact that they’d just met Twilight Sparkle less than an hour ago and already saw her go through legitimate emotional turmoil gave them a sense of intrusion that they’d much prefer not to have. Needless to say, Alistair was their friend and they would do everything in their power to save him from whoever had kidnapped him.

They were friends after all.

Not So Fast!

Twilight Sparkle scanned the train yard with her binoculars, a subtle levitation spell holding the apparatus close to her face. Sweeping ever so slightly, she moved in a systematic sweep, taking in whatever she could see with her quizzical eyes.

The approaching autumn wind blew as an ambient wave, perpetually making the purple scarf she wore around her neck flow vertically behind her. Putting the binoculars down, she stared behind herself at the two young colts who greatly contrasted between her stoic bravery.

Jam, a red colt with a curly brown mane, and Commodore, a blue colt with a shaggy navy mane, shivered restlessly in the frigid night, their glasses jangling uncontrollably as they shook closely together in a huddle.

“F-F-First cold night of A-A-August j-j-just had to be tonight,” muttered Commodore to Jam, his chattering teeth clicking along like cicadas in summer.

Jam nodded shakily in agreement to his friend and turned to Twilight. “Ms. S-S-Sparkle, d-d-do you see a-a-anything?”

Twilight put her hoof up to silence him and quickly brought the binoculars back to her face. Starring intently to the north of the train yard, Twilight spoke to them.

“I think I see them. There’s movement over by that passenger train that arrived not long ago.”

“You think they’re t-t-the ones who h-h-have Alistair?” asked Commodore.

Twilight flipped open her saddle bag and set the binoculars inside. “I’m not sure. Let’s get a closer look.”

Sliding down the small dirt hill that overlooked the yard, Twilight effortless made her way to the sea of snaking train cars, Jam and Commodore clumsily in close pursuit.

Shale Press hated to be standing out in the open, especially since the train was now behind in its departure time. However, she knew that it was her duty to oversee the transport of the human, and thus, she watched closely as agent eight and ten slowly loaded the shipping crate that contained it into the cargo hold.

“Be careful,” she said lowly but with authority, “we mustn’t damage the package.”

“Yes ma’am,” said both stallion agents as they gingerly slid the box through the small metal opening on the side. After a few minutes of careful pressure the container was in and the opening was quickly shut.

Nodding at the stallions work, she gestured for them to follow her towards the closest passenger car. Moving without a word, Shale methodically informed them of their duties.

“Agent eight and ten, your patrol posts are from cars seven to twelve. Stay close to one another and inform myself or any other nearby agent if you believe something is amiss. If things truly seem out of hoof, such as the human escaping or intervention by the authorities, quickly hit one of the red emergency buttons at the end of each car.”

“What will that do ma’am?” asked the nasally and lanky Agent eight.

“The entire train will be notified and severe defensive tactics will be implemented. You are free to use whatever tools you have available to secure your posts at all times.”

Reaching one of the cars, the three ponies walked up the metal entry steps and slid the auto-locking door shut. A few moments later, the engine of the train rumbled alive and they began to move slowly out of the train yard. All was according to plan.

A few minutes earlier, Twilight, Commodore and Jam crouched stealthily along the edge of a dark purple boxcar. Peering around the corner of it quickly, Twilight turned to the two.

“I can see the train, its right around the corner. Looks like their loading something into one of the cargo cars.”

“Can you see what it is?” asked Commodore.

Twilight shook her head. “It’s sealed shut, but since it’s taking three ponies to place inside, it must be important.”

“How do we do this then?” asked Jam from behind Commodore. “Call the guards? Follow after them?”

Twilight glanced around the corner once again. “That won’t be necessary, at least not yet. I have a different plan in mind.”

“That being…?”

“Well, it involves you two--”

“What!?” yelled the two colts in unison, not very mindful of the silence they were supposed to be keeping.

“Yes,” repeated Twilight in an even quieter whisper, trying to remind her companions about the importance of silence. “I need you two to sneak aboard the train and try to locate Alistair. I assume he’s most likely somewhere in the cargo space.”

“And what if he’s not there?” said Commodore indignantly. “What do we do then?”

“Just shut down, stay put, and wait for rescue. I’m going to be getting the Guard’s once we split up but I’m not sure how long it’s going to take.”

“Split up…?” said Commodore weakly.

“How would you find us then?” said Jam as he ignored his pal’s whimpyness. “If the train starts moving and possibly switches onto another track, how could the Guards find us?”

“The tracking spell’s still working, no matter how far away.”

“Convenient,” mumbled Commodore.

Twilight smiled at them, a sense of hopefulness returning to her face. “You guys ready then?”

Commodore paled. “W-What about the three p-ponies around the corner?”

“Gone, been gone for about thirty seconds. Now go.”

“But--”

“Go!”

Jolting to their hoofs, Jam and Commodore clumsily ran around the corner and looked around for the cargo car. Seeing it a few yards away, Commodore bumped Jam on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow.

Cranking open the slide away latch, the two precariously stepped inside the tall dark rectangle and quickly slide the door behind them. Latching it with the inside bolt, they breathed a sigh of relief as the train suddenly came to life and began moving.

“We did it!” announced Commodore excitedly. “And we’re moving!”

“I think she was counting on that,” said Jam as he looked around the dark space. “Now, where’s the light switch in here.”

Commodore began to blindly feel along the wall. “I think…it might be…somewhere close…by!”

The lights suddenly flicked on, dimly illuminating the storage case and revealing all the items within in it. Scattered about were several small wooden crates stacked along metal shelves held up by skinny wooden planks. Several larger boxes were piled on top of one another, safely tucked within the corners of the car.

Standing out from all of this, smack dab in the middle of the unequipped space between the shelves and stacks, was a peculiar looking crate. It was low to the ground as most boxes, but its length from end to end seemed to be drastically expanded from normal containers. Stamped along the top in bright red paint was the message: Fragile.

The two stood over the odd looking box, both staring down at the message painted across it.

“You think that’s him?” asked Jam.

Commodore rubbed the few hairs on his chin. “Only one way to find out.”

Rescue in Progress

Alistair jolted awake as he heard the unsettling sound of splintering and breaking wood all around him. He tried to push himself up from his laying position but quickly knocked his head on the low wooden ceiling that was above him. Quickly putting his head back down into a lying position, he was alerted not only to the sound of more snapping wood but also the spiny and spidery surface that the back of his body rested against.

Screaming in terror, he frantically lashed around his small confined space trying to grasp some sort of exit. A heavy smash of wood boomed above him, and the wooden ceiling was quickly slid away from his field of view, fully exposing him to a dimly lit and metal room.

He lay back against the pointy surface, preparing to rise out of whatever was containing him. But before he could, two familiar faces popped up above him, staring down with jointly.

“Alistair!” exclaimed Commodore with joy. “We found you!”

“Are you alright!?” asked Jam with concern but still delight to see his friend.

Alistair stared at them for a second, his brain slowly coming to terms with everything that had just happened in the past seconds. Clicking back into place, he responded to their greeting.

“GUYS!” he screamed jubilantly as he bounced out of the crate and embraced both of them in a hug. “I’M SO HAPPY YOU’RE HERE!”

He squeezed them tightly, the fear he had felt extinguished by their wonderful and unexpected presence. Laughing as three, they spoke to one another as if not seeing each other for years.

“Thank Celestia you’re safe!” said Commodore.

“Thank Celestia you guys are here!” responded Alistair. “I was in that box for what felt like a second and I already wanted to get out!”

Jam grinned. “Well, it’s a good thing we came when we did. That thing looks claustrophobic.”

Alistair nodded his head. “I never did like confined spaces, especially when I can’t get out of them.”

The three friends giggled, still marveling over the unexpected but still wonderful meet-up.

“So what are you guys doing here exactly?” asked Alistair with a laugh. “Not that I’m not happy to see you…”

“We’re here to rescue you!” declared Commodore. “It was part of Twilight Sparkle’s plan.”

“Twilight…” repeated Alistair in confirmation he heard what he though he just heard. “You talked with her.”

“Yeah,” continued Commodore, “we went and told her that we found a bloodied piece of a shirt on the road next to some drag marks. We went straight to her—well, also your house and told her everything. Before we knew it she already had a rescue plan and we were right on the case!”

Alistair smiled gently. “I’m happy to know you she’s looking for me but…where is she.”

Commodore waved the air with his hoof. “Don’t worry; she went to get the Royal Guards’ help. Won’t be long now till they swoop in and blast us out of trouble!”

Jam smiled uncomfortably. “I don’t know about that, dude. We might still be in trouble…”

Alistair nodded seriously. “He’s right. I don’t know how I got on this train, but I know the ponies that brought me here. I’ve seen their faces and they aren’t a weak bunch.”

“Who are they exactly?” asked Commodore, intrigued but worried. “Some sort of crime cabal?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t seem to have any distinguishing marks or clothing about them. Just normal looking ponies.”

“Hmmm,” said Jam as he rubbed his chin, “hiding in plain sight. That’s some pretty professional stuff coming from a group of punks who beat you up and locked you in a crate.”

Alistair shook his head. “They’re not like that, far from any kind of two-bit thug. They have weapons, numbers, and some pretty solid tactics.”

Commodore raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

Alistair turned to him, an edge in his voice. “I fought them.”

“Yeah…” said Jam nervously, “that would explain your…condition.” Jam’s eyes quickly scanned over the battered frame that was Alistair’s body.

His normal dark green shirt had several dark stains of dried blood from his skin, while his brown trousers were dusted with dirt and torn around the knees. Several small bandages quilted around his face and a large rolling of medical tape had been set around his right shoulder, most of the cloth gone all together.

“Are you ok then?” he asked kindly. “Nothing too severe?”

Alistair meekly shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’m one-hundred percent well. My chest aches badly and it hurts to walk. Even then I still feel pretty tired.”

“You wanna stay here then?” added Commodore. “Your friend, Twilight Sparkle, said she’d be here soon…”

Alistair smiled at the mention of her name, but it quickly faded back into sternness. “We definitely shouldn’t stay on this train any longer than we have to. Whoever these ponies are, there are not messing around.”

He straightened himself. “Something’s odd about them, something that makes them feel different, bigger than what they seem.”

“Where’d you get that notion?”

“Well…” said Alistair, uncomfortable with what he was about to say, “I know this is going to sound a bit…odd, but I think my pottery teacher is one of them.”

The two colts stared at him, both blinking in unison.

“I know-I know-I know,” he continued, “it sounds fishy, but hear me out. After fighting the other ponies, I saw her, my pottery teacher, appear right behind me. We talked a bit and then she kicked the crud out of me.”

Commodore folded his hooves. “Ok, don’t you think you may have been imagining just a teeny-tiny bit of this? A pottery teaching teleporting right in front of you is normally grounds for a concussion.”

“No!” insisted Alistair. “I’m sure it was her. While we talked she mentioned something, that ‘a higher power sees me guilty’ and ‘that my existence has tainted the flow of events.’ Really freaky stuff but definitely not a hallucination.”

Jam shrugged. “Sounds like garbled ranting to me. But still, Alistair’s right, we need to figure a way off this crazy train. Any ideas?”

Commodore thought for a moment, then quickly raised his hoof into the air. “I have an idea, we stop the train!”

Jam rolled his eyes. “And how do you figure we do that?”

“Simple, there’s probably a control box in one of the passenger cars, and within that box is an emergency brake. All we to have do is flip that lever, wait for the train to stop, and high-tail it out of here.”

Jam and Alistair looked at their friend, confused with the random formulation of a pretty solid plan. “How’d you think of that?” they both asked.

He grinned. “My Dad has one of those picture encyclopedias on trains. I used to read it all the time as a foal.”

“Learn something new everyday I suppose,” muttered Jam.

“So it’s settled then?” said Alistair. “Because we better move quickly, there’s no telling what this group has in store.

“Agreed,” agreed Jam.

The three moved over to the end of train car and pushed the metal connecting door open. Immediately, a wave of outside wind smacked into them, filling the cargo car with freezing air and the howl of the speeding train.

“Lets go!” shouted Jam over the wind, moving out of the car. Commodore and Alistair followed after him, but quickly stopped as they exited the car.

Separating them between the cargo car and the passenger car in front of them, was a wide gap between the two areas, connected only by a low metal bar close to the tracks. The wind was at full force now, no thick walls protecting them from the full weight of the speed force.

“We have to jump!” yelled Alistair to his friends, fear deep in his chest.

“I don’t know if we should do that!” responded Jam. “It looks too wide!”

“We have to!” Then, without even judging the distance, Alistair jumped, his legs slowly outstretched in a leap. Landing heels first on the metal footing on the other side, Alistair waved for them to do the same.

Jam went first, followed by Commodore who screamed “I’m Supermare!” as he jumped. All three now on the other side, they peered through the passenger car’s door, making sure no pony was in the space. With the coast all clear, they slid the door open, hopping through the opening as one, and then quickly sliding the door shut.

“Wow…” marveled Commodore, “look at this…”

The passenger car was of the normal Ponyville variant, bright yellow floor with pink carpeting going straight down the aisle. Red cushiony seats set on both sides of the car, rows of two going all the way up to the front. But the most striking feature about the entire space was the apparent lack of any other ponies in the room. Minus, the low rumble from outside, not a single noise came from the room. All was still.

“Look, there it is!” pointed Jam with his hoof. “The box!”

Sure enough, at the front of the car, right next to the sliding door to the next passenger car, was a shiny silver box with the single word: Emergency written across the top in bright green.

Rushing towards the box in a stupor, the three crowded around the module examining how to open the foreign device.

“I’ll keep watched for anypony,” announced Jam, “you guys figure out how to hit the emergency switch.”

Jam moved over to the connecting door and peaked up through the glass window, scanning the next car for anypony inside. Alistair and Commodore unlocked the box and began searching for any distinguishing characteristics within. The box was a complicated mass of switches, knobs, buttons and dials without a single label indentifying what any did.

“Uhhh…Jam?” said Alistair unsurely, “I can’t find the switch.”

“What about you Commodore?” he called while still looking through the door. “See anything?”

Commodore shook his head. “I have no idea how to operate this thing. There’s a red button off to the side but I don’t think we should press it.”

“Why not?” said Jam hurriedly.

“Because if it was the emergency stop it would definitely have some sort of identifier. This one just looks plain.”

“You sure? We really can’t make a mistake like this, not—oh crap!”

“What’s the matter?!” yelled Alistair.

“Somepony’s coming,” responded Jam, “they’re two cars away, walking normally.”

“Do they see us?”

“No, not yet, but they’re getting close to the car next to ours.”

“Oh man…” moaned Commodore, “what are we going do?”

“I don’t know!” shouted Jam. “Just keep looking for something important!”

“I can’t, nothing stands out!”

“There has to be something!” yelled Jam as he quickly peered back through the door then cursed. “He’s in the next car right next to us!”

“We have to do something!” screamed Commodore.

“Shut up, I’m thinking!” retorted Jam.

“Guys!” yelled Alistair with a boom to his voice. “I have a plan,” he looked up at one of the passenger side windows, “and it involves getting some fresh air.”

Ghost Train

“What do you mean by ‘get some fresh air’!?” frantically asked Jam. “Like jump out the window!?”

Alistair shook his head calmly. “No, we climb through the window, crawl along the top of the train until we reach the front. Then we--”

“What!?” yelled Commodore. “Are you crazy? We could die!”

“Do you have any other options?” Alistair asked sarcastically, gesturing towards the passenger car door. “By the looks of it, that patrolling pony will be here in…give or take thirty seconds. So if you want to take your chances with a knife-wielding thug, be my guest.”

Jam shakily shook his head. “I don’t know about this…maybe we should--”

“No,” interjected Alistair, “we’re going. Now follow me.”

He reached over to the passenger side window to his left and quickly unlatched the window. Pulling the handle down, he pushed the window open and was met with another cold gust of wind against his face. Ignoring it, he quickly shimmied his body and legs through the opening and disappeared into the darkness of night.

“Alistair!” screamed Commodore in desperation. He ran over to the open window and looked upwards. Pushing his head and torso through the window, he used his hind legs to boost himself through the opening and likewise disappear into the night

“Oh man…” moaned Jam as he slowly approached the window. Looking back at the sliding passenger door, he imagined the hostile pony casually approaching the door, completely unknowing of the escape that was taking place.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed his head out into the open air and was immediately met with a rushing blast of freezing and thick air. Shifting back, he brought his forelegs through the window and gripped the top of the train car. Placing his back legs on the window sill, he pulled himself onto the rushing carriage roof, the entire act feeling like a trance.

The speed of the train blocked out any outlying sound he could detect, the blowing wind and rumbling metal wheels the only things that registered through his ears. He hugged the top of the rectangular metallic roof and rejoiced at the fact that a light barrier around the car, no more than five inches high, formed an outline around the car, giving him some sort of support to rest on.

Shaking his head, Jam looked around to see if any of his friends where still nearby or passed onto parts unknown. Feeling a hoof tap against his shoulder, he spun around on his flank at the smiling Commodore and Alistair who sat right behind him.

He tried to yell something at them, but the very words he spoke were ripped from his mouth and thrown out off the train. Pointing towards the front of the train, he mimed a crawling motion on the car. Nodding in agreement, they gestured for Jam to lead on.

Whispering a silent prayer of hope to himself, Jam squatted down onto his belly, the cold metal floor singing his furry torso. Fashioning his hind legs and fore legs into an army crawl, Jam wiggled along the car top before moving onto the succeeding car.

Following his example, Alistair and Commodore did the same, slithering along the train cars at an impressive pace. Before long the three friends would be at the front, and freedom would almost be in their grasp

Agent Five slowly strutted down the passenger car aisle, his mind numbed out by the sheer boredom of his patrol. The disinterested look on his face was only complimented by his dragging hooves on the carpet and tuneless hum he kept.

Fiddling with the saddlebag on his side, he checked for the twelfth that his baton and stun pellets where snuggly tucked inside. “Like I’ll ever need to use them,” he mumbled lowly.

Approaching the last passenger car, he slid the connecting door open and was immediately met with a cold chill and a screeching howl of wind. Snapping into readiness, Agent Five immediately scanned the entire car for any outstanding abnormalities. Seeing what it was, he sighed, disappointed that no real trouble was ahoof.

He walked over to the open passenger window and pushed the wooden slide down. Locking the latch in place, he stared at the now closed window for a moment. The entire thing seemed like nothing, a minor occurrence which could stand for several explanations over what had caused it. But then again…he wanted to be sure.

Moving to the car control box, he unlocked it and quickly pressed the red radio button. Waiting a moment for a response, he was greeted by Agent Press.

“Yes?” crackled her voice through the device. “What’s the problem?”

Agent Five paused a moment, reciting in his head what he’d exactly say to the vile witch that outranked him.

“Ma’am, I’ve seemed to have come across an open window back here in the rear-most car. How should I proceed?”

“Hmmm,” she contemplated aloud, “continue your patrol as normal. I will deal with this disturbance myself.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the line quickly clicked off on her end. Roughly closing the box, he folded his hoofs in contempt and briskly walked out of the car, not giving a second glance at the metal box that seemed to represent the most dislikeable mare he’d ever known.

“A nice ‘good-bye’ would have worked fine you sorry little slime!” he yelled aloud in car, wishing the witch was in earshot.

The three friends continued to crawl along the train top, distance that would have seemed impossible to sneak through being traversed in record time. The closer they approached the front locomotive, the louder the engine screamed and the more pungent the odor of burning coal became.

The wind seemed to have also picked up in velocity, the friends needing to duck their heads down just to prevent their eyes from watering instantaneously. As they moved across the last passenger car, Jam felt a finger tap against his shoulder.

Turning around slowly, his eyes met with Alistair’s who made a down motion with his pointer finger, signaling to get back inside the train. Shrugging his shoulders, Jam had no idea how a feat like that could be preformed on top of a speeding train.

Understanding this, Alistair scooted over to the left side of the car and reached his left arm down. A magical blue aura appearing his hand, he willed a window open with a slight motion downwards and an intense focus about him.

Turning back to the staring Jam, he jokingly gestured down with both hands, making a deadly climb off a train feel like a welcoming entrance of fun.

Shale Press knew precisely what was going on, and if her predictions were correct, she knew precisely where the human was heading. Galloping down train car after train car, she breathed lowly to prepare herself of what was to come next.

She knew the little whelp wouldn’t go quietly, and despite the knowledge that she could easily pummel the sapient once again, avoiding any more electricity burns would be at a higher priority.

Approaching the last passenger car before reaching the front locomotive, she stopped just short of the door. Peering through the glass center window, she waited for her enemy’s arrival.

“Just a bit more Jam,” encouraged Commodore with a yell. “You’re almost there.”

Jam stood frozen on top of the window sill, his hind legs stuck along its top while his other half still hung on tightly to the top of the train. They couldn’t see his face on account of it still being outside the train, but Commodore and Alistair assumed it was in a state of terror.

“You can do it!” added Alistair optimistically. “Just a bit more.”

Jam didn’t respond, probably not able to hear them where he stood.

Commodore turned to Alistair. “You think we should do it?”

Alistair nodded. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

Commodore nodded in agreement and approached Jam dually with Alistair at his side. Taking position right at Jam’s legs, they stood in preparation of what was to come.

“On the count of ten…” whispered Commodore, “we yank him.”

Alistair nodded.”

“One…two…three…ten!”

Commodore and Alistair quickly reached forward and savagely grabbed Jam’s legs and waist. Pulling fiercely, the pried him from his vantage point and dragged him through the window.

Tossing him on the ground, they rushed forward, and slammed the window shut victoriously and, tightening the latch as much as their strength allowed.

“Teamwork!” they yelled in unison as they high hoofed/fived.

“Ughh…” moaned Jam on the floor. “I think I hit my head…”

“Come on there dude…” said Commodore as he helped him to his feet. “We still got plenty to do.”

Alistair nodded and began to peer around the odd room they found themselves in. “Hey guys…does this place looks…off to you too?”

Jam and Commodore walked up beside him. “I think I see what you mean,” said Commodore.

The car they stood in was none other than the first-class cabin car. Large red leather couches sat against the sides while fancy oak divides between the spaces separated the couches into their own little rooms. An aged green rug went up down the aisle and crossed into the rooms like a slimy pathway.

But the practical upscale décor fit horribly offset with some recent additions to the landscape. Large crates of swords and metal spheres set haphazardly around the cabin with large standing gas cylinders propped against the walls. A blueprint of the train was folded out along the center of the room with a clipboard of several papers next to it.

“I think we found their nest,” commented Alistair as he walked over to the blueprint.

Commodore looked around. “These ponies, whoever they are…they’re well equipped.”

“More than most Royal Guard battalions,” added Jam.

Alistair looked down at the blue print and carefully examined the markings across it. Control box locations where circled, exits highlighted, and certain window positions were marked with arrows. Turning away from the diagram, he picked up the clipboard beside it.

“Guys,” said Alistair as he walked over to them. “Look what I found.”

“What is it?” asked Commodore.

“Some sort of shipping manifest. It has all this weird technical jargon in it but it clearly marks all the stops and starts the train’s made so far.”

“Does it tell anything else?”

“Hmmmm,” said Alistair as he squinted down at the page. “It says that their transporting fruit--”

Jam rolled his eyes. “Yeah right, swords and asparagus are the same thing.”

“But it says something else…” Alistair flipped through some of the pages. “It has its next stop marked. Somewhere around--”

“Hold it right their,” said a calm and feminine voice from behind them. “Drop the manifest and turn around or I’ll gut you myself.”

Alistair dropped the manifest to the floor and raised his hands above his head. Turning around slowly, he was not surprised to find that the voice behind him belonged to none other than the slippery snake of a mare, Shale Press.

Stop the Unstoppable

Alistair stood with his fists clenched, leaned forward in state of readiness with a scowling expression staring straight in front of him. Shale Press stood at the other end of the train car, a rugged cutlass placed firmly between her teeth. Jam and Commodore stood by Alistair’s side, confused and frightened over what the heck was happening.

“Guys…” said Alistair sternly, not looking away from Shale. “Run.”

“B-But Alistair--” protested Commodore weakly.

“Run!” he shouted to them desperately. “Get out of here!”

Jam and Commodore bolted down the first-class cabin aisle, fear springing them forward. Throwing open the last door that led straight to the train’s front locomotive car, they quickly slid the door shut behind them and continued to run blindly forwards, unsure about what fate had in store for them or Alistair.

“It’s nice to see that you’re back,” greeted Shale with a smile. “I was beginning to think we were done for the day.”

“Nice to see you too,” growled Alistair as he clenched his fists tighter.

“I must say I wasn’t expecting this, the escape plan I mean. Climbing across the train’s roof,” she whistled in bewilderment, “dangerous stuff, you can get killed doing that you know.”

Alistair scowled at her. “I wouldn’t expect it any differently.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she smirked as she casually leaned against one of the walls. “So…any questions, comments, concerns before we get started? You only have one chance to ask them.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Really?” she said as she rolled her eyes. “I don’t take that for the truth. You’ve obviously got plenty of little nagging questions bouncing around in that dome of yours just begging to be asked. Some come on, let’s hear them.”

He quickly looked down to the floor as to hide his widened eyes. She’d hit the nail right on the head, stripping away his true feelings in one fell swoop. He wanted to hold his ground against her, to not give her the satisfaction of answering her question, but his curiosity got the best of him.

“Why are you hunting me?” he asked in the strongest voice he could muster. “Why me?”

She smiled. “Ever taken a look in the mirror before, boy? Ever noticed some kind of, uh, difference between everyone else around you? Surely you’ve recognized the physicality’s, a fool could’ve down that. But something different, something in your heart, in your place of being.”

Alistair didn’t respond.

“So you have?” she said with a muse. “Then of course you’re aware that you weren’t born here, correct? Your life began…somewhere else? Some place that is unknown to you?”

He stood silent, the words beginning to sting.

“And your parents, do you know them? Do you remember their faces’, or have you forgotten that as well?”

He turned away from her, his back blocking out her from his gaze but not her words from his mind.

She grinned. “Well then, let’s just say that what you are and how you got here is what’s playing such an important role in our...pursuits for you. It always has been with your kind.”

He remained silent, questions, emotions, and words buzzing around in his head. Shale read his body language all to well and knew that the boy was torn up his own thoughts, her revelations distracting him from what was important. She loved it.

“Your different,” she called to him neutrally. “You always were, and no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise, no matter how much time you spend here, you will never be where you belong.”

Alistair clenched his fists tighter and turned around with his arms outstretched. “No, you’re wrong. I do belong here, I know it, and I feel it. I have friends here, hope. That’s more than I’ve ever had anywhere else.”

She bit her lip, the satisfaction beginning to wane. “Keep telling yourself that and you’ll only lie to yourself more.”

“It’s not a lie when it’s the truth,” he pointed towards her, “and nothing you say will change that.”

She shook her head. “So young, so delusional. All right then, time to lose…again.”

“No you won’t,” said Alistair with a rising determination. “I’m ready this time, I will not lose.”

Shale sarcastically raised an eyebrow. “Can you really? I don’t think so. You’re not as competent as you think, human. And if I recall correctly, I beat you into the ground in less than thirty seconds last time.”

Alistair scowled. “Overconfidence is the ultimate weakness.”

“That goes both ways, boy.”

Alistair bit his lip. “You’re not getting past me.”

“Oh please,” chuckled Shale, “you’re embarrassing yourself, stop while you can. The machismo can only get you so far, especially when your opponent already knows you’re a weakling.”

“I’m not a weakling,” he defiantly stated. “I’m someone who’s going to stop you.”

Shale grinned wickedly at his retort. “Was that supposed to scare me? Me? I’ve taken on mages ten times as strong as you. I’ve wrestled a grown Minotaur to the ground. I’ve blasted my way through Royal Guard armories just for training! And here you are trying to frighten me with your little kid scowl. To you have any idea how dumb you look? How petty and weak you make yourself off? Celestia, you’re pathetic!”

His gaze and determination did not leave him as he responded. “Your insults aren’t going to hurt me. I can stand here all day with your verbal bashing but I’ll never back down, never.”

“Spoken like a true hero,” she sneered. “Now, how about we have an ending to things, eh? But to make things fair…” she dropped her cutlass to the ground and kicked it under one of the many lying crates. “Now…let’s begin.” She readied herself into a fighting pose, an even but leaned stance toward him.

Without even preparing himself, Alistair thrust his hands forward and focused his energy straight into his palms. Willing the magic to blast outwards, he readied himself for the warm waves of lightening that would project forward. But…nothing came, not even a spark.

“What…?” he said to himself as he looked down at his palms. “Why isn’t it working?”

Shale Press could no longer contain herself and began to laugh out loud at his painful realization. “You’ve been drugged you moron!” she mocked between cackles. “You really don’t think we’d kidnap you without taking precautions?”

He looked horrified, the color in his face draining away to a paled mask.

She wiped the water from her eyes as she giggled lowly to herself. “Don’t worry, it’ll return. A few hours from now, but it will. Unfortunately, you’ll be back in your box in a few hours, and your friends will be dead.”

“No!” he screamed indignantly, charging towards her with his fists at the ready. “I won’t let you!”

Shale ducked under his charge and drove her foreleg’s elbow into his back, sending him sprawling to the floor. She followed up with a stomp from her other foreleg, which he quickly rolled away from.

He began to get to his feet, but Shale responded with a brisk slam on the head. He fell back down onto the ground, both hands cradled against his skull.

Gripping him by the neck and with unexpected strength, Shale yanked him to his feet and tossed him across the train car. Landing hard, he rolled slightly along the floor until resting flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He did not try to get up.

Shale slowly began to work towards him, grinning ear to ear. “You don’t get, hero. This isn’t something you can’t stand up to; this is something you can’t stop.” She picked him off the floor and brought him directly in front of her face. “This is a fight you can’t win!”

His unmoving body suddenly jerked alive as he head-butted her square in the face causing her to release him from her grasp. Reeling back from the strike, she felt her hurt snout with one of her hooves. Blooded dripped down from her face.

Alistair stood up on his own two feet, his posture crooked with the damage he’d endured.

“You little…” snarled Shale. “You’re going to regret that!” She bounded towards him with her impressive speed and grabbed the front of his head. Charging forward with his neck in her grasp, she threw him against one of the car’s doors, directly into the observation glass.

Moaning at impact, Alistair fell down to the floor, his back pressed against the door with an unmoving silence to him. He tried to get up but his body would not obey, leaving him there to face Shale’s full wrath.

Stepping away from him, Press nodded in satisfaction at her victory. “I warned you human, I’m the best. This would have gone so much simpler if you’d just gone quietly.”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” he mumbled lowly.

“Did I?” she asked with a mocking surprise. “I do believe you had the chance to walk away, to simply give yourself up and not have to go through this inevitable failure.” She shook her condescendingly. “Some apes just never learn.”

Alistair coughed, light splotches of blood coming from his hacks. “You won’t get away with this. The Guards will find you.”

“We have plans for that don’t worry. Once they realize what’s up it’ll be too late.”

A rumbling came from the train’s outer frame, shaking the entire car with a loud jostling.

Shale looked around quickly. “What was that?”

A light grin cracked on Alistair’s face. “They made it.”

A few minutes earlier, Jam and Commodore stood blindly in a dark corridor. They could still hear the outside rumbling of the train, but all light seemed to be blocked out from any windows, or, there just weren’t any windows at all.

“I can’t believe we left him,” mopped Commodore with an echo in the room, “and with that weird mare!”

Jam turned around with an impatient glance. “He wanted us to keep going. We need to find the brake lever and shut this train down.”

“And then what?” indignantly asked Commodore. “Bury his body?”

Jam ignored him. “Let’s keep going, I can see the engine room just up ahead.”

Commodore shook his head and followed after, not forgetting that his friend was just a car away, probably getting hurt.

They approached another sliding train door, this one with a likewise oval observation glass in the center of it. Jam pressed his face and hooves against it, peering inside.

“It doesn’t look like anypony’s inside.”

“Can you see any of the controls?”

“Yeah, there’s a big board of them. Come on.” Jam moved away from the door and slid it open. He stepped quickly through the doorway and looked around the cabin. “I think this is the brake Commodore, let me just--”

Jam’s speech was cutoff by a loud metallic clang as an unseen spade flew out of nowhere and smacked him on the head. Commodore screamed and ran through the doorway towards his friend who now lay on the cold cabin floor.

Out of the shadows leapt the train’s engineer, his spade still held in one of his hooves. Tackling Commodore to the floor, they both fell on their sides in a bitter and confused struggle.

The engineer, a gray stallion with a coal shoveler’s cap, wrapped his hooves around Commodore’s neck while he wrapped his hooves around the engineer’s face. They grunted at another as they both squirmed and wrestled against each other on the concrete ground. The stallion gripped harder on Commodore’s neck as he began to feel a strain on his lungs.

Digging his hooves sharply into the engineer’s eyes, he screamed out in pain and released both Commodore’s neck and his spade from his grip.

Hopping to his feet, Commodore swept up the spade and smashed down onto the stallion’s head in a single floating motion. Hearing another tell tale clang from the blunt weapon, the engineer drifted off into a peaceful unconscious state.

Tossing the spade back to the ground, Commodore propped down to his knees at the still unmoving Jam. “Jam!” he shouted with dreading fear. “Jam! Wake up!”

A light cut was on Jam’s right temple, a dripping of blood coming off his head and down onto the floor. Feeling a terror form up in his stomach, Commodore felt Jam’s chest quickly to check for any signs of life.

His chest rose and fell with a slow incline and decline, signaling an unconscious, but still healthy pattern of breathing.

“Thank Celestia…” muttered Commodore as he leaned back in relief. Rising back to his hooves he looked towards the train engine’s control panel.

“Now for this…” he looked from left to right at the odd board of aged buttons and switches, once again no indicator of what did what. Peering off to the side of the board, he smiled warmly to himself.

A tall red lever sat next to the controls, it’s function and purpose as clear as day to anypony with eyes. Reaching forward, Commodore closed his eyes. “Here goes…”

The train car rumbled once more. “What are you talking about?” asked Shale with a venom in her voice. “What do you mean “they made it”?”

Alistair just smiled to himself, staring vacantly towards the ceiling.

“Answer me!” she shouted futilely. “What in Hades are you--”

Shale didn’t get to finish her threat as a horrid screeching and groaning of metal blocked out whatever other noise could be heard. The cabin shook violently with a ferocious shockwave as the several crates and gas canisters were picked up by an unseen force and tossed about the cabin.

She screamed as she was thrown from the floor and smacked against one of the cabin walls roughly. The entire car suddenly shifted to the right, the contents spilling out everywhere as the field of perspective changed as well. The sound of screeching metal was suddenly rivaled by the crumbling of metal as the entire cabin spun around in a horrible discourse.

The lights in cabin sparked off with an electrical pop, throwing Alistair into a black and whirling deathtrap. He felt the g’s pulling against his brain and could still feel the car spinning and crashing against the ground.

He hung on tightly to a bolted red couch as splitters, metal shards, and entire chunks of the car flew through like a hurricane. Feeling a sudden pain on his head, his grip loosened from the couch and he found himself falling or maybe flying down towards wherever the ground was now.

Shutting his eyes instinctively, he waited for what came next.

Beside the Dying Fire

Alistair opened his eyes slowly but was only met with darkness still before him. He could feel his body lying down against something, something pointy and rigid. He imagined it was a piece of the train.

He gasped for air, just to make sure he still could, and tasted an ashen presence deep in his mouth that made him feel like he’d just eaten the leftovers of a chimney. Regaining awareness around him, he immediately felt a surge of achiness erupt through his nerves. Cringing at the sudden pain, he moaned lowly underneath wherever he was hoping that something heard him.

Pressing his hands forward, he pushed with all his might against the large object, probably some scrap, that seemed to be sitting uncomfortably close to his face. It took a considerable larger amount of stamina to move the twisted metal in front of him, but he moved it none the less.

Grunting at his hard work, he bent his legs forward and slowly ascended upwards, evening himself out into a bent stance. He felt his back arching over but that was just in response to the weak feeling along his spine. Normally that would have worried him but he just felt lucky to be alive.

Now at his feet, Alistair examined the wreckage he stood in.

The train was gone, any resemblance it had to its former state was completely torn away. Large chunks of car’s were ripped apart and spread all throughout area, making a thick layer of metal over the ground. Some pieces stood up asymmetrically in certain regions, jutting towards the sky like emaciated trees.

This covered most of the space around the train tracks, but off to the left and right, where a grassy divide between the tracks and the sprawling Everfree Forest was, most of it was untouched save for a few small fires that had erupted along the surface. Similar fires dotted parts of the metal ground, probably remnants of stored up fuel or coal.

Nothing seemed visually distinct in the rubble, all pieces just forming a larger picture of assorted metal wreckage. Alistair took this all, glancing around quietly as he stood somberly among the ruins. Sighing to himself, he suddenly realized something.

“Jam…Commodore,” he muttered, “where are they?”

“Jam!” he yelled out, “Commodore! Where are you guys!?” His voice echoed around the lifeless space, nobody responding to his call.

“Guys!” he yelled once more, this time with a fearful tinge. “Can you hear me!?”

Nothing, just the sound of himself.

“Oh man…” he looked around to see if anypony was coming but found just the tracks behind him, stretching all the way back to Ponyville were their journey began. “Oh…” he nervously moaned. “Where are they?”

He stepped down from where he stood and walked among the shattered wreckage. He called for them as he moved, hoping for some sort of response.

“Jam! Commodore! It’s me, Alistair!” the voice echoed again. “Hel-lo! Guys, can you hear me!? I’m over here!”

He continued to call for them several other times as he moved down the line of destruction. However, after a short distance, his paced became slowed, his feet beginning to drag against the pointy surface. “G-Guys…” he let out in a tired breath, “I…”

He stopped moving, staring off towards the seemingly endless space he was walking. Feeling a wave of drowsiness hit him, he fell to his knees. Grimacing at the hard impact he made, he found his entire body falling over onto the unforgiving rubble.

Get up!, his mind commanded sharply. You’re not done yet!

He attempted to lift himself up but his body felt weakened beyond motion, his muscles simply not responding to the orders he gave them. His entire body moaned in pain, the trauma he’d endured in the crash hitting him all at once. He moaned face down, almost all noise being muffled out.

You can do it! C’mon!

He tried once more to get up, but was only met with a tiny stir from his shoulders.

I can’t, I just can’t...

He began to weep, his eyes shut tightly to hold back the tears he couldn’t stop. He whimpered under the wreckage, scared over what may had happened to his friends and what may happen to him.

For a moment, all that could be heard around him was his soft sobbing, the sounds of the approaching autumn becoming distant to his ears. He considered trying to get up, but he could not find even an effort within himself to move.

This can’t be…not now…not now…

His vision began to fade out, his ears warping the sound around him. He knew all to well what was happening, the ending to all—

“ALISTAIR!” screamed a familiar voice that pierced through his mind, shattering the approaching illusions.

He felt a pair of hooves roughly grip his shoulders and turn him over. His vision now clear, he dryly smiled up at the frantic Commodore and Jam who stood over him.

“Y-You guys found me…” he uttered quietly.

“You bet we did!” shouted Commodore with tears in his eyes. “We were so worried…”

Alistair chuckled, and then coughed hoarsely. “I’m fine, just a few cuts and bruises…and maybe a compound fracture…”

“Don’t say that!” said Jam, just as worried as his friend. “Help is on the way, you’re going to be alright.”

“The Guards,” muttered Alistair, “took them long enough…”

They didn’t say anything for a moment, Alistair looking blankly up towards the night as the two young colts looked down at him. After a few minutes of this, Commodore pointed his shaggy blue foreleg towards the sky.

“There they are, it’s the Guards! Thank Celestia!”

Alistair wanted to look behind himself and gape at the probably awesome approach of the valiant Guard Ponies, their fluttering pegasus wings and flying golden chariots probably shinning as brightly as the morning sun. However, he instead stared out towards the wide and expansive Everfree Forest. He smiled to himself the longer he looked.

He knew she was out there, Shale Press and the rest of her cronies, no doubt already galloping through the winding woods, creating as much distance they could from the train wreckage. He knew, with all certainty in his heart that they’d be back. Maybe not soon, but that’d be back, their beef with him was far from over.

She’d had such grand things, not only about herself, but about her organization as well. Boasting its hidden power and abilities, stating that he would never be able to stop them. And yet, she hadn’t even given him their name, giving vague but still descriptive facts about whoever she worked for. Shaking his heard wearily, he promised to focus on it some other time.

The sounds and voices of the Guards became closer; somepony was shouting orders as the group began to disperse around the crashed train. He heard a group approaching where they he lay with Commodore and Jam holding him tight. Looking at both of them, he smiled.

“I’m think I’m going to take a nap now guys…getting pretty tired…”

“No!” shouted Commodore, shaking him abrasively. “You need to stay awake, help's here!”

Alistair’s vision began to blur as sounds once again became distorted echoes to his ears. He heard a stallion’s voice close to them.

“Which one of you is Mr. Alistair? Twilight Sparkle wishes to know if you’re alright, she’s on her way now.”

With that happy thought in mind, Alistair shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep, content with the night’s events.

Done For the Day

“Oh darling, you look dashing! Simply wonderful!” exclaimed Rarity with her normal level of pomp and circumstance.

“You think so?” asked Alistair peevishly. “Nothing’s out of order?”

“Of course not my dear, the absolute perfect amount of perfection has been put into your attire. I couldn’t hope to make it any better!”

Alistair stood awkwardly on the ground floor of Carousel Boutique, his recent wardrobe extension being reflected off any available mirror pointed in his direction. His new wardrobe in questions was a cotton long-sleeve green shirt with bright blue jeans arching down to his ankles. On his feet he wore leather work shoes with thick leather laces across the top.

“It looks nice,” he remarked as he looked down at his clothes once again. “It’s a departure from my normal setup, but not too greatly” he smiled to himself. “I wore those things everyday for who knows how long.”

Rarity looked horrified. “The same clothes? Everyday? That’s horrible! One should always have a wardrobe reconstruction or redeployment at least once a year. The fact that you went so long without one…it’s just good we caught you when we did!”

“Well…” he said as he rubbed his neck, “it wasn’t a willing change in clothing, it was sort of--”

“Yes-yes, I know Twilight told me all about what happened.” She grimaced at the thought. “Ooooo, that nasty train wreck, just thinking about it gives me shutters! It’s a miracle you didn’t get hurt.”

He shrugged. “I’m grateful for it. Now…” he looked down at his clothes once more then around the room. “Is this everything?”

“Oh no-no-no-no! There’s much more!” Rarity rushed over to one of her work tables and pulled two large pink paper bags off the top. Bringing them back over, she thrust the packages into his arms.

“This is everything, darling. Mostly extras to what you have on now but I threw in some other items in as well. A little customization never hurt anypony, or, anybody in your case.” She smiled brightly as he looked down at the bags of clothing that’d just been custom made and given to him.

“Wow, Miss Rarity these look fantastic!” he said with modest wonder.

She smiled contently. “I promised Twilight to make you some proper clothes and I did just that! I was happy to help.”

He put down one of the pink bags and extended his hand to shake. “Either way, Miss Rarity, thank you.”

Rarity chuckled. “Please Alistair, no need to be so formal.” She leaned forward and gently wrapped her hooves around him in a hug. Alistair’s mouth dropped open as his cheeks began to blush tomato red at the sudden embrace.

“Now,” said Rarity as she let go, “why don’t you hurry back home and hang up your clothes, you don’t want them to wrinkle.”

Alistair blushed even brighter. “Y-Yes, g-goodbye…Miss Rarity.”

She waved to him as he scurried out the door and into the cold autumn air outside. He immediately was hit with a chilling but still comfortable gust of wind that pushed any nearby leaves into the sky. Taking in a breath of the crisp air he started toward home.

Alistair pushed through the front door with his shoulders, both his arms carrying the pink clothing bags. The cold outside air slammed past him and into the house, immediately cooling things down ten degrees. Setting the bags down by the doormat, he threw the door shut with the tips of his fingers.

After untying his leather shoes, he carried the bags through the front library atrium and set them down right outside his room. His room in question was the downstairs bathroom that’d had the recent addition of a cot and a footlocker to its décor.

He reached into one of the bags and felt around a bit for the item he sought. Pulling the clothing out, he examined it. It was a brown canvas jacket with fancy thread designs along the coat sleeves. He held it up toward the light, further examining the similarities it had to something he no longer wore.

“Alistair!” called a boyish and young voice from behind him. “What’s up?”

He quickly folded the coat as he turned around. “Hey Spike,” he responded to the stubby little dragon standing in the hallway, “nothing much, just got back from picking up the clothes.” He had to arch his head down to look Spike in the eyes, his stature one he’d never seen before.

“At the Carousel Boutique, with Rarity?”

He nodded. “That and the same.”

Spike smiled a dreamy grin. “So you finally met the love of my life,” he sighed happily, “was she as amazing as I told you?”

Alistair blushed. “Uh yeah--she was nice, the clothes were nice, everything was…nice.”

Spike closed his eyes and looked toward the ceiling. “Her beauty is one that cannot be described with mere words. Just looking upon her magnificence can result in even the strongest eyes going blind off the sparkling light that is her mane!”

“I take it you have a thing for her?” chuckled Alistair.

“Well…” said Spike as he looked split on the sentiment. “I could let you in on a little secret, if you’re interested.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Ok,” Spike took a deep breath. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever hinted at it, but…I have a crush on Rarity,” he said in a low whisper. “I don’t want anypony to know so don’t tell a soul, understand?”

Alistair smirked. “I don’t know Spike; I’m pretty bad at keeping secrets. Maybe one of these days I might accidently--”

“Please!” he shouted in desperation. “I’ll be a laughing stock if anypony finds it, please don’t!”

Alistair put his hands up in defense. “Teasing, only teasing. I wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

Spike sighed in relief. “Wooh, that’s good” He paused a moment staring at the coat Alistair was holding. “What’s that for?”

Alistair held up the coat. “It’s the autumn jacket Rarity made; I was planning on hanging out with Jam and Commodore later, once I got these bags home.”

“Have fun then,” smiled Spike, suddenly realizing something. “Hey, what about wearing that cloak of yours? It’d probably keep you warmer.”

Alistair shrugged. “I lost the dang thing, I know it’s somewhere around here I just don’t know where. Besides, that thing’s ugly anyway.”

“Suit yourself then, see you later.”

Alistair pulled on the jacket and opened the door without buttoning it up. He waved to Spike and began on his way.

“Guys!” called Alistair as ran and flailed wildly with his right arm. “Waaaaait!”

Alistair ran as fast as he could toward the now stationary Jam and Commodore. He had trouble seeing them properly from a distance but he could tell that Commodore Blip, the shaggy blue colt, was grinning ear to ear.

“Well, well, well,” he said in joking falsetto, “if it isn’t Mister Alistair, running late yet again.”

Alistair smiled. “Sorry for being late, I’ll be sure to run faster than physically possible next time to save you a few seconds of me not being here.”

Jam-Roly-Poly, the glasses wearing red colt with straight fur happily inhaled. “Ahh, the time we cherish together!”

The three automatically formed a short phalanx of themselves and continued to walk down the road.

“So…” said Alistair, “how’s school going?”

Commodore grumbled. “It’s garbage. My stupid Bio teacher gave me a zero on a assignment so now my grade’s gonna drop.” He sighed. “I can already feel another lecture from my parents coming on.”

“How’d you get the zero?”

“Forgot we had a quiz a few days ago so I bombed the entire thing, didn’t even get the multiple choice ones right.”

Alistair shrugged. “Sounds like it was your own fault, forgetting I mean.”

“Easy for you to say,” scowled Commodore, “you don’t even have to go school. “

“It’s a pretty swell, I know!” said Alistair sarcastically.

“Screw you man, you aren’t up to your eye balls in busy-work with parents breathing down your neck about “your future” and stuff,” he did air-quotes for ‘your future’ to emphasize his point.

Alistair looked hurt from the statement. “Be happy that you have something to do most days, trust me, it’s a gift.”

Commodore nodded, not really agreeing with the sentiment but still understanding it. “What do you do then, when we’re at school?”

“I try to keep busy, reading mostly, but sometimes I help out around the library when I’m needed.”

“You like it?”

“It’s ok most times; Twilight Sparkle doesn’t seem to get much library traffic, even on a busy day, so a lot of “helping out” is me and her assistant sitting around waiting for somepony to come in.”

“Sounds like a nice preparation for the real world.”

“Oh yeah.” He paused for a moment, sticking his hands into his pockets. Grinning, he turned to the two. “So about that adventure…”

“Yes!” exclaimed Commodore with matching enthusiasm. “I was hoping you’d bring it up! We’ve really needed to talk about this in greater depth, considering that this is probably the most important thing ever to happen in this town!”

“Other than the time a god of Chaos quite literally turned it upside down?”

“Well…I was at my grandparent’s house when it happened so that doesn’t count!”

Jam raised his hoof. “I think we should start with the important stuff first.” He turned to Alistair with concern in his eyes. “Are you still okay after what happened on the train?”

Alistair caressed his left shoulder gingerly. “I’m still a little sore in places, but nothing too bad. In terms of worrying though…”

“They never caught those ponies, huh?” confirmed Commodore. “Every single one of them got away?”

Alistair nodded. “Every last one. The Guards asked me some questions after I woke up. I told them everything I knew, but it didn’t seem like they pinned anything past circumstantial though.”

Commodore kicked the ground in frustration. “Dang it! After all they did, after all they put you through, and they’re just able to slither away like nothing happened!? The nerve of them!”

“The Guards are doing everything they can,” reminded Alistair, “all they’ve got is what we told them, which isn’t much as it is.”

Commodore sighed. “I know, I know. Something we can’t change or stop, just like what that Shale mare told you.”

Jam shivered. “Must be creepy, knowing that the ponies who kidnapped you are still at large. And if what that Shale told you is true…”

“Then they’re bigger than the eleven we encountered on the train,” finished Alistair.

“At least we’re ready for them,” remarked Commodore, “if they try to pull something it’ll have to be a bit more direct then their original cloak and dagger technique.”

Alistair looked at him as if green lobsters had suddenly clawed their ways out of his snout. “We? As in, you guys too?”

Commodore grinned happily. “Sure, you don’t think we’d leave this all up to you after jumping in and saving your sorry butt?”

“We want to help,” added Jam with ill seen excitement.

“Are you sure?” asked Alistair nervously. “These guys aren’t messing around, not in the slightest.”

Commodore nodded. “We’re aware, don’t worry. Although we’re not the most intimidating in fight, we proved we can still pull our own weight.”

“Ok,” said Alistair as he threw his hands up in defeat, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“We’re not foals,” said Commodore as he rolled his eyes, “and you’re not an adult. We can make decisions for ourselves.”

“Sorry…”

He patted Alistair on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about. I’m just giving you crap. And besides, we’re here!” He gestured to his right were a comfortable looking yellow thatch house stood closely adjacent to other nice looking thatch houses. “My humble abode!”

“Oh man…” moaned Alistair.

Commodore turned to him, his eyes staring strongly. “You’re going inside this time, you promised.”

“I know, it’s just…can I do it some other time? Maybe when it’s a bit warmer or--”

“No! You said today, so we’re hanging out today. Me and Jam skipped hanging out with the rest of our little gang after school just to make this happen.”

Alistair rubbed his forehead slowly. “Alright let’s do this. Let’s waste our time playing a bunch of crappy eastern fighting games, can’t wait.”

“That’s the spirit!” exclaimed Jam.

The three walked up the stoop towards the front door. Commodore reached for the door knob.

“Oh man…” moaned Alistair once more, “your parents, your brother…do I have to do this?”

“Give it chance man, you might just enjoy yourself.”

Holding the door open for them, Alistair and Jam stepped through the doorway as Commodore followed after them, shutting the door behind him.

Introduction

ALISTAIR: BOOK IITHREE CARD COLLISIONIt is a most unusual time in the history of Equestria.After nearly a generation of silence,a lone human has finally arrived within the nation’s borders,ending the mysterious absence of inter-dimensional activitythat had lasted for nearly fifty years.Discovering the human, unconscious and dying along the roadside,Twilight Sparkle took it upon herself to nurse and care for the humanonce he was recuperated back to full health.However, the decision to continue to care for the human prevailed in her mindand thus, he continues to live in her humble abode of Ponyville.Now, one month later, while still unfamiliar to the new world around him,the young human by the name of Alistair has begun to situate himself in the land he now calls home.But, a mysterious group is well aware of his presence,setting in motion a carefully planned scheme that will change his destiny forever...