Of a Certain Adventurous Pony

by RavensDagger

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Main 6, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Romance, Sex
Length: 29339

All you need to know is this: There’s this big school in an equally big city called Academy City. In that school students are graded based on a level system. Twelve is good—“Celestia on a good day”—one is bad. I’m

Once upon a time, in a land far far away—oh, who gives a crap.
All you need to know is this: There’s this big school in an equally big city called Academy City. (Original, I know) And in that school students are graded based on a level system. Twelve is good—Like, “Celestia on a good day” good—one is bad.
I’m level one.
Woop-ti-doo.
But that’s not the worst of it, nope. I have to deal with a math-crazed freak, a nihilist that’s far too happy for her own good, a time manipulator who can’t manipulate her way out of a cardboard box, and, to put the cherry on the cow patty, high school life.
Well, shit.

Warning: Some mildly impolite things are said on occasion.

Cover-Art by: F4celessart
Chapter Header Art by: Gurumane

Published 2013-09-16 21:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-23 13:58:56 UTC

Arc One: Welcomings - Prologue

Hello.

Crap. I know it’s not the best way to start a story, all right? But honestly there's not much to it, and I don’t feel like wasting your time or my own. I might not have much waiting for me after all this, but I do have a semblance of a life, somewhere.

My name is Tight Wedge, and I have—what some of the denizens of this fine institution would call—a bit of an attitude. It’s not that I’m rude or anything, just that I like to speak my mind. The fact that my mind is stuck in sarcastic git mode all the time is an unfortunate occurrence.

Like many of my horny contemporaries, and by "horny" I mean exactly what you're thinking, I reside in the beautiful Academy City. A heap of towers, skyscrapers, and high-tech junk tall and shiny enough to impress pretty much anypony who sets eyes on the place. Personally, I think it’s too flashy, but then, who has ever given a damn about my opinion?

I guess my story starts sometime around the time I showed up. No, not on the day my parents first kicked me out of home and sent me packing to this high school. Nor was it when I first entered the front gates, and wandered the sidewalks and hallways with youthful pride, optimism, and adventure, a bounce in my step and a gleam in my eye. Nope. Not even close. When it comes down to it, everything started rolling about two weeks in.

You see, our Great and Shiny Lord Princess Celestia of Canterlot deemed it necessary to grade all of her precious students on an equally great and shiny scale.

The catch? Well, the grading here’s a little special. A certain Twilight Sparkle—don’t get me started on her—created a machine that measures your talent and power and future potential based on a twelve level system.

I’m level one.

Well, shit.

Author's Note

Edited by:
The Misfits

I wanted to take a few seconds to warn you, dear readers, of some of the... interesting things that are going to happen in this particular fic.

I've written my fair share of pony over the last two-or-so years, but I've always had a limit on what I could do. Some things I just did not allow myself to do, such as going on rants or making snide remarks, swearing or being less-than-professional in my delivery. (Even if said delivery was sometimes of something utterly silly)

With this story, it's different.
If I want to call my readers idiots in the middle of narration, I will.
If I feel like nerding out and making references to my favourite sci-fi shows that only three other people in existence have seen: I will.
If I have the urge to go on a thousand word rant about math, philosophy, or mini-skirts, (or all three at once) I bloody well will.

I hope you guys enjoy,
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc One: Welcomings - Level Down

A bitter wind blew past me, roughing up my already unkempt mane before passing on to dance with the rejoicing colts and fillies behind me. Paper caught in the wind, crackling and snapping playfully, as they traded the results of their tests with one another.

I looked at my own, unfolding the bent page with hooves that just wouldn’t stop shivering like the disobedient jerks that they were. The page stared back, scribbled with fine-printed jargon that was supposed to be vaguely optimistic, while helpfully explaining how the process worked. Not that they hadn't already explained it ten times over the last three weeks.

Above it, right beside my name, was a big fat twelve. Well, that’s what I wanted there to be. Instead, I stood on the edge of the testing building’s courtyard, my back hunched over and shoulders drooped, staring at the vaguely straight shape of the number one.

I hate to repeat myself, but, well, shit.

Eventually I looked up, the form of the page burned on my retinas thanks to the sun’s wonderful glare—thanks again, Celly! Through the vaguely purple-ish distortion of my vision, I saw Academy City once more.

Like gigantic spires, the towers of the city jutted out of the ground, twelve in all, all of them placed in a perfect circle around a stubby, fat building that was the headquarters of our grandiose principle. Groups of pegasi in the uniforms of various schools flew around, their tiny, distant shapes reminiscent of crows after carrion.

Further from there, and bathed in the neon glow that the ponies here so seemed to love, were the market districts, twelve in all, arranged like a many-studded jewel fitted around the city: the ring of mercantile endeavors separating the towers from the outlying schools and dormitories.

Whoever said a dumbass couldn’t wax poetic?

“Hey, Wedgie!” came a piercing, feminine wail that assaulted my ears a millisecond before I was tackled from behind.

My legs sprawled out in every direction, and for the briefest of moments, I thought I might actually recuperate from the fall and not look like a complete idiot. Then my face met the rough flagstone roadway with a tender, romantic embrace that felt like it had torn off my cheek. Because why not? My day was already knee-deep in Craplandia.

As I lay there, aware that much more attention was on me than I really needed, I began to have thoughts of home. What? Can you really blame me? Here I am, all happy to be part of one of the greatest palaces ever, hopes all uber high, when my hopes and dreams get beaten, tucked into an alley, and the next day my hope’s kidneys are up on the black market and the insurance company’s whining that they don’t cover random muggings.

Honestly, though, I’m not one for giving up after a single blow or two—although I might quit after three. So, laying there, staring at the city towering above me like an unbreachable fortress, I decided that I was going to find a little niche for myself. A corner of hell where I could nestle up and roast marshmallows, while listening to the deathly wails of those surrounding me. Or something like that.

“Wedgie, you inebriated fool! You owe me lunch!” the feminine voice declared, a clear tone of moral high-ground and social superiority resonating with every word. They were probably deserved, too.

“Hurry, get up,” she said, before delivering a swift kick to my shin.

The tall, blond-maned and blue eyed beauty standing above me went by the name Black Ruby. She’s pretty, like, as in, drop-dead gorgeous. To go with that she has high grades, comes from what seems to be a family with connections, and acts like she knows it all, which really bites when you find out that she does, in fact, know it all.

Not to go off on a tangent, but on the first day of school, she walked up to me all smiles—and with a face like hers, I was smiling in return—and ordered me to buy her various things. Notably, lunch. No, I don’t know why she’s such an insufferable pain in the flank. I’d go as far as calling her a tsundere, but they’re usually nice at some point. After her demands were met with confusion and some drooling, she kicked me. Hence started day one of hell.

“Leave me alone, will you?” I asked as I pushed myself up and tried to brush the dust off my trousers. It did little to wipe off my blush.

She huffed, those perfect cheeks of hers puffing out as she crossed her hooves and shifted her weight to one side. “Fine. But you owe me, and I always get paid, be it today, or yesterday. Good-bye for now, Wedgie.” With a pout all too common of high-class snotty brats, she spun on the tip of her hoof and left, glaring at the ground with those freakishly blue eyes of hers.

I stared at her leaving back for a bit. (And perhaps my eyes trailed a little lower.) Ponies took a wide berth around her, and almost unconsciously they turned away as she trotted by. But she would make friends eventually, probably form a posse or join one. Ponies like her tend to come in pairs.

Some giggling caught my attention and dragged my gaze from the fading form of Black Ruby to those of a few female students. The sheet with all my test results, it turned out, was held in the grasp of those few fellow students downwind of me, who were alternating between looking at the lonely ‘one’ and glancing at me with disguised smiles. I stared at my empty hooves as if they were the ones to take the blame for dropping the sheet in the first place.

Welp, crap. To sum up that afternoon I’ll draw three conclusions:

First, I suck so hard that pony society and the school decided to make it official.

Secondly, some random rich pain in the flank was trying to extort ‘lunch’ from me as payment for something. As to what? No frickin’ clue.

And thirdly, the entire campus (minus the few that knew already,) was about to find out that I suck. But then, I’m not the only failure on this campus.

I walked away with slumped shoulders, ignoring the persistent laughter that emanated from those girls as they discussed their ranks of three and four and even a rare five. Brilliant.

Academy City, being such an awesome place, has some pretty sweet commodities, some of which are even available to first grade students like me. One of those amenities includes free access to the train services. Not those old pieces of crap pulled around by a few stallions that are far, far too burly. But an actual electric train that goes really, really fast. Gotta say, I’m a fan.

I messed around in my rucksack with my measly magical abilities and managed to yank out my student ID card without breaking a sweat. The front entrance of the train station, a pavilion with a sleepy guard and a few cleaning robots wheeling around the three ramps that led into the train itself, was basically a dull construct of white and grey with far too many lights.

After swiping the card and walking to the edge of the platform, I found myself glaring at the rails while I waited for the next train to arrive. A few students flocked in behind me, but for some odd reason, chose not to talk to me; whether it was the glare or the fact that my legs were braced and my chest was puffed out defiantly that held them off, I don’t know. Not complaining though.

With a magical hum the train slid into place. It was a machine of metal and might that had the interesting ability to stop on a dime from speeds nearing mach one. So, there are some redeeming qualities to the city, I reasoned, just before a blast of cold wind roared through the terminal and almost threw me to the ground. Girls screeched or giggled as their school uniforms were tossed in the air, much to the pleasure of a few ogling idiots.

Who, in his right mind, decided that short skirts were a good idea? I mean, normally, we’d be naked, but for some astounding reason, wearing clothing and peeking at what’s underneath is considered way, way hotter than just normal nakedness. My mind was humming along, thinking of such matters as I climbed into the train and trotted through the filled cabin.

Hooves on steel-flooring filled the air with an odd sort of drumming while the murmur of the crowd and the high-notes of laughter filled in the rest of the chorus. If somepony started singing, I was out with the next exit.

The train began accelerating, just as I found myself a seat near one of the wide windows that consumed the walls. From there, I could see the world beyond. We blew past tiny patches of forests or manicured gardens where homes and tiny towns had taken shape. They were all connected to one another by trains such as the one I was in, or old-fashioned highways, covered in the shiny, scurrying shapes of automobiles.

Everything became a blur, a scratched surface of moving lines of every colour, as my brain jammed and failed to make sense of any of it. The image then returned to normal, albeit a very rapidly moving normal. Going from zero to mach one in a tenth of a second is rather jarring, but it’s the best way to get by that initial g-force. Takes a lot of magical dampening. Why? Because being pressed into you bench at over three hundred Earth gravities is a lot more than you or I could ever handle, that's why. Once you’re going at a constant speed, though, you no longer feel the motion. You should know this. That is, if you paid any attention while you were in high school.

We slowed down just as fast, and the tiny light above the doorway dinged. “Welcome to District L. Watch your step upon exiting and have a pleasant day!” an automated voice advised, as we departed.

It’s sorta disorienting, at least the first few times, to be in one place one second, then to be halfway across the city the next. I almost pity ponies that can teleport. Almost.

This station was similar to the last, with the same futuristic arcs and odd curves made of thick concrete and plastics, mixed with the same odour of warm rubber and too many sweaty ponies. Nasty. My trip out to the slightly fresher air of the city was a mix of sudden bursts of speed and jostling for an inch, as the crowd funneled out of a tiny entrance and onto the roadway.

From the corner of my eye, I could see the buildings all around us tower up, as if the designers had decided that Equestria was not big enough for building horizontally. Cars zipped by, machines of metal and plastic led about by the automated system ruling the city. Nopony passed on a red light and pedestrians were rarely run over. Accidents do happen.

I split from the main group, away from the city centre and all the funsies shops found there, to head towards the outer end of the wedge I was in. The roads were a tad quieter as they led away from the busier parts of Academy City.

Shops weren’t too frequent here, and most of the buildings were apartments or dormitories, the ones closer to the centre being the pricier ones. Guess where I lived?

As I pushed on, I caught sight of a familiar alley stuck between two homes and slid into it, eyeing the path ahead through my too-long bangs. (Haircuts cost bits.) It was darker here, but still warm enough despite the chilly fall weather. Not having any air circulation helped that, although it did little to help the smell.

At the alley’s end, I took a left and entered a wider space, one that reconnected with the road leading to my dormitory. I’d be home in a minute.

Well, I would have gotten home in a minute, were it not for what I happened to run into while in said alley.

Three stallions were standing beneath a rattling pipe, its shadows cloaking them in a near-total darkness. I could still see the white of their uniforms starkly contrasted with the shadows as they moved about, standing tall and proud, yet remaining uncomfortably hunched enough to hide their deeds. Suspicious doesn’t begin to cover it.

A fourth pony was with them; a grey mare who would have gone unnoticed were it not for her shockingly pink mane and tail. She sat there, smiling quietly at the three stallions as they tried their best to look fierce and tough, ending up only managing to look like douchebags. As I cautiously approached, I noted that their collars were popped. Seriously.

“Hey, lady, where’re ya headin’ off ta tonight?” the biggest of them asked. He was a burly earth pony stallion whose chest practically poured out of his shirt, the top three buttons of which were undone. “‘Cause my friends here, and me too, we’d like ta get ta know you better, ya get?” He winked; I almost puked.

“Now, look here. What’s the point of all this? You bunch are trying to have fun, and I understand that,” the mare said, her soft voice punctuated by her hoof striking the ground, “but think about it. You’re only young once, school doesn’t last forever, and soon you’ll be weighed down by responsibilities, and life will berate you at every turn. Do you really want to make it hard on yourselves by bullying random mares in dark alleys?”

The leader blinked at her, gurgling something that sounded an awful lot like, “Euhhh....”

“This city doesn’t care about you, or your friends, or anypony else for that matter. And that may justify rudeness and cruelty in your eyes. But this freedom we have, maybe we could use it to be nice instead?”

The leader took a long step towards her, driving her back with his massive chest. “Look, we’re just after some tail, hon.”

Now, at this point, I would like to point out that I agree with the mare. This city doesn’t give a damn about me. I’m a level one, as it turns out. I’m less than useless. Dead weight to be tossed away once schooling is over. Heck, the chances that a level one graduates are probably not in my favour. Would anypony care if I up and disappeared for a day, a month, a year? No, probably not. Time will move on. Ponies will grow up and die, and the few memories of me will fade away, unnoticed by history or the cares of any. I’m no Twilight Sparkle or Element of Harmony. I’m no great inventor or thinker.

So what’s the point of trying hard if nothing matters in the end? The mare was right. I should continue with my life, but not overextend myself, not take useless risks. Doing so is just plain stupid.

So, contrary to my very logical train of thought, I trotted up to the bullies, screamed, “Hey!” at the top of my lungs, and slugged that douchebag in the face.

Well, shit, she’s right. If our life’s worthless, might as well spend it being helpful, right?

The girl stared at me with the weirdest of looks. It was somewhere between admiration and that look you give to someone just after they’ve gone and done something really stupid.

The funny thing about bucking somepony across the face is that they tend to react in a few different ways:

Some will kneel down and wallow in pain.

Others will back away and try to reason with you.

The rest will buck back.

Well, shit.

Author's Note

Edited by:
The Misfits

I wrote this chapter, or at least, started to write it, on the wings of the same boost of inspiration that got me through the prologue, only, by the halfway point, I was starting to think ahead. Future events are super important in a longer story, mostly because you have to introduce important characters early and need to have a world in which to play before the next series of events happen.

My goal here was simple, really. Introduce the main character's personality, show off some scenic bits of landscape, and then introduce some supporting characters, maybe a love interest or two. Of course, I had not planned that deeply yet, so the placement of Chekhov's was still a little loose. A few extra editing passes fixed those wrinkles though.

I also needed to get into some action and quick, allthewhile tossing in a few bits of comedy, hence explaining the next chapter...

Trains are cool,
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc One: Welcomings - Knock Out

That group of imbeciles, the one I wisely chose to assault for no apparent reason? Turns out, they weren’t so pleased that I tried to deck their leader. So, like a four-year-old whose mom caught him watching TV at three AM on a weekday, I just stared at them as they circled around me, one of them rubbing his nose from the tiny bruise I had left there.

The leader’s hoof struck me against the jaw, twisting my head around before the rest of my body could follow. In the same smooth motion, he turned himself around. All I saw, besides his ugly behind hidden by a pair of too-tight trousers, were two hind legs rushing at me.

Have you ever been bucked so hard that you were knocked out cold with just one hit?

Me neither.

It’s at that point that they let out some deep gurgling scream and rounded on me, a mix-and-matched orchestra of punches, kicks, wails (mostly provided by yours truly), and manly grunting. God, I’m stupid sometimes.

I would love to spin a heroic yarn about how it didn’t hurt, or maybe some epic tale of me going all kung-fu on the three of them. But what really happened was a tad more pitiful, and involved more of me crying for my mommy, while silently cursing philosophy. At this point, for reasons that should be obvious, I didn’t notice what happened to the young miss , but she didn’t appear to be helping me any.

Fortunately, once your body gets banged up enough, it just gently folds into a black void where nothing hurts much, and everything’s pretty. Well, mostly pretty.

God, I’m stupid.

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

Here’s a secret: I’ve never been punched or beaten up like this before. Well, other than friendly roughhousing with some friends on occasion. (And that one time I got an elbow in the face while swimming, but I ran into that one.)

Elbows are hard,
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc One: Welcomings - Math and Nihilism

I woke up with a groan, my senses coming back like waves breaking on a shore.

And no, I’m not just using that analogy randomly. Something wet and sloppy had hit my face, which up until then had been pressed against the rough gravel. As my hearing returned, I caught the sound of off-note humming coming from somewhere above me, presumably the source of the wet sloppy stuff.

“Hey, look,” said a mare’s soft voice, the same that had spoken earlier about stuff being worth nothing in the long run. “He’s not dead yet.”

Yet?

“Seems that way. I just have to apply two more bandages,” said another voice, this one scratchier, like a preteen whose voice was not all there yet. I was hit again, another wet, sloppy thing wrapping itself around my middle, before somepony lifted me up and brought the bandage around. It burned like bloody Tartarus when it rubbed up against one of my bruises.

“Mister, are you sure he needs more bandages?” the mare asked again. “He already has quite a few, and in the long run, wasting material like that could be bad for the environment. Though in a world with finite resources...”

Something grabbed my thigh, and I almost gasped as feathers wrapped themselves around my leg. At that point I was really, really hoping that the bandager was a really hot tomboy who had a thing for wanna-be heroes. “I can’t just leave him with B poultices. B is an uneven number. This city works on a duodecimal system, or base twelve. Hence, I shall give him ten balms,” the scratchy voice said.

Okay, so a tomboy that likes wanna-be heroes and is really into math?

“What about the plaster on his horn? Won’t that complete your count?” Soft Voice asked. (As I am calling her, until a full name could be extracted)

“Ah! You’re right! Well, one is a fair number, and the total count is 11, which is perfectly fine since 11 is prime. Prime numbers are always good. Also, thanks to that one, the layout of bandages is somewhat similar to the Fibonacci sequence. Surprising how those brutes really went for his face. Anywho, with that logic complete, it means that I only have to add one more. Brilliant.” Again I was lifted and a bandage was wrapped around me, seemingly over nothing this time.

I laid a hoof against the ground nearby my battered head, and pushed, lifting the forward end of my body, while my hind legs tried to figure out where they were supposed to go. A surprisingly difficult task with the massive thundering headache that moving seemed to have awakened.

A warm body pressed itself against me, helping me to all fours. I leaned on her and stood on all four wobbly legs for a few moments.

“Hey, you’re really alive,” she said, somehow not conveying the enthusiasm I would have hoped for. “That’s good; I really hate funerals. You have to wear black and pretend that you’re sad that this one pony died, while knowing full well that everypony else in attendance is going to get their own funeral one day. Lots of wasted potential in dying.” She pressed a hoof against my forehead, like a nurse checking for fever. The motions made my head turn, bringing my muzzle within millimetres of her own.

She didn’t pull back or flinch. (Pity points rule!) Instead, her brilliant crimson eyes stared into my own, not betraying any feelings she might have had. “You okay there?”

“Huh?”

What? You expected me to say something smart? After being beaten to a pulp? And while in the company of an attractive pony of the opposite sex? You put far too much faith in me.

The soft stroke of a wing touched my side, drawing me away from Pretty Eyes (I changed her fake name based on newly acquired information—get over it), and brought me around to face a tall, lean pegasus with leg muscles that did not seem normal. Not normal in the sense that I instantly suspected the use of certain medical drugs that are banned in sporting establishments.

“Hello, how’re you doing? Feeling any better?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I managed to say, despite my jaw not working quite right. “Did they leave?”

“If, by ‘they,’” Pretty Eyes began, “you mean the group of young hooligans that you vainly attempted to scare away, then yes, ‘they’ left after kicking your flank, hard.” She actually smiled at me, a toothy, lop-sided grin. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

My heart began flopping around inside me, like a stray chipmunk caught inside somepony’s kitchen. “But that was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen,” she said next. Somepony shot the chipmunk, dead.

Then something incredibly shocking happened. The mare leaned into me again, pushing herself onto the tip of her hooves to leave a tiny peck of a kiss on my bruised cheek. “Still, a mare must reward chivalry, no matter how vain or stupid it may be.”

The following sounds to come out of me were mostly untranslatable gibberish, so I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say, the chipmunk was back, and this time he brought his nuts. “It-it’s no problem, Miss, um....”

She gave me that smile again. “My name’s Happy End.”

And damn did I want a happy ending! But crude jokes aside, I then presented myself, my shoulders straightening a little beneath the bandages.

“Here, your shirt,” the pegasus said, hoofing over a neatly folded piece of cloth that I vaguely recognized as my beige uniform. Interesting how you don’t notice the absence of a shirt in situations like these. “Sorry, I had to remove it to get to the worst of your injuries. Or, at least, to look at them. They might have been big ponies, but they did little more than bruise you, albeit using 16 blows to do so.” He shook his head as if in shame, but probably not at the assault on me so much as the assault on patterned math.

“Oh, well, thanks,” I said, frowning at the shirt until my magic popped, fizzled, and utterly failed to levitate it. I chose to cheat my way out of embarrassment and give them a sheepish smile.

Count of times I’ve made an idiot of myself in front of a pretty girl: three.

“Hah, must’ve knocked a few more screws loose. I’ll just take that....” I gingerly grabbed the shirt and tossed it onto my back. “So, um, thanks for the first aid there. I didn’t catch your name? Mine’s Tight Wedge.”

“Ah, my name’s Omni Disciplinarian.” He made a little bow while my jaw dropped.

This guy, this weird lump of muscly pegasus, had a long name. I’m not just stating that out in the blue. I mean, that’s a long name. Holy.... He’s got more syllables in his name than Celestia, titles and all! “N-nice to meet you, um, Omni?”

“Disciplinarian,” he finished for me, as if he were helping a little child along. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I should be on my way. It’s three thirty-two and sixteen....” He began counting down a series of numbers under his breath, while his eyes glazed over, “point eight seconds. I should be home by four fifty-two at this rate, taking into account rapid goodbyes and a decent pace.”

“Four fifty? You must live across the city or something. I’m sorry, I didn’t think my attempted heroics would ruin anypony’s day,” I said, and I truly did feel sorry. Poor sod bandaged me up and everything. Now, as to why he had bandages on him, I honestly was not in the need to know.

“It’s fine. And it will only take that long because I can’t fly, no big problem.”

And then I started feeling really sorry for mister Omni. No, I’m not going to write his full name every time, I have better things to do in life you know. Happy End, who was still somewhere vaguely behind me, awwed.

“That’s terrible, Omni. Life is such a morose, melancholy thing, and to once have the opportunity to fly through it only to lose that chance... that’s terrible.”

The stallion looked at us both as if we had come from another planet or were actually just the convoluted fictional devices created by some bored architect living in his mother’s home while writing jargon down in the deepest most pitiful hours of the night for the simple acclaim of a few strangers—or something. “Oh, it’s not just me. No pegasi can fly.”

And that’s where we lost him.

“The wingspan of a pegasi’s wings, the muscle mass, and the speed at which they beat are all far too low to make a pony capable of achieving lift. We’re not made of aerogel and, for the most part, weigh as much as normal ponies or unicorns. As such, we cannot fly.”

The dropped-jaw looks that Happy End and I were giving Omni were eerily similar. She did look cute while doing it though. He stared back at us, then shrugged his wings. “Well, goodbye to you, Mister Tight Wedge and Miss Happy End. I wish you a wonderful pre-evening." He then stepped around us and trotted deeper into the alley.

“Well, he was interesting. In these dark days, it’s rather rare that a strange pony will stop to aid another that he doesn’t know. I think you were lucky, Wedgie. Plus, you had me around to scare your bullies away.” Happy End brought a hoof up and adjusted the collar of her blouse. “I’ll be off then. If, by all the coincidences in this universe we run into each other again, say hi.”

And she left, leaving me there to ponder exactly what she meant by that bit about scaring the bullies away. I watched her fade into the darkness once more, her neon pink mane shining for a few moments. And then I began to trot home, slowly, because things hurt. Lots of things. Notably: my pride.

My plan, from that point on, was rather simple. Get home. Find my bed. Crash into it. Try not to cry in front of my roommate as I relived my day in a terrible nightmare only to awaken in the morning to face the harsh reality of a future in a city that truly doesn't give a timberwolf's splintered flank about me.

The alley ended on a street, as they are prone to doing, that led deeper into the outer rim of the pie-like city. Here were the dorms.

Not the big, fancy dorms that were cared for by large crews of working ponies and that had nice brick façades and little gardens. Nope. These buildings were made of poured cement. Great grey blocks that were only colourful thanks to the marks of scratched-off graffiti accumulating on their walls and the light pouring out of a few open windows. They even had their own noise to replace the happy chirping of birds. That is, if dubtrot at every hour of the night can be properly compared to birdsong.

There was only one thing in the dorms that kept things in order: Sergeant Howitzer.

Now, if a name based off of an artillery gun and a position in the military that involved a lot of screaming don’t give it away, then I’ll help your imagination along.

Sergeant Howitzer was tall. He was mean. He was lean. He was an ass-kicking, name-taking, detention-giving machine. Once a member of Celestia’s special military reserve, he had been forcefully retired for suspicious reasons. Also of note, he was the only member of his platoon to survive that particular tour of action. Now, he’s the pony that makes sure the curfew is followed.

He does a good job of it.

As I was trotting back to my dorm, the sound of his concussion-inducing voice from a few dorms down spurred me on, despite there being a full hour before lights-off.

I galloped into my building, or, as much of a semblance of galloping that can be done when the great majority of one’s body is throbbing in pain, taking the steps three at a time, I found my way to my bedroom’s door, magicked out the keys from my trousers—with my magic actually working this time—and slipped inside.

An enormously fat pony sat hunched over a computer interface, his face aglow with the backlight of the screen’s radiance. “Hey, Crosshatch,” I said to him before I began to navigate the maze of discarded paper, wires and week-old clothing that was our room’s floor. And yes, we’d only been there for two weeks. You just wait.

“Hey, bud. How’re you doing?” he asked, never taking his muzzle more than an inch from the screen’s edge.

“I’m dead. Make little noise. I must sleep.”

He barked a laugh, but got the message. His—functional—magic lit up and from beneath the table came a pair of headphones that he slapped onto his noggin. “Might be hard to sleep, mate. The Anti-levels are having a party or some stupid thing like that.”

My face had time to crash into my drool-infested pillow and stay there breathing stale air for a full minute before my curiosity was piqued enough that I lifted myself up. “The who?”

“Anti-level. Bunch of idiots that got prissy and stuff cause they got low levels. The net’s alive with them whining and calling for more members. I heard that Howitzer’s actively chasing around for them, poor sods.” Crosshatch thumped a hoof against the side of his precious machine. “What do you have to complain about you ignorant twat?! Damn, most of these idjits are still levels two and three!”

“That’s wild. What level are you at? I mean, did you get tested today? I didn’t notice you.”

“Yeah, all I got was level two. But the testers said that I had a good chance to get to level three before the year’s end. So that’s good. What about you?”

And he had to climb onto a subject that was really not tempting right about then. I mean, even that fatass got two? Damn. “Wh-whatever,” I said, turning around to face the ceiling, the one wall not plastered in our junk. “So, what’s with that Anti-level group, who’s in charge?”

“Eh, some punk called... the Protagonist? But I dug around a little. Turns out Protagonist's real name is Trick Star. Lame story that one....” And so, Crosshatch sank deeper and deeper into the subject, his vajiggle jaggles—those lumpy bits of dangly skin—jiggling around as he gestured wildly and sputtered into his screen. I stopped caring or paying attention.

Soon, I was asleep, ending the first but certainly not the worst day of my high school years.

Well....

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

This chapter was fun. Not only did I get to introduce two characters that may or may not be important in the future (hint: they will be), but I also get to play with said characters. And they’re fun.

The math so far I’ve tried (and the Misfits have helped) to make as accurate as possible, and the rants spewed forth by my favourite nihilist are... well, just rants that I vomited onto the page, really.

I’m really hoping that you guys will enjoy these characters, especially once we get to know them a little more and they become something other than a pair of stereotypes with a few quirks.

Cookie-Cutters are bad?
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc One: Welcomings - Libraries, Rubies and Flanks

I shall continue my little tale on the proceeding morning. That being, sometime after I entered school, I found out that I had been assigned the worst seat in class—front row, spitting distance from the teacher’s desk, and that the person behind me was an air-headed ingrate of a filly that liked to kick at the back of people’s chairs, notably, mine.

Now, it’s not all bad. The desks that we are provided are not actually desks, but interfaces to the school’s server computer that fold out of the floor along with our seats; they even make a gnarly Star Trot-ish sound as they do so.

Of course, having one’s own computer in class would usually mean that some idle moments would be wasted playing video games. But, as aforementioned, I’m in the front row. And some of the other level one drop-outs in my class are flank-kissing dweebs.

I won’t go in depth about how dreadfully lame school is, how boring Miss Bearskin our teacher is, or how the first few hours in the new classroom dragged on in a big display of foreshadowing the rest of my school year, but I will touch on one thing, one strange event that happened during one of the few intermissions.

Some of the not-so-fine-looking girls behind me were whispering to one another. You know that particular kind of whisper a girl can do that manages to cross the entire room and reach the ear of every pony in a kilometre radius, while still somehow conveying that you shouldn’t be listening?

Yeah, that kind.

“I know! I got one of the letters last night too, it was awesome!” said airhead Numero One.

Numero Two leaned in closer. “Me too! And, I got to see the Great Protagonist, in pony.”

They k’awwed.

I almost puked.

“Well, are you going to go to the gathering tonight? I heard that it’s going to be, like, super risky to go there,” said Numero One.

Airhead Three nodded. “I know, but it’s going to be so awesome. I heard, and this is the truth, I heard it from my cousin’s brother’s boyfriend’s aunt’s best friend from childhood. Anywho, they’re saying that they can increase your level there. Tell you how to become way stronger, too, and they’re talking about bringing down the entire level system in the school.”

My ears perked and swerved around; suddenly these boring archetypal and highly stereotypical mares were interesting. So, I did the stupidest thing ever: I turned around. “Hey, is that true?” I tried to whisper like they did, but ended up sounding like a suffocating frog with rabies.

“Like, duh, of course it’s true,” Airhead One said, her eyes spinning like an off-balance gyroscope. “Here, take this and leave us alone,” she said with all the politeness that I was expecting from somepony whose IQ was in the lower (single) digits. She then grabbed a ratty piece of paper with her wingtips and brought it just close enough that I could strain my neck out and bite the tip.

Unfortunately, class restarted soon after and the time I had to actually check out the pamphlet ended. (Which looked like it had been printed by an elderly mare who did not know the flank-end of a printer from that of a donkey.)

When the bell finally rang, I bolted. The nifty thing about not having to bring anything to class is that you don’t need to bring things out of class.

Lunch gave us a whole hour to cram food into our gullets, finish off homework we should have done last night and wander around talking to our friends. Fortunately for me, there was no homework, I was too cheap to wait in the long lines to eat a hot lunch, (and so had packed myself a stallionwich) and I had no friends. (As of yet.) That left me with an entirely too big quantity of time to do nothing but wander around the school.

The large, dominating and slightly intimidating school.

It was, as I told you already, divided into twelve sections, one for each level in the hierarchy. Of course, since there's hardly any level twelves or elevens in the entirety of Equestria, that leaves some bits rather empty, so, they’re used for all the other faculties you’d expect in a school. Clubs, swimming pools, high-end medical facilities. You know, the usual.

In between some of the sections are little courts, just spots with some grass and trees and flowers and all that crappy landscaping junk that tries to make it not seem like we’re surrounded by kilometre-high skyscrapers.

I found myself, mostly alone, in the open air between the level one zone and that of the level twelves, sitting on a park bench as I gazed at the pamphlet. Look, I’m not one for getting hooked into scams or thinking that telemarketers are anything but annoying gits, but I have to tip my figurative hat to the sod who wrote this thing.

It was a single page of A4 paper folded into three panels of glorious anti-institutional inspiration, meant to hit at the heart and make one wonder if this city really was telling us the truth. And the images of this guy, ‘Trick Star’ as Crosshatch had called him, were both oddly intimidating yet eerily able to inspire confidence in this weirdo. On the bottom of the last page, in small and humble print, was the location and time of the next event and gathering.

It was tempting, as I sat there between greatness and failure, to maybe go and check the place out. Maybe.

I slid off the wooden bench and began trotting to the nearest exit when, much to my eternal woe, Black Ruby stepped out of the buildings. Her long locks of blonde mane shivered around her perfect face like a crown of whips while her eyes, the narrow blue slits that they were, zeroed in on poor little me and fired.

“You,” she said, and nopony doubted that the subject of that “you” was in trouble.

“Well, looks like you caught me, haha,” I replied, my forehoof scratching at the nape of my neck while I tried to think of an excuse to be elsewhere. Any where.

“Yes, and there will be no more evading me, Tight Wedge.” Ruby strode towards me, her gentle hoof falls like thunder to my ears. “We are going to talk, and I want some honest answers.” Her horn glowed a deep indigo blue and out of the ground around me came tearing a collection of thick, ethereal tentacles that wrapped themselves around my limbs.

Okay, so I was, in a single word, about to be tucked into a grave.

The spell she had used was a level five or maybe six binding spell, tough to pull off so quickly. (The only reason I know this is because I spent days reading on spells and magic and stuff, like a kid looking at his daddy’s special magazines because he knows he’s never going to get what he sees in it.) Now, this sort of spell can be undone with just about any level three defence spell or, with a little time, a level two bind-breaker.

But you should know by now that I suck at magic.

“Okay, so, you wanted to talk? I can do that, talking’s good. Conversation solves problems. Building bonds is good. Stops ponies from doing irrational things, like murder,” I began to say as calmly as I could, as if this wasn’t set up like some freak BDSM daydream. “What’cha wanna talk about?”

“Us, I want to talk about us. You, you ungrateful fool, asked me, a young lady, out to dinner. Every night for the past three weeks I’ve come and waited at the appointed place but you have never shown up.”

Two responses came to mind. The first went something like this: No I didn’t. And the second: You cray-cray lady. Thankfully something about adrenalin rushes can sometimes help you in the matters of thinking.

“I’m, I’m very sorry, Miss Ruby, but I truly don’t recall ever asking you out.” I began, thinking even faster as a glare began to cross her pretty little forehead. “Think about it, how could I ever forget asking such a beautiful mare out to dinner? I would be the worst of stallions to forget such a momentous occasion!”

She let go of me.

Flattery: one.

Crazy mare: zero.

The tentacles loosened their deathly grip from around my legs and dissipated into thin air while Black Ruby sat on the ground, her skirt welling around her flank. “I-I guess it’s a possibility, however faint, that I might have misused my abilities to an extent. If that is truly the case, then I apologize.” Her eyes climbed up from the ground and looked into mine, both holding such a passion and power that they made my blood run cold. “But if you are lying to me, beware.”

She spun around and left. My lungs emptied a breath that I wasn’t aware I had been holding back. Well, that was stressful, but life had to move on, preferably in a direction opposite that in which Black Ruby was moving.

Now, where, exactly, would a hot, popular, and capable mare never be found during her spare time? Why, the library, of course!

And damn did Academy City have one helluva library.

I mean, sure, the current mayor of the city and principal of the school which was built under her direction is Twilight Sparkle, and everypony knows that she likes books, but still, I think they went a little overboard.

Think of the biggest collection of books possible. Now double it. That’s what you’ll find in the tiniest shadowy corner of Academy City’s library. It’s the wet dream of bibliophiles everywhere. So I found myself trotting to one of the many access-points into the building and past the X-Ray scanners that dotted the doorways.

Personally, I’m not the biggest fan of reading. Really, only idiots read all the time. (Hint hint.) But I could still appreciate the towering stacks of books and the twenty-four floors of literary achievement.

The pamphlet was still tucked in my trousers and I intended to look it over once more before the bell rang and we all had to rush back to class. And so, I began making my way to a rather quiet section of the library dedicated to the “art” of reading. A place where the only sound was the occasional sniffle, cough or the rustle of a page as it turned.

Well, most of days that would have been the sound coming from there.

Today, we had entertainment.

A large, overly-built pegasus was huffing as he gestured and whispered at a librarian whose patience seemed to be reaching its end. “I’m telling you, Miss Worm,” Omni Disciplinarian said with his head shaking from side to side. “Dewey Duodecimal Classification is fine, but for a small-town library. The range of sub-classes is far too narrow to accommodate this many books! I’m just suggesting that we could all save a lot of time if you switched to a Universal Duodecimal Classification system which is both much more accurate and will organize the books in a fashionable fashion.”

“Fashion does not matter, young sir, and I do not wish to entertain you with an in-depth discussion over the classifications of books in this library!” the mare began to wail at him in a high-pitched tone.

I turned tail, deciding that there must be other places where Black Ruby wouldn’t hide, places where I might not be recognized by strange pegasi and roped into their woes.

Of course, there’s one issue with turning around suddenly when you have a body built on the horizontal. You might run into something, or somepony.

“Hi!” Happy End said as she smiled at me in my frozen Oh-God-I’m-going-to-run-into-this-obstacle form. “How’re you doing today? Not that this day in particular matters in the greater scheme of things. In fact, I think that most days are rather wasted in terms of advancement and ingenuity.”

I’d almost forgotten about crazy number three. At least this one was mostly sane and enjoyable to both look at and talk to. “Hi, Happy End,” I said before trotting around her and heading for a pair of seats by the entrance. She followed. (This Casanova has the smooth moves.) “What brings you here?” I ventured.

In answer, she reached over to her back to where a few books were balanced and grabbed them, presenting the titles to me while simultaneously managing, not only to smile, but also to not drool over the covers. “Booksh!”

The one read: The End is Neigh. Why Bother? and the other: Leading an Optimistic Life, How to be Happy Before Your Eventual and Inevitable Demise. Could have seen that coming. And: Advanced Plant Care and Placements. Okay, that one I was not expecting.

She placed them on one of the seats and picked the one beside it, effectively using the tiny bundles of paper as a shield between the two of us. “That pamphlet you have,” she finally said, her crimson eyes hovering over my flank. (Where the pamphlet was held, perv.)

“Oh, um, that...”

“I got one too,” she admitted, turning her gaze away from me. “Not sure how I feel about it, you know? Sure, on the one hoof I’d love for life to be fair in every way and for me to be a level or two higher. But on the other hoof, life isn’t fair, and it never will be. Why go against the city so much if all you gain in the long run is a tiny change in reform that really means nothing?”

That sorta made sense. Sure, I was stuck in the pits—shiny, high-tech pits—but even if I was a level two, my magic would still suck and the city would still think of me as little more than educated manual labour. Also, why was it that every time I met this filly she had me thinking philosophy? “So, does that mean you’re not going to the gathering thing?” I asked.

“Why, you’re asking me to go with you?” she replied, grinning at me as a few locks of her neon pink mane fell and shaded her eyes.

What. The. Tartarus. What’s a stallion supposed to say to that? Is there so much as a single logical response to that sort of question other than senseless blubbering? “Um, ah, if you want to come with me?” Suddenly, random get together in the middle of some warehouse filled with fanatics sounded like a really good idea, if she was at my side the entire time grinning like that, that is.

“No, not really.”

Count of times I’ve made an idiot of myself in front of a pretty girl: Five, I think.

Thanks to the laws of drama the bell rang at that precise moment, drawing her attention away from the glowing ember that had become my face. “Huh, got to go, Tight. Maybe I’ll see you on the way there though?” she asked, winking at me before hopping off the bench, grabbing her books and trotting away.

Well, shit.

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

This was an interesting one. Mostly cause I got to build the foundations of the “main” setting that we will be exploring and I also go to reintroduce both Happy and Black Ruby into the story. Hopefully they will be lie/hate-able.

Also, dat librarium. (Personally I have a thing for old-school Dewey Decimal. Don’t judge me.)

Now with 20% more tentacles,
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc One: Welcomings - Protagonist's Speech

When school ends and we all funnel out of the building like a herd of mindless cattle seeking greener grass and bluer skies, we have something like seven hours before curfew. Plenty of time to cause trouble. (And, in theory, get home and do one’s homework.) But, I’m a little different, as you may have noticed.

The moment class ended I rushed over, not to the nearest exit that was not a window, but to one of the many open computer rooms. From there I did two things. The first was rather simple. I printed out a map of the location detailed on the pamphlet. (Well, I printed ten copies, because apparently my hooves are clumsy and the A key is right next to the one key and this school does messed up math, but whatever.) The next thing I did was waste away an hour assaulting my homework until it was fully—if cheaply—complete.

Model student, that is me.

Students are all over Academy City after class, from the food courts that seem to spring out of thin air to the arcades and stores that cover the business district from top to bottom. I mean, of course there’s a lot of bits to be made here. After all, something like 70% of the ponies in this town attend one campus or another. And students are known for being very responsible with their money.

It was along one of those crowded roads that I found myself after my work was done. Mares and stallions mingled with fillies and colts, a sea of colourful school uniforms plastered in badges and emblems from various clubs. Merchants called out for attention while the ritzier shops had music systems beating out light-dubtrot rhythms that made my steps bounce.

I liked this place, in a weird way. I know that talking to ponies is not my forte and that I’m rather pessimistic at times, but there’s something about being in such a lively, active city that just makes your blood run hot.

So I got the heck out of there as quickly as I could.

The next bit of my story’s rather dull, and as any good (or at least half-decent) narrator would, I’m going to skip ahead. Suffice to say I got home, avoided any strange dark alleys, took a long shower, realized that all my clothing was composed of the same dull uniform, realized that I didn’t care, got dressed and trotted outside just as the sun was starting to get a little low on the horizon.

Taking out my map—one of the few items I could levitate, since it weighs next to nothing—I found the quickest route to the outer edge of the city and began trotting along, the path illuminated by hundreds of streetlights as I got farther and farther from the centre.

Somepony could have planted a giant sign saying “Here be industry” the moment you crossed from one sector to the next.

Dormitories turned into warehouses and open parking lots where semi-trailers sat in the twilight. Containers were everywhere and train railings cut through the streets—not those of the ultra-fast passenger vehicles, but trains made to transport cargo, the things needed to keep the city’s heart pumping.

It’s funny how you don’t really think about where the stuff you’re scarfing down comes from. Or your clothing, or your technology.

As I slowed my pace down and walked ever onwards on the main road, I looked up to the stubby smokestacks and the many warehouses that were sometimes lit from within, not really perturbed by the darkness beyond the range of the streetlights. Maybe I should have been.

Something rustled behind me, subtle, like a leaf in the wind, but in my state of heightened nerves and full awakenedness (Blame the shower and weird setting) I saw it coming. I spun around, my hooves scratching at the pavement and forming a rough square around me, a solid base.

A leaf bounced on the pavement before the wind carried it on.

False alarm?

Or so I thought.

“It’s just a leaf.”

I think it’s safe to say that all of us have had the experience of being scared out of our wits and jumping to the air. Yeah, that happened. Only I, being a manly stallion, gave out a shrill scream worthy of a two-year old.

“Whoa, calm down! You’re gonna call the whole neighbourhood down on us. Ponies need their downtime you know. Gives them the occasion to contemplate just what they can do with their lives.”

Standing right beneath the post of one of the street lights was my favourite nihilist.

Count of times I’ve made an idiot of myself in front of a pretty girl: Six. I’m on a roll.

Happy End grinned at me, her smile hardly visible within the shadow cast by her hood. And yes, she was wearing a hoodie, one that was light brown and had a design over the front that read: Humans probably don’t exist. “Figured you’d pass by here eventually,” she said.

And then my mind broke. Simple logic would say that, by her statement, she was implying that she was waiting for me here. But logic and past experience dictated that females did not, in fact, do anything good to me.

“So, um, you decided to come?” I asked, trying to stand taller as if I hadn't just totally gone and embarrassed myself.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I did. I mean, it’s probably going to end up being something really silly and I might regret it later, but, well, you never know unless you try, right?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, I totally want to try things.”

One of her eyebrows arched, but her smile only grew. Somehow that was scarier than any other reaction she could have had. “Come on, kid, don’t get ahead of yourself.” She stood up and began walking, her tail swishing from side to side behind her. “I want to get there early, to check the place out a bit. I’ve got a hunch or two to follow, you know?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” I said as I galloped after her. Somepony once said that you had to act cool and collected around women. He never met Happy End.

By my estimate, we were still a good ten minutes away from the gathering. Ten minutes spent alone with a really cute mare. Ten minutes for me to say something crushingly stupid. “So, uh, Happy. Why are you so... you know, the way you are?” (Why is it that in my head, everything sounds dandy, but when my mouth opens only stupid comes out?)

“Um, genetic diversity? Or do you mean my personality?” she asked, somehow inserting so much bubbliness in her sentence that I feared for my sanity. “I guess.... Well, I don’t know, really. I like gardening,” she suddenly blurted out.

I blinked at her, trying to read her face through the material of her hood, but catching only a glimpse of redness on her cheeks. She continued, “Gardening is rather fun, if you’re into things like that. The flowers, the fresh air. Lots of time to think as you dig your hooves into the mud. If you listen really, really hard, you can hear Equestria whispering.”

And then things got deep.

“I listened. Stories and tales. The trees were old, much older than you or me. Some are even as old as Celestia. But the flowers are always young. So vibrant and strong, but they’re only there for a season at most. Then you have the rocks. They whisper the quietest, and they’re older still. But all of them, no matter how strong, die eventually. It got me thinking. Our life is short, really, really short.”

I nodded. The air was bitter, but sweet. Tiny puffs of fog escaped us with every breath, washing back as we coasted forward accompanied by only each other and the clop of our hooves on the pavement. “So, you try to find happiness despite knowing all of that?” I said, giving in to the crazy. I mean, nature talking to her? Earth pony magic was a thing, but come on!

“Pretty much. You can be bright sometimes, huh, Tighty?”

I grudgingly accepted the compliment and lapsed into silence while she did the same. It wasn’t an awkward quiet where neither of us knew what to say, but a comfortable one, where we were done talking and were able to enjoy each other’s company without talking. Which is a good thing since, most of the time when she opened her mouth, random and slightly scary stuff came out.

The road forked and we took a quick turn to the right, following the path laid out on my map until we began trotting down narrower and narrower side roads where even the constant flow of streetlights seemed to be reluctant to enter.

Ponies were here, either in their normal uniforms or wearing everyday clothing equipped with hoods or bandanas around their muzzles; a weak attempt to remain anonymous, but one that still set me on edge. Nopony doing something legal would try to hide his identity.

“Here we are,” Happy whispered as we turned around the last corner and arrived.

Kudos to the pony in charge of decorations.

The warehouse was a normal building, the kind that we had passed a dozen of on our way there. The doors were opened and in them was a stage, effectively blocking out the main entrance as it rose up a good metre off the ground with its single microphone stand alone in front of the crowd.

50-gallon barrels littered the ground here and there, standing upright to allow the fires blazing within to vent their fury into the night. The flames created flickering displays of red and yellow and orange light that licked across the vague forms of shrouded ponies.

“I’m heading off,” Happy End said abruptly. “See you tomorrow, Tighty, and try not to get too sucked into the mob mentality. Life is too short to live it as another desires.”

I watched her wave goodbye and slip into the crowd, not bothering to try and stop her or change her mind. I mean, it’s not like I could have done anything if I tried anyhow. And I had a few questions to ask myself just then, such as what was I supposed to do now, and why in the name of all things shapely and soft did I even come here?

Thinking ahead, (for once) I moved around to the edge of the parking area-turned-auditorium, hugging the wall of the nearby warehouses before I began trotting to the stage. From there, I had a decent view of the crowd and could easily see the alley sandwiched between the warehouses, an escape path if things got a little hairy.

I only had to wait a full minute or two in the relatively cold and lonely shadows for things to get exciting. More and more ponies were trotting in, a veritable army of low-class losers. Meanwhile, a wall of ponies wearing dark leather coats over their uniforms (Yes, leather, as in, dead skin. Yuck.) lined up in front of the stage, looking positively badflank with dark shades over their faces and similar bandanas hiding their muzzles.

Dust crawled across the stage, slowly climbing to become a shimmering fog that fluctuated and waved, catching the light of the flames and fire before it formed a perfect sphere. When the sphere dissolved a stallion was standing on stage.

I’m not one to be impressed by showy displays of magic, but damn. That wasn’t showy, that was just a display of massive power. This pony was level four, minimum.

He stepped up, the long cloak wrapped around his form waving wildly before settling onto him. His face, a void of darkness, was hidden beneath a full-faced mask with a hole from which his dark purple horn jutted. Yes, he was a badflank too.

“Hello,” he began, his voice smooth and calm, as if he had no concerns in life save for making us feel warm through the chilly night. (Would you be nervous standing in front of an antsy crowd of a few hundred? Exactly.) “I bid you all welcome. It’s not the warmest of days, but hopefully our companionship will warm hearts and mind.

“But, enough with the pleasantries,” he said, and I knew that he was smiling warmly at us beneath the mask. “My name is Protagonist, or, at least, that is what those that follow me have chosen to call me. And I have a simple message to deliver. One of freedom, justice. One of the breaking of shackles and of the pushing of one’s own limits until perfection is reached.

“This city. This wonderful, beautiful city. It chastises you. To it, you are small, you are nothing. You and I, we are very different. Because I am powerful, and you are weak.”

Well, crap, that rustled some jimmies.

“But wait!” he said with such power that any who would have raised an argument froze. “I am not one of the filthy above that looks down with pity at you. Noblesse Oblige, and I intend to oblige you.”

He began to pace along the stage’s edge at a measured cadence. “If weakness is sin, then I will be your absolution,” he said.

“If, to grow stronger, you need to change, then I will be your evolution.

“If change is not enough, then I, I will lead you through the bloody revolution.”

I broke eye contact with the stage, my head swimming as my eyes tried to become accustomed to the darkness. No, I was not sure what was going on, but one thing was for sure. That pony on stage was dangerous. With a capital D.

He continued talking, working his particular brand of magic over the crowd as I watched. Ponies were transfixed, without fear or questions in their eyes. They cheered, the sound reverberating through the arena and making me cringe back into the cold metallic wall of the warehouse next to me. The wall was acting like a sponge, absorbing the constant outpouring of excited screams. I had to get out of here.

Not to sink back into a tangent, but let’s think about this situation for a sec, shall we?

This pony, this so called Protagonist (or Trick Star, as my chubby friend Crosshatch called him) is creating something rather basic. He’s building an army. An army of sad, depressed ponies that already had a touch of anger directed against his so-called enemy. This guy’s a genius, whatever his goal might be. And whatever that goal happens to be, I didn’t want to be part of it.

My life is tough enough as it is. I don’t want to heap another load of trouble onto my back, nope.

So, to cement that idea I began trotting towards the stage, hugging the wall as I made for the alley between the two buildings. The sound of the growing crowd was cut off, becoming much weaker as I slid into the alley.

Now, I was going to head home, relax and forget all about this.

So far, how many times have I tried to avoid problems only to run right into worse ones head on? Yeah, a relaxing evening this was not going to become.

I made it out of the alley behind the building and found the place deserted, save for a few lonely trucks and two ponies in the same leather-vested garb as Protagonist’s followers. They glanced at me once and scoffed before I started trotting away with a quick step.

I could have made it home—and I was so close! But, as my terrible luck would have it, my gaze crossed a mare just as I snuck in behind one of the trucks.

It froze me, forcing me to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths that ended in tiny swears against my own idiocy.

Of course, the next thing I did was turn around.

Standing in the mouth of the alley was the tall mare, her shoulders set wide and proud while long lengths of blond mane wrapped themselves around her visage. She seemed uncertain, shifting her weight from hoof to hoof while testing the air of the passageway.

“Black Ruby?” I asked, biting my lower lip as I approached her from behind.

Her ears perked and she turned, staring up and down at me with an eyebrow raised. “Do I know you?”

Damn, this mare. I mean, there’s pompous, then there’s pompous. So I put on my best scowl and huffed at her. “Know me? Well, you’ve been pestering me since the first day of school about this and that, so, yeah, I’d think that you know me very well, little miss muzzle-in-air.” For good measure I stuck my own muzzle into the air and huffed again.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. But I really don’t know you,” she said again, bowing her head down a little. When she brought it back up, those piercing blue eyes of hers drove a screwdriver into my gut and twisted it. “This happens, a lot. I’m sorry.” Then, she did the unthinkable. She blushed.

Count of times I’ve made an idiot of myself in front of a pretty girl: Seven.

I found myself scratching at the nape of my neck, my own face aflame. “Oh, um, okay? So, uh, what’re you doing? How’d you get here?”

She looked over her shoulder and down the tunnel where the hollow sound of Protagonist’s words were still ringing. “There’s a gathering here. It’s not a good one. That pony. That Trick Star. He’s going to try to destroy this city. A decades-old fight from ancestor to ancestor. I’m going to stop him. As to how I got here. Some fool printed far too many copies of the map at school. It was a simple task to arrive in this location.”

I blinked at her and tried to make my jaw not drop. Okay, I put my idiocy aside, there were more important things to talk about. “And, how, exactly are you going to do this?” I asked.

“I’m going to kick his flank,” she said, raising a hoof into the air and licking her lips. She looked at me then. “What’s your name?”

“Tight Wedge, but you’ll just end up calling me Wedgie all the time.”

“All right then, Wedgie. Since you seem to know me already then I trust that you’re one of my friends. That means you’re a level six, maybe seven, minimum. Want to help me out?” She said this with pure sincerity, so much so that I almost felt bad for spraying her noble face with my spittle.

“W-what?” I asked between giggles, the surprise on her face as she tried to wipe of the fresh sheen of spit only gripping my gut all the more. “You think, that... that I’m a level seven?” There’s something pleasant about a good laugh. It makes you feel good, even in the direst of situations. Of course, when you really think about it, the joke was on me, but I was laughing too hard to figure that one out.

“You’re an idiot,” she hissed, huffing (much better than my own, might I add) as she turned around and whipped out her tail. “I’ll accomplish the task on my own. If you wish to help, I have the impression that you're the sort that only causes trouble.” The mare shuddered. “And I also have the feeling that your life is intrinsically linked with my own,” she whispered.

I watched her trot as a brisk pace down the alley, stretching out her muscles as she made her way down.

A few things crossed my mind:

One, she’s strong, both morally, and, I suspect, physically.

Two. She’s nuttier than apple pecan pie.

Three. I liked her, in a weird, self-demeaning way that was probably going to end with me in tears, not to mention bleeding all over the place.

My hooves grudgingly rubbed against the ground as I followed her, only catching up as we reached the edge of the alley. Black Ruby saw me and we both sighed in the same breath. Before any of us could talk, Protagonist’s next words flowed over us.

“This city. We will claim it as our own. They may have power, but we have numbers, and together, with the violence of our hooves, will we respond!”

Well, shit.

Maybe she was onto something?

Still....

“You don’t have to go out there, you know. I’m sure there’s some sort of police force in this town that can take care of this,” I said.

“You’re right, I don’t. And there is. But, by the time they arrive, it will be too late. Words will have been spoken that cannot be taken back, like feathers in the wind. Your concern is admirable. But please, back away,” she whispered, her voice just strong enough to be heard over the crowd.

Groaning under my breath I rolled my eyes. “Fine, then I’ll bribe you.”

“Bribe me?”

“If we make it out of this alive, I’ll owe you lunch.”

She smiled at me.

It was as if the storm clouds had parted. Redness flushed to her cheeks and those blue orbs twinkled with mischief and laughter. “You’re on, Wedgie.”

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

Speak of last-second editing.

This one’s a little weird, and I did purposefully cut it off before it was supposed to end. The next chapter’s going to be a little shorter because of that. But who cares?

Everypony loves cliffhangers, right?

I think that Black is finally shaping up into a pony that some might like, and hopefully the sheer amount of badflank in the next chapter will solidify that liking. Oh, and Happy won’t be back for a little bit, so I had to pump up her lovability (or whatever) to eleven.

Oh, and what do you guys thinks of “The Protagonist” or Trick Star (that phonetic pun!) I tried to make him.... a bit of a melodramatic pony version of Zero, from Code Geass.

Masked villains are best villains,
Ravens D. Dagger

P.S. The next chapter has up-skirt. Muahahahaa!

Arc One: Welcomings - Short Skirts

We stepped out, Black Ruby just ahead of me, walking with a straight back and a grim grin.

The crowd was thinner here at the front, cut off by the row of leather wearing hooligans that the Protagonist seemed to control. And so, with little difficulty, we snuck up behind them and were at the very edge of the stage.

“Levitate me up,” Black Ruby whispered as she slipped into the shadows pitched by the crowd.

“Um, I can’t?” I said, cringing at her inevitable rebuking. It never arrived.

Instead, what happened was rather surprising. She looked at me, nodded firmly then whispered. “Use your magic to soften the landing then, even you should be able to do that.”

I was wrapped in an indigo tendril of magic that dug into my gut, cutting off my air supply until my eyes watered and all I could do was gasp and stare while ponies began to notice us.

That’s when she threw me.

It was an interesting moment. Floating up in the air, fresh breath flooding my lungs while I watched the rapidly approaching stage. The crowd looked at me, many of them gasping. The grabbing of attention was probably aided a little by the stream of indigo magic that was following me.

Now, landing. Landing’s hard.

There’s this easy level two spell to slow one’s descent. There’s a level three spell that makes it so that hitting the ground will feel like hopping on your parent’s bed on a Saturday morning. I had neither.

So, I spent the time thinking about Miss Black Ruby. That spell she had used, that was level five levitation, I’d bet my flying flank on it. And she had used it with hardly any effort. Which meant, much to my surprise, that she must be level six or seven herself. Damn.

Then I crashed into the stage at a speed that felt like mach ten.

“Well, shit,” I groaned, as the waves of pain began to flow out of me and my mind readjusted to the world around me. I didn’t have much time to wallow in self pity as a pair of dark purple hooves installed themselves a few milimetres from my nose.

“A fan, I take it?” Protagonist asked as he leaned down, his faceless mask staring at me. He stood up, giving me a tiny bit of a view of his exposed throat. “I suspect that I have done what I sought to accomplish. Perhaps it’s time to leave?”

I followed his gaze while I tried to untangle the mess that was made of my body. Behind the restless crowd—many of whom were staring at me—was a growing number of ponies in white armour, a sash of purple running over their chests. They, well over two dozen in all, were standing in two neat groups, walking forwards with measured and even steps.

“Levelists, to me!” Protagonist shouted, and instantly the leather-garbed ponies broke their line and began climbing on stage while their leader began to turn around.

I reached out, wrapping a hoof around his hind leg and stalling him. “Wait up, bud. I’m supposed to beat you up a little,” I said while delivering my nicest grin.

“You? Alone?”

“Not quite, I brought an angry filly too.”

One of the leather ponies flew by us, the force of his passing making Protagonist’s cape flutter out. Both of us traced the area he had come from.

There, standing in a half-circle of leather ponies (a convenient name) was Black Ruby, her blonde mane flowing around her as she spun on two legs and finally fell onto all fours and set her hooves out, the personification of grace as she looked to all the ponies surrounding her in turn, then to me. “Wedgie, take care of these weaklings, I’ll take out the boss.”

“I think not,” Protagonist said, his eloquent voice replaced with that of a simple, yet wise, stallion. “Good bye. I trust you have enjoyed your evening. My ponies here will take care of your... departure.”

The hoof mine was wrapped around disappeared and where once the spokespony stood was now only a cloud of tiny dust-like sprinkles.

He’d teleported. No incantations, no recitals, no massive dose of magic. Just simple point-A to point-B teleportation. I stood there, staring blankly at where he had been while his afterimage faded from view.

Then Black Ruby screamed, igniting the crowd of ponies until the final spark that panic needed to ignite burst into the fold.

I spun around and onto my hooves, noticing that three of the leather ponies were barreling towards me.

Well, shit.

Least, I thought it was going to get shitty. Then something rather strange happened. They began slowing down. The screams became hollow and stretched as if I was hearing them through a long, long tin can. Even my body was unresponsive, every motion I made long and forced, as if the world had turned to molasses for everypony. Everypony except Black Ruby.

One of the leather ponies bucked at her, his legs going just below her chin at a speed that would have knocked out a grown minotaur. She bent her head back and avoided it, as if she were merely trotting by and not in any danger; then the mare spun around her hooves, pirouetted in a tight circle and jammed her forehoof into his muzzle.

His back bent, and a slow-motion omph escaped his mouth, along with a jet of spittle.

Black Ruby turned and looked past me, eyes glinting with fervor as she dove forwards and galloped across the stage, the sound of her dull hoof-strikes not reaching me til seconds after the fact.

To my left, one of Protagonist's henchponies was rearing up on his hind hooves, his eyes fixed with firm determination while the goon in front of me got ready to tackle yours truly into oblivion.

Ruby jumped through the air, landed on her forehooves and tucked into a roll that sent her flying past me, blonde mane flowing past the tip of my muzzle. It smelled like strawberries.

She twisted around mid-roll, her left forehoof whipping out and connecting with the charging henchpony’s chin. I saw the wave of impact travel through his face and his eyes roll up into his forehead before she delivered another blow, this one to the side of his skull.

Righting herself, Black Ruby trotted to my side, then turned to show me her back. I stared at her as she bent forwards with her rear sticking in the air, the hem of her short skirt moving up slightly as her hindlegs lifted from the ground.

I swallowed hard in slow motion.

Her hooves cut the air beside my face and twisted around, both of them glowing a deep indigo before smashing into the side of the bucking leather pony with an audible crack. He flew away, smoking as his legs flailed around and he tumbled across the stage and off the side.

I saw her legs fold back and (don’t judge me) managed to catch sight of her bare flank: a flank which proudly displayed a cutie mark that resembled a stop-watch over a sideways figure-eight. ( Which is called a lemniscate, which also sounds awesome. )

Time snapped back, like a bungee cord that tried to bounce an overweight stallion.

The crowd moved once more, writhing about while the braver ponies tried to escape between the rows of approaching soldiers. Vans and police carriages were parking beyond the street, the noise of their sirens blasting us with a concussive wave that blended with the screams of panicked ponies.

Three of the leather ponies were on the ground, twitching violently as their comrade blinked and searched for Black Ruby.

They found her. Standing right beside me. I saw her gulp then set her jaw, standing up to her full height with that noble more-badasser-than-thou look. Then her horn glowed and the ponies that seemed ready to charge hesitated. “We do not have time for you, filth,” she said with all the ceremony of somepony brushing dust off one’s shoulder. Out of her horn came a long strand of magic that fluctuated and oscillated as it grew.

The magical cord snapped taut between us and the leather ponies before pushing out towards them. I saw it dig into their chests and slowly push them back with what seemed to be next to no effort.

This mare’s cray-cray.

“We should leave,” she said as she turned to me. “My magic isn’t infinite, and the City Guard is approaching. Judgement is most likely blocking off our exits.”

“Um, yeah, good idea?” I said.

She nodded, surveyed the scene, then brushed up against me, the folds of her uniform caressing my own. “Don’t pay attention to your surroundings. And, I know it’s hard, but suppress your magic.”

Pfft, hard. Hah! So, of course, I didn’t listen. My eyes were drawn to the crowd where ponies were moving about, trying to escape the police forces of the City Guard. A pair of crimson orbs caught my attention and I soon found myself staring at Happy End.

She perked an eyebrow and me and mouthed the words: “Not too shabby” before the world disappeared into an indigo sea.

When the world decided to come back, I found myself with my face jammed in a weather grate, puking out my light dinner, a warm hoof pressed itself against my back and began to rub little circles. Hey, who ever said puking your heart out on the side of a deserted alleyway with a person that’s basically a stranger was ever bad?

“It’s normal. The aftereffects of teleporting for the first time.” Black Ruby giggled and my heart almost cracked. “I remember the first time I teleported on my own; I was sick for three days.”

Starting to reveal adorkable memories of youth? Check.

“Of course, I was only three years old at the time.”

Stories that involve her working magic at an age when I still thought that eating my own boogers was cool and that girls really did have cooties. Check. Double check for the little fact that I still can’t pull that kind of stunt off today. “That was, um, interesting, back there.”

“Indeed, it was. And I think we might have stalled the Protagonist there. But he’ll be back.” She stared up and away, her eyes glazing over before they sharpened and focused on me. “Thanks for that, Wedgie. I appreciate the help.”

Even though all I did was cause a distraction by being a bumbling idiot? Sure, no problem! “Hehe, anytime?”

“Now, about lunch... I’ll hold you to it, you know,” she said before winking.

Yes.

I mean.

Hot damn, yes!

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

Was that saucy scene saucy enough? I really hope it is. Tried to get the guys to help me, but they refused. Buggers.

So, that’s the end of that chapter. Next chapter will have 100% less butt.

Short skirts!
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc Two: Gardening Clubs -Treesplosions

Arc Two: Gardening Clubs -Treesplosions

I won’t go into all the details about what happened that night after Black Ruby and I teleported. It’s rather dull, really. We said our awkward goodbyes, she reminded me of my promise (after seeing her kick flank, I was not inclined to take it back), then she named off a few of her favourite restaurants as she trotted away.

I followed from afar but veered off the moment I found a familiar street that got me home before curfew. Sergeant Howitzer was pissed, apparently, that quite a few of the ponies from our district had gone off to that gathering of dubious legality.

Anywho, my day ended on a dull, but welcoming, note. I said goodnight to Crosshatch, hit the hay (figure of speech; we use beds now. Less lice), and slept.

The next morning I faced a mixed bag of crap.

While heading to school, I tripped and tumbled into a puddle. The homework that I had hastily done the day before was not for the right day. (Least I didn’t have work to do tonight, right?) I ran into those bullies in the hall. They growled at me, spat in my face and then trotted away, saying something to the effect that if they ever saw me outside without that mare again they’d beat me to a pulp. And, to add the worst bit of news to it all, today was a very special day.

Why is it that everytime there’s a special event I’m the very last one to be informed?

Today, of all days (A Friday) was the day that two things were going to happen in our little school. One: we were going to get the visit of somepony very important in class. And two: today was the day that we had to join our first clubs.

The events were staggered, sorta.

I was sitting in class, listening with a deaf ear as Miss Bearskin prattled on about how, because of our low levels, we only had to join two clubs instead of three (Read: we were not allowed to join more than two) and that some clubs might be hard for us. (Read: we were not allowed to join them at all for whatever reason) It was towards the end of her obviously rehearsed speech that the guest arrived.

I was staring at my desk’s screen, idly tapping in a few searches on the school’s database of magical abilities that I could never accomplish when she trotted in. Behind her were four burly guards, like those I had seen the night before.

Two stationed themselves outside of class while the remaining two placed themselves on either side of the blackboard. It was the awed silence that really made me tear my attention away from the screen. That, and the pony’s announcement of who she was.

“Hi, I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

My classmates gasped, as if her announcing her own name confirmed the presence of the celebrity. What? How many other purple alicorns wearing power-suits* and a bloody crown prowl the corridors of the school in the city that Twilight Sparkle built?

Exactly.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she said, giving us a warm yet timid smile as a pinch of red touched her cheeks.

If I were a cynic, I’d say that she practiced that look in front of a mirror. Oh, who am I kidding! Horn-and-wings here probably spent hours perfecting that smile.

“I’m hoping that all of you are enjoying your time in our school and I wish that you all will learn a lot, and, most importantly, make a lot of new friends.” Her big purple eyes locked onto me, and suddenly my friendless situation seemed rather... important. “I’m here today to announce something really special. This year, for the first time, we will have extra-curricular clubs. Every student must join three cl"—she stopped mid-sentence, coughed into her hoof and corrected herself—“two clubs from a panoply of choices. And your activities within these clubs will count towards your overall grades!”

Twilight nodded almost as if to herself. “Now, these clubs are very important, as every one of them teaches you skills that you might find useful when you grow older, and they might even help you obtain work in certain fields. A-are there any questions?” she asked quite suddenly. “I only have time for a few before I have to move on. There are a lot of students in this school!”

One of the airhead sisters behind me raised her hoof and Twilight nodded at her. “Um, Your Majesty, Miss Sparkle,” she began before Twilight giggled into her hoof and interrupted her.

“Please, call me Twilight, or, if you insist Principle or Miss Sparkle.”

More oohs and ahhs. “So, um, Miss Sparkle, are you part of any clubs?”

What a stupid question.

“Why, yes, I am!”

Nevermind.

Twilight touched the epaulet on her suit in which the school’s crest was marked. Beneath that were three smaller emblems that she pointed to in turn. “This one’s the club exclusively made for the Elements of Harmony. This one’s the Princesshood Club, and this one"—she pointed to the last—"is the Bibliophile club! One of my favourites!”

Another pony raised his hoof. “Miss, is it possible to increase your level?”

Finally! An intelligent question from the class of doorknobs. (Myself not included, obviously.) My ears perked, and my attention was entirely given to staring at the princess's eyes.

“Of course it’s possible. In fact, I expect most every student will increase of a level or maybe two before they’re done with high school! You simply need to study how the level system works to see that. Are there any more questions?”

We squirmed in our seats and bit our lips, not thinking of anything exceptionally intelligent to ask.

“Perfect! Then I might actually be running a little bit ahead of schedule. After class—which will end early today—you will be invited to browse the school’s fine selection of clubs. Oh, and your homeroom teacher will hand out leaflets with a few details on each club. There’re many to choose from, but I suggest that you pick rapidly as some will fill up early.”

She nodded to us, smiled again, then turned and trotted away, breathing a sigh of relief as she exited the classroom. The rest of the students sighed too, as if a strong, oppressive pressure had just been removed from over us.

Right, so school clubs. A novel idea. And one that I can kinda agree with, or would, were I not at the bottom of the pyramid. Actually, it’s not a pyramid, more like a right-angle triangle with the hypotenuse running along the edge of the X-axis and the widest angle hovering over the mark of three. (Assuming that you mark the X-Axis from one to 12 based on the amount of levels and the Y-axis represents total student population) Basically, there are more level twos and threes than there are level ones.

Being at the bottom probably meant that even if we were great in school, our chances to level up were slim to none. But there was a chance, right? And that’s all ponies need to try hard.

When the bell rang I was the first out of class, one of the booklets given to us by the teacher hovering at my side. (I managed to levitate something! Woo!) The crowds of school-ponies walking around drew my attention, or, rather, instead of ignoring them as I’m apt to do, I paid a bit more attention to their breasts right below the school emblem.

A few of them already had little logos printed there. Bows for the Archery club, a rook for the Chess club, an open book for the Writer’s group. It was easy to see how being part of one group might change your position on the social hierarchy in this fine establishment. So, like any reasonable pony I found a place to stop and rest while perusing the list.

It was rather depressing.

More than half the clubs, easily, had level requirements. Most of which were reasonable. The accounting club (Now, who in Celestia’s name would join that?!) had a limit of level three and up. The advanced computing’s club four and up.

All the good clubs were limited.

It made sense. Why spend good bits on students whose future was dubious when you could drop them on sure-fire ponies that had good odds to succeed. It was logical.

And it sucked.

I tossed the booklet aside, managing to chuck it into a trashcan before I moved on. Well, there was nothing I could do about it, and maybe I could make a few friends by joining a popular club? Then again, the only clubs I could join seemed to be things like the quilting club and the gardening club. You won’t catch me dead in that place, nope.

I was pacing the halls, avoiding the constant surges of traffic brought on by wide-eyed ponies searching for their own clubs to join, when I caught sight of a pink-maned mare dead ahead, her back turned to me.

For the first time that day I smiled, although it was mostly involuntary. Have you been keeping count of how many times I’ve ‘run into’ one of these crazy mares over the past few days? Well, nor have I, but it’s a lot. Now it was my turn to engage.

I crept up to her, trying to soften the taps of my hoof on the marble flooring as I came closer and closer to the mare. Rearing up, I stood on my hind legs and slowly placed a hoof on either side of her pink mane. “Boo!”

She whipped around, the purple scarf around her neck arcing though the air while the mare gave me a wide eyed look of surprise and jammed the elbow of her forelimb in my gut.

I had some time to regret my stupidity as I writhed on the floor, the sudden focus of far too much attention from the school ponies around me. Happy End leaned over me, blinking those big red eyes of hers as she came closer. “Tight Wedge? What in the name of Celestia were you trying to accomplish?”

“Um, scare you, I think?” In hindsight, I’m pretty damn stupid.

“That was stupid,” she said. (See, told ya.) “I could have killed you by accident. Then, the rest of my life would be spent in regret and remorse. Although, in the long run, I don’t think you’re going to be that important.... Then again, maybe you’re the one that’s going to find the cure to some elusive disease, birth somepony important or, better yet, find a solution to Entropy.”

I nodded and got up, pressing a hoof against my sore stomach. “Uh-huh, sure. So, uh, what were you up to, besides hitting every numbskull that makes his way through these corridors?”

She gave me that lop-sided smile of hers. “Well, I was going to check out this one club. Been looking forwards to joining it since I found out it existed. Want to come along? We have all afternoon. And I think your home room's not too too far from my own. So you could rush back, if you want.”

Spend the afternoon looking around alone, or spend it with the adorable girl who spouts weird stuff all day but is also cute? Tough decision. “Sure, I’ll tag along. As long as it’s not some sort of pony psychology or ‘let’s talk about the end of Equestria and be gothic together’ group.” Hey, she might be crazy, but it gave me something to do.

She stifled a giggle. “No, nothing like that. Come on,” she said as she grabbed at the hem of my shirt and yanked me forwards. “It’s just this way, near the outer courtyard.”

I followed half a step behind her, my levels of self-consciousness reaching a new high as I reminded myself to act natural, (Terrible advice) that I had, in fact, brushed my teeth and coat that day and that I was just her friend—until I could do something about that. “So, uh, is it a popular club?” I asked, starting to play the guessing game.

“No, not really. Actually, I think we might be the only two to join this one. It’s not really popular with this kind of crowd.”

“Uh, what’s the supposed to mean?”

She glanced over to me. “Two things, depending on how you look at it. The ponies here are mostly from one big city or another and won’t really care about this club’s activities. And second, it means that I’ll be all alone, in a little club room, taking care of my things.... Unless you join, in which case it will be the two of us alone in there.”

I made a mental note to have a hearing exam, and maybe a mental one. “W-what sort of room?”

“One that’s really hot, and very, very humid,” she said before facing me and winking.

It’s safe to say that most, if not all, hot-blooded young stallions have dreamy thoughts and ideas that come to mind that, if we were to write them, would sound a lot like this. Of note is the fact that I’m a hot-blooded young stallion. Sweat began to pour out of my hairline and I suddenly had the urge to giggle.

“Oh, and it might get dirty in there,” she added as if in afterthought.

I froze on the spot, an arc of spittle escaping me just before my mind snapped. “I the you what where?” I said.

Happy End bit down on her hoof, cheeks puffing out as her face reddened. “You’re so gullible!” she said between snickers. “We’re going to the gardening club, you dirty minded little colt. The only hot and humid you’re going to get is from watering.”

Disappointment has a name, and it is Happy End.

She began trotting ahead of me, purple skirt bouncing with every step as she swayed her fluffy pink tail from side to side. And I followed.

The gardening club was not my cup of tea, not by a long shot. I mean, it’s clearly a club for dweebs, low-lifes and ponies with no friends who had no interest in gaining any more. But Happy End didn't seem to fit into any of those categories and, hopefully, neither did I. So, there was only one possibility left: Happy was into gardening and was genuinely interested in it. And she wanted to share her passion with me.

Which, if you’ll allow my convoluted thinking to continue (And you’ve no choice in the matter) means that at some level she likes me. Maybe all those rather... saucy things were just jokes, but only on the surface.

I swallowed hard and shook my head, banishing the thoughts. I was saving them for later.

“We’re almost there,” she said, pointing with her muzzle to one of the corridors ahead.

Might I take this time to point out that the team of architects that Twilight hired to build this place were brilliant? Not only are the corridors pristine and have this sense of scale and tradition to them, with marble pillars and decorative fringes around doorways, but they also have hints at a higher technology. The floors were spotless, in no part thanks to the little cleaning golems that whisked out of quasi-invisible traps to scoop up any litter, and cameras the size of beads twinkled as they followed our movements. (Which is a tad creepy)

But what they truly excelled in was their exterior design. The school mixed high-tech and modern with ancient and noble across the entire building. Arches filled with electronic displays and magical fountains dotted the courtyards and were surrounded by flowers and age-old trees that had been here since before the building started.

Happy End picked her way through the courtyard; she seemed to know where she was headed. Meanwhile, I lagged behind just a tiny bit. The air was awash with the odour of various flowers (None of which I could name. If you haven't figured it out, I ain’t got a green hoof) and I spotted a few love-birds who seemed interested in activities that were not covered by any club.

“Here we are,” she said, stopping to point at a building in front of us. And I tell you, what a building!

Sitting in the dead centre of the garden was a two story tall dodecagon-shaped greenhouse made entirely of thick green panes of glass that shone with a dull hue in the afternoon sun.

Within I could just make out the vague, disfigured outlines of trees as Happy began trotting at an excited pace towards the greenhouse. “Hurry up, will you?” she called back at me over the sound of her hooves on the flagstone-covered ground.

I nodded to nopony in particular and rushed after her, revelling in the mixed smells and the thick, comforting warmth of the sun on my coat. Maybe this day wasn’t going to be that bad. And maybe I just jinxed it. Time to find out! “So, uh, what’s gotten you so interested in gardening?” I asked.

Happy grabbed the handle of one of the double doors and yanked it open, releasing a thick wall of humid air. She took a deep breath, a slow smile spreading across her face as she closed her eyes. “Ahh, I’ve always loved Equestria. Didn’t I tell you about how the world whispers to me?”

Yes, you did, and I agreed with myself that you’re batshit crazy. “Yeah, you mentioned something like that.”

“Well,” she said as she stepped in. “Trees are the best at whispering. They live long enough for it to count, and they’re smart, smarter than we give them credit for.” With a skip in her step, the mare trotted in, looking up to the towering oaks and the gigantic beds of multi-hued flowers laid out in neat, curved rows.

“How do you... listen?” I asked, approaching a bed of flowers that looked like pods split in half with sharp protrusions on the rim.

She reached out, grabbed my collar and pulled me back, all the while looking deeper into the greenhouse. The plant snapped right where my muzzle was, the sharp fangs digging into the air. (Note to self: plants be creepy.)

“I don’t think you could do it, sorry. It’s an Earth pony thing. Some use it in agriculture, others use it to find stone or mine or to build homes without disturbing Equestria’s nature. In a world fated to eventually die, it’s nice that we can all live in a semblance of harmony. Earth ponies use that particular magic for their own good and for that of their neighbours. Some are better than others, though.”

Earth pony magic. Okay, that I can deal with. Hearing nature whispering to you? That, on the other hoof, sounds like a mental disorder. “C-could you show me?” I asked, biting my lower lip as I feared that I had gone too far.

“Sure. There’s an old, old tree here. It’s sick,” she said, eyes glazing over as she looked once more towards the room’s centre. “And it’s not too far from the office where we can sign in to join.”

She paved ahead, bringing me around wide beds of flowers and little shrubs that stood amongst the stone-paved roadways. Finally, we reached the epicentre of the dome, a place filled with six towering trees, each one of a different species that rose up and out of a hole cut into the ceiling.

Leaves whispered in the wind, turning this way and that to display a panoply of hidden colours as they played in the sun’s warm light. She trotted up and over the shin-height fence to touch one of the trees that I vaguely recognized as a maple.

“This one’s very sick. And old. She’s going to die, soon.” Happy End looked up the tree, beads of light playing across her bare face as she gave it a sad smile and whispered something that I failed to hear. “She has children, hundreds of them. And she wants those children to live on in her stead.”

“She?”

“The tree. Red Maples are polygamodioecious, there are male and female trees, sometimes both at the same time. This one wants to be replaced. It understands that it will soon die, but its position in the ring needs to be restored, and preferably by one of its offspring.” She giggled. “I guess even trees can be selfish.”

She pointed at a spot near my hooves and when I looked down I saw a sapling with a single, big maple leaf jutting out of the ground. “Tear that out of the ground, please. And bring it here. Oh, but try to be careful.”

With her rising levels of creepiness I decided it was in my best interests to do as she said. I grabbed at the sapling’s thin trunk and yanked it out of the ground with a single solid pull. “What are we going to do with it?” I asked as I dropped it at her side.

“We’re going to replace this tree,” she said, tapping the giant maple with a hoof. “You might want to back away, this is going to be a little bit messy.”

I swallowed hard, spun on my hoof and galloped away a bit before turning around. There was well over a dozen metres between myself and the mare, but still I had the uneasy impression that I was not far enough. Then my logic kicked in: what could she possibly do that could hurt me? She’s an Earth pony, and whispering to the earth is nice and all, but hardly harmful. Right?

Wrong.

Happy End began her whispering again, eyes jammed shut as she leaned forwards and touched the tree’s rough bark with her forehead. When she opened her eyes again, they glowed with an ethereal white that flashed through the hazy green light of the arboreum.

Her forehoof struck out and stabbed into the maple, sinking in like a bulldozer through butter until she was in up to her shin.

Then, as if things were not weird enough, she cranked the freaky up to eleven.

The brown bark of the tree grew darker and darker while above us the leaves began to rustle, even as they shriveled up and blackened. Like the tendrils of a cold fire, power spread up the tree, entire segments of it detaching themselves and falling to the ground. The branches turned to ash and disintegrated before they could land.

The cool wind within the greenhouse picked up, becoming a swirling tornado of dead flaming leaves, all of it spinning around the core of the tree and above Happy End’s head.

The tree protested like a slumbering giant, groaning as the magical flames shrieked through its form and up along its trunk. The leaves of nearby trees touching it were left unscathed. With a crack that sounded like thunder, the maple split and melted into ash.

Then it was over.

A strong gust picked up the remains and slipped them out of the roof’s hole to disperse them into the sky where they shimmered and twinkled before fading away.

Where the tree had stood was only a hole filled with narrow passageways where the maple’s roots had been. The circle was broken.

I took a few minutes to pick my jaw off the floor while Happy End shook her head, fixed her mane up, and sneezed out a puff of ash. “Trees taste yucky,” she said.

Okay, the mare had just killed a tree. Somehow. With magic. By whispering to it.

Well, shit.

“Okay, step two.” Happy End stretched, her butt pointing in the air as she sighed, then rose to pick up the nearby sapling. She tenderly grabbed it by the trunk and placed it, roots first, into the old maple’s hole.

Again she whispered something, but this time her eyes didn’t glow and she ended it with a simple giggle and a shake of her head. The results, though, were just as astonishing.

The sapling grew.

Roots tore out of its base and the truck shot to the air, branches cutting out of it at regular intervals before full sets of bright, green leaves bloomed into life. In less than a minute we were looking up at the newly grown form of an adult maple, its bark still tender and young but fully-grown nonetheless. “Aww, he’s sorta cute,” Happy End said as she shaded her eyes from the sunlight and looked up the new tree. “We should give him a name.”

“Uh...” I managed to say. “How’d you do that?”

“Oh, the whole removing and replacing thing? It’s something I learned a while back. An application of simple Earth pony powers. But it takes some convincing to do it, and you need to be tough and in tune.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to explain to one who can’t feel it himself. Sorry. In the grand scheme of things though, it’s very little. I’m just speeding along the process that nature would have done itself, eventually.”

“So, you can do that to any tree, and stuff?” I asked.

She nodded, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead. “Anything organic, really.”

A bit of a reminder for those of you reading right now:

Trees = Organic.

Earth = Organic.

Ponies = Organic.

Me = Organic.

The deep pit of crap I was wading in right now = Not organic.

“I think we’re going to name it Buds. It’s kinda cute, right?” I nodded. “Right! We’ve wasted enough time, but at least the whispering stopped. We should find the club-room and sign up.”

Hopping out of the flowerbed and tracking mud all over the flagstone, Happy End began humming an off-tune as she trotted ahead of me.

It was going to be a long day after all.

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

Wow, there’s a lot going on in this chapter. Got longer than I wanted it too, too. But, it’s okay. Happy End’s about where I want her to be, (didn’t expect that, did ya?) the main character’s in a bucket of crap, (it’ll get better... then worse) One of the mane six made an appearance and two more are about to pop up (cause that tag).

So, overall, I’m quite Happy with the End of this chapter. (ba-dum-tish!)

With much exploding trees,
Ravens D. Dagger

*This is a powersuit:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Office_suit#Suit_etiquette_for_women

This is Power Armour:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Powered_exoskeleton

KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.
IT COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE!

Arc Two: Gardening Clubs - Manipulating Dates

Image by: Gurumane

“So sign here,” she said, tapping her hoof on a dotted line near the bottom of the page.

“And here, and here. Your initials here,” she added, flipping the page. “And your number on this.” Happy End slipped a little piece of looseleaf over the club contract, winking at me as I looked at her. “Just in case.”

I gulped, nodded and tried really, really hard to remember the number, scribbling it on the page as it came to mind.

We were in the gardening club. Not the gigantic arboreum, but a small, modest room tucked in between the supply sheds and the offices of the head gardener. The room was sparse, only lit with a simple light fixture on the ceiling and two narrow windows facing the enclosed forest, through which we could just barely see the school buildings. All we had, for now, was a pair of sturdy chairs and a wooden table.

Rather bland, huh? It’s not like they don’t have a billion bit budget for this little school. Couldn't even afford a light fixture for the lil’ gardening club? Not that I would usually care, save that, as of right then, I was part of that two pony club. Not quite sure how I feel about that.

“Okay, one last step!” Happy End said with infinitely more cheerfulness than I wanted to hear from her.

Then again, she was apparently the pony embodiment of an Elder God able to munch on anything organic, and had been ever since before I had met her. (Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating on the Elder God thing, but she’s strong, all right?)

Happy End leaned into me, a sly smile crossing her features as the fact that we were very much alone here crossed my mind. She bent forwards and I saw something shiny and green held loosely between her lips before she tilted her head out of view over my chest.

She tugged at the material of my shirt just under the school’s crest then backed away, her smile turning victorious as she flushed. “Congratulations! You’re now the third official member of the gardening club! Maybe the history books will remember you after all?”

“Third member?” I asked, trying to erase the dirty thoughts from my mind. On my chest hung the tiny gold-and-green symbol of a rose. Totally manly.

She nodded her head towards the table where the paperwork sat. “Yeah, somepony came in here before us and signed on. A mare, judging by the signature and whatnot. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of her.”

Stuck in here with two mares, huh? Interesting.

“Speaking of earlier,” Happy End said, pointedly looking at the one piece of decoration we had in there, a wall-mounted clock. “Looks like we wasted a fair share of time with the trees. I still have two clubs to join before the day’s end. What about you?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess. Still not sure which group to join...” I admitted. But I could only join two anyway, right? So no biggy. “Which are you going for next?”

“Hmm. The Robotics Engineering Club.”

I could see it now: Happy End, crossing Equestria and changing nature itself as she saw fit, an army of battle droids devastating all who refused to bend to her will as she fought the universe itself, justifying death and murder as something that would have happened anyway through the natural course of things. Creepy.

She must’ve read the surprise in my eyes because she began to fill me in on the details. “It’s a level four and up club, and it looks like it’s going to fill up fast. But I think I can use my high level to squeeze in, even if it’s a little late.”

I was still blinking dumbly, which, apparently, meant that she should go on. If I’d known that looking stupid is all you needed to get noticed by women, I would’ve tie-dyed my coat this morning. “I kinda already understand the organic universe, and I want to learn a bit more about the more... technical one. Physics and whatnot’s too boring though, so this seems like a nice compromise. Do you want to join too?”

“Ah, uh, nah, I can’t,” I said, scratching at the nape of my neck.

She perked an eyebrow at me, then trotted across the room. “Already have a club in mind? Or is it a level thing? What are you at, anyhow?”

“Um, yeah, I might have something in mind.... B-but it’s going to fill up fast. I should probably get going....” So, why didn’t I tell her what level I’m at? Maybe it’s because I’m vain and stupid. Maybe it’s because I still have a shred of pride hidden somewhere. Maybe, just maybe, it’s because I didn’t want to look bad in front of a cute young mare. Especially not the one that can tear trees apart with her mind.

“All right! See you during the next club meeting, Tighty. Oh, and bring a hoe. You’re not going to get any action here otherwise.”

Blinking back at the maybe-intentional comment, I nodded again, said my goodbyes, and zipped out of the club-room.

As I galloped down the pathways, I took some time to think and came up with a single solid lead: my life’s a disaster, but it could be much worse. Now, I only needed to find an easy-going club to pass the time in. Something easy and not hard and also easy.

The cool forest with bright beams of warm light descending from above did wonders for my restless spirit, and I soon found myself somehow enjoying the thought that I would spend time here every few days.

The sound of chirping, birdsong, and the quick blur of little critters further into the forest warned me ahead of time that I was going to run into somepony. It did little to warn me of who that pony was.

Standing in a bath of light was a tall pink-maned pegasus, her soft yellow hooves lightly caressing a little blue jay while she cooed and whispered to a veritable army of little animals. Fluttershy turned to me, her great big watery eyes encapsulating me in their radiance. “Oh, hello there,” she said, voice as soft as a warm dawn wind on a winter day.

“Um, hi?” I said, my voice cracking. Could you blame me? There I was, trotting around, minding my own beeswax, when I ran into an ex-supermodel and the wet dream of every stallion on this side of the hemisphere. (Not to mention something about the Elements of Harmony, the Guardian of Nature, and that bit about her being one of the few level elevens in existence.)

“Are you looking for something?” she asked, genuine concern in those big eyes of hers. “I know a bit about where things are, and my birdies have been everywhere. They could help you, if you’re lost....”

“N-no, Ma’am. I’m, uh, part of the Gardening Club,” I said, pointing to my chest as proof. “I was just heading back to, well, school.”

Her smile lit up the arboreum. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I so do love flowers and trees. It’s good to see that young ponies like that sort of thing too.”

Suddenly, I was really interested in plants.

Fluttershy took flight, cooing at her darling little critters until they moved out of my path. Not knowing what to do, I mumbled some thanks and rushed by her, trying to pretend that I was not drenched in sweat.

Let me put this into perspective for you:

A level twelve is something we’d classify as “godlike”. Celestia, for example, who can control and manipulate the sun. Luna, who controls the essence of night itself. Twilight Sparkle and her vast knowledge and power over the fundamentals of magic, and her sister-in-law, Cadence, who can exert her influence over emotions. Any of these ponies could easily turn Equestria on its head.

A level eleven was just a notch down. Basically, an individual with extensive, powerful and awesome physical and magical power. Say... the Elements of Harmony? You don’t mess with a pony of this calibre without bringing out the big guns.

Fluttershy was one of those ponies, and I had no gun to speak of.

I galloped out of the greenhouse, not even looking behind me as I rushed towards the nearest entrance into the school. Why the rush? If I somehow managed to piss off Miss Fluttershy, she could drop a world of pain onto me. Even if she did somehow look and feel like the personification of gentleness.

Better safe than dead, right?

Apparently not.

As I galloped ahead, I was not exactly fixated on where I was going and walked into one of the many entrances leading out of the school and into the courtyard. And, of course, I walked into the worst possible place ever. My dead-run slowed to a trot as I found myself surrounded on all sides by chittering and chatting ponies. Ponies that looked really, really good. They held their heads high, displaying professionally groomed manes and strutting around like they were well aware of their physique, which I'm sure they were. These were ponies whom I would have little trouble imagining as the sons and daughters of big-shot tycoons.

The logos under their crests weren’t of the gardening club or some other low-level hole; these ponies were members of the highest ranks. Clubs like the Advanced Magics Division and the aforementioned Robotics Engineering club. I’d stumbled into the hive of the upper-levelled students.

They didn’t seem to notice me; after all, our uniforms were identical. But I still felt alienated, as if their smiles and quick bouts of odd humour were above me and that they were better than I would ever be. These ponies had a future and, statistically, I didn’t.

“Wedgie!” a gratingly familiar voice called through the corridor.

Heads turned, poking out of lockers and staring between myself and the mare that had called to me.

Like a succubus looking for prey, Black Ruby trotted down the corridor, mares and stallions moving out of her way in a parting wave. Much to their surprise, (and a little to my own) the light-coloured mare wore a brilliant smile as she approached me.

Did I mention that she was hot yet?

Stallions were laying out a carpet of drool wherever she trotted, and the cruel look the mares were giving her as she passed made my blood curdle. But she moved on, ignoring them as she sashayed to me with her curvy hips bouncing from side to side and her tail swaying beneath the hem of her short skirt. “Wedgie! I knew I would run into you, eventually,” she said, her docile smile turning wicked. “I see you joined the gardening club?”

A few of the nearby stallions snickered, and I felt the warmth of blood rushing to my face. One of them whispered loud enough for all to hear, “What a dork!”

“I joined too!” she said, tapping a hoof against the tree-shaped badge on her chest. The stallion sputtered, choking on his laughter.

“Oh, so... you were the mare that signed on?” I managed to sound calm, despite my mind melting on the spot.

She nodded, “Yeah... don’t you remember? You begged me, for hours. Oh, and then you said that I should show you proof that I joined so that we could finally go out for lunch.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to go out with you, aren’t I?”

You know that stallion, the one laughing at me? Yeah, he just saw that hottest mare in school make a date with me. Damn right.

“Yes, you are. And no, I won’t let you weasel your way out of it this time. You made a promise to a young mare and you’d better keep it. Or else,” she cautioned. I would have listened to the warning even if I hadn't seen her go all bullet-time at the drop of a hat.

“Oh, uh, okay? I know this place that’s not too bad.” Not to mention rather cheap. “But, aren’t we supposed to go to homeroom, first?”

“I did today’s homeroom class tomorrow. There’s nothing to miss. Come on! Half the class isn’t even going to show up!” Black Ruby adopted that demanding look, like that of a noble getting prissy because her servant was moving too slowly.

I bit my lip, tried not too blush too hard—which, considering the amount of eyes focused on us, was rather hard—and then moved to her side. “Okay, fine. J-just follow me.”

She hummed a joyful note, arched an inquisitive eyebrow at the ponies staring at us, and marched alongside me.

We found the nearest exit to the school and trotted along one of the shrub-lined paths that would eventually lead to a main road. All the while, my mind was a piece of burning sludge. Why?

Because. I was about to go on what was essentially a date with the cutest mare on campus. Seriously. No joke. I’d pinched myself and everything already. But first, I had to not mess it up in a spectacular fashion. Which is easier said than done. But, I reckoned that if I played my cards right, I might get lucky. Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

“So, um, Ruby?”

“Oh, call me Black.... Didn’t I tell you that before?” she asked, frowning as we reached an intersection and I pointed to a spot where the school-grounds ended.

“Hmm. Not that I remember. Anywho, Black, you... so, um, do you have any hobbies?”

She shook her head, blonde mane waving around her. “No.”

“Er—, do you play sports, or something?”

She huffed. “Wouldn't that constitute a hobby?”

“Well, yeah, I guess....” Yep, spectacular failure was indeed quite possible. Must have a knack for it. But, there were other subjects that I could talk about, maybe. “Um. Okay, I’ll be straight with you, Miss Ruby. I’m not one for entertaining pretty mares, alright? I’m not even sure why I asked you out to lunch, or whatnot. Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re the one that asked me to ask you, or something. Basically, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do with you.” See, spectacular failure 101. Start taking notes, kids.

“Oh. Well,” she began, turning her gaze away from my own, “I thought you just wanted to be with me.”

“Uh,” I began, mentally kicking myself. If she started crying, I’d commit seppuku.

A thin blush of red crawled along her cheeks. “So, I’m the one that made you ask me, huh? Should have known. I thought... I thought maybe we could become friends? You helped me a lot at that gathering, and you were really nice and understanding.” She slowed to a halt, sighing as if her body and soul wanted to tear apart. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into this. I-I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your meal, I guess.”

She turned her back to me, that proud lustre gone.

Times I’d really, really messed up in front of a girl: one.

“Wait, Black!” I called, grabbing hold of her shoulder. “I... no, I’m sorry. It’s just that. Well, I thought maybe this was a sort of prank? Or maybe you were laughing at me inside. See, pretty mares don’t usually hang around me, much. Well, never. But, if you want, we can go eat together and talk. Maybe work things out? Celestia knows I could use a friend or two myself, y’know?”

“Really?” she asked, smiling.

“Y-yeah, really. I know this little place. Decent food and all that.” Plus the waitress was hot and the food itself was cheap, but that was a concern for another time.

Her smile only grew wider. “Oh, I wish I could still remember this yesterday!” she said, her trot turning into a skip while I followed, slightly bemused and a little perplexed.

“Um, before we go on, can you tell me about the whole... tomorrow-today is yesterday’s last-week, thing?”

We were on one of the roads that ran a full circle around the school, our hooves leading us farther and farther from the city along large lanes of sidewalks and over a few pedestrian bridges. Black Ruby took her time in answering, her dignity and that noble pride returning.

“I’m a very powerful mare. And a lucky one. But, perhaps not incredibly lucky. I was born with a gift for magic, and my favourite thing was the manipulation of objects. Levitation and the likes. As a filly I was accomplishing level three spells with little difficulty. So, my family hired some tutors and I became more proficient, learning more and more about magic, while concentrating mostly on one branch. You’re familiar with the magical types?”

“Gravity, electromagnetism, radiation, spacetime and biology. Plus a few others, right?” Did I mention that I knew a fair share about magic, despite sucking at it?

“Exactly. I favoured spacetime manipulation. Levitation is one of the most basic skills in that area. Although you could levitate an object with gravity or magnetism. I digress.” She sighed. “I didn’t care much about the skills I was not as good at. I am still capable of level four spells in every branch, mind you,” she said, raising her head far above mine. “But spacetime manipulation was always my favourite.”

We arrived in the market district, or one of them. There's a disparity among the districts. The best shops are in district 12, the cheapest in district one. We went to district one. But, on these circular roads, the shops from the two opposite districts are kinda sandwiched. So, you’ll have a cheap restaurant besides, say, a five-star gourmet place. Or, in this case, a cheap as all heck fast-food joint in front of a jewelry store that only allowed ponies above level six to enter.

Ar'n't I a classy guy?

We walked into the store to the sound of the door-chime ringing and found the place, unsurprisingly, deserted. After all, in a city composed mostly of students, the place could be a little dull during school-hours. The waitress waved at us and made a few quick gestures telling us to pick a spot to sit.

Being the gentleman that I am, I found a table by the front windows where we could see folks trotting by on the roadway or stare as they entered and exited the fancy jewelry shop across the street. I ordered two glasses of water and for a couple menus before returning my attention to Black.

“So, spacetime manipulation. I’m guessing that became your... thing. It’s sorta your cutie mark, after all.”

She blinked at me, and I suddenly realised that said mark was hidden beneath a certain skirt, something she seemed to be pondering as she stared through my face. I reminded myself that this mare could kill me yesterday, if she so desired, and that I should practice the art of shutting-the-hell-up.

“I won’t ask,” she said, reassuring me. “But if I catch wind of something... indecent....” She trailed the tip of her hoof over the rim of her glass. The water within began to boil until, in a flash, it turned to steam, which she swirled around a hoof before spinning it into the air. As it spun, the gaseous water froze, becoming a perfect sphere of bubbly ice.

Some ponies know how to get the point across.

“Where was I? Oh, right. Yes, as an older filly I received my cutie mark. It was while I was attempting an.... experiment, without the permission of my parents and against the express orders of my teachers. I used time travel magic. The spell... failed, almost. Some of the fail-safes weren’t complete, and I didn’t have the raw power to control it all.” She licked her dry lips. “I woke up in a hospital a month later, cutie mark on my hip and my mind scattered. I’ve been trying to put the pieces back together ever since.”

“That... that sounds terrible,” I said with real sympathy. As my mind was scattered most of the time, too, I could empathize.

Black Ruby shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it. It would take a stronger blow to hurt a mare of my stature.”

I grinned at her, taking what she said for cold fact. “As long as you don’t hurt your friends by mistake, then I guess there’s no harm.”

She winced, grinding her teeth together and taking in a sharp breath before calming herself down.

Great, I’d touched a sore spot. Miss All-powerful had managed to hurt herself before. A chink in the metaphorical armour. And I jammed a stick in it. Smart.

Count of times I’ve made an idiot of myself in front of a pretty girl: Eight.

“I’m sorry. It’s not easy being different, I guess. If it’s any consolation, I’d love to be your friend. B-but I’m sure you could manage to find somepony far better than me.”

She reached over the table, grabbing one of my forehooves in both of hers over the table’s vinyl surface. “Tight Wedge, I would like to be your friend too. If that’s possible.” She giggled. “Although, I might not make the best of companions myself. But, I’ll try to give you a sympathising ear when you need it, and, maybe, hint at the troubles ahead once in a while. Having a constant heads-up can be useful.”

We shook hooves while I tried to see if this was all real. Is this how ponies become friends? With a hoofshake and an agreement? Wild.

Oh, and,hints of the terrible things that will happen to me before they happen to me? Woo!

We began talking, but it was mostly about trivial things, really. Mentions of our family, about how school could become really dull. In my case because it was hard to understand and boring; in her case because she knew it all already.

Our meals arrived and our chit-chat turned into us munching on blades of hay while I tried to look mildly civilised about it. Her top-of-the-line education and upbringing showed in the slow, careful way that she ate, and made her stick out of the room like a sore hoof.

You know, things were going surprisingly well. We became friends, of a sort, and we hadn't killed each other yet. She didn’t hate me, and I was actually getting to enjoy her company despite the little hints of crazy.

Then the jewelry store exploded.

Well, shit.

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

Okay, enough time was spent on boring old Happy End. Now to make the other pretty mare have something more than a cookie-cutter personality.

In this fic, I want lots of the characters to stand out, more-so than the world they live in. I’ll add more world-building details later on, but for now I want the population to stick out. So, we spent a bit of time learning about the Mane 6’s involvement in the school and the would-be hierarchy that the students feel and employ.

Hopefully this Academy world will grown big enough that the reader's imagination's going to want to frolic in it.

Also, explosions.

Never enough shit,
Ravens D. Dagger

Special nod to Fred and Malus who worked their flanks off editing.

Arc Two: Gardening Clubs - Lightning Theft

Shards of shrapnel and glass littered the sky, shining in the bright afternoon light as they reached the climax of their lift before zipping back to the ground. The window by which we were sitting thumped twice before a crack the length of my hoof appeared milimetres from my face, contrasted by the bright yellows and oranges ripping through the front of the Jewelry shop.

“Get down!” I heard Black Ruby scream while a tendril of her power wrapped itself around my neck and tossed me off of my seat. She joined me on the floor, hindlegs bucking up to push our table up and above us just as our window exploded inwards.

My ears rang for a full minute and my eyes were screwed shut until Black Ruby set a hoof on my shoulder and pressed it. “Wake up!” she shouted over the constant drone that had filled with my mind.

I peaked out with half-lidded eyes and watched as bits of glass rolled and slid across the floor, sparkling like a carpet of jewels. Above me, standing tall, proud and alert was Black Ruby, her peering eyes glaring across the street. “Something’s wrong,” she said.

Well, no shit, Sherclop.

“Uh-huh,” I said as I climbed back to all fours and peered into the billowing cloud of dust. Ponies on the street—few as they were at this time of day—were crying or galloping away. At least one of them that I could see through the cloud was nursing a bad scrape. “We should go,” I said, evidently implying that we should get the heck outta there.

“You’re right, follow me and stay low.” Black trotted around me and towards the exit, slowing down as she neared the blown-out doorway. “Hurry!” she pleaded.

“No.”

She blinked, her eyes growing wide and filling with tears as she turned and looked at me, a blush adorning those pointy cheeks of hers. “Oh, well, all right then. I can’t force you.”

I had a few choices. I could cower back there, go out and maybe help some ponies like a good samaritan, or follow Black Ruby, the crazy time-manipulating mare that had just become my ‘friend’ into what could be a very dangerous scene. I covered the fact that I’m an idiot already, right? “All right, fine, I’m coming,” I grumbled.

She lit up like a kerosene-powered balloon with a drunk operator that had run into a cliff-face. I wanted to look away, but couldn’t. “Thanks! Now come on, I suspect that the instigator of this is that masked pony.”

Masked pony, eh? She meant that Protagonist fellow. Shrouded in mystery and controlling a rabid army of devotees. I’d honestly heard very little about him since the incident at the gathering, as if he had either decided to lay low, or the school’s police force or Judgement had caught him. It could be his doing, this fireworks display.

Might also be somepony that just didn’t like jewellery.

We stepped onto the wide sidewalk, me falling into a coughing fit while Black Ruby trotted on as if the smoke wouldn’t dare to soil her. And it didn’t. All around her was a transparent shield, visible only where the clouds of settling dust failed to touch it, creating an outline of her curvy form. “I can sense some strong magic here,” she said.

“Got it,” I wheezed through the tickling in my throat. “Where should we go?”

She pointed towards the shop where the giant, proud sign had fallen. The word “Rarity” in all its white-purple and glittery splendor was upside down and cracked on the pavement. Behind that was the shop itself, every last one of its windows smashed open. “They’re in there,” she said, taking a few tentative steps forwards.

I swallowed, throat dry, fanned some of the dust away and followed, head low and horn pointed ahead. (As if it would do any good.)

“All ponies, evacuate this region immediately. You are surrounded on all sides by military and medical emergency service ponies. Please find the nearest shelter and please cooperate. Force will be used if deemed necessary!”

The loud droning voice echoed through the road and through the worst of the oppressive screen I could see the dull glow of red and blue lights on either side. “Maybe we should pull back?”

“No,” Black Ruby said, grinding her teeth. “I want to see this through. They ruined our lunch!”

Take note, kiddies: ruining the lunch of a hot, powerful, time-manipulating mare is cause of a beat down.

“Come on, Judgement is coming, they’ll take care of it, be reasonable!” I almost pleaded. Almost.

Within the store we could see shadows moving and, as the dust settled or was carried away by a passing wind, we saw ponies in leather scurrying about the shop, some of them carrying what seemed to be bags on their backs. “I see them,” Black Ruby said, frowning as she tried to focus. “We need to move this fog. Help me!”

“Um, how?”

“Level three wind spell, it’s basic!” she said, stomping a hoof on the ground as her horn glowed a bright indigo. A tenth of a second later and a gale rushed in.

Waste my tiny bit of energy on that? Nope. Use it all in a vain attempt to create a shield? Yup!

My horn glowed, fizzled, then lit up. I smiled in elation then realized that I had failed to do anything at all. Oops?

The leatherbacks were staring back at us, only their dark eyes visible in the shadows. Cowering behind them under display tables or behind counters filled with expensive jewelry were ponies, both customers and those that worked in the elegant shop.

“Damn, they have hostages,” I said, trying to think while the world moved at a hundred kilometres an hour.

The air nearby popped and fizzled and, out of the blue, two ponies appeared. Their blouses and skirts wafted in the air as they both landed in a crouch, attention already directed to the jewelry shop. One of them, the mare who had presumably teleported them, turned and faced us. “Back up, we’ll take care of this,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she reached down and grabbed at a green band wrapped around her arm to display the shield-shaped logo on it. “We’re with Judgement.”

“We can aid you as well,” Black Ruby said, taking a step towards the shop.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” the mare began to say, but stopped mid-sentence. In the largest of the shop’s windows stood one of the leatherback ponies, holding a stubby metallic tube with a handle in his mouth. “Get down!” Teleporter-mare screamed.

I blinked like an idiot while three very distinct things happened all at once.

First, it turns out the metal tube was an automatic gun and that leather-pony had two friends that shopped in the same black market. A hail of heavy, blunt-ended bullets was fired our way, followed a millionth of a second later by the sound of continuous thunder.

Second, that other Judgement pony—one oddly devoid of the armband—took a quick step forwards and smiled. Her mane and tail began to float into the air along with her blouse and skirt (She was wearing shorts underneath. Who does that? Not that I was looking or anything....) while little blue sparks of electricity pulsed around her. As the bullets approached the electricity zipped by and through them, playing connect-the-dots in mid-air.

And third, Black Ruby’s horn glowed and she placed herself between the assailants and me. The bullets charging towards her slowed down until finally they stopped in mid-air, spinning around gently as they just floated there.

When the firing stopped she let go of her magic and the bullets tumbled to the ground, tinkling as they bounced about uselessly.

Lightning-pony, as I’m calling her, smiled and looked at the leatherbacks. “That’s all you’ve got?” she taunted.

Destroying bullets in mid-air on reflex and then taunting the ponies that just shot at her and asking them to try harder. Yup, this mare’s cray-cray too. What’s with the ponies in this city?

She had just begun to trot towards the building when Protagonist showed up.

He stood there, his emotionless mask obscured by shadow and smoke while his eyes glared right at the Judgement mares before wandering over to us. He huffed. “Ah, I see that the city’s little goons have arrived. How quaint. We’re almost done here, but if you wish to play, something could be worked out.”

“Play? I won’t have you hurting the ponies of my city and call it play!” Lightning said, grinding her teeth as more sparks snapped around her body.

“Oh, but it is a game, to some,” he said before turning to those behind him. “Are you done?” When they nodded he laughed a deep, bassy laugh as his horn began to glow. “Well, this is goodbye then.” The glow of his horn began to spread out to the leatherbacks around him and in a blink they popped out of existence.

The Protagonist remained. He reappeared on the floor above with a flash, and teleported the few leatherbacks that were there away. “Perhaps another time we will test each other’s mettle?” he screamed from above. Somehow, I knew he was smirking beneath that mask.

Then, Lightning-mare did something weird. She threw a coin into the air.

We all watched as it pirouetted ever downwards while she spun around and reared onto her forelegs.

Electricity crackled along the length of her body, growing stronger by the millisecond as it raced towards her rear hooves.

She bucked.

With an explosive blast of thunder the mare hit the bit in mid-air. A cone of shattered air appeared where the impact had been and, faster than any eye could see, a line of red-hot energy stretched out between her and the building, sizzling and cutting through everything in its path until it roared into the cloudy skies.

“Did I get him?” she asked, peering into the wreck that the building's top floor had become. Wires were frayed and the lights were flickering wildly while light poured in through a metre-wide hole in the ceiling. The Protagonist was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah! Sis!” the teleporter screamed, a hoof clutching at her head in panic. “You said that you wouldn’t do anything crazy! You did something crazy!”

“Yeah, but he got away,” Lightning mare said, huffing and tapping the ground with a hoof.

“Sister!” the other said, her tone chastising and severe. I could understand her, what with her friend just blowing the roof off one of Rarity's boutiques and all, literally. “I can’t forgive you for this! I’m going to have to report you.”

“Huh? B-but I was just trying to get him! You saw him, he had hostages and everything!” Lightning took a few steps back, honestly looking stricken.

The teleporter shook her head. “I have to, it’s my duty.... Unless, you bribe me, you know, with a little fooly cooly....”

She got zapped.

I stopped paying attention when lightning bolts began to fly.

Instead, I took a second to notice that Black Ruby was nowhere in sight.

A few ponies were timidly moving out of the shop, using the front door between the two holes where the windows used to be. Some ponies from Judgement and the school’s police force were rushing over, giving priority to the ambulances and medical ponies.

The restaurant was a wreck, every window busted and quite a few meals ruined within. Ponies were walking carefully, trying not to step on sharp pieces of glass.

Protagonist and his bunch had really messed things up. And for what? A few jewels? He wasn’t going to be able to resell them for a bit. If he was trying to make a good image for himself then he was going about it the wrong way.

“Hey, Black, what’d you think about that?” I asked before noticing once more that she wasn’t by my side. Spinning around, I searched the now-busy street, looking for the blonde mane and blue eyes she proudly wore. Finally, I spotted a flash of her tail entering an alley, her hooves carefully stepping over a pile of detritus.

I followed, galloping by paramedics and those two mad Judgement mares before diving into the alley after her.

She stood there, looking over her shoulder and at me with an arched eyebrow while, just milimetres from the tip of her muzzle, a garbage can floated, transfixed in time. “Oh, hello, Wedgie. I found one of that masked pony’s minions.”

She pointed to the end of the tight corridor where a light blue pony was sitting, his uniform covered by a leather jacket. He had his hooves set out around him and his head low, full trash cans levitating on either side of him, wreathed in his magic. “You’re not coming near me, you pig!”

He fired the pails, both of them arcing through the air as Black Ruby began walking. She ducked beneath the one she had already frozen and happily trotted on, the other two garbage cans rushing towards her head.

At the very last moment she twisted her body to the side and narrowly avoided the first garbage can. The second she reached up and touched with the tip of her hoof, a wave passing through the aluminium and making it fluctuate in the air like a big blob of gelatin. It stopped moving.

“That was rather easy,” she said, circumventing the can and trotting towards the stallion. “Now, I have a few questions for you.”

“N-never!” he barked, ripping a knife from out of inside his coat and levitating it in front of himself.

Shit just got serious.

I began to gallop towards them. “Black!” I screamed, trying to warn her of the impending danger while struggling with the sinking impression that I was too late.

She was going to die here, in this stupidly clean alley between two low-end shops, killed by some worthless thug while I watched, useless.

The knife flew at her throat.

Then her horn glowed.

The offending weapon slowed, its shiny surface losing its gloss as spots of rust began to consume its length. It continued to slow as more and more reddish oxidant coated its surface, until holes appeared along its blade and melted it into dust.

“Were you trying to stab me?” she asked, tapping the rubber handle away after it had bounced off the ground. “It’s rather rude to stab a lady.”

The stallion swallowed hard, and I could sympathise.

“Um, sorry?” he tried. It wasn’t enough.

Black Ruby stabbed a hoof on the ground right in front of him and leaned forward. “I have questions, young ruffian, and I want answers. Do you comprehend?”

He nodded.

“Good. Now, who is the Protagonist?” she seethed. This mare was all sorts of scary when pissed. So, I stood my ground a few steps back, trying to stare down the punk to add a bit to the scene’s drama. Poor kid didn’t know what to do.

“I-I don’t know, he’s the boss is all. He’s the one that we all follow!”

“Why?”

“B-because he is! He told us that he’d make it all better. He said that ponies like us were better than ponies like you!” Ohh, screaming at the scary time-manipulating mare? Not a thing to add to the list of good ideas.

“Fair enough. You obviously don’t know who he really is and that tells me much about the sort of pony he is. He doesn’t even trust his own subordinates. That filth. Where’re you operating from?”

“U-uh, it-it changes every day. Protagonist don’t want us to stay in one place for too long. It-it was supposed to change today too, and he didn’t tell any of us that were coming with him.”

That was rather smart. If a doofus messed up and was caught, all he could give away was the location of the last base. And since Protagonist is the one doing the teleporting of his troops in and out of the shop.... But why here? “Hey, you,” I asked. “Why’d you guys attack a jewelry store?”

“It’s because they won’t allow low-level ponies to go in!”

“Plenty of places are like that.” And by Celestia did I ever know that to be the truth. “Why a jewelry store? If he’s so smart then he ought to know that the jewels are probably traceable.”

The pony pulled back, almost as if he was becoming timid. Wasn’t he throwing trash cans at us a second ago? “I-I don’t know. The gems are important for something.”

I hummed in thought, touching a hoof to my chin as I bowed my head. Okay, what are gems good for—other than looking pretty? Magic, some of which can be aided with certain stones. The better the stone, the better the spell’s end result. “Teleportation spells!” I cried aloud.

Black Ruby blinked at me, then her face lit up just a moment later. “Right. He’s using gems as a catalyst for his magic. I didn’t feel as if he was that terribly powerful. But still, even taking that into consideration, he must be a level five or six. Maybe even higher. And he obviously has some non-magical skills, charisma being one of them.” Black Ruby bit her lip in thought. “Wedgie, could you go out there and look around, maybe unearth some clues? I’ll take care of this ruffian.”

“Uh, sure?” I said, trying to ignore the look of pure, unadulterated fear in the stallion’s eyes. Poor sod. Should I be a good pony and try to help him? Should I attempt to abate her anger for the stallion’s sake?

Pfft, hell no!

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

The goal? To make Black Ruby something more than a background character. I mean, it should be evident by now that she has some role to play in the next few chapters of the story, but I want that roll to be played with a fair degree of conviction. And for that, I need you (the reader) to know her. Not like her, or love her, just know her. Anything else is cherries.

Also, lightning pony is best pony.

Betch'a can't figure out what Protagonist is up to! with a name like that, you'd wonder if hes really that baddy?

Biri-biri,
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc Two: Gardening Clubs - Out the Back Alley

I got out of the alley as quickly as I could, telling myself that the dumb idiot deserved his crappy fate. In the end, he was still probably a level three or so, he could figure it out if he applied himself. And anyhow, I got my own flank whooped so many times and survived that I’m sure he could stand on all fours after one measly beating.

The scene around Rarity’s boutique had changed in those few short minutes spent in the alley with Black Ruby. The amount of Judgement had increased and the two psycho mares were long gone. Meanwhile, the sheer amount of pure noise had grown dramatically.

Somepony had parked an ambulance nearby and a line of ponies waited to be checked on had formed. I saw, from afar, another such vehicle speeding away while armoured carriages approached, filled with soldiers and city guards.

Firefighter ponies were cordoning off the roadway while others created a walkway above the crime scene, leaving it untouched while allowing the traffic to keep on. Beyond those lines the crowd was growing thicker by the second, with students, teachers and normal passerby gathering to catch up with the gossip.

And I was supposed to find clues in this mess? Crap.

I sat down and allowed myself to frown at the entire play. So, basically, Protagonist blew the crap out of a high-end, exclusive store, stole some shiny rocks, and high-tailed it, all the while pissing off some OP mares and grabbing enough loot to make your average gamer and/or dragon drool. But why? I’d’ve hit a bank first. Get physical bits that can’t be traced. Or, do this at night when nopony would notice the heist. Something wasn’t adding up.

And speaking of addition.

Trotting through the crime scene, a bright yellow-hardhat on his already mismatched head, was Omni Disciplinarian. He looked towards me, baggy eyes opening wider when they spotted my sorry flank. “Tight Wedge!” he called out, abandoning the few ponies around him to rush towards me. “Hello, Tight Wedge. It has been a while since our last meeting.”

“Yeah, a few days,” I said.

“Yes, three, to be exact. Or approximately seventy eight hours. Or four thousand six hundred and eighty minutes, that’s how many seconds?” He looked away, smiling faintly and dumbly at the glass-covered ground for a bit while the gears in his head spun. “Ah, it’s—”

I shoved a hoof over his muzzle, cutting him off. “Hey, mate. I came to say hello, not learn how to count. I, uh, well, I was wondering if you knew about what happened here.”

“Hmm? The robbery? Yes, I know a few things. Why? Why do you want to know?” He leaned in towards me, eyes narrowing while locks of his oily orange mane fell out of his colourful hat. “Are you one of them?”

Do I have to remind you guys that this fellow is built like a brick? Because him leaning over me is sorta terrifying. Nerd rage and all that. “O-of course not! Black Ruby wants to know, and frankly I’m a little curious too. Some of these things don’t add up all that much.”

He smiled, showing off a row of perfect teeth while his wings flapped happily behind him. “Ah, well, if your question is about addition then I’m your pony.”

“Yeah, sure.” Weirdo. “So, why’re you here? And what’s with the silly hat?”

His smile only grew, and so did my discomfort. “Ah, patterns!”

“Patterns?”

“Yes, patterns. The local guard sometimes need to find patterns in certain cases, or hints hidden behind math. It’s my specialty. So I volunteer some time and get a light reward in return. But this case is rather simple, all things considered.”

I nodded, pretending to have understood all of that but keeping some of it for later consideration. “Right, I was wondering if there was something or other that stuck out. Black and I already figured that the gems were for spells or some-such?”

His eyes lit up and he did a weird little dance on the spot. “Brilliant! Good job, Tight Wedge. Indeed, there’s a connection between the jewel heist and magical manipulation. In fact, our dear Protagonist stole not one gem of great value, despite having them within hoof’s reach. Every gem taken was non-decorative and better suited for enchanting than making a mare look pretty.”

“Anything more specific than that?” I asked, trying to push him into confessing just a tab more. So far he’d only confirmed the things we’d thought up.

“Well, there might be one more thing,” Omni admitted. He rubbed his eyes with the edge of a hoof. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but, well. Preliminary readings say something rather intriguing. Protagonist arrived with twelve ponies. He left with twelve.”

“Okay, the point is?”

“One of his minions was seen galloping away by hoof. He wasn’t teleported with Protagonist’s group.” Omni smiled at me, but it was a slow, saddened smile. “You can do the simple math, right?”

Twelve, minus one, equals twelve. Yeah, perfect math. “Who was the mystery pony? Somepony on the inside?”

The budding mathematician shook his head, messy hair bouncing around. “Nope. Here’s one last bit of information. A certain famous mathematician, one I look up to, had a scheduled meeting in this store today, during the attack. We don’t know where he is anymore.”

I swallowed hard, taking in the new information slowly. “What sort of math?”

“He was a well-known doctor, both in the academics and, in a lesser fashion, in the field of medicine. He, that’s Doctor Numberphile, was in this city for two reasons. One, to attend a conference, and two, to spearhead and oversee a project dealing with advanced genetic manipulation.”

The pegasus stomped a hoof into the ground. “Those bastards. I really wanted to attend his seminar on applied mathematics and how to cheat your way into med-school.”

I nodded, touching the tip of my chin with a hoof. “Thanks for the info, Omni, I’ll try to figure a few things out.” I turned, not bothering to say bye, ‘cause I wanted to get home before next week and was not totally interested in getting a seminar on the proper usage of decimals. “Oh, and keep me informed on the going-ons here. I have the sinking impression that things are going to get funky.”

Author's Note

Edited by:
[]The Misfits](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_86hYr6EtqRWFU1X8MfKsb66trHI0o75NmvkWHdKoRI/edit?usp=drive_web)

Omni’s a weird one.

I don’t just mean his portrayal here, which is pretty weird too, I guess. But I mean his weird attachment. I want all of my major and somewhat-major characters to be fun to read and approachable. I want you guys to like them. Omni’s not... normal, in his liking-ness.

He’s not exactly charismatic. In fact, if I were to meet that sort of person, I’d likely want to smack him. But his sheer nerdy passion kinda makes him.... fun. In a boring way. Maybe it’s not him on his own, but the way he views and approaches the world around him that makes him relatable?

Dunno. More of him soon.

Also, this marks the end of Arc 2: Gardening. I think it did its job of introducing the baddies and the main characters. Now to start the trot towards the first conflicted climax! Arc 3's going to be... interesting. And I want most of you to die during Arc 4. I'll pull every cute trick in the books. And cte is something I can do!

Muahahahaha!

Math sucks IRL,
Ravens D. Dagger

Arc Three: Judgements - Barging Math

The next morning I was in class. Yes, that place where you learn things, and where everything is mostly quiet. Where the worse thing that can happen to you is a spitball, a false accusation, or a bad rumour spreading around.

Well, class is supposed to be safe.

There I was, listening to the teacher prattle on about the applications of the theory of relativity to magical movement, something way above the heads of anypony in this classroom, while also wasting the precious time of my youth by drawing on my computer's screen.

So, all in all, a good day.

No explosions, no crazy mares, no time travelling dilemmas that give me headaches, no weird folks blasting things apart, and also no explosions. Just math.

I don’t like math.

I’ll give you three choices as to what could happen next:

One: The classroom could blow up, which was somewhat likely.

Two: Those bratty girls behind me could turn into brainless zombies and go on a rampage, which was not as likely.

Three: Omni could walk in, which is what actually happened.

The tall, lanky and far too muscular pegasus trotted in, his face twisted into a frown while his eyes searched across the classroom. The mares behind me instantly began their game of whispering and chatting to each other while the teacher, Miss Bearskin, blinked dumbly at the intrusion. “Excuse me, young sir,” she began in her hoarse, grating voice. “Are you lost?”

Omni Disciplinarian slowed to a halt a few paces from the front row, his orangy tail swinging from side to side. “Hmm? No, I’m not lost. This is Classroom One-C, first quadrant, eighteen steps away from Classroom One-B. You’re Miss Bearskin, the homeroom teacher, am I not correct?”

She huffed.

I think that now’s a good time to mention that Miss Bearskin’s one tough cookie. I mean, she has to put up with ponies like me all day....

“What I meant by, ‘are you lost,’ was ‘what in Celestia’s name do you think you’re doing barging into my class, during my lesson, while I’m supposed to be teaching?’ Or something to that effect, young colt,” she snapped.

“Oh,” Omni said, touching a hoof to his chin. “I am being rather rude, aren’t I?”

No shit, I thought, but instead of saying it aloud I jammed my hoof into my face. This day had been so good so far too.

The pegasus spun around, trotted out of the room, then back, stopping by the entrance arch before he knocked on the doorframe. “Hello, may I come in?”

“No,” Miss Bearskin said.

He came in anyway, eyes glazed over as he trotted right by her as if she wasn’t even there. The murmuring continued, drowning out the sound of Miss Bearskin grounding her teeth together. Omni was causing a real ruckus in our little classroom, a ruckus that I wanted nothing to do with. It’s about then that he stopped right in front of my desk and slapped my screen shut. “Tight Wedge, I found out something really interesting!”

I groaned and let myself fall forwards, forehead slamming into the desk and sending a wave of pain up my head, which I just tossed onto the growing pile of problems I had. Hey, a small concussion might be welcome at this point; after all, then I could convince myself that this whole thing was one big nightmare.

“What did you find?” I finally asked with an exasperated sigh, lifting up my head to stare at the baggy-eyed math geek.

“Well, I can’t tell you now. I can only tell you when others aren’t listening. It’s dangerous information.”

I looked to either side of us and did a quick head count. There were about 50 students in my class and 90% or them were staring at us. Omni probably could have given you a concrete number without a calculator.

Miss Bearskin trotted up to the side of my desk, a huge, eerily happy smile plastered on your face. “That’s perfect. I just called security, and now you two will have plenty of time to talk. In detention.”

Why can’t anything ever just be easy?

Author's Note

Edited by:
The Misfits

Oh noes! A short chapter! Omni is such a weird character that I think he needs a little bit more devellopement.

More soon-ish! I've two more chapters written up and I just need to convince certain ponies to get editing. The next is boring, but the one after was brilliant fun to write. Plus it has a catfight.

Arc Three: Judgements - Detention

There were some things that were fortunate about being sent to detention at the particular time in which I was. For one thing, it was close to both the day and class’s end, which meant that I wouldn’t be spending much time locked up. For another, as this was just a misdemeanor, and because I had patiently argued with Miss Bearskin about it, this incident wouldn’t go on my record, just on Omni’s. And that’s where the good ends.

All of this was outweighed by the massive humiliation, the fact that I was stuck with that winged twerp, and by the wall of boredom that detention heaped onto me.

We, yes we, as in, two of us, were in a grey-walled room in some forgotten part of the school. No windows, no light save that of an electric bulb above, and only the sound of Omni’s incessant talking to fill the void silence.

Oh God, kill me now.

It was a whole five minutes into his spew about the application of patterns in predictions that I interrupted him. “Okay, Omni, shut up for a minute.” He complied, rubbing a hoof under his tired eyes.

“What’s wrong, Tight Wedge?”

“You barged in there to tell me something, right?” I asked, leaning back into the hard seat they had given me. “What was so important that you’d mess the rest of my day up for it?”

At this point, it had better be important.

“Yes, well, I am sorry about that. I didn’t expect your teacher to be so... radical. Nonetheless, my reasoning was sound and I do have information that you might hold at the highest of regards!”

I ran a hoof along the chair’s edge, biting my lower lip against a sharply biting remark. “All right, fine. What’s the gossip?”

“It’s not gossip,” he began, pushing back a lock of his unruly mane. “Last night and this morning I was helping the city’s accounting committee with some minor problems. It’s a hobby of mine, plus I have to do it for community service. Anyhow. I was following a trail of investments made by the city when I saw something that bugged me. A fallacy in the numbers. A tiny, fragmented pattern that kept repeating itself. Money was being diverted, on purpose.”

“Into what?”

“Into various things. Always maintenance projects that were, in fact, real. But the quantities were too large to be justified, or nearly so. I wouldn’t have noticed it if it were not for the regularity of it. Once every two weeks. The same day you’d expect payments to go out. I delved deeper and found a few other things that were amiss. Materials not arriving at destination and nopony questioning it, trucks that entered the city empty, or apparently empty, despite coming from far, far away.”

I leaned back, letting the chair climb onto its two rear legs. “You think it’s Protagonist’s doing?” I mused.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t. It’s covered up, but from above. Seems like there're orders to not go snooping in there. And if he were ordered in such a fashion he wouldn’t be stirring up trouble against the very thing feeding him. Doesn’t make sense.”

“All right then, who’s taking the bits?”

“Dunno.”

I rubbed a hoof against my eyes, trying to work away at my rising levels of stress. Did you know that sarcasm is a great stress reliever? “So, I got into detention, into trouble, with you, to be told that somepony, or someponies, is taking money. Now, this fact may or may not be important in the grand scheme of things, you don’t know that. Also, you have no clue whatsoever as to who it is that stole all those bits, or why for that matter.”

He looked at me weird, blinking a few times before tilting his head to one side. “I have the impression that you’re slightly angry with me.”

“No, you don’t say?” I snapped back. “Omni, all of that could easily have been written down on a bit of paper. Or explained over recess, or, heck, told over the phone. You didn’t have to go all crazy to explain it all.”

Omni actually looked sad as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to work out a few words. I, for my part, did the gentlecoltly thing and pouted for the next few minutes of quiet before he finally spoke, “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. If you don’t want to be my friend anymore I’ll understand that,” he said, practically whispering it.

Bloody hell. I hate guilt trips.

“You can still be my friend.” We were friends? This fellow had low standards, but I wasn’t about to ask; after all, he probably had a table and some mathematical explanation of the principles of friendship. “But just be... mindful, of the things you do, okay?”

His stupid grin could have given a three-legged kitten a run for its bits.

For the first time that day something really good happened. The door to the room clicked open and a guard trotted in who quickly narrated our sins to us before leading the way out of the room and into one of the school’s more nondescript corridors.

“You two head on off, the bell’s about to ring. Oh, and you,” the guard said, looking right at me in a way that made my flesh tingle. “Your teacher told me to give you this.” Reaching into one of the many pockets of his uniform, the officer grabbed a note and placed it at my hooves, neatly folded in half. “Have a good day, kids, and stay out of trouble. Or else.”

He trotted away after locking the door, leaving me and Omni alone in the coridor, save for the constantly glowing electric bulbs hanging above us and the occasional sound of ponies somewhere else in the school chatting away.

“What’s in the letter?” Omni finally asked, leaning over me on those gangly and too-long limbs of his.

“None of your business is what,” I said, but without the previous levels of venom. For once he caught on to the joke and just smiled at me.

The pegasus turned. “Fair enough then. Perhaps we will see each other at Oh-Eight hundred tomorrow, when school starts once more? Next time I’ll show you my new project: it’s a refinement of the duodecimal system using new keys that are easy to understand.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I called back as I watched him trot away. When the reverberating thump of his hooves on the ground faded enough I turned back to the folded sheet, opening it up with a protesting crinkle of the new paper. I read,

Dear Mister Tight Wedge

This letter is addressed to you in concern of your lack of organization. It was clearly stipulated, on multiple occasions, that all students in your grade level and type join two (2) clubs before the week’s end. You have until tomorrow evening to enroll in one more of the school’s many clubs, else we will be forced to deduct a portion of your total grade and enroll you in a club with low membership.

--The Administration

I gulped, then read on.

P.S. If you don’t get that sorry hide of yours fixed up, you’re joining the crocheting club, and I’ll make you crochet granny panties in front of the whole damned class.

With love,

Miss Bearskin.

Crap.

Author's Note

Edited by:
The Misfits

Oh noes! A short chapter!

More Omni, that guy needs a personality.

Refused from EqD again, much sad. Don't know if I'll bother trying again since one of the complaints is that Tight's got no personality. Pain.

Also, anypony feel like dying? Er-- I mwan, editing? Actually, it's more like... beta-readg(?) for a novel that I'm writing. It's getting longish, and I need somepony to look at it and point out the places that feel off or that need more work, no actual editing. Please, only apply if you're really, really serious.

Bah, that's it for now. Only got one more chapter ready in the pipes,
Ravens D. Dagger