Jokes and Masks

The last thing Edward Blake thought he would know was laughing as he plunged... maybe twenty, thirty stories, I don't fuckin' know... through stinging New York City air with the sidewalk flying up to him, twinkling shards of glass following. And just before the concrete slammed into his body, he thought that would be it - the end of that sadistic joke called human life. He was prepared to die; he was prepared for obliteration; he was ready for whatever came after - or at least so he thought.

A sickening thud and a fleeting flash of pain marked the impact; the welcoming oblivion enveloped him like a warm blanket... he embraced it.I'm free.I'm finally free.BOOMJust as he began to settle into the darkness, an explosion blasted through the silence, leaving an oppressive roaring sensation in his ears. As the world began to spin and soar around him, the thoughts in his mind were instantly reduced to nothing but a soup of panicked, confused static.********HAIEJDB SJFNLX NPAINEXPLOSION...The hell was that?It was then he began to feel as though he were being pulled somewhere, and, like coming out of water, he began to rise out of the shrouds of death and into the living world. At first, the sounds echoed off in the distance, and the world appeared only as a dark blur behind a black curtain, seeming only to be apparitions fabricated by his mind. A tinge of worry that he wasn't actually dead kindled in his mind - but as the seconds went past, there was no doubt he was alive as the sensations of life jolted into something almost overwhelmingly real and vivid.So, I'm not dead. Goddamn it. Or is this the afterlife?Cool wind swept against his forehead, cooling the ever-present coat of sweat that covered it. His form sunk into the soft, damp earth beneath, blades of grass tickled his face, and the static rustle of leaves and the chirps and buzzes of insects formed the soundscape; it was relaxing to him, but as he began to comprehend his senses, it all became much more disturbing: He did not lie on a hospital cot, nor did the air smell of medicine or fresh New York City air (not like it had been before Veidt's electric cars) that permeated every building and every street - but instead it took on a damp, fresh, woody scent. Huh... this ain't a goddamn hospital… where the hell am I?He forced his eyes open and squinted in the... sun?'s sharp stiletto light; he lifted his head, and all around, a dark green blur greeted his sight; a blue sky soared high above him. He blinked in confusion and waited for his vision to clear, assuming it was just a product of his morning sight, just a hallucination or somethin', but as his vision cleared...Ugh. It's a forest. Another goddamn piece-of-shit forest. Like Vietnam. Fuck that place. Is this where guys go when they die?Blake pushed himself up from the ground; as he did so, he could barely tell a few things were wrong with how he did it... his fists... were permanently clenched, a numb feeling buzzed where his fingers once were, and he could only hold his body off the ground high enough so that the roots which snaked across the forest floor just barely sank beneath his eyes.When did I get so short... the hell? Somethin's wrong here.He began looking around, examining his environment with a careful eye....Why the hell should I be here? Why the hell am I still alive? I hate this. I'm tired of it.Enclosing him on all sides was a suffocating forest; within it, a shadowy maze of gnarled trunks and branches, twisting and snaking around each other. A thick canopy of pine-green leaves choked the forest of sunlight; from place to place, a vine could be seen dangling limply from the canopy. Black-leafed ferns and mushrooms that gave off a glow, illuminating the surrounding forest with eerie green light, sprouted from the ground. Fireflies, little yellow orbs upon a matte darkness, flitted haphazardly through the tenebrous, suffocating maze of branches and leaves. He himself lay inside a clearing; from the blue sky above him, one beam of light shone down onto the grass, casting a blurry chartreuse on it.Heh. Just like Vietnam. The sounds of gunshots and explosions briefly rang around him; ghosts of the poignant scent of ash, burnt flesh, and iron floated in the air.Seeing no answers to why he was here, he mustered his mental strength and forced himself to stand up, and the minute he did, he could tell something was definitely wrong."Hm… WhoaaA*umph*"Just as he began to stand up on his feet, he noticed standing up on his feet felt... well, awkward... and he suddenly began to fall backwards, tumbling back on the grass with a grunt. Thinking that it might have had something to do with his little sidewalk-diving experience back in New York, he looked back to check the physical integrity of his legs.His jaw dropped."The hell… shit..."He'd seen some strange things in his life, but none as strange as this. Where he'd expected maybe broken, bloody human legs to be were bronze-furred stubs about half the length of his old legs, and behind them, an messy black tail; he stared at them in disbelief. Deciding to try and move his new legs around, he found, to his mild amusement, that they could be bent in almost any way he pleased without any pain. Bony pops and cracks came out of his legs as he twisted them, and he gave off a brief, low chuckle.After he had gotten tired of contorting his... new legs in ways that would've been ridiculously painful to any human. His attention next shifted to his permanently-clenched fists. He brought his hands up to his face… my hands are flat… no fingers… those are hooves... it took him a moment to make the connection:...oh, no. Please don't tell me those crackpot Buddhists were actually right and I just got reincarnated as a goddamn horse or somethin'...The Comedian stared at his new hooves with intent....Nah, they were right. Damn. Now the joke is on me, and it's fuckin' hilarious. Well, either that, or I'm on some serious drugs, or you get turned into a horse in the afterlife… Anyways, I don't know if I'd be able to deal with Veidt's plan as a horse, ehehe... wonder if I can still talk...He cleared his throat in preparation for… something; he jogged his mind for something to say… maybe a line out of a song, or a quote from a book… Well, fuck it. Just say something, Blake. Rorschach and his journal... eh."Blake's journal. October 13, 1985 - presumably. Just woke up as a fuckin' horse. Fuck me, fuck my life. Fuck everything."Well, it was a good thing he could still talk - he was expecting a neigh to come out of his throat… still, it was a bit - well, more than a bit - surprising.Ya know, shit. Maybe I speak some sort of horsey language that only horses can understand or something… Wait… there wasn't anyone around to hear that, was there? He stood up on all fours, took a cursory scan of the forest; once, his eyes swept around the darkness, twice now, thrice... and his eyes locked with the mask hiding inside the thick foliage, ghostly ink-blots shifting upon white cloth."Hurm. Was wondering when you'd find me," the mask growled. The voice was gravelly and monotone, saturated with indifference, and it seemed to the Comedian very familiar... familiar..."Rorschach?" he tentatively asked, a tinge of disbelief in his voice... "...Jesus... son of a... wait, how long you been here?""Woke up two hours, twenty-two minutes earlier," the mask replied, "your sleeping habits are your problem."The Comedian humphed. He looked around, raising his arms, "...the… hell are we? And why are you here? Where are the others…?""...We are... nowhere I know." Rorschach looked up at the sky; a vague frown revealed itself behind the inkblot mask."What?""...We're not on Earth anymore.""WHAT?!"Rorschach pointed at the sky. "Does that sun look normal to you?"The Comedian looked up. The sun, a giant yellow orb in the sky... well, that was it, really. That and the fact that the sun's around five times bigger than it's supposed ta be. "How the hell..." He turned back to Rorschach."The Doctor. Manhattan. Probably sent us somewhere where we couldn't interfere with Veidt's plan." Rorschach grumbled."What? Shit. What? Oh, God… so I'm not dead, and now the fuckin' god's just sent us to some other piece-of-shit planet..." Blake buried his face in his hooves, "Jesus Christ… Manhattan?" He looked back up at Rorschach, "But if that's the case, there ain't goddamn much we can do but play along with it…"Rorschach nodded."Oh, that goddamn blue-skinned sonuvabitch... But why are you here?""Very long story. Short one? Veidt was the man who killed you…""Yeah, I know.""and he wanted to destroy..." Rorschach said, a hint of indignance forcing through his voice."Know that too.""...right... He did it." The Comedian's face turned pale. Anger began welling up inside his chest."Jesus Christ. The sonuvabitch… And maybe for a second there I thought he wouldn't; that it was, just maybe… all a joke... I swear, if I ever got my hands around his throat right now..." suddenly, he lifted himself up from the ground, and, with a roar, he threw a hoof at a nearby tree; the wood collapsed under the force of the blow, and the tree began to fall. He and Rorschach watched as the tree toppled to the ground with a steady creaking, followed by a thud and the rustle of leaves. He stood before the tree, his chest rising and falling heavily."...Was going to tell truth to public. Manhattan stopped me. Too weak to kill me; sent me here instead. Us, presumably.""And the others?""Last I checked, Veidt, Night Owl, Silk Spectre, Manhattan were still on Earth.""Huh…""Found your gear in nearby chest."The masked figure trotted out of the bush and into the clearing. Upon seeing his full form, the Comedian almost exploded in laughter, but quickly stifled it out of respect. Rorschach, the psychopath, the merciless executor of "justice"... transformed into a horse too - dull-brown leather coat - clothed in his own skin, heh - and the fedora and all. Well, not exactly a horse - the muzzle was out of proportion, being much shorter than usual, and the legs were much stubbier than a regular horse's - like his - but close enough. To his pleasant surprise, in Rorschach's hand... hoof ... was the Comedian's black leather vest and ammo strap, adjusted for a horse's body, red-white-and-blue-American-star shoulderplates dangling off the vest, steel gleaming in the sunlight shining from above."...How... ya holdin' that… hooves…""Don't think about it too much or you'll drop it."Into the hooves of the bronze-coated horse flew his uniform. Agh. Caught it. And now... he had to figure out to put it on. Picking the heavy vest up, he clumsily swung it over his body, raised a foreleg, and managed to push it into the arm hole. He did the same with his other foreleg. Rorschach watched in what seemed to be absent disinterest, though the Comedian thought he had seen a tinge of amusement behind that ink-blotted mask."More," Rorschach grumbled, fumbling through the many pockets lining his jacket with his right hoof.The Comedian's fingers caught his trusty pistol's grip; the black leather gloves and the black domino mask which had once hidden his identity flopped into his hand, drawing up vague memories of when he was just a lil' kiddo - growin' up with New York, bashin' criminal skulls in for the hell of it. The good days. When there wasn't any of this Cold War, Doomsday, nuclear bomb shit ta deal with. Nowadays, though, instead of concealing his identity from the world, it really served the opposite purpose, completing his identity as the Comedian. He turned the long-barreled pistol over in his hoof, thoughtfully eyeing the smiley-face symbol and the ornate lettering Nixon 1970 engraved in the custom M1911's grip; he then slipped his hooves into the gloves and put the mask on his face with the tip of his hoof. He checked the pockets in his leather vest. Compactly shoved inside were a medkit, all the ammo he could ever want, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of whiskey... Oh, yes.He retrieved the bottle, removed the cap with his hoof (somehow), and took a swig. Liquid fire trickled down his throat, followed by a woody aftertaste, wiping away all the troubles of the human world, of Earth, of Veidt... He wiped his mouth on the bronze coat of his hoof, capped the bottle, and shoved it back in its pocket. All this Rorschach watched in disapproval, muttering something including the phrase "filthy drunk" under his breath - but now, Blake felt ready for whatever the universe - well, Jon - wanted to throw at them."Mm... Alright, Rors. Got any idea what to do now?""Main priority to get to Earth and deal with Veidt.""Y'know, as much as I'd like to get my hands around that guy's throat... can we even do that?"Rorschach shrugged. "Don't know how; don't know if even possible," Rorschach said in his monotone voice, pointing to a series of deep, almost urgent hoof-shaped indentations in the soft earth leading to the forest, within which a path of disturbed branches and foliage, barely discernible except to those with the keenest of senses, revealed itself to Blake. "But never compromise. Not even after death. We may not be alone. Might be far stretch of imagination... but someone might know way to get back to Earth."Blake looked at the tracks on the ground and nodded thoughtfully. Well, ya know... that's a pretty far stretch... man, I really oughta be dead by now... but I suppose it's a start. After all, there ain't much place ta go anyways. Since we're probably on a different planet... wonder if we could build a rocket ship or somethin' like that. Get back ta Earth. Rorschach nodded back and started down the trail, the Comedian clumsily vaulting over a gigantic root that strapped over the ground behind Rorschach."Oof!"He flopped over on his back on the other side. Ugh... this horse shit is going to take some time to get used to.Through the dark forest, the former humans - now horses - followed the trail, struggling through the razor-wire maze of dark branches, roots, vines, and leaves in their way. The Comedian swore under his breath as thorns nicked the skin beneath the bronze fur left unprotected by his vest - and it didn't help when the trench coat trailing behind Rorschach persistently caught on every single branch possible, and Blake would sometimes have to come back and awkwardly free the ink-blot masked vigilante from his occasional predicaments. On one such occasion, while Rorschach sat trapped there, he took his time to observe the environment around him, and coating the threatening thorns that jutted out from his trap, he found what seemed to be crimson blood that he was certain did not belong to Blake or him. To confirm his suspicions, he put his hoof out and wiped a piece of blood off with the tip, putting it to his nose and sniffing it. Hurm. Blood, deep prints, branches heavily disturbed - seem forced out of position... about same height as mine... points to similar creature, perhaps another horse... fleeing, possibly-"EYY! Ya movin' or what?""Hm? Hurm," Rorschach grunted, quickly starting off on his trot again, realising he was free from his trap.As the two followed their path through the forest, the path gradually became more and more defined, and both vigilantes found themselves, to their relief, having to vault and climb less and less. Eventually, the path became a clear dirt trail leading straight forward, completely unobstructed by branches and roots or anything of the like, and the sun began to shine straight down on to the path, for the suffocating canopy of the forest had, along with the obstructive branches and roots, faded away; somewhat interestingly, though, a trail of fresh blood - Rorschach noted, same blood as before - became visible on the path. A clearly-paved dirt path was... news to both of them; it indicated that there was some sort of civilization out there - only they had no idea what sort of civilization to expect, since Jon had (probably) sent them to a different planet. Blake slowed his trot to a more leisurely walk, now that he was sure there was some sort of civilization out there somewhere; Rorschach followed his lead, coming to the peak of a short slope alongside Blake.It was then the Comedian's eyes caught something lying on the road far ahead, but he couldn't tell what it was yet. Curiously, he increased his pace to get a better look... As he approached, he began to discern... some sort of yellow box topped by a red roof... a wheeled cart... which was actually being pulled along the road at an almost frustratingly sluggish pace, and behind it leaked a trail of red... the source of the blood... his interest in the object peaked, and Rorschach and he galloped ahead to examine it more closely. As the Comedian came to the right of the cart, he turned his head to see what was pulling it... and his jaw dropped....well, shit. I'm probably on drugs right now. Yep."...must... get to... Ponyville..."Pulling the cart - well - not really - was... another horse... sort of, about as out of proportion as Rorschach... but its coat wasgoddamn blue - apart from all the bruises, scratches, cuts, and bloodstains - and it has a goddamn horn on its head... shit... what's the name... unicorn... and as it barely trudged forwards with weary, pained eyes behind a silver mane, it muttered the same words over and over in some sort of multisyllabic chant, not even seeming to notice Blake or Rorschach... muttering? What the f...?"...keep yourself together, Trixie..."It'stalkingwhatthefuckthehorseistalkinghorsesdon't tal kbut we're horsesand we talkwhat the hell is "Ponyville"?... the horse is talking... agh... the hell happened to my thinkin'... Right. Let's analyzeour situation. The horse is goddamn speakin'… in English...*THUD*Was talking.With one last heave, the azure unicorn gave into its exhaustion... or sheer blood loss, maybe both, and it collapsed to the ground limply. From its cuts still leaked crimson liquid, which soaked into the dirt road, giving it the same red they had seen earlier."...Shit, Rorschach, did ya just see that? The horse... was talkin'..."Rorschach nodded."So I'm not just hallucinatin' or somethin', right?"Rorschach shook his head. "Though I'm starting to doubt the reality of what I see... it's not very likely for both of us to hallucinate the same thing.""Jesus Christ... the horse is real? How far'd it..."Blake looked back at the trail that they had just walked, spotting the dense foliage of the forest from what seemed to be miles away."...shit!""Miracle the horse even got as far as it did without dying from blood loss," Rorschach muttered, a tinge of wonder finding its way out of his usually monotone voice.The Comedian nodded. They both turned back and stared at the... probably… dying unicorn... lying on the ground. He was the first to suggest a course of action."...Should we just leave it here?""No. We're supposed to save people, Blake. Not leave them out for dead. You have medical experience; Vietnam War... Maybe it could give us information.""Hm... Ok, whatever. I need somethin' ta take my mind off all this bullshit."The Comedian crouched down over the blue unicorn and retrieved the medkit and the bottle of whiskey from his vest. He opened the box; inside was a variety of medical tools and equipment, neatly placed inside in an organized manner - ever since and during his time in the Vietnam War, he'd made sure to keep a kit as organized as possible so combat medicing could be done as quickly and efficiently as possible. With his black-gloved hoof, he selected a brown packet of US military-grade bandages - now, he could get to work.First, he went about bandaging the nasty-looking wounds, pouring a little bit of whiskey on it first to clean it, then wrapping an olive-green bandage around it. Next, he retrieved a rag from the kit, dampening it with the last of his whiskey (to his disappointment), and wiped at the unicorn's coat to clean it until it radiated a brilliant azure, with not a single bloodstain or speck of grime or dirt to mar its sheen. He stood up on all fours and looked down upon his work, satisfied."Hm. Done the best I can do; 'd be better if I could get it to a hospital, though."He looked back at the cart."Well, don't wanna carry it the whole way towards... Ponyville... I think, assuming it's got a hospital which it probably does... and assuming the magician wasn't completely batshit insane, or joking... Ponyville... that sounds so much like a goddamn child's joke..." he grumbled under his breath, tapping his chin with a hoof.The mask pointed towards the cart."Hm. Sure, yeah, guess that'll work." Blake took the unicorn's body, lifted it up with one hoof, and clumsily shoved it inside the cart through what appeared to be a window. From close up, it appeared to be just how it had appeared from a distance - a simple yellow box with a red roof, mounted on top of a platform with wooden-spoked wheels. The only thing that actually revealed itself to him, really, was a wooden sign that dangled from the roof, bearing, on one side, an emblem - he guessed - of a crescent moon and the form of a star mounted upon a short wand. Ugh. Possible Muslim... except it's a horse. And it was speaking English. On the other side, in ornate, silvery letters, was printed the text "The Great & Powerful Trixie Lulamoon: Traveling Magician". Heh. Well, not much Arabic there, but... a traveling entertainer, huh… but who the hell calls herself 'Trixie Lulamoon'?Suddenly, Blake found his eyes gazing upon a breastcollar. It took a moment for the situation come back to him."No, no, no no... I ain't gonna pull that cart...""No.""You pull it, Rorschach," he grumbled."No."Rorschach found himself being violently yanked over to the cart; as he stumbled back and forth, reeling from the sudden motion, a breastcollar fell over him."Pull it."The mask muttered a muffled string of insults under his breath as he began to push against the breastcollar, realising he could pull the cart forward quite easily. He didn't like this. But he didn't feel like fighting Blake and getting himself and Blake injured for that stupid reason. Wouldn't make sense.Their trek alongside each other down the dirt road was quiet, for the most part. The only sounds that interrupted the silence were the clip-clop of hooves down the dirt path, the rumbling of the rickety wagon, and the background forest static of leaves rustling and chirping birds off in the distance. It was quiet - that is - until the unicorn woke up.

Ever since that little "Magic Duel" (as she liked to term it) incident in Ponyville, Trixie had been leading a rough life. The entertainment business was already not going well for her - hay, it might as well have been nonexistent; news spread quickly of her first incident in Ponyville, where some of her... less intelligent... fans had brought an Ursa Minor for her to defeat after she'd claimed (as part of her show) to have defeated one before - except of course, she'd never even fought one before. So, of course, it almost resulted in the destruction of the tiny hamlet. Luckily, Twilight was there to save the village. Well, how the bucking haycould she have known there was an Ursa cave within easy access? Seriously, who builds a town right next to an Ursa cave?And then she thought she'd just move on to the next town… it was her passion, all she ever wanted to do her entire life, to hear the applause, the laughs, the hoofstomps of enchanted audiences - everything she dreamed about as a filly… But now… shunned, jeered at, booed... chased right out! Labeled a "fake" (what the hay do those foals even think stage magicians do) and a fraud and "the mare who brought an Ursa Minor to Ponyville" (it wasn't her fault her fans were dumb enough to do that)... and to think, even her own hometown, Hoofington - all her old friends - her parents - all the fillies and colts she'd grown up with - every single one of them, turning away, acting like they didn't even know her... it burned away at her heart like acid… and she was forced to live under a mask, using her magic to disguise herself as another pony whenever she wanted to get into a town. Bits ran low, and soon enough, she had been reduced to scouring the Everfree Forest floor or the dregs of Canterlot secretly at night for food - she had to develop a taste for fir needles, for Celestia's sake. She had to work on a rock farm!...And then there was the second incident. And buck, that was bad. As if she weren't "living on the edge" already.During her time down in the dumps, Trixie'd fostered a sort of blind hate for Twilight Sparkle and her companions; now, she wasn't even sure why she did it, but she actually wasted two bucking years on amassing a ridiculous amount of bits to buy the Alicorn Amulet so she could exact "revenge" on Ponyville. Because it made so much sense. So, she got her magical amulet, took over Ponyville in an act of massive ancient-curse-induced-stupidity (it basically meant she was committing treason against Celestia), and banished Twilight Sparkle, only to be defeated again by the unicorn with magic as her special talent… and threatening that she could take over all of Equestria... duh… stupid, stupid amulet.Anyways, now she was a full-fledged war criminal in the eyes of the Equestrian government, so the safest place she could be was, ironically, deep in the center of the Everfree Forest… which most ponies (and she, as well, at one point) considered the most dangerous place in all of Equestria. and just when she thought life couldn't get any worse, eating pine nuts and fir needles and constantly living in fear of being brutally murdered by a manticore or one of the Equestrian Guard or becoming one of the stone statues decorating the deep forest at the eyes of a hydra, she just had to run into that pack of timberwolves. Sharp claws, branched antlers, ghostly green eyes... and the odor. Oh, Celestia. The odor.After that, all she could recount was... running for her life, her new cart… that she had just rebuilt as a testament to what her life could've been... and the wolves following her. Hurtling and galloping over branches. One wrong move means death. No thinking, just running. Thorns sliced into her face and her hooves, a razor-wire maze of branches she pushed out of her way, and the wind stung her face, but she barely noticed - they were all numb sensations, seeming to be more like distant aches, the actual pain blocked by the adrenaline pumping through her body. Then nothing, apart from a vague memory of wanting to head to Ponyville, which happened to be the nearest town. Black.Until now.The brilliant azure unicorn tossed and turned in her sleep as she finished reliving her recent experiences and came into the waking world; the warm covers of her bed draped beneath her form did little to comfort her aching body, the pain aggravated by an uneven rumbling below. Aghhh... bad morning. Covers… bed… rumbling... what the hay?Her eyes shot open.The slanted, red-paint ceiling of her cart stretched over her....ugh. At least the timberwolves didn't kill Trixie. But... if Trixie's in her cart… She must have been put here, but by whom? The cart is moving… pulled… but that means a pony might have found Trixie… and Trixie's a wanted criminal… well, she shall ask.As she got up with a grunt and stood inside the cart, bleary eyes noticed the olive-green… bandages, probably, wrapped all around her arm and her legs, restricting some of her movement and numbing the pain that stung recalled the thorns and the branches.Better not take them off. On her left hung a partially-torn lavender cloak and a partially-crushed pointed hat from a wooden rack. As she trotted past them and to the window of her cart, stars printed on the cloak and hat twinkled bright out of the corner of her eye.Trixie peered out of the window; through it, she could barely see a moving brown form under the blinding sunlight, and upon closer inspection, said form seemed to be pulling the cart along with a bored gait... It was definitely a pony, but it was wearing quite an eccentric choice of clothes - a striped fedora and a trench coat made of a strange material, like in those old detective movies, and it gave off an odor similar to that of the dumpsters in lower Canterlot; from below the fedora, around the neck was a white material, though it seemed to be less like a natural pony coat than a cloth mask. Apart from this, she couldn't tell much.Carefully, she stuck her head further out of the window and shifted her gaze to what appeared to be another pony, trotting alongside the former one, except in a much easier manner.. It was much more revealed, with plenty of its actual, bronze coat and its scruffy, black mane showing, though most was still concealed by a thick, black vest and the painted metal shoulderpads strapped over it. It did not share the same odor as the former; instead, it carried a smell vaguely reminiscent of some of the... what was it again? alcoholic drinks that she discovered being brewed and sold in the Canterlot criminal underworld. She could confess to herself to drinking - but just a little bit - of course - the drinks prohibited by Princess Celestia's decree itself. On that subject, both of these ponies did seem... well, quite shady.Turning back to the masked pony, she cleared her throat."...Ahem... the Great and Powerful Trixie... wishes to know where she is being carried..." she tentatively asked, her voice quivering, partially from prior fear, partially from faultily-concealed pain, and partially due to the cart's movement.A muffled, gruff voice released an angry mumble under its breath. "...Wherever road leads; you mentioned… a 'Ponyville'... earlier. Presumably, a hospital," it replied. It didn't seem to like her very much; the pony didn't even turn to address her. He just kept on trotting forwards, with the cart's breastcollar around him.Well, that was a hay of a relief."Ey! Rorschach! The magician awake yet?" the other pony, with a noticeably deeper voice, shouted from off to the side. Above the pony's muzzle was slipped a black domino mask; next to his muzzle, a bloody scar which drove his mouth up into a permanent sneer tearing down his face. "I'd thought of a couple 'a questions I'd like ta ask it," he said, trotting up next to the cart. Trixie paled at this. Was it something to do with the Alicorn Amulet incident? ...What's 'goddamn', anyways?"...Second question unanswered until you can answer some of our own."Neither of them are unicorns... well, Trixie already knew an easy way out of this situation. But Trixie also knew that any piece of information she could obtain in conversation might serve her well later. Best to stick around; nothing much to lose, really, except her new cart, but that could be replaced."The Great and Powerful Trixie... will allow you to ask her... a couple... of questions.""'Kay. Firstly, what country is this?"What?"Uhm... Equestria."Both ponies looked at each other; a furrowed brow scrunched through the domino mask, but nothing could be said of the other, fedora-hatted pony, whose face was covered by an unrevealing white-cloth mask - what intrigued (and unnerved) her most were the mysterious, inkblot-like forms shifting upon it.Well, now these two looked really sketchy. But why don't they know what Equestria is? It's pretty much the most influential country on this planet, and the only one out of four to boot."Right… secondly... okay, just for the record, do ya know any… methods of interplanetary transportation, and do ya happen to have access to a rocket ship or some other vehicle which allows for space travel?"What in the actual hay?"Wha… no..?"The domino-masked pony gave off something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sigh. "Heh. Goddamn it. Veidt's gonna get away with killing millions of people since there ain't gon' be shit ta do with it out here-""Wait. Have associates who would know about interplanetary transportation...?" the white-cloth mask's gravelly voice interrupted."Um… Huh... Well, actually, The Great and Powerful Trixie does happen to know a unicorn, luckily for you." The white-cloth mask's ears raised in interest. "Twilight Sparkle. She lives in the Ponyville library…" (The domino-masked pony's eyes widened, his cheeks inflated, and he put a hoof to his mouth as he treaded along; out from behind it a muffled giggle found its way) "...where you seem to be headed," she said.The domino-masked pony exploded in a hoarse sort of laughter; his hoof dropped from his mouth.. "PEhehehe… THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE… TWILIGHT SPARKLE?! WHAT KIND OF PARENT COMES UP WITH THESE NAMES... Eheheh… Great, now I'm stuck in this fuckin' drug trip... or planet where all the horses can talk and have weird-ass names...""...Trixie doesn't get it... Twilight's and Trixie's are perfectly normal names.""Yeah, sure they are. Ohh, I needed that to get out of all that Veidt shit completely. Might be the best drugs I've ever been on. Or the best planet I've ever been to. Goddamn.""Heh. The Great and Powerful Trixie would like to hear your name." the azure unicorn growled weakly."Eheheh," the domino-masked pony wiped a tear off his muzzle, "It's Edward Blake, but most call me The Comedian.""Edward Blake? Now THAT'S a strange name," she said."Speak for yourself, Trixie Lulamoon," he jeered."What's wrong with The Great and Powerful Trixie's name?" she shot back, butting her head against the Comedian's from the window."Well, it's batshit silly, that's what. Don't take a genius to figure that out.""You know, for a 'Comedian', you're not very funny.""Alright, shut up," the fedora-hatted pony intervened, pushing the two of them apart."and... Trixie wishes to know what YOUR name is?""...Rorschach… Care to lead us to this... 'Twilight Sparkle', once we're in... 'Ponyville'?" Rorschach asked.Trixie humphed. "Now why would the Great and Powerful Trixie oblige your request?""None of your business.""Why?""Can see what would become of it already.""Well, if you want to get anywhere, you're just going to have to tell Trixie why."*CLANG*Rorschach stopped the cart and turned around, spotting the blue unicorn's head dangling limply out of the window frame with dizzy eyes, stars circling above its head, which was now bruised on one side. He looked at the Comedian accusingly. The Comedian shrugged."What? She was really getting on my nerves."Rorschach shook his head. The two continued onwards.

The two vigilantes-turned-ponies stood upon a ridge of dirt; behind them, a tall house/cart, an attached breastcollar latched around the fedora-hatted vigilante. Out of the cart's window, a blue unicorn's head lifted itself, and its eyes widened at the sight of something very familiar. The vigilantes were both quite awestruck as they surveyed the area - far in front of them sat a quaint little (at least by the vigilantes' standards) village, little thatch-roofed houses with plaster walls and wooden frames gathered together into a small cluster, trees dotting the area. A grain windmill/waterwheel sat off to the right side of the village, a creek passing below the waterwheel and traveling under a pink bridge which lay ahead on their path.But the inhabitants of this village weren't humans… they were ponies. Unusual ones. Even from this distance, the two vigilantes could watch ponies go about their business, ponies of all colors and kinds, everything from hot pink Earth ponies (as Trixie corrected) to aqua-green unicorns to bright yellow pegasi. (The Comedian began chuckling again.)Rorschach looked up, somewhat lethargic from pulling Trixie's cart for so long. Overlooking the village was a ring of mighty, guarding mountains, black mounds stretching high up into the now-bright yellow sky, the orange sun laying low near the horizon. On one of the mountains, the masked vigilante could faintly make out the image of… a castle, maybe? Hurm. Remember to investigate if chance gotten.The Comedian looked back; not so far away, in contrast to the tall mountains, they had traversed rolling hills, dotted with thousands upon thousands of apple trees, a red barn standing tall in the middle of the orchard. He turned back to the town that sat before them."So… this is… 'Ponyville'."