Millennium Novus

by FawkesThePhoney

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Alternate Universe
Length: 11702

Times change. The world of magic and whimsy has been replaced by one of oil and steel. Yet as an ancient evil stirs, the heroes of a forgotten time will be called forth once again for a final adventure.

Lately, Ambrosia Sterling has been having a hard time. Her jewelry business fund is growing at a snail's pace, her rent is up for collection, and she's been having vivid dreams and memories of a life that's not hers. In her visions, the glamorous unicorn running the clothing shop has it all: fame, friends, and fortune. But Amber would be content to live her quiet life in the city, at least until a tragedy forces her out and into the world.
Now she's meeting ponies and seeing things she could hardly imagine. Dark forces from a forgotten age are rising again. Having the mantle of a long dead hero thrust upon you is never easy, but even in a world of steel and oil, some friendships never die.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-13 05:24:49 UTC

1: Daydreams and Disaster

Millennium Novus

Act I: Chapter 1:

Daydreams and Disaster

“Miss Sterling! If you would kindly cease staring into space and present the day’s work to me, we could finish here at a reasonable hour, hmm?”

Amber jerked her mind out of her daydreams and turned to the glowering earth pony behind her. “Of course, Mrs. Glory. I was just finishing the embroidery on the piece you gave me.”

“Is that so, eh?” Mrs. Glory sniffed. “Let me take a look.”

Amber pushed her chair to the side, revealing an intricate bracelet inset with a dozen glimmering emeralds. Her boss pulled out an eyepiece and examined her work. “Hmm, hmm. Yes, not bad. You’ve certainly got an eye for this sort of thing, Ambrosia.”

“Thank, you, ma’am,” Amber said.

“I can see why Shelf recommended you. With this quality, you'll be going places.”

“Thank you very much, ma’am.”

The mare sniffed. “Watch yourself, now. Don’t get too cocky.”

“Of course not, ma’am.”

“Hmm. Good, then. You’re dismissed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am. Have a good day.” Amber grabbed her bag and made for the door.

“And cut it with the ‘ma’am’ talk. I feel old enough already!” But the off-white mare didn’t hear her, already out the door, the bell chiming behind her.

Amber trotted down the street, the blistery wind to her back and her eyes on home. Ponies of all description moved about her, an Equine tide that flowed through the city. She walked past an electronics store, the sound of the televisions following her down the street.

“And in other news, tensions are escalating in the South Amareican Republic. The rebels have gained ground in several cities, and Protectorate hopeful Lord Sanguine has increased his pressure to send aid to the embattled leaders.”

“Woo-we, it's at tad blustery today, Buzz, don’t you know?”

“I do indeed. Great day to stay inside with a nice book, if you ask me.”

“Well, safe travels to all who are returning from the holidays! Hope you folks had a great time!”

Amber walked to the subway station, taking the stairs two at a time. Sliding her pass into the gate, she jumped on the subway right before it left. She took a seat by the side, settling down for a bit of a ride.

Five months. It had been five months since they had moved to the city, five months since Amber had sold all of her belongings and rented an apartment on the south side. And five months since she had seen her home. Sky above, it had been hard, but she was finally making something of herself. The vibrations of the train drifted into her thoughts, and a soft fog fell over her vision…

She was walking down a sunlit forest path, a demure Pegasus walking behind. Her mane was styled in an elaborate curl and kept obscuring her vision.

“Are sure about this, Rarity?” the pegasus asked, he voice soft as a summer breeze.

“Of course, my dear Fluttershy,” she heard herself say, tossing her curl with a flick of her head. “These tapestries are a thousand years old, and I’m sure they’re bursting with fabric weaves and ideas that would breathe new life into my work.”

“Well, okay then…” the pegasus, Fluttershy said, although her face was far from sure. “If you sure…”

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

Ambrosia opened her eyes with a start. “Wha--? What’s going…” Her eyes found a stallion in front of her. “Can I help you?”

The stallion raised his eyebrows. “You were talking in your sleep.”

Amber felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Oh, I’m—I’m sorry. I must’ve dosed off.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

He gave a grunt and sat down. She caught him eyeing her warily and sighed.  At least he seemed to care. She’d been less lucky in the past. She rubbed her forehead. Confusing dream? Check. Strange sense of deja vu? Check. Public embarrasment? She looked around the subway car. The other passengers were looking everywhere but her. Check. Well, at least she only had one more stop to go. She placed a hoof over the bag to her side, feeling the reassuring weight of her belongings inside. No thieves, at least.

The subway car ground to a halt. “Now entering, Carousel Way. Doors open to the right. Have a nice day.”

Amber walked down the sunlight street. Around her, the buildings rose tall, sunshades and awnings lending a splash of color to an otherwise grey landscape. She greeted the ponies she knew with a smile and a wave. She stopped for a moment to eye a few rosy apples.

“How much?”

“That’ll be a cap, ma’am.”

“I’ll take it,” she said, flipping a coin into the vendor’s can. She took a bite and turned around…

“Yeah, Bon, sorry but I—oof!”

…and crashed into a mint green unicorn talking on the phone. Amber fell back, breath knocked out of her. The apple she had just bought fell down to the gutter. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she said.

The mint unicorn gave a huff of annoyance. “Watch where you’re going—“ she looked up and spotted Amber. Her eyes got wide. “I—I mean, uh… I gotta go.” She got to her feet and cantered off. “Bon! You’ll never—hold on, I’ll be right over!”

What was that about? Amber thought to herself. She continued on her way, trying to ignore the growing feeling of foreboding washing over her. For a fleeting moment, she thought she had seen recognition in the unicorn’s eyes.

A few minutes later, she arrived at her apartment complex. “Aria!” She called, unlocking the door. “I’m home!” There was a muffled crash from the kitchen, and a moment later an off-white filly with a pink and purple mane rushed into the landing and tackled Amber in a hug.

“Okay, okay, Aria, I missed you too!” she said, pulling the filly off her.

“Amber, Amber! Guess what I did in school today!” Aria said, her squeaky voice rising to an almost inaudible pitch in her excitement. “We were doing addition and Ms. Joyce asked me if I could add these two numbers on the board, but I didn’t know what they were so I was like ‘uh, I need to go to the bathroom,’ and she was like, ‘nice try, Aria, you did that last time,’ so I had to add the numbers and I got really scared and—“

Amber placed a gentle hoof in Aria’s mouth. “My, that sounds like a… wonderful story, Aria, but your sister’s a touch peckish at the moment. How about I change and we go get some birthday food, and we talk about it then?”

“Sure thing, Amber,” Aria said, bouncing down the hall again. Amber heard her singing to herself. She chuckled and walked down the hall and into her own room. With a satisfied groan, Amber scooted her saddlebags off her back and walked into the bathroom. She regarded her reflection with a critical eye.

Amber was a young mare, not quite twenty-four, with a trimmed physique and an angled, striking face. Her horn, freshly filed and polished, gave off a slight gleam. She was of a similar color to her sister, and she wore her purple mane in an efficient ponytail that hung over her left shoulder. She frowned, pulling out the ponytail and letting her hair fall about her face. She took some in her hooves, trying to bunch it so it took the shape of the curl she had worn in her dream. Not bad… but I could never pull it off. She let her hair drop and replaced the ponytail.

“Someday, Amber, the world will know this face,” she said. Her reflection wasn’t so sure. She sighed and left the bathroom. “Aria, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah!” Aria said, running out of her room. Amber noted that her horn was getting a bit long; she was due at the barber’s any day now anyway, so she could get it filed then.

“Get your coat, dear, it’s still a bit nippy out,” she said. Aria groaned, but left and returned a moment later with her brown jacket on. Together, the sisters left the house.

“So, where are we going?” Aria said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Amber said, pretending to think, “I was just thinking somewhere like, oh, I don’t know… the Gristmill?”

Aria gasped. “Really? You’re the best sister ever!” She jumped on Amber’s back, making the older mare grunt.

“Yes, well, anything for such a wonderful sister,” Amber choked out. “Aria dear, if you would be so kind…”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Aria said, releasing Amber. The pair walked out the door, Amber casting a last look over the rather meager furnishings.

“Someday…” she whispered, closing the door and locking it.

Since they had moved to Hub City, the Gristmill was one of the few places they had found that still cooked food like home. It wasn’t cheap, but Amber had been saving her money and wanted to make Aria’s birthday something special.

They reached a small building, tucked between two much bigger restaurants. The old-timey sign above the door spelled out in cursive: The Gristmill. Aria jumped ahead, and Amber followed, pushing the door open.

The interior was dimly lit. Booths lined the walls, Normare Rockwell prints decked above them, and classic Equine tunes played over the speakers. The diner was empty except for a trio of stallions sitting in the corner. Amber bought two buffets from the attendant and followed Aria to the serving line. She piled up on hay fries, tofu slabs, and corn. They sat down.

“So,” Amber said, maneuvering her hay fries into a scoop and taking a dainty bite, “how was your day at school?”

“It wuf gweat!” Aria said, her mouth full of food. Amber tried to hide a frown as her sister dug into the plate with all the grace of a starving pony. “Miff Joyfe had evfyone gather ‘round and fing me happy burfday and den we had cake!”

“That’s great, dear,” Amber said. “But… why don’t you swallow before you continue? It’s… difficult to understand you with your mouth full.”

Aria swallowed her food. “Sorry. But anyway, after that we had history! Miss Rosebud was talking to us about the Mark, and I was like ‘I don’t know what that is’, and she was like, ‘well no one does, that’s the point’, and then Cutter was all ‘well that’s dumb why are we learning about it then’, and Miss Rosebud was all—“

Amber continued to eat her food, tuning out her sister. While she did not much approve of the diner’s aesthetic, the food was marvelous and Aria simply adored it. Plus, she had to admit, the attendant wasn’t so bad to look at, either. She sighed, throwing off the last mental bags of the work day. Forget her pet projects, forget the jewelers; this was what it was all about. Just sitting here, relaxing with her sister, ignoring the weight of the world for a few precious hours. If she could only sit here forever…

She shook her head. You’re doing it again, Amber. She couldn’t slack off, not now. Her parents were counting on her, Aria was counting on her. The jewelry industry wasn’t going to revolutionize itself.

She looked at her sister, jabbering away about the trials of the day. Aria’s resilience was impressive. She might have been yanked out of her old school and life, her sister might have to work long hours, but Aria kept up a cheerful face all the same. It was for Amber’s benefit, and she was grateful for it.

Amber raised a hoof, cutting her sister off. “That’s great, dear, but let me get some more food. I’ll be right back.” Aria nodded, and Amber stood and walked back to the buffet table. She grabbed another spoonful of mashed potatoes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the three stallions stand.

And that was when everything went wrong.

“No, what are you doing? Get off?”

Amber whirled around. The three stallions had surrounded Aria and were pulling her from the booth. She dropped the plate with a clatter. “Aria! Get your hands off her!”

She reached to the table and raised a hoof. One of the ponies cocked his back leg and drove it into her stomach. Amber felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. She fell back, the stallions pulling Aria out of the booth.

“Amber!” Aria shouted, struggling in the grip of the larger stallion. “Amber! Amber!” Amber pushed herself to her feet.

“Stop them!” she shouted to the attendant. He tried to move in front of them, but the leader shoved him to the side. The three stallions burst out of the door.

“Aria!” Amber shouted, running outside. “They’ve got my sister! Somebody stop them!”

But the ponies on the street did nothing, watching with wide eyes as the three stallions muscled Aria towards a waiting van.

I’ve got to do something I’ve got to do something I’ve got to they’re getting away! Amber pushed herself harder, barreling into the stallion in the back. She punched him in the face and dove at the one carrying Aria. Then two strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. Her attacker flipped her over, slamming her back into the ground. Amber saw stars. She tried to get up again, but the stallion brought his hooves straight into the side of her face.

Darkness swept down to meet her. Dimly, she was aware of someone crying her name. She had to get up… she had to save... the van was leaving….

She embraced the veil of black. What did it matter? Her Aria was gone forever.

2: Morning Ponies

Millennium Novus

Part I, Chapter 2:

Morning Ponies

At precisely 6:23 (Hub City standard time) the coffee machine in the kitchen flicked on, warming the water to pass through the pre-set grounds.  At 6:27, just as the first wisps of coffee aroma seeped under the door into the bedroom, the radio flicked on, filling the room with the soothing tones of National Pony Radio. 180 seconds later, the rebroadcasted interview with Gilded Pleat on the upcoming Protectorate election penetrated the fog of sleep around the unicorn’s mind, and she drifted back into consciousness. She stayed there for sixty seconds, savoring the last wisps of her dream. When the count had finished she felt awake enough to sit up.

Sliding her back hooves off the side of the bed, she placed them in the waiting slippers. A moment later her front hooves followed. She moved into the bathroom, her pace unsteady. She turned on the shower, slid off her slippers, then stepped into the water. Her water heater gave her eleven minutes thirty-three seconds (give or take five or so) of hot water, and she savored every moment, rubbing shampoo into her mane and across her coat. Just as the water was beginning to cool, she shut the faucet and stepped out, toweling herself off.

Her clothes were waiting for her right where she had set them last night, and she put them on now: brown turtleneck sweater and a sky blue scarf. She took her brush and forced her lavender mane into a semblance of order, then left the bathroom. At this time it was 6:45.

Her coffee was ready, so she filled her thermos and dropped two ice cubes within. This would set it to the perfect temperature in fifteen minutes time. She sat at her table and filled her bowl with cereal. Next to it she placed a ripe grapefruit and a cup of yogurt. She ate her breakfast in silence, listening to the radio. “Mr. Pleat, would you say that your opponent does not properly grasp the unfolding tensions in the CMZ?” “Certainly, Ace. The situation is extremely delicate. We have several unstable warlords. Sending in more troops would simply exacerbate the problem. Furthermore…” When she had finished, she grabbed her lunch from the fridge, flicked the lights and the radio off, and walked outside. She locked her door at exactly 7:00.

The morning routine was complete.

Evenstar Sigma trotted down the street, savoring the calm. Most ponies were still asleep, the night’s fog had not yet lifted from the air. Soon the street would be full of the sounds of families getting ready for work, and the air would be filled with the smells of pancakes, eggs, and soy bacon. But for the moment, it was quiet, and she was alone.

Or almost alone. As she rounded the corner, the unicorn caught sight of a familiar red pony waiting at the bus stop. She grinned, increasing her pace. The pony looked up, a haughty grin on her face.

“Well, if it isn’t the morning pony herself,” the red pony said.

“How’s it going, Vesper?”

“You say that every morning, Even,” Vesper said with a snort, “and every morning I say the same thing.”

“Well, not today,” Even pointed out.

“True,” the other pony said. “Instead, I made note of our growing rut and dug us out of it.”

Even tutted. “But you’ve messed it up now, you see?”

Vesper gave her a sour look. “How so?”

“Well, without our usual exchange of words we’re bound to run out of topics and lapse into awkward silence approximately thirty seconds before the bus arrives. We can get back on course when you complain about the other bus goers, but that doesn’t change the fact that things are going to get awkward very soon.”

Vesper laughed. “Is it bad that I’ve known you so long that I can’t tell if you’re joking?”

Even’s only answer was a look. Vesper laughed again, but the laugh rang slightly too loud in her ears and she stopped. The silence was suddenly deafening. She looked back to Even and saw a smug look on her face. “You know, sometimes I have to wonder about you,” Vesper said.

Even shrugged. “I like stability,” she said. “It makes sense.”

“You know what I think?” Vesper said, adopting a mock serious tone. “I think it’s gone to your head. What was that you showed me the other day? A checklist for all your checklists? ‘Oh, but Vesper! How else can I be sure that my pre-dinner post-TV checklist is complete? Or my thirty-minutes-before-bed checklist?’” She clasped her hooves to her face. “The horror!”

“I—“ Even said, but Vesper cut her off.

“And the best part,” she said laughing openly now, “the best part is that when I suggested, sarcastically, that you make a third layer of lists to make sure that your checklist checklist was completed, you took me seriously. You, my friend,” she jabbed a hoof at Even, “need a priority check.”

Even chuckled. “Point taken,” she said.

“So how’re you feeling about the first day of classes?”

“Prepared,” Even said. “The new morning routine worked perfectly, and I’ve got the syllabus and work all planned out. I can’t wait!”

Vesper chuckled. “If only your students could be so enthusiastic.”

“Oh, I think they will be,” Even said. “The Pre-Mark civilization is one of the most interesting fields around right now. We are literally making history.”

“Just so long as they don’t ask you to teach them magic.”

Even snorted. “At the Celestial? When Pegasi fly. They’re better than that.”

They fell quiet just as the bus rounded the corner. Vesper checked her watch. “There, you see?” he said. “Only six seconds of silence. Better recheck your checklist.”

Even laughed as she followed her friend onto the bus.

***

The Celestial University was a monument to knowledge. From across the world, ponies traveled here to gain the best education that bits could buy. It was the oldest institution on the continent, and among its staff counted three Sanguine laureates, four prestigious authors, an oil magnate, and most recently, two Scholars Royale.

It was these two mares that stepped off the bus and into the bustling campus. After extracting a promise of lunch that afternoon and an affectionate punch on the shoulder, Vesper bid her friend farewell, and Even went to face her first class. Sipping her coffee, she put her books down in her office and walked through the side door into her lecture hall.

“Good morning class,” she said. “Welcome to Archaeology 503: Pre-Mark Civilization. I’m Professor Sigma. If you’re in the right place, great! Prepare for some of the most interesting stuff history has to offer. If you’re not in the right place, well…” she looked over the class, a bright smile on her face, “I hope I can convince you to stay anyway!”

There were a few chuckles. She sized them up. One advantage of teaching this far up the curriculum was that few, if any students, didn’t want to take her class. The thirty or so ponies looked back at her, general interest on their faces. She fought the urge to clap her hooves together. This is going to be great!

“Now,” she said, using her hoof-aid to pick up a piece of chalk, “who can tell me what the Mark is?” There was a scattering hands; she picked one at random. “Yes, Mr…”

“Throw Torch, ma’am,” the earth pony said. “The Mark is an event of unknown origin and description that was responsible for the end of the Pre-Historical civilizations.”

Even nodded. “Very good,” she said, writing it on the board. “Straight from the textbook, I imagine, was it? Well, good job nonetheless. The Mark, whatever it was, happened about eight thousand years ago, and ended the Pre-Historical era. And from what little we can glean from that time, the end was rather abrupt. The first proposed theory for the Mark dates to one hundred thirty-six years ago, when Professor Regal Sanguine published his book: ‘The Wrath of Gods’, in which he proposed that the similarities between writing, tools, and agricultural techniques in the different Pre-Classical civilizations was due to the existence and collapse of another, far greater civilization beforehoof. Who can tell me how his theory was received?”

The pony she called upon replied, “He was laughed out of the room, wasn’t he?”

“Correct!” Even said as she wrote this point down. “The other historians of the era thought the idea ludicrous, and Sanguine lost his position and his credibility. For over a hundred years, the Sanguine name was associated with the most foolish of scientific ideals, until—“ she paused, chalk at the ready, for the response.

The pony she was looking at gave a little start, “uh… they found evidence of it?”

“Bingo!” Even said, nearly shouting. “Archaeologists began to uncover artifacts dating from before the early farmers at the Fertile Saddle. Pottery, machinery, tools of a level of advancement that would not be seen again for thousands of years. The find was so astonishing, in fact, that the first finds were decried as hoaxes. But then they kept coming, and…” she gave a shrug. “Here we are. Any questions before we continue?”

She called upon a pegasus sitting in the back row. “Is it true that the technological advancement of the Pre-Mark civilization is nearly on par with our own?”

“Well,” Even said, “I wouldn’t put it that far, but some of their technology is on the level we have reached within the last three hundred years or so.”

The pegasus nodded, as if she had expected that answer. “And is it also true that some of their technology and architecture is impossible to work without something… more?”

Even’s smile faded. “What are you suggesting?” she asked, her voice suddenly cool.

The pegasus shrugged. “Several prominent ponies have put forth the idea that the Pre-Marks possessed a power that we’ve since lost. Something akin to… to…”

“Magic,” Even said, her voice dry as a bone. The pegasus nodded. “Alright, look,” Even said, clapping a hoof down on her desk loud enough to make several students jump. “In spite of what some ponies would tell you, the field of Pre-Mark studies has nothing to do with aliens, magic, demons, or any other supernatural entities. If you came to this class hoping to learn some spells, or other such nonsense, well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“But the archaeological record—“ the pegasus began.

“—Is incomplete,” Even finished. “Even now, we know very little about the Pre-Marks or who they were. The language remains un-deciphered, and very little architecture has been uncovered. Those gaps you are referring to do not point to anything supernatural; we simply don’t know enough yet. There is nothing, I repeat nothing¸ that indicates the Pre-Mark civilization possessed any power more that we modern ponies lack, and I will not have this classroom filled with nonsense and pseudoscience. Is that clear?” The class nodded, some students looking more put out than others. “Now,” Even said, “before we really get into the meat of things, let’s go over the syllabus. The first three weeks will be devoted to social structure, government, and the possible hints of a caste system…”

“Rough morning?” Vesper asked as her friend trudged into the staff room.

Even gave a snort and plopped down into the chair next to her. She pulled out a daffodil sandwich from her lunch. “Let’s just say that my students are a bit… superstitious.”

“Oh, great Wise One,” Vesper said, waving her hooves above her head, “teach me the ways of the Ancients! I want to learn to levitate, teleport, and maybe even grow into an Alicorn! Ponies across the world will venerate me as a ruler because of my power and wisdom!”

Even shoved her friend. “And your students wanting you to teach them the best strategies for the Playstable 3 is any better?”

“Hey, at least I can sort of see their logic. I mean, what are they supposed to expect?”

“The study of mathematical models of conflict and cooperation between intelligent rational decision-makers.”

“Lord, you make it sound like such a snooze.”

“Now now, Vesper,” Even said, a hoof raised, “one shouldn’t shy away from advanced vocabulary to better express oneself. Higher lexicon means higher learning.”

Vesper snorted and took a bite of her sandwich.

“Honestly, though,” Even said, “There’s just something about the damn Pre-Marks that really brings the quacks out of the woodwork. You know I even had a kid ask me about the Endless Monarchs again?”

“No.”

“Yes! Just because a few gods appear in murals in different sites does not make them real! I mean, what? Junk like this would be laughed out of the room in any other archaeological field, but no, just because it’s a ‘lost civilization’ full of ‘ancient secrets’, ponies think that there’s magic and gods?” She waved her hooves around her head.  “What?”

Vesper let her grin drop. “How many do you think will drop out?” she asked.

Even looked at her. “Once they finally realize that I’m not going to teach them witchcraft? About half, I’d say.”

“There, you see?” Vesper said. “Not all of them.”

A grunt was the only response. The pair ate for a time in silence. Although she wasn’t quite ready to admit it, Even was grateful for the size of the class. Superstition still swamped the field, but each year the voices of reason became stronger and the conspiracy theorists sounded crazier. She was confident that, within the decade, the study of the Pre-Marks would be dominated with rational, sensible, science.

“So how’s your application for the dig going?” Vesper asked.

“Pretty good. I’ve finished the draft and my research is in place. I really just need to check my work.”

“So you’re just about to start, then.”

“Oh, can it. This is the dig of a lifetime; I can’t be too careful.”

“Oh, come on, Even! You’re a shoe-in! Youngest full-time professor (present company excluded), and one of only two Scholars Royale? There’s no way you’re not going to get it.”

“None of that will matter if my proposal’s sloppy,” Even said, finishing her sandwich and taking a bite out of her apple.

“Even, you gave me your last draft and I can tell you that it’s not sloppy. It’s great. You are, once again, worrying over nothing. You know what I think? I think you need a night out.”

“Oh, no…”

“Oh, yes,” Vesper grinned. “A couple of friends of mine are grabbing a few drinks this Friday, as a sort of end-of-the-first-week thing. You should come too.”

“I don’t know…”

“Even,” Vesper looked at her friend, staring until the purple unicorn met her eyes, “you need to get out more. See the city lights. Meet new ponies.”

“You’ve tried this before,” Even growled, “and it hasn’t worked.”

“Well, you’re not allowed to bring a book this time.”

“Hmm.”

“Please? I doubt you’ll have much time for partying in the CMZ.” Vesper asked, giving her best look. Even scrunched up her face, but the battle was won and she knew it.

She sighed. “Fine, but!” she said as Vesper let out a whoop, “If I don’t like it, I’m going to leave, got it? And no—and I mean no—attempted hookups, understand?”

“You got it,” Vesper said, “just leaves more for me anyway.”

“This is going to be terrible,” Even muttered.

“This is going to be great,” Vesper said.

The day passed faster after that. Even taught a final class, bid Vesper farewell, and took the bus to the salon. It was Monday, and that meant errand day. She got a manecut and a horn filing at the salon, then walked to the grocery store. She gathered her groceries, ticking each checkbox on her list (and the double checkboxes next to them) and paid for her goods. Finally, she picked up her laundry from the Laundromat, and rode the bus home.

At this time it was 6:04. Ignoring the faint twitch of annoyance at arriving at such an irregular number, she reset her pre-dinner checklist to compensate for the four minutes of lost time and went about her business. Dinner consisted of a light meal of sautéed hay, barley stalks, and an apple for dessert. She made her lunch for the next day and set tomorrow’s clothes out.

When she had checked the last box on her post dinner list, a change came over Even. If an onlooker were to spy her at that moment, he might have been reminded of a child doing something they know is wrong: she was full of nervous energy and excitement. Casting a furtive glance around her study, she opened the last drawer of her desk and pulled out a small notebook.

It was old and dirty, torn from years of use. The cover was made out of cardboard. When she was younger, Even had drawn a symbol on the front, a six-pointed star with five smaller stars around it. She wasn’t really sure what it meant, but she liked it all the same. She opened the notebook to the first blank page, noting that there were not many left. Then she produced a pen and began to write.

Monday, September 3, 3024

Last night was the same dream I’ve been having every other night for the past few weeks. At least, I think it is. I get different pieces each night. This time, it began in some sort of dirigible. I was flying somewhere, and when I finally landed, I met the strangest assortment of ponies…

3: Questions

Millennium Novus

Part I: Chapter 3

Questions

“Have you found anything, Officer?”

The brown earth pony looked over his notes with an expression Amber had seen too many times before. It was the look of someone who didn’t have anything good to say, but couldn’t remain silent. The pony took a breath.

“I’m… afraid not, ma’am. There’s very little. We’ve had our best officers on it, though, I assure you.”

“Well, what about the car? The ponies?”

“We’ve checked them both. Several passersby managed to get pictures of the plates, but they led us nowhere. Likewise, none of our contacts report knowing anything about the ponies you mentioned. They’ve simply dropped off the map.”

Amber fixed him with a glare. “That’s not good enough,” she said.

“I know, ma’am, but we’re doing the best we can.”

“The best you can? What is this, kindergarten? That’s my sister you’re talking about! I don’t want to hear that you’ve done your best, I want her back!”

“We’ve got several of our best officers on the case—“

“Yeah? Your best? They drove her away down a street full of ponies in broad daylight! If this is your best, I shudder to think what your worst is. Why, no wonder this town’s so full of crooks and thieves—“

“Miss Sterling!” The officer said, standing up and looking the distraught mare in the face. “I understand how trying this time is for you, but understand that we are doing everything we can to get your sister back. I’m sorry, but I will not stand here and have my station criticized when we are stretched thin as it is. As soon as we have something better for you, we’ll let you know. I promise.”

Amber looked at the stallion, noticing for the first time the bags under his eyes and the unhealthy coloration of his coat. She sat down. “I… I apologize, Officer Stout. You’re trying to help me, and all I can do is shout at you. It’s just, it’s been three days now, and I… I just…” she drew in a shuddering breath. “All I can do is sit and wait.”

Officer Stout’s eyes softened. “I know, ma’am. It must be terrible.” He reached a hoof out, placing it on Amber’s arm. “But we will find her. I've put Detective Vigil on the case. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Thank you, sir,” Amber said. She stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take care of a few errands. You have my number?” The officer nodded. “Good. Then I’ll be seeing you, Officer Stout.”

“Ma’am.”

Amber left the office and walked out of the police station. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, and ponies walked about, enjoying the late afternoon and going about their business with pleasure.

She hated it.

Amber walked to the bus station and checked the times. She’d just missed the last bus, and the next wasn’t due to arrive for almost twenty minutes. Grumbling at the appalling state of public transportation in Hub City, she set off on foot instead. Behind her, unnoticed in the shadows, a form detached itself from the wall and followed.

Amber had never felt so alone. When her parents had passed away, she had had Aria, and when the two of them had moved to the big city, they had never been closer. It had been the two sisters against the world, but now Aria was gone, and Amber did not know what to do.

The walk took longer than she had expected, and by the time she reached her neighborhood, the sun had set. The neon lights and flashing signs grated on her, and suddenly a different destination came to her mind. She walked right past her apartment and entered a small bar tucked between two bigger buildings.

The barkeep greeted her with a knowing look. “Evening, Miss Amber. Usual?”

“I think something a tad stronger tonight, Tap. Can I get a straight Smarenoff martini?”

Tap blinked. “Certainly.” He mixed the drink and poured it into her glass.

Amber took a large gulp without so much as a shudder. She nodded at Tap and he moved off. She looked at the assortment of liquors and beers arrayed behind the counter. So much variety. So much choice. And yet all of them would get a to a pony exactly the same way. The stool next to her turned, and a young stallion seated himself. Tap came sidling up.

“I’ll have a beer,” the stallion said, casting a furtive look at the mare seated next to him.

“Domestic or imported?”

“Uh… domestic.”

Tap brought his beer. The stallion took a sip and tried not to grimace.

Great. Amber finished off her martini and signaled Tap for a second. Most any other day she would have enjoyed the attention, but today she just wanted to be alone. He was young, a colt, really. She thought for a moment, hiding a grin as an idea came to her. The colt took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat.

Amber wipped her head around just as the colt began to speak. “Can I help you?” She asked, voice sweet as silk.

He looked surprised for a moment, but then he cleared his throat again and spoke. “Y-yes. Um, how’s it going?”

“Oh, you know,” Amber said, waving a hoof airily. “Just another long day at work pretending like I’m not dealing with a massive family tragedy, then a light walk to the police station where I find that they’ve made absolutely no progress finding my sister, and now I’m trying to take a bit of the burden off and have some time to myself, except a bumbling idiot who doesn’t even know the difference between domestic and imported beer is hitting on me with all the elegance of an elephant tap-dancing in a china cabinet.” She gave him her sweetest face. “You?”

“Ab, I… well…” the colt’s face was beet red. Tap, swabbing the counter on the far side of the bar, chuckled.

“You’re in for it now, kid,” he said.

“I… do you… want to-to… uh…”

“I think the lady’s had enough, don’t you?” a new voice said. Amber and the colt both turned to look.

A unicorn stallion stood there, eying the would-be pickup artist with distaste. He was dressed in a dark brown suit, trench coat, and fedora. He loomed over the stammering colt, eyes cold. “Get,” he said.

The colt scrambled out of the seat as fast as he could. The stallion took his place, giving the abandoned beer a look of disgust.

“You’re paying for that, you know,” Tap said. “Scaring away my customers like that.”

The unicorn rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Get me what the lady’s having.” Tap nodded and moved off. “Now,” he said, turning to Amber, “I have something to tell you—“

“And where do you get off of?” Amber asked, “treating him like that.”

The unicorn blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Poor boy was just trying to talk to a lady, and you scare him away. So uncouth.”

A loud guffaw was heard from the direction of the barkeep. The unicorn took in a breath. “In case you didn’t notice, you’d done a number on him yourself. Now—“

“And that outfit is hideous.”

“Excuse me?” the unicorn said, staring at Amber.

“Quite. Look at that. Brown suit, trench coat? Real stylish if you’re, I don’t know, living eighty years ago. And a fedora? What is this, The Maltese Falcon? Simply horrid.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, you’re… kind of a jerk!”

Amber gasped. “Such wit! I’m practically falling into your arms. Do dazzle me again!”

With visible effort, the stallion reigned himself in. “If you’ll give me a chance to explain myself, Miss Sterling, maybe you’ll find that I’m not here for what you think.”

Amber narrowed her eyes, the faint air of humor in the room vanishing. “How did you know my name?”

“That’s not all I know,” the stallion said. From within his coat he produced a number of pictures and placed them on the counter. In spite of herself, Amber examined them. Although a few featured herself, almost all of them were of Aria. Aria singing, Aria playing a school, Aria walking with her friends…

“What is this?” She asked, voice sharp.

“These pictures were taken by the kidnappers in the weeks before they acted.”

Amber kept looking. She saw a picture of Aria sleeping in her bed. “They knew where she lived…” she murmured.

“Yes,” he said. “And that’s not all. All the evidence points to a kidnapping months in the making. The car was purchased for just the occasion, and the perpetrators covered their tracks with professional ease. These are big ponies.”

Amber looked up at the stallion and saw the fire in his eyes. “Who are you?”

“My name isn’t important,” the stallion said. “I am merely a concerned citizen. And I ask you: will you accept my help?”

“Your help?”

“In finding the kidnappers.” The stallion removed his fedora, and Amber noticed his mane for the first time: vibrant blue, with a softer streak running through the middle. There was something almost… familiar about him.

“I…” she said.

“Hey, I know you!” Tap said, bringing back the stallion’s drink. “You’re the crazy heir to the Shield house!”

Amber could pinpoint the exact moment the mood snapped. “What?” she asked.

“Oh, shoot,” the stallion muttered, a long suffering expression on his face.

“Yeah!” Tap said, scratching his chin with a hoof. “You had that conspiracy theory thing. You’re Honorable Shield, or something like that.”

“Noble Shield,” the stallion said, his voice tired. “And it’s not a theory. I have actual, verifiable evidence that Lord Sanguine is a crook. But that’s another matter.”

He turned back to Amber, only to find a hoof whistling towards his face. Smack!

“What the hay was that for?” he shouted, falling back on the seat and rubbing his cheek.

“That’s for getting my hopes up!” Amber shouted. “Here I thought you might be able to help me, and it turns out you’re just some sort of quack! Ugh!” She swiped at him again, but he yelped and ducked.

“Miss Sterling, I assure you, I might have a bit of a controversial past, but my results are anything but!” Noble shouted. “These pictures are real, and I have much more evidence in my office. Please, just hear me out.”

Amber looked at him, and he gave her his best dazzling smile. She rolled her eyes. “You probably think you’re a right private eye, don’t you? At least it explains the fedora. Honestly. But…” She thought about it. She could remember the debacle, now that Tap had jogged her memory. Noble Shield showed up in the tabloids that the her employer stocked from time to time, spouting crazy theories about the aliens, corruption, and the Pre-Marks. He was probably more than half crazy. But he had managed to get a hold of information that she had never seen before, and he seemed honest enough. “Why are you doing this? I can’t pay you anything.”

Noble looked at her. “I have a duty to give back to this city,” he said.

Sounds very noble, she thought, but I’ll be damned if anyone in this city acts solely out of the kindness of their own heart. I can’t really afford to take chances, though. “Alright, Mr. Shield,” she said, “I’m prepared to give you a chance.”

“Yes!” the stallion said, pumping his hoof. “I mean… here’s my card.” He pulled a business card out of his jacket and gave it to her.

Noble Shield

Private Eye

1001 Crystalline Corner,

Hub City, DE, 43045

“Come to that address tomorrow at 10 am. I’ll have your file ready. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some private eyeing to do.”

“Pervert,” Tap muttered.

“Not like that! I, ugh.” The stallion rolled his eyes. “See you tomorrow, ma’am.” He left the barstool and walked out the door. Amber watched him leave. Funny, she seemed to be forgetting something…

“You gonna pay for his drinks?” Tap asked, pointing at the untouched martini.

Oh. No.

The next day found Amber standing in a strange part of town, looking at an apartment complex with a dubious expression. This couldn’t be the place.

She checked the address on the card.

She checked the address on the building.

She checked the address on the card again.

Damn.

Sighing, she tucked the card into her jacket pocket and walked into the lobby. The very, very opulent lobby. The floors were tiled in marble. Gilded chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Speakers pumped the soothing sounds of a string quartet. A stallion with an outlandish moustache manned the reception desk, reading a magazine. Amber walked up and coughed.

“Ahem.”

The stallion didn’t look up. Amber waited a moment longer.

“Ahem.”

Nothing.

Amber was about to cough a third time when her eyes caught sight of a sign on the desk. “’Please ring bell to…’ oh!” She reached out a hoof and rang the small bell.

With a look of infinite patience, the stallion glanced up. “Can I help you… ma’am?” he asked, eyebrow raised at the state of her clothes.

Amber felt a hot blush rise on her cheeks. She patted the frayed edges of her coat.

“I… um, yes hello. My name is Ambrosia Sterling. I’m here to see Noble Shield.”

“I see,” said the stallion, looking like he had just sucked a lemon. “I’m afraid Mr. Shield is out for the moment. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Amber cocked her head. “Is that so? We had an appointment scheduled for today at ten. That’s now.”

“I’m afraid that no mention of such an appointment was made with the front desk, ma’am.”

“What are you, his butler?”

“I am whatever Mr. Shield needs me to be, including his scheduler.”

Amber narrowed her eyes. “Well, maybe he didn’t mention this one to you.”

The butler’s eyes hardened. “He never neglects to mention something to me.”

“Well, can you tell him I called?”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Really? They not teach you to write like the rest of us?”

“Ma’am!” The butler’s eyes flashed. “I will not have you sling insults in my lobby. I am sorry, but Mr. Shield is simply not available. Thank you for coming by.”

There was a tense moment. Amber stared at the butler. The butler stared at Amber. She felt the creep of doubt chill her mind. What if he was right? What if it had all been some sort of joke? What if—

The intercom crackled and Noble’s voice blared into the room. “Hey Pennyfeather! You got my last shopping list? I’m plum out of nacho cheese.”

There was silence, and then Amber’s eyes slowly slid from the intercom to Pennyfeather’s face. The stallion, eyes fixed on Amber, pressed a hoof to the call button and said, “Certainly, sir. I’ll have one of the aides go out shopping later today.”

“Good. Also, by the way, if a lady comes to the door and asks to see me, send her up, okay? It’s about the detective thing. Sorry I forgot to mention it earlier.”

Pennyfeather’s expression could have been set in stone. “Certainly sir,” he said, sounding as if he were chewing tacks, “She’s just arrived. I’ll send her up in a moment.”

“Thanks, Pen. You’re the best.”

“I try, sir.”

The intercom crackled off. To his credit, Pennyfeather did not look away. “Top floor,” he said, grinding the words between his teeth. “It’s the penthouse. I’ll buzz you in.”

“Why, thank you, sir. Such nobility!” Amber gushed, a grin that would not be out of place on a puma across her face. “My good friend Noble is so lucky to have someone like you. Keep up the good work, dear!” With that, she trotted into the elevator, flicking her mane over her shoulder. She kept a straight face until the doors closed. The she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“That stallion! He was… oh!”

By the time she reached the penthouse, Amber had managed to compose herself. She stepped out of the elevator, grin mostly wiped off. The penthouse was just as opulent as the rest of the building, with plush couches and a full sunroof in the patio. She looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of Noble. “Hello?” she called.

“Yes, yes, in here!” the voice called back, and she followed into a side room. It was a study, of sorts. Pictures were arrayed all along the walls, pieces of string tacked to them, creating a vast web of connections and theories. Sitting behind a desk at the far wall sat Noble Shield. His fedora and coat were off, but he still wore a full suit.

“Hello, Miss Sterling,” he said, gesturing to a chair by the desk. “Please sit.”

Amber walked across the room and sat down. Noble reached under the desk and pulled out a bottle of Mac Daniel’s. “Drink?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” she said. “You said you had more evidence to show me?”

“Right to business, then,” he said, pouring himself a drink.

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, my sister is missing.”

“I’m aware. Here, take a look at this,” he said, pulling a file out of a drawer. Amber opened it. Three photographs sat on top of a pile of papers. She picked one up. It was a mug shot of a very familiar stallion.

“These are the kidnappers,” she said, looking at them. The three of them glowered out of the page. “But the police said they couldn’t find any records.”

“That’s because they don’t know where to look,” Noble said, his chest puffing out. “It wasn’t really their fault, though. These records had been wiped.”

“Wiped? By who?”

Noble shrugged. “I don’t know, but they did a pretty good job. I actually had to go to the prison myself and talk to the guards who knew these three. There were no other records. These were in a file that had, purely by chance, been misplaced.

“Who are they?”

“Blackjack, Angle, and Card,” he said, pointing them all out.

“What kind of names are those?”

“Yeah, well,” Noble said, his lips pursed. “They were Murgese.”

There was silence. “Bullshit,” Amber said.

“You think I would joke about this?” Noble said. “Look.” He pointed to one of the pictures. “See the tattoo on his flank?” Amber looked. Sure enough, all three she could see a shape tattooed on the stallion’s hip. It was some sort of geometric shape.

“That’s their symbol,” Noble said. “Trust me, I’ve seen it often enough.”

“They could have gotten someone else to do it.”

“No.” Noble shook his head. “The Murgese Family puts their tattoos on differently. It’s a guarded secret, and as far as we know it’s impossible to replicate.”

“Well, that still doesn’t change the fact that there is no way the Murgese sent these stallions after my sister.”

“Why not?” Noble asked.

“Because we’re nobodies!” Amber shouted. “I moved here five months ago and have done nothing but work that whole time. And Aria, she’s just a filly! We’ve done nothing to make them notice us.”

Noble sighed and pulled out a small spiral notebook. He flipped to the first page. “No loans from shady characters?” he asked.

Amber rolled her eyes. “No.”

Noble checked off a box. “No protection fees you forgot to pay?”

“No.”

“No drugs?”

“No!”

“No, ah, services rendered?”

“What do you… oh, you brute!” she raised a hoof and he backed off.

“Sorry, sorry! I just got to make sure, you know?”

“Insinuating something like that to a lady. I ought to have you charged.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. It was bad. But there has to be an explanation why the Murgese would send three hitponies to abduct your sister.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Noble,” Amber said. “There’s no reason, because it’s not possible. Maybe they defected. Maybe someone figured out a way to synthesize the tattoo. Maybe it’s something else. But what you’re suggesting…”

“Hmm,” Noble said, scratching his chin. “Well, we’re stymied there for now. We’ll have to come back, then. Anyway, that’s not even the most important piece I’ve got. Aria isn’t alone.”

Amber looked up.  “What do you mean?”

“She’s not the first filly kidnapped this way.”

“She’s not? But the police said—“

“The police don’t believe that there’s any connection, but again, they’re morons. Look.” He slid a few papers out of the file and pulled out another photo. It showed a young filly, about Aria’s age, with a bright red mane and a huge bow. Amber thought it a tad ostentatious. “This is Honeycrisp,” Noble said. “She was abducted last week. Vanished on her way home from school. Her sister found a note saying she was running away in her room, and since there’s no evidence of foul play, the police bought it.”

“And you disagree?”

“Reports of a trio of stallions matching your goons turned up the day before. They purchased a dinner in a café in the nearby town. Paid with cash. The waiter only remembers them because they didn’t pay a tip.”

“You sure it’s the same ponies?” Amber asked.

“No,” Noble said, “but I’d bet money on it. It’s too much of a coincidence to ignore. The police don’t agree, but they don’t have these mug shots.”

“So what do we do?” Amber asked, looking at the stallion across from her. He looked determined, the steel in his eyes in contrast to his goofy, anachronistic outfit. He caught her eye and grinned.

“I say we take a trip out to the country.”

4: Just a Scratch

Millenium Novus

Part I: Chapter 4

Just a Scratch

“This was a mistake,” Even said, eying the club in front of her.

“Well, you’re not backing out now that I’ve went through all this trouble,” Vesper said. She was standing with Even and two other ponies, a blue and white unicorn and a grey pegasus. Vesper had introduced them as Crest and Kicks, respectively. They were roommates, apparently. “You’re here, now,” Vesper said. “Let’s just give it a try.”

Even gulped. Kicks grinned and gave her a slap on the back. “First timer, eh? You’ll do fine. Just find a nice looking stallion—“

“—or mare—“ Crest threw in.

“—or mare,” Kicks conceded, “and go for it.”

“Just like that?” Even asked. “No signs to check for? No lists? Just…”

“Grind,” Crest said, grinning.

“Alright, alright,” Vesper said.  “Enough talk. Let’s do this.” Together, the three mares advanced on the building, Even following a few steps behind. There was a small line at the front, but Crest waved to the bouncer and he let them in.

The moment she stepped in Even was assaulted by wall of sound. The music was not so much playing as it was fighting, a steady throb of beats that hammered through her ears and tapped her vertebrae. Even tried to step back, but Vesper grabbed her and pulled her along. They had come out above the main level. Below, a mass of ponies thrashed and twisted, their movements strange and wild. A white unicorn with a two-toned blue mane manned the DJ booth, one hoof swinging in sync to the beat.

The four ponies maneuvered their way to the edge of the crowd. Nodding at Vesper and with a wink at Even, Kicks and Crest moved into the fray. They were quickly absorbed by the crowd. Vesper pulled Even along until they were standing at the bar.

“Where did they go?” Even shouted over the crowd.

“They can take care of themselves,” Vesper shouted back. “You, on the other hand, are going to need a bit more of a push.” She tapped the bar to get the tender’s attention, and two shots slid her way, She picked one up and gave it to Even. “Bottoms up.”

Even took her shot and downed it. The liquid burned her throat, but she managed to keep from coughing.

“You alright?” Vesper shouted, clapping her on the back. “You took that one like a champ. Have another.”

“How many am I going to need?” Even shouted back.

“This one will do. We want you to remember how much of a good time you had, after all.”

“What if someone tries to… you know?” Even said.

“Then they’ll have to go through me.” Vesper shouted back, her eyes fierce.

Even took the shot. “Alright,” she said. “Now what?”

“Now we go.” And with that, Vesper grabbed Even and pushed her into the crowd.

When she was very young, Even’s house had caught fire. She had woken up in the middle of the night to a cloud of smoke and burning wood. Although the fireponies had managed to get her out with no lasting damage, the feeling of suffocation, of an overwhelming of her senses, had stayed with her. Now, walking into the crowd of revelers, she felt much the same. Ponies pushed against her on all sides, hooves stepping on hooves, flanks rubbing, hot breath everywhere. The air she breathed was stifling, the pressure on her chest making it hard to breathe. She felt Vesper pushing on her back, and she knew that she needed to keep moving. The bodies wouldn’t give, so she had to fight her way through, shoving and elbowing. The closer they got to the middle, the harder the crowd pushed, until Even could go no further. The pair of them floated in the middle of the crowd, stagnant.

All of her concerns about not being able to dance vanished. They were pressed so closely together that she could not stand still. There was no room for bad dancing. She flowed with the crowd, in and out, a wave of motion, swept up in something much bigger than herself.

Then the bass dropped, and the crowd lost their minds. The beats were brought to life, falling and rising, one hoof in the air, back and forth and back again. Vesper’s face flashed across her vision, then others, Kicks locked with a strange stallion, their movements as one body. Above it all, the white unicorn surveyed the crowd. She was the master here; her touch made the music loud or soft, made the crowd angry or subdued, rise and fall. She would raise a hoof and bring them up, lower her hoof and bring them down. The alcohol began to run into her mind, blurring everything into a pastel of dark tones and intentions. She felt a pleasant tingling to her horn. Vesper shouted something at her, but words were meaningless. There was nothing but the crowd.

Then suddenly Vesper was gone, replaced by a forest green stallion with a white mane. He caught her eye for a second, and she understood his unasked question. Maybe she would have thought twice, but the cocktail of music and alcohol had put her in the mood, and she smiled. They danced, his flank pressed against hers, and for a moment it was just the two of them. So close together that every move was mirrored, and for a moment she could almost believe they were one, a single mind at sea, one vessel of a mass intent.

Vesper appeared again, face alight with joy. She’d found a stallion herself, but she spared a moment to pump her hoof at Even. But Even barely noticed. The stallion’s breath was at her neck, whispering nothings into her ear. She felt her pulse, already high, quicken further. Visions flashed across her mind: the pair of them moving to a corner, the basal intentions rising to a head. She had seen several pairs already depart. She would press their lips together and then—her breath caught, the pressure in her horn rising—

The music took a turn to the deep, and she felt a stabbing pain in her horn. Energy washed out of her, and every light in the building flickered. No one noticed but her. “What—“

Then her horn exploded, releasing a shockwave that cut out every light in the building. The music came to a screeching halt. Almost as soon as it cut out, the lights and music came on. The crowd barely seemed to notice. Perhaps it was a trick of the DJ.

But the DJ was looking at Even, utter shock on her face. As Even watched, she could have sworn the stare switched into an ecstatic grin, and suddenly Even needed to get out of there. She pushed the green stallion out of the way with a muttered apology and shoved her way out of the crowd. She was slick with sweat and tired, but after a time the swirling bodies began to thin and she broke out of the crowd, panting. She worked her way to the bar and ordered a glass of water. She leaned against the bar and panted.

“Okay, Even…” she said to herself. “No more alcohol for you. That stuff is raw.”

She drank her water and looked at the crowd. The high she had been running off of faded, and suddenly she felt fried and tired. It wasn’t until the thought, What a fascinating study on pony social interactions flashed across her mind that she knew the spell was over.

“Damn. Well, it was fun while it lasted,” she said. She scanned the crowd for Vesper. Perhaps she would understand if Even left early. She’d given it a try, now she needed to analyze the situation and deduce if this was a worthy activity to do again. If only she could get a dossier of the club’s songs, then maybe…

“Excuse me, miss?”

Even turned. A burly stallion stood next to her. He was wearing the polo that all the security ponies wore. “Yes?” she said.

“The DJ would like to speak with you.”

“The DJ? But…” she looked over to where the booth was and found it empty. The songs were playing on an auto track. The crowd didn’t even seem to notice. “Um, okay…”

The stallion dipped his head. “Follow me.” Even walked after him. They edged along the crowd, trying their best to stay clear of the revelers. Now that she was out of it, Even could hardly believe she had ever been there. The place seemed strange and animal, and it shocked her more sensible instincts. She thought of the green stallion and a stab of shame shot through her. She shook her head. How ridiculous; it was what she had come here for, right? The buzz from the alcohol was wearing off, but at least it was still taking the edge off of her anxiety about this meeting.

The stallion came to a staircase. Nodding to a second stallion standing guard, he moved the VIP rope to the side and gestured to Even. “Up the stairs, first door on the left,” he said.

“Um, okay. Thanks,” she said, walking up the stairs. The staircase was dark, a single bare bulb failing to provide adequate light. “Well, Even,” she said, looking at the peeling paint and crooked floorboards, “this place is about as sketchy as anywhere you’ve ever been. What are you doing here?” She had no answer.

The upper floor was no better. She thought she heard the scurrying of a rat somewhere in the depths. There, on the left, stood an old door. She could see the faded imprint of a star on its surface, on top of which someone had slapped a picture of a pair of eighth notes. As she got closer, Even heard a voice on the other side.

“Look, Lyra, I’m telling you, it was her! Lavender coat, violet mane, she even had the stripe and everything!” Even backed up. They were talking about her! Against her better judgment, she leaned closer.  “Okay, okay, I know, she could have dyed it, but to look exactly the same? You gotta give me something here!” The voice was silent for a moment. Even scrunched up her face. She had never dyed her hair a day in her life, thank you! She was very proud of her stripe. “Look,” the voice continued, “I don’t care what you think you saw the other day; I know what I saw, and—“

Even’s horn bumped the door. She backed up, but the damage had been done. There was a scuffle and the DJ opened the door. For a moment, she stared at Even with an intensity that made the unicorn back u. It was as if the DJ was looking into her soul, searching for something that she wasn’t quite sure was there.

“Um, hi…” Even said. “You, ah, wanted to… see me?” The DJ’s look was putting her off her stride.

At her tone, the DJ’s face changed, first to shock, then to jubilance. “It is you,” she said, opening the door wider. “Come in, come in!”

Eve walked inside. The interior of the room was filled with furniture that had seen better days. The couch was torn and dusty, several stains of undetermined fluids adorning its cushions. There was a scuffed vanity desk and mirror combo in the corner. And on the far wall was a bizarre collection of posters and photographs. Even saw that they all advertised various orchestra concerts.

“Please, sit down,” the DJ said, motioning to the couch. She walked over to the desk and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. She walked over to the table and set them down. She poured two drinks and pushed one towards Even. “Go on,” she said, “it’s not that grody, promise.”

Even shrugged and bolted it down. The DJ nodded appreciatively. “Not bad. Some things have changed, I see. Don’t remember you being such a blush before, but hey, whatever floats your boat.”

“I’m sorry,” Even said, voice tight from the alcohol, “but who are you?”

“Huh? Oh, right. I keep forgetting how this works. My name—“ the pony stood and placed a hoof on her chest “—is Vinyl Scratch. You can call me Vinyl.”

“Vinyl Scratch? That’s an… interesting name,” Even said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with a last name of ‘Scratch’ before.”

Vinyl chuckled. “It’s pretty old.”

“Hmm,” Even said. “I’ll bet. What’s this about?” A small part of her mind told her that she was being too direct, but she was tired and confused and slightly drunk and she didn’t much care.

“I’ll cut to the source,” Vinyl said. “I never knew you that well, but you’re a smart pony. Tell me, have you been having any strange dreams lately?”

Even’s scalp prickled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Memories that aren’t yours? Places you’ve never been?”

“Um… no.” Even wasn’t sure why she was lying to the DJ, but something about her look unnerved her. “Why? Should I have been?”

Vinyl’s grin faded, and Even was again struck by the feeling of being searched. The pony was looking for something, something old, that slept within the purple unicorn. She looked at Vinyl, her crimson eyes, blue hair, and scruffy white coat. She was certain that she’d never seen the pony before, but there was something about her, some spark, that seemed almost… familiar?

“… Vinyl?” she asked.

Vinyl’s eyes were shining. “I knew it. I don’t care what Lyra says, it’s true. You’re back.”

“I—“

A loud crash came from the base of the stairs, followed by the sound of the bouncer grunting. Hooves thundered up the stairs. Vinyl shot up. “They’re here,” she said. “Get behind me.”

“What are you talking about?” Even asked, but Vinyl paid her no attention. She stepped up, moving to shelter Even. For a moment, Even could have sworn she saw her horn glow.

The door burst open and Vesper stormed into the room, followed at a lesser pace by Kicks and Crest. “Where is she?” Vesper shouted, eyes ablaze. “If you’ve done anything to her I swear—“ Catching sight of Even, crouched behind Vinyl, she relaxed a fraction. “There you are,” she said, “How many times did I tell you not to go with strange ponies, dammit?”

“Vesper, it’s okay, Vinyl’s a friend,” Even said, wondering exactly why she was saying it. She barely knew the mare.

“I don’t care if she’s your long-lost bestie!” Vesper shouted, making Vinyl snort, “we’re leaving!”

“Um, Vesper?” Crest said, pointing. The bouncer had advanced on their back and made a grab for Vesper. She ducked out of the way.

“Crash! Stop,” Vinyl said. “She’s a friend.” The bouncer nodded and backed off. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have taken her away without checking if she’d come with anyone first.”

Vesper glared. “We’re leaving. Come on, Even.” She pointed to the door. Even looked at it, then at Vinyl, who sighed.

“Go on. This isn’t the best time to talk about this, anyway. We’ll meet up again.”

“No, we won’t,” Vesper said, now tugging at Even.

Even held firm. “What do you want, anyway?”

Vinyl rubbed her face. “Look, here’s a plan. You know that dig site just outside the city?”

“Even blinked. What do the Ponecians have to do with anything?”

“Go there tomorrow. We’ll be waiting.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Even shook her head, trying to clear the haze of alcohol. “That site is closed to the public. I should know; it’s one of the biggest finds this century.”

“Just get there. We’ll explain everything then.”

“But—“

“Even, what’s gotten into you?” Vesper said, giving her friend another tug. “Let’s go!”

“Go on,” Vinyl said. “I’m not the best person to talk about this, anyway. And if you’re still feeling odd about this… I saw what you did on the dance floor.”

Even’s eyes widened, but she let Vesper tug her out of the room and into the hall. She followed her friend down the stairs and through the crowd, barely noticing as she pushed and shoved her way to the door. It was only after they had left that she snapped out of the trance.

“What the hell was that all about?” Kicks asked as they walked away.

Vesper snorted. “Some hotshot DJ was trying to pork Even. That’s the last time I’m going back to this club, I can tell you that much.” Her two friends nodded.

Even stayed silent. Vinyl Scratch’s last words floated in her mind. The whole situation was ludicrous, yet she could feel something stir within, something strange and otherworldly. Suddenly, the thought of visiting the ruin seemed irresistible. Vesper continued to babble on, but Even paid no mind. Guess I’d better clear out my calendar.