Sparkyll and Hyde

Act I: Chapter Five:

Good 'n Evil

     Soarin's wings bristled in the icy wind clawing at his mane. His feathers were laced with ice crystals, formed long ago, resulting in numbness and yet aching from prolonged flying high above the landscape. Other than a pair of flimsy goggles he'd 'borrowed' prior to leaving the Wonderbolt Academy for the last time, he wore a thin cloak to cover his lower back and flank, and shield himself from the worst of the cold.

     Thunder rumbled overhead and dark clouds blocked his view. For the worst of luck, he could have already flown over Canterlot and was halfway to Appleloosa without even knowing it. There was the option of diving down to reevaluate his location, but he chose not to.

     There were some ponies who buried their frustrations by creating art, or going to a play, or just taking a brisk walk. Soarin's preferred method was flying high up into the clouds, where the dangerous ambiance of thin air and cold wind helped the mind wander. His teammates used to scold him for risking his safety, often giving lectures on oxygen starvation and killing brain cells, but he knew better. He taught himself a long time ago of how to pace his breathing so something like that wouldn't happen.

     But the main reason he did it? For the exhilaration of cherishing every heartbeat, every full breath he would take once his 'suicide flight'--dubbed by his teammates--was over. Everyday, ponies around him would take their lives and precious belongings for granted, thinking there was something more out there. Not for him. He refused to take the things that kept him alive for granted. It was true that most ponies never took time to appreciate the things they had until 'the lights went out'.

     Unfortunately, even the best of us forget that sometimes.

     If he had kept it in mind, there was a chance he would have looked back on his time with the Wonderbolts with fondness. Instead, when the name of the Wonderbolts was brought up, he could only remember the cutting words Spit had said concerning him, that he was only ever a means to the end, that he never took his training seriously enough, that his replacement would return glory to the Wonderbolts.

     Soarin bit the inside of his cheek, gasping lightly against the lack of air. A new memory of the loyalty he thought the Wonderbolts represented surfaced with every painful flap of his wings. Practicing loop-de-loops with Fleetfoot. Signing autographs. Hanging out with Spit. They were beautiful, for a time. But looking at them in the now, they were just minutes on a clock that ticked to the moment when Spit would make up that venomous lie, urging him to quit:

     "I'm sorry, Soarin. I tried to convince them, but this last show was their last straw. Baltamare's threatening to sue us unless we let you go. If we don't the Wonderbolts could most likely shut down for good."

      Of course, in his kinder nature, he left, never suspecting a thing. And it was in his good luck that Glider and Silver Mist, two showmares looking to start a theatre, were waiting outside for him, offering a new job. A performer, both singing and acting, if he were up to it. Having nothing to lose, he signed on. It was weird, though, how they knew he was a decent singer. He had never told anyone, believing he didn't need a job applying to that.

     But he wasn't a Wonderbolt anymore. He knew it, Spit knew it; hell, even his own cutie mark knew it.

     He tightened the clasp to his cloak, careful to conceal his flank. Thankfully, Dusty was talented in makeup, she could help out with that issue.

That is, if Glider doesn't kill me when I get to the Altrotta . . .

     The truth was, he was running late. Upon actually leaving Cloudsdale to drop off his uniform--when he was fired a week ago, he still didn't want to admit he was off the team--it was past six o' clock; around the time he was supposed to be onstage. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since leaving, and the moon was obscured.

    Putting an end to the 'suicide' in his flight, he swooped down fifteen yards and weaved around the grey clouds, wary of their random bursts of lightning. Their placement and what type of cloud they were could be controlled, but when the rain came or how random the lightning struck, they were as wild as the Everfree clouds.

     He broke through the puffy layer and found himself less than a mile from Canterlot's shining towers and bustling train station. Taking in a deep breath of relief--now that he was where oxygen was plenty--he allowed himself a bittersweet grin. There was a small chance Glider wouldn't be too angry at him; but he knew as well as his fellow performers that this wasn't the case. She was not a pony meant to be tested by tardiness or goofing around instead of getting the job done.

     His eyes shifted to the crescent moon gleaming just behind Canterlot Castle, then swore under his breath. At its height, the moon clearly shown it was sometime past eight-thirty. He had to hurry.

     He dove up so the tips of his fetlocks were level with the cobblestone road, spread out his wings like parachutes, and locked the muscles in his legs to prepare for landing.

     The city drew closer as the ice chips along his feathers melted away in the warmer wind, freeing them to work properly. Pulling up, he arched up over the train station, over screaming nobleponies, and descended onto the cobblestone road. His hooves clattered against the rock as he landed, and tripped underneath him. Landing onto his stomach, he unintentionally bit down on his tongue, the taste of coppery blood filling his mouth.

     Nobleponies nearby, whether entering or exiting a shop, or walking by, stopped and laughed at the former Wonderbolt's display of clumsiness. Soarin helped himself up, shaking off his injuries. Idiot! he swore to himself. This is exactly what Spit was talking about! He was too distracted, too dim-witted to have taken his training seriously, especially how to land properly. Whatever sharp reflexes and tactics he had that proved him invaluable to the Wonderbolts were dead, and believing he was still the grade-A flyer he used to be was only driving that final nail into the coffin.

     Running past the nobles, he slipped into the shadows, weaving past crowds and found his way to a dark alley, a little-known shortcut that led to the Altrotta, if he followed the right path.

     Leaping over a trash can wedged between the narrow walls, he galloped through, only stopping to check the exits for his destination. He knew that right in front of one of the exits was a sign that pointed to the pegasus race-track, along the same road where the Altrotta stood.

     The twin street lamps that were slowly lighting up caught his eye, and his hooves screeched against the cobblestone as he stopped short. Poking less than one green eye out, he spotted the sign and, some hundred feet ahead, the theatre. It wasn't even hard to miss, considering it looked a lot like the mansion from that Mareo Sisters spinoff game, save for the gold lines traced along the frame. Ponies of all races and ages were pooled on the fronts steps, their shouts faint from where he stood. The doors were soon to close, considering their rules of when the place was full, which was why those fools at the doors were making such a fuss.

     He slipped past a conveniently placed table (not at all sarcastically put) and raced for the entrance. If they closed before he could get in he'd have to enter through the second floor, where he and his fellow performers often spent their free time and bunked every night; he really didn't want to resort to that.

     He had reached the lampposts in front of the stairs when he tripped over a tiny drake carrying a load on his back, landing once more on his stomach.

     "Hey, careful! I got some important stuff in here!" the dragon yelped.

     Soarin mumbled an apology before recovering from his fall and continued with a violent shiver. Heat from the trip must have worn off, he disregarded the sudden chill. On any other day he'd be more than happy to help the drake carry that sack, but with his own load on his shoulders, he'd have to shrug him off.

     Nearly everyone in the crowd complained and yelled at Soarin as he pushed past them, giving to each a 'sorry' or 'excuse me'.

     "Alright, everypony, theatre's full! Get home!" Avalanche, the entrance usher, waved the ponies back, eager to shut the twin doors.

     "Wait, Avalanche!" Soarin jammed his hoof into the small crack, holding the door open.

     "Well, well, Soarin," the unicorn smugly grinned. "'Bout time you got here. Glider's gunning for you."

     Soarin exhaled, a white puff of air escaping. "I know. I . . . got sidetracked." He tried to push the door open. "Now, can you please let me in? I can't enter through the second floor!"

     Avalanche's mossy eyes held only teasing sarcasm. "You got wings. Who says you can't?"

     "Damn it, you know why!" He banged his free hoof against the door frame. "We all know Glider's up there doing . . ." What did she do up there? From what little he saw, she often paced back and forth in her room, her reasons never explained. ". . . Whatever the hell she does up in there at eight-thirty sharp!"

     The other grinned wider, enjoying his tantalizing him, until a mare's sharp voice could be heard. He glanced away, nodded, groaned, then mumbled something to her. "Alright, fine, Soarin. Get in here, before Glider finds you."

That wasn't Glider? He brushed sweat off his face in relief. From behind, the other ponies protested and tried to butt in after him, only for Glacier to completely shut the doors.

     "Damn nobles, thinking they can get whatever they want," he mumbled, to which Soarin agreed.

     "I hear ya."

     "Soarin!" A yelp escaped Soarin's lips as he jumped, feathers ruffled. A hoof grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face the stern blue eyes of Silver Mist. Behind her, there was another mare--at least, he thought so. They used their mane as a shield from his eyes, but one turquoise eye curiously peeked at him.

     "Where were you?" Silver demanded. "The others had to fill in for your lateness!" Her 'wings' flared out as if they 'thought' the feathers were still there. They still creeped him out; that is, how deathly they looked compared to her natural beauty.

     "Hi, Silv'," he smiled awkwardly. "Um, sorry I'm late?" Losing the grin, he sighed, "I had some issues back at Cloudsdale. I really am sorry." He had stepped closer to her as he spoke, offering his hoof in apology.

     Silver's icy expression softened, eyes shifting. "Oh, Soarin," she sighed, "Fine, I forgive you." She took his hoof, then turned around, facing the walkway on either side of the dining area, made especially for kitchen staff and performers to navigate with ease. Her friend followed close behind like an obedient puppy.

     "I'm afraid Glider may be less understanding than I, however. Now get to the backstage, quickly!" She waved him on, signaling for him to walk ahead.

     "Wait, you're telling Glider I'm here?" Soarin panicked.

     Silver gave a sympathetic look. "Soarin, you know I can't lie for you. The next time Glider sees me, she'll ask if I saw you. I've the responsibility to help her, her bad temper aside. I cannot break the trust I've built in the last two years I have known her."

     Rolling his shoulders, Soarin accepted the inevitable and began his trot to the backstage.

     As he passed, the other mare brushed her mane off her face, and gave a small smile to him. "Um, hello there." She must have been antisocial, because then she retreated back into her mane with a small peep.

     "This is Fluttershy, a previous student of mine from many years ago." Silver briefly explained. "I'm certain you have heard of her and her friends being the Harmony Bearers." Then facing her student, "You have met Soarin on some occasions, haven't you?"

     Fluttershy, eyes lit with joy, answered, "Of course, Silver. I was at the Young Flyers' Competition supporting Rainbow Dash once, and Soarin was there." She glanced briefly at him, then retreated back into her mane.

     Meanwhile, Soarin reminisced back to that competition. He didn't recall ever talking to Fluttershy, but definitely saw her amongst the crowd. But the thought of greener times with the Wonderbolts brought salty bile rising in his throat, so he changed the subject. "So, Fluttershy? Nice to meet you. Did you want to go have a drink later, or go out--Ow!" Silver had knocked him upside the head with a wing. "Alicorns Above, why'd you do tha--Ow!" And once more.

     Silver hopped in front of him. "That one was for blasphemy, Soarin. I will not tolerate you cursing our princes and princesses, living or dead!"

     The stallion rubbed the back of his head, certain there was already a bruise forming. "Heh, sorry, Silv'." Then glancing at Fluttershy, "I was just kidding. I just say that to be friendly." A pause. "Silv' ever use corporal punishment with you?"

     Wordlessly, she shook her head. Why won't she talk to--

     "Oh, right. Fluttershy. Sorry."

     The mare's expression answered clearly enough, that Silver's wing-slaps were meant for extreme circumstances like his.

     As Soarin trotted towards the backstage, he took notice of the bustling crowd in the chamber. Every table had been filled, and whatever spare cushions they had were taken, no doubt to storage. A really selfish thing to do in his opinion, considering not every party in the room was six or smaller.

     At one point, he glanced back, checking to see if Glider was coming, but then collided into a cart with stacked trays and pans. Falling over the cart, which flipped onto its side, his back legs caught into of the shelves as the metalwork spilled across the floor with a loud clatter, drawing unwanted attention from nearby nobleponies. Only his front legs kept him from banging his head.

     "Be careful, Soarin!" Silver hissed at him. "That is not making this ordeal of yours any easier!"

     The pegasus gave that half-hearted, doofus grin and freed himself, careful to keep his head down as he slinked to the backstage. So it seemed Fate was taking pleasure in not allowing him to carry any dignity. In that case entirely, Fate was not a kind pony. He made a mental note to never again believe in such a deity; nor the idea that no one had control of their own life.

     The entrance to the backstage little more than a doorless frame with a rope strung across it with a sign that read, "Performers Only!" Soarin ducked under it, minding the sign, and walked to his right. Darkness muted the hallway, save for a dim orange glow at the end, where the others were waiting. Lively music played there too, but a muting spell had been prepared beforehand so the performers could do whatever they pleased without disturbing plays.

     As he walked, Soarin tripped once or twice on some props laying around, making noise that was drowned out by the music. He'd have to talk to Night Glider about that later. Her bad habit with leaving stuff laying around might lead to someone getting seriously hurt. Unless she'd meant it for Glider . . .

     Night's silhouette made a graceful bow up onstage as she finished her number, slipped through the opening in the curtain. As she fluttered off the stage, her navy-blue coat morphed into the darkness, making her equally-blue eyes and silver, wind-blown mane stand out like candles in the room.

     "Well, it's about time you got here," she remarked, annoyed. "Where were you? Shopping for cloaks?" She eyed his suspiciously.

     Soarin bowed his head, saddened. He'd have to come clean soon enough, but for the time being settled with, "I got a little sidetracked."

     Night's low glare softened, then changed to a small smile. "You're still a half-flanked slacker, Soarin. But as long as you're alright. Now get in here; Dusty and the backups are waiting!" She gently grabbed his hoof in hers and led him towards the light.

     "Whoa, wait a minute, Night. 'Dusty and the backups'? I thought Toe-Tapper was leading with us?"

     She stopped. "Oh, right. Silver called us before the show for an emergency meeting," she cringed. "Sorry about that. It couldn't wait for you. Turns out, Glider never got the memo before today that he was an earth pony, and she went ballistic on him. So it's just me, you and Dusty leading. But don't worry. The musicians can provide the extra voices if needed."

     Soarin himself cringed. What kind of pony fires him just because he's an earth pony? This isn't the Pre-Celestian Age, for crying out loud! She was already strange enough with her short tempers and pausing in between sentences like she kept losing her train of thought. He sighed, starting to regret his new career option, and headed with Night to the light.

     As they entered the room, they saw, among five backups and musicians, a young pegasus mare with a bluish-grey coat and a fluffy grey mane. She stood on her hind legs singing her heart out in a jazz-like voice:

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     "Here in Canterlot's end,

It's the pits of the earth

Where you won't find a friend,

Where your life has no worth!

"Death is waiting;

Fate is marking your card!

"You've got one chance in five,

They're odds you must outdo

If you want to survive,

So be fast your hooves!

"Life is hard here;

For it's Discord's backyard!"

     The musicians all applauded her just as she did a spin, coming muzzle to muzzle with Soarin. "Oh, hey, Soarin!" Her pink eyes lit like Hearth's Warming. "You actually came!" The musicians waved at Soarin.

     "Told you he'd come, Dusty," said Night. "I just didn't know when exactly."

     The mare's actual name was Dust Devil, but both Soarin and Night called her Dusty for short. She nuzzled Soarin in a tight hug, did the same with Night, then waved them in.

     The room was narrow and only had two walls, the back, where the two hallways connected, and the wall of the stage. Since it was split in half by the curtain, one side of the stage was for performances and the other completed the backstage, even leaving plenty of room to walk around on. However, there were no staircases on either side, so it was little more than a giant soap box. A rectangular wooden table stood in the center of the room and held a large orange candle that lit the room. Hanging on the back wall, there was a hat rack where a striped scarf and two cloaks hung solemnly, and a full-length mirror sat beside it.

     "I didn't know what to do since you weren't here," said Dusty, "So I just started cheering up the musicians, and they liked how I mixed Wildhorn's songs with a jazz theme, so I went with that. Although, I wish Nighty could'a helped with that, but she sucks at jazz, so it was just me!"

     Night just shrugged and walked to the back wall, where a device with a crescent moon hung just above her head. "In my defense, I can make some hell of good props and settings for your numbers to make up for it." To emphasize, she pulled a small lever hidden along the prop, which made the moon switch phases.

     "Mm, yeah, that's true," Dust Devil mumbled, then changed subjects. "Oh, did Silver tell you yet? Some stupid noble pony was bullying this unicorn doctor, so she came to help and totally whooped his flank! You should have seen it, Soars." The musicians nodded assent.

     Soarin blinked, impressed, but got his focus back. "That's great, Dusty, but I need your help with something."

    "Look, Soarin," said Night, "I get that you didn't mean to take so long, but you can't exactly hide from Glider. You'll have to fess up sometime. But maybe she'll let you off with a warning or something."

     Dusty 'pshhed' at that. "Yeah, right. She's nothing but a pain in the flank. Do you know, yesterday, I was being grateful for her giving me this job, just explaining that I had a little sis to take care of since my weather job in Ponyville was a bust. But she just rolls her eyes at me and says I'm 'wasting my time with family'."

     "Dusty, please!" Soarin tapped the table, getting her attention. "This isn't about me hiding from Glider! I just need you help covering this up!" Whipping off the cloak, he showed the mares his cutie mark; or rather, lack thereof. The musicians stopped in their own conversation, blinking in misunderstanding.

     "We'll give you all some room," said one of them, starting for the stage. "We need to do some last-minute tuning, anyways." Soarin could tell that some of the musicians wanted to stay for the juicy details, but the ringleader's statement made it clear that he wanted to respect his privacy, so they too flew or teleported to the stage.

     When the room was cleared out save for the three singers, Dusty was the first to speak. "I-I don't get it. Where's your cutie mark?"

     Soarin paused, looking for a way to say it correctly. "It . . . vanished on me . . . when I left Cloudsdale to drop my outfit off.

     "But cutie marks don't disappear for no reason!" Night shouted. "Are you trying to say that mine--" She placed her front hooves over her own protectively. "--Could vanish right now?"

     "No, it can't! Um, rather, I don't think so." He hit the table again to calm the panic before it could begin. None of this would make sense to them unless he explained what had happened. "Spit lied to me about being fired from the Wonderbolts."

     "But, she asked you to quit because of that lawsuit," said Dusty, to whom Soarin held a hoof to quiet her.

     "Let me explain the whole thing first, before either of you ask too many questions." In the best calm he could control, he explained that he'd gone to return his outfit--skipping the part about the lawsuit, as it was already explained to them. Just before leaving he'd heard his former captain and her new co-captain, Fleetfoot, entering the locker room he was in. Having no other exit, he had hidden behind another row, despite not wanting to eavesdrop. They were discussing the new recruit, Lightning Dust, and how well she would recover lost funds.

     "Wait, wasn't Lightning Dust that mare you had a date with that night?" Night asked. "Before the show, I mean."

     Soarin groaned under his breath."Can we please not bring it up? I had a late night from that, got drowsy the next day, and that was how this whole thing started. Anyway, they started talking about me, just . . . berating my flying abilities, laughing at my failure. I didn't get what exactly they were going on about, but then I heard Spit saying she regretted lying to me, but it was necessary for the team. I think what happened was she made up the lawsuit so I'd leave by my own accord, so she could 'spare my feelings'."

     Dusty breathed shakily. "But why would she? You're the best flyer on that team!"

     "Was. I heard them. This Lightning Dust auditioned some time ago and impressed them. So they probably waited for one of us to screw up so there'd be an open spot for her." He glanced away, green eyes tightened angrily. "And whether or not a lawsuit existed, their plan would still work out the same way."

     "So, the cutie mark?"

     "Not sure, but it doesn't matter. If even it knew I wasn't a Wonderbolt anymore, it's a sign to give up. I still need you to cover this, though, so it doesn't raise any questions."

     Dusty wordlessly complied, taking from under the table a special makeup kit meant especially for making fake cutie marks for plays, and laid on her knees beside him, going to work.

     "But they need you," Night tried to affirm, but the statement held no confidence.

     "Nopony needs me, Night," Soaring mumbled back. "I was just a toy to be played with until I wasn't wanted. I was never needed." His ears drooping, he sighed under his breath. "And you know what? The same exact thing happened to the flyer I

replaced, now that I think of it. So they've been doing this for years. Maybe since they were first founded a thousand years ago."

     "O-okay, so it was bound to happen," stammered Dusty, trying to keep her hooves from shaking her brush. After tracing along the lightning bolt and wings, she moved to the other flank. "But it's all for the better, I guess. I mean, I kinda was fired the same way. Well, I wasn't lied to, I don't think. But it's practically the same thing; I screwed up during the annual water-gathering in Ponyville, and they had some better weather ponies to take my place."

     "Not to mention," Night added grimly, "It's hard getting into show business when your whole family's all about military, and doesn't care for theatre like you would. At least, that's why I left."

     "But the point is," said Dusty, "All three of us left something behind in our old lives. So maybe the Alicorns are giving us a chance to start over; together."

     Soarin looked at her, blinking. She had a point. He missed being with the Wonderbolts, more than his friends could know, but had he stayed, he'd only get hurt all the more, like Night could have with her own family.

     "Sorry, was that cheesy? My sis tells me I always say stuff like that."

    Soarin quickly shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Actually, I think that's what I needed to hear. Thanks, both of you."

     "Yup, that's what I'm here for. Speaking of which, you're all done." She packed her makeup and set the box back to its place. "So, what do you think?"

     Soarin trotted to the mirror, staring at his reflection, then focused on Dusty's handiwork. Both sides were detailed from every feather to the edges of the lightning bolt, and were even traced with black to make it stand out more. "Exactly as if I was still a Wonderbolt." His tone bore that of a bittersweet tone, and he smiled, imagining himself still wearing his Wonderbolt outfit.

     "Even so, you really do look better with this cutie mark," said Night, placing herself within the frame, next to him, "Rather than a different one."

     "Oh, really? Maybe you want to compliment me some more up on the balcony later?" He brushed a wing under her chin teasingly, before hurried hoof-steps could be heard over by the stage. Soarin and Night both glanced back to see one of the backups descending the small staircase.

     "Guys, we're on next. Get ready."

     Soarin nodded at him. "Got it. We'll be right there." Happy, the backup returned to his place onstage.

     "To be continued?" Night tilted her head.

     "Mm, yeah. But like Dusty said, we're facing a new life together, like a family." Aw, damn it! Now I've trotted into the cheesy zone!

     Dusty was the first to get in place on the stage. "Oh, like a family! That's even better than being friends! That reminds me of a great song I heard off of NeighBreezie the other day! 'We eat together, we drink together, we work in perfect sync together. We smile--Frown--Blink--Together completely'!"

     Night quickly stopped her, flying up to the stage and holding a hoof over her mouth. "No time for a song!" She then blinked, realizing what she just said. "Erm, I mean, no time for that particular song. I'll talk to Glider about maybe including some 'Galacanter'  songs to our next show."

     Squeeing joyfully, Dusty clapped her hooves together.

     Soarin clambered onto the stage, facing the curtain. Upon approaching her, Night backed up and away so he took the lead. Not once, in their rehearsals, did she take lead, despite being offered to on many occasions, so it became an unspoken system for her to follow whoever led.

     Applause sounded from the other side and the limelights cut out, signaling that they were up next. The previous performer entered the backstage, nodded respectfully at the three, then vanished with teleportation.

     There was a chance, a slight chance, that Soarin could turn this around; if Glider was impressed by his first real performance, and then some until the end of the show, maybe she'd be almost as forgiving as Silver.

     He slipped through the curtain, hearing his teammates close behind.

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     Twilight stamped her hooves and cheered for the unicorn singer. His baritone voice provided a perfect performance of 'Stars' from Neigh Misérables, her favorite song from that play; and contrary to popular belief from her friends, it had nothing to do with her cutie mark. The reason was, among the touching instrumentals, the enigmatic meaning behind its words. Some believed it referred to the Alicorns Above, the deceased Alicorns who became one with the stars upon their passing, and guided and protected their subjects in their disembodied eternity. Some argued that the song was from Princess Celestia's perspective in hunting the 'fugitive', Nightmare Moon for stealing her sister away.

     As for Twilight herself? It was a little bit of both for her. Clearly, the stars acting as sentinels were the Alicorns Above, awaiting the day when the Solar Princess would end the Nightmare's reign of carnage.

     Fluttershy had returned to her seat just before the song had begun, just in time to find her fruit salad waiting for her.

     "Back so soon?" Applejack had asked.

      "Yes, Silver had to tend to other patrons, so I told her I wanted to rejoin you," Fluttershy had said. "Besides, she'll meet up with us later."

     Now, the pegasus quietly nibbled on orange slices sandwiched with spinach leaves, and the singer slipped behind the curtains, taking mind to the darkness now that the limelight had cut out.

      "Well, you certainly received your wish, Twilight," said Rarity, eating her own salad between sentences, and only one leaf at a time. "You did hope for there to be an homage towards this play, did you not?"

     The doctor smiled, gleeful. "Yes, but I can't believe that of the wide variety of great musicals and their songs, they'd pick 'Stars' from this masterpiece!"

     Faking a yawn, Rainbow leaned back in her seat. "Yeah, but c'mon! All they do in that play is stand around, complain about their problems, and occasionally duke it out! Where's the awesome stuff?"

     "Isn't that something like what Spike said before about 'Neigh Mis-er-ah-bull'?" said Pinkie. In her mane, she bounced a grape tomato, then rolled it through a section of her mane that was shaped like a Mobius strip. Bad manners aside, this made Twilight laugh until her sides hurt.

     Within the first hour of watching tributes to Bridleway musicals, Twilight's usual, relaxed demeanor returned strong, her weariness from nonstop work and stress melted like ice under the sun.

     The lights dimmed down once more, meaning the next act was to begin. To start, soft, deceptive music similar to a snake charmer's pungi mingled with the anxious crowd's applause.

     "I wonder who's up next?" pondered Applejack. "Music sounds like somethin' that jazzy mare sung darn good."

     Twilight pressed her lips together. "I have no idea, but with what we got so far, I'm certain it'll be as great as the others." If squinting, she could make out three silhouettes up in front, and a small group in the back; five or seven at most, by her count. The main three held various poses on their hind legs, the one in the center standing the tallest, and their faces were illuminated when the limelight returned.

     The two mares on the sides were both performers from before; one with a coat darker than Luna's and the other who sang jazz and had a palette that looked like someone sprinkled soot on her. But the stallion in the center . . .

     "Soarin?" Twilight gasped. She nearly spilt her beverage when her aura lost its grip for a moment. What in Equestria is he doing here? When looking around, she saw each of her friends shared the same stunned look.

     "Well, well, well. I never thought I'd see the day when Soarin were singin' Bridleway . . ." whispered Applejack.

     "Maybe he's doing a side job for extra money?" Twilight offered, mostly recovered by the sudden turn, but then was rejected by Rainbow, who slammed a hoof onto the table, making the plates and glasses rattle.

     "Hellloooo! Wonderbolts are richer than horse-crap! Richer than both Princesses combined! He probably lost a bet or something."

     Rarity, however, held a look of distain after the moment had passed, and scoffed. "I wouldn't doubt that. Especially what this one does in his spare time with young, naïve mares . . . He's more slippery as an oiled snake in Froggy Bottom Bog--"

     "Quiet!" Pinkie shushed. "They're starting!"

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     Rarity had settled down, yet was stubborn to lose her visage of contempt. Facing the trio of pegasi again, Twilight saw that Soarin was taking the lead, while the mares looked to him; in the metaphorical and literal sense. He let himself down on all four hooves and walked predator-like to the edge of the stage, trapping the audience in a startling, emerald gaze.

Good 'n Evil, and their merits;

They've been argued through history as well as they should.

My philosophy--any filly can see--Good is Evil . . .

And--there--fore--all--evil is . . . good!

     His wings had extended with grace as he sung this, then snapped into his back as the music swelled. The mares then went their own way, performing little hops and circling the stage.

     "I'm impressed so far," said Twilight. "I had no idea he could sing!" Each of the girls, save for Rarity, all watched the performance with wonder. The fashionista snorted in response and muttered something drowned out by the music.

     Soarin turned on one leg, back to the center and continued, all the while his words dripping with contempt and sarcasm.

How do you tell Evil from Good?

Evil does well, and Good . . . heh, not so good.

Evil's the one that is free everywhere,

Good is the one that they sell!

You must decide which is Heaven . . .

And which is Hell . . .

     The mares returned to his side, laying on their stomachs, staring up at him, and copying his words:

Heroes maintain,

(Heroes maintain,)

"Evil's a curse!"

("Evil's a curse!")

But it is plain,

(But it is plain,)

We aren't fooled, Good's even worse!

     The mares slid up, struck another pose, then walked towards the end of the stage as he sung:

Evil's the one that they tell you to shun,

"Good is the one to embrace."

Say that, and Discord'll laugh right in your face!

      Soarin joined the mares, holding each in a wing.

The battle between Good 'N Evil goes back to the start!

Envy, hate, and the Elements tore the Sisters apart!

The key thing about Good 'N Evil:

Each of us must choose!

Heaven and Hell is a hell of a gamble to lose!

But as I peruse,

(As I peruse,)

This world we abuse,

(This world we abuse,)

It's Hell that we choose!

(It's Hell that we choose!)

And Heaven must lose!

     Twilight felt the tips of her ears burn white-hot. No, it can't be that simple . . . Yet the answer spoke otherwise, proving Luna's suggestion back at that meeting. She couldn't miss a word of this. "Excuse me, Rarity? Mind if we switch seats?" Hers sat in front of the table, perfect for a closer look. Rarity shrugged indifferently and moved aside for her. Whipping out a notepad in her sweater's pocket, she began to take down notes on the song so far and now.

(Evil!)

Evil is everywhere,

(Good!)

Good doesn't have a prayer!

(Good!)

Good is commendable,

(Evil!)

Evil, dependable!

(Evil!)

Evil is viable,

(Good!)

Good's unreliable!

Good may be thankable,

But Evil is bankable!

     Soarin had strutted off the stage in the last verse, looking no longer than a few seconds at each table where most of Canterlot's hypocritical nobleponies sat. Then starting anew, he spotted Twilight's table, stopped, and pierced her eyes with his own. He undoubtedly knew what made her a noblepony, so feeling discomfort from his stare, she dropped her gaze away and back to the notepad.

Evil's for me, Good, you'll pursue,

Just doesn't suit me to be . . . Daring Do

     He then slid towards Rarity and tried to lift her chin, but his wing was slapped away. Ignoring this, he instead grinned and headed back the stage.

It's easier by far by the way that things are to remain Good 'N Evil . . .

Than try to be, Evil . . . and . . . Good . . .!

(Easier by far to remain Good 'N Evil than try to be Evil and Good!)

     He and the mares returned to their original poses from the beginning, the lights cut out, and the song ended. Hoofstamps and whistles filled the room, including from Twilight's circle of friends. Rainbow was, among all of them, the most excited, and was whooping with glee.

     "Yeah! Go, Soarin!"

     Twilight herself hid a smile under the shadows, scanning her scribblings on her notepad. Bad is good, and good is bad . . . Sacred is profane . . . And it's wiser to be mad. . . In a world that is insane. In a world where everypony's insane. This could work! It took all her will to keep her hooves from trembling in the joy that wracked her brain. If this theory was correct, she didn't have to worry about finding some half-dead pony to test the Formula on.

     She continued scratching at the paper like a madmare, pausing every so often to check her notes, then returned to her task with twitching hooves. Even under the watchful eyes of her friends, Twilight worked through this new perspective of the two warring natures, as Soarin and his friends' performances continued.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

     Two hours passed as Soarin and his team sang from genre to play, bouncing from the madness of a usurper, to the green-coated outcast breaking from her shell, to the struggles of a Scoltish author bringing his stories to life. When eleven o' clock struck, the stallion bowed for the last time and trotted offstage.

     Everyone around Twilight and her friends placed payment on their tables and slowly dispersed from the theatre. "Gotta hand it to y'all," said Applejack to Fluttershy and Rainbow. "You done picked a good place to unwind." She plucked a scarf from Rarity's bag and began winding it around.

     "Oh, so you did enjoy the Theatre's opening?" said Silver Mist. Her mane looked damp with sweat, and a few stray hairs stood out from it. She didn't have to explain, it was clear she had to walk against the ocean of patrons.

     "Eeyup. I reckon it's safe to say we all had a darn good time."

     This seemed to brighten the wingless pegasus' face. "Oh, that's good. Glider will be pleased to know our opening worked so well, I am certain."

     "Just have Soarin put in a good word for me at the Wonderbolts Academy, and we'll call it even, AJ," Rainbow waved at off.

     Silver winced back at this for reasons unknown, but before Twilight had the chance to ask, she stepped back, towards Fluttershy. "I'm sorry, dear, but I have to return to other matters with Glider. I do hope you understand." Quickly beelining to the staircase, she left the group alone.

What was that about? Twilight wondered. But with nothing more to be done, she went back to looking over her notes. And from what she discovered, no matter who it was, sane or demented, awake or comatose, the natures of Goodness and Evil were never equally balanced in their hearts. Therefore, the TS8 Formula--a medicine devised to separate and equal the two--could work on anyone. In no way could it reform the patient, for the formula couldn't destroy the nature of Evil, but it would set evil traits that were beyond control back to normal.

     She then realized she owed a debt to Soarin, for this discovery wouldn't have come to light without an outsider's opinion. And like anyone who had decent manners, she hated leaving debts unpaid, or, at least, without proper gratitude. "Wait, girls?"

     The others were turning to leave, all dressed in their scarves and winter coats. "What's up, sugarcube?" Applejack piped up, setting a small pile of bits on the table.

     "I . . . I want to stay a bit longer . . . there's something I need to talk about with Soarin."

     "Oh, talk with him, dear?" Rarity began with an edge to her voice, "Whatever it is you may have in mind, leave such a temptation alone. That stallion is nothing more--"

     "Rarity!" Twilight shouted, face imploding with pink, "I never said anything about that! I just want to ask him some questions!" The fashionista scrutinized her, then motioned for her to elaborate. "I . . . want to know why he's really here. We were all wondering the same thing, so I think it's better to lay this question to rest."

     Rarity scowled, most likely about her friend having anything to do with Soarin. But eventually, calm washed over her face. "Oh, very well," she muttered softly. "But please, do be careful with that scoundrel."

     "So, you haven't heard after all, have you, Doctor?"

     Twilight's jaw tightened hard enough to break teeth. She didn't have to turn to know who it was.

     "I'm afraid dear sir Soarin was expelled from the Wonderbolts in his prime. Quite a tragedy, isn't it, Rainbow Dash?" Octavia trotted to the doctor, two stallions following close behind.

     Twilight glanced at them, sickened by the cellist's vanity, and from the looks of it, the rest of her friends, weren't happy to see her, either. Shock riddled Rainbow's face, but then hardened into the same spite that the cellist had. "You leave my friends out of this, Octavia," said the doctor. "Any fight you want is with me."

     Octavia tsked, not quite making eye contact with her. "If this is about last week, don't be too sore about it. I am, just like everypony else in our fair city, just looking out for my--and Canterlot's--best interests."

     "Buckseed," Rainbow scoffed. "You're just out to get Twi just because she overshadows you. No way in Tartarus can a dumb cellist compete with somepony who's being taught by Celestia herself and saving Equestria a hundred times over!"

     This seemed to pluck a nerve within her, because her eye twitched slightly and her smile fell. But she quickly recovered. "Alright. So I'm jealous of your fame, Sparkle. But our own blessings and misfortunes bounce off each other. I may not have fame like yours, but my belongings make up for that. Like these two prizes I picked up tonight."

     One of the stallions, the unicorn that refused to let Spike in, let her stand close to him, wrapped meticulously in his forelegs. "And it's quite difficult being a musician when your good looks give you great company. Fetch me a drink, Glacier?" The other stallion caressing her fetlock paused, nodded, and headed to the bar. "This," she gestured to her face, "Makes much better progress than locking oneself in the basement restudying one's medical journals, after all."

     Twilight backed a few steps. She was predictable when it came to studying, and it bit her in the flank more times than she wanted to admit. But she couldn't let her play this game again; getting under her skin, making her say things she'd regret, making things worse for her. "You know, Octavia," she sighed at last, "I really feel bad for you. You've let your jealousy over all this fame get to you, and all it's doing is turning your heart into something ugly."

     "Oh, please," Octavia laughed. The stallion, Glacier, had returned with a wine glass and passed it to the mare. In between sips, she answered, "Not one part of me is lacking in beauty, and everypony in Canterlot knows it. My heart . . . what a ridiculous sentiment."

     "You may not understand now," Twilight pressed on, "But if you don't let go of this jealously, you're going to someday end up in a lot of trouble, and those 'good looks' won't help you in the slightest."

     "Mm, whatever you say, Sparkle. However, I have better things to do than listen to your ranting as Celestia's pet." Without another word, she waved her friends along.

     "Yeah! That's right, keep running, tramp!" Rainbow screamed after her once she passed the doors.

     "Rainbow Dash!" Twilight gasped at the sudden language, running to Rainbow. "You can't just say things like that here!"

     The pegasus didn't look phased by it, though. "What? Everypony was thinking something like it. I just had the guts to say it."

     "Aw, don't let it go buggin ya, sugarcube. She darn well deserved it."

      "Maybe, but I wish there was some way to make amends with that pony. Every time I've tried, she treats my friendship like the plague," Twilight sighed. She remembered a lesson her mentor once taught her, long ago, when she was a mere filly. Some nobleponies had saw her studying medical journals, specifically on the brain, and how a comatose state could take effect. When she told these ponies of her plans to cure comas with her formula, they laughed, believing the filly to be a fool for thinking such a cure could be made was foolish.

     Princess Celestia had often told her that by taking this course of destiny, she'd be faced with many who would refuse to listen, and among those cynics, there were those who would never change, no matter how many chances of reconciliation would be given to them.

     "I learned this myself from personal experience, I'm afraid," Celestia had repeated with each time she taught this lesson.

     It became a standpoint to Twilight knowing that, just as Soarin's song had said, 'It's Hell that we choose'; that many of equine was stubborn and chose to instead make life harder for others.

     The swooping sound of a curtain hit Twilight. Revolving to the source, she saw Soarin and his friends trotting from the backstage.  Excusing herself, she started towards him, already several different ways to start the conversation spinning in her brain. Yet as she did, fear passed over on the lighter-colored mares' face as she glanced up to the second floor.

     "Soarin, look out!" she screamed. Soarin, too, looked up, then darted forward.

     But Glider was faster. Much faster.

      Like a fiery bolt, she dove from the second floor, hooves booming on the wooden floor just in front of him. He jolted to a stop, slipping onto his back from the momentum. The two other mares tried to fly to his defense, but Silver had appeared from the shadows to stop them. In that time, Soarin tried maneuvering the opposite direction, and Glider once again cut him off. Before he could react, Glider sucker-punched him aside the jawline. He staggered groggily, face smacking into the floor.

     Twilight shouted indiscernibly, about to teleport in front of the assailant, only for Rarity to hold her back. "No! Let go!"

     "Dear, please!" She moaned, fighting against Twilight's strength. "Interfering shall only complicate things; for both him and you."

     She struggled a few more times, but Twilight finally gave up, laying on her knees to convince Rarity. When wearily looking to her side, she saw the exact same thing had happened to Rainbow, being restrained by Applejack.

     Glider now held Soarin captive, one wing tightened around a leg, now that he stood on all fours. Most of the conversation was indiscernible, but from she could make out, he was the late performer, and she was demanding to know why he was late.

     "I gave you this job when you had nothing!" Glider suddenly panted loudly. "I can just as easily throw you away, just like those unfay . . . unfaust . . . argh! Like those 'good-for-nothing' Wonderbolts did. And I'll find better singers than you, those who can take their schedules seriously."

      Soarin's reply was too quiet to hear, but Twilight was sure she had heard the name "Toe-Tapper".

      "Don't question my preferences!" Glider shouted again.

      Then one of his friends flew beside her--the darker one with her silvery mane--and spoke to her. Whatever she said, Glider took on a smug visage and answered, "I expect each of you to act on your best behaviors, to the point of perfection. I don't tolerate one of you coming two-and-a-half hours late. I won't show any more pity over you and I both being 'Gilders', either. Be grateful that I give the most of my earnings to you performers." She released Soarin and started to walk away. "But at least your voice, Soarin, makes up for that astint . . . empty-headed lust of yours.  Just don't be late again."

     Laughing under her breath, she left the pegasi, the leader of which leaning onto a table, using a plate as a mirror to examine his bruise.

     Twilight took no hesitation to go help him, and was just fast enough to avoid Rarity's attempts to grab her again.

     "Oh, shoot!" she heard her swear. "I didn't even get the chance to give her my special whistle!" Whistle? Twilight didn't know she'd kept these things around her, as she believed they were just ear-ra--She held back her gag, realizing what exactly the whistle was for. For Equestria's sake, Rarity, I'm just helping him!

     The two other pegasi were hovering over him like protective mother hens, asking a plethora of questions, while Soarin was obviously rolling his eyes, but not in derision.

     "Excuse me, please, I'm a doctor," Twilight commanded. The mares both recognized her and backed off, while Soarin scrutinized her.

     "Huh. Didn't know you were a legit doctor, being Celestia's pet and all," he said.

     Twilight bit back her anger and sighed out hot air. What is with everypony thinking I'm some slave of the Princess'? Even Philomena is treated like an actually pony, rather than a pet bird! Letting it go, she responded, "I'm not that kind of doctor, but I have plenty of experience in the first-aid field to legally tend to injuries. My actual doctorates include medicine, neurology, chemistry . . . Right, your injuries. It doesn't matter in this situation. Now let's see . . . slight bruising around your cheek, major bruising on the jawline . . ." She pressed down on the bone with no reaction. "No fractured bones, no dislocated jaw--"

     "Aw, that's too bad," said the lighter pegasus, "He uses that thing to chat our ears off!"

     Soarin shot a look at her. "Shut up, Dusty." There was no spite in the statement, presumably this was playful banter.

     "Moving on," Twilight continued, "I don't see any other significant injuries. You're ready, Soarin. Now, I recommend icing that twice per day, preferably before your performances, and limit your speech to only necessary talking." Soarin quickly held at hoof at Dusty before she could say anything.

     "Good to know you had my back there, Doctor," he turned back to her. "Or should I say, 'good to know you had my face'?"

     Chuckling lightly, Twilight answered, "Yes, the correct term is 'had your face'. And you don't have to call me by my title. The doctor thing just comes with my PH.D.s.

     "So I guess all that spite you get comes with it too?"

     "Well, no. It comes with doing meaningful work that nopony's ever tried before." She offered him a seat, to which he accepted, and she followed suit. From behind, she heard a shuffling of hooves. Good, her friends were leaving. She needed this time alone with him. The two mares also took this hint and left as well, though the darker one had returned very briefly with an ice bucket.

     "I'm sorry about having to talk about this," Twilight said, helping the ice into a plastic bag, then handed it to Soarin, "But I was told  about the Wonderbolts, and your issue with them." Soarin snorted, pressing the ice with a wing. "But my friend wanted to know what had happened."

     The pegasus looked grim over having to talk about it, but indulged anyway. "Let's just say that if she's planning to tryout for the team anytime soon, let her know that the Wonderbolts aren't exactly as loyal and honorable as they make themselves out to be." So betrayal. And lies, judging by the use of 'honorable'. And the variables weren't many on that case. Maybe a replacement, resulted from Soarin's last show gone wrong.

      "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

     But Soarin ignored it. "If it keeps one more pony from having their dreams shattered the hard way, it's an ordeal I'll put up with."

     It was a good point to consider. "If there was a way to help you, I'd do it. But I'm not here to pour pity on you when it's making things worse. I actually came to thank you."

     Soarin laughed quietly. "What, did I indirectly kill one of those Governors you hate?" When Twilight shook her head, he replied, "Okay, never mind. At least there's that one who actually supports you." He smiled, his emerald eyes tracing hers. "So, seriously, what'd I do?"

     "You helped me with your song, 'Good 'n Evil". I dunno . . . I really needed an outsider's opinion on this problem I had, and everything in those lyrics . . . just fit."

     "Technically, those lyrics aren't mine. They're Wildhorn's. I just endorse them, and pray to the Alicorns Above that lawyers don't come knocking down our door."

     "They still helped." She paused. "What do you know about my experiments and the natures of Goodness and Evil?"

     Soarin shrugged. "Not much. I didn't go through high school."

     "That's okay, I'll just explain it simply.

     "Within every one of us, even the best of us, there is an essence of Goodness, and an essence of Evil. Imagine it all as a rudimentary scale." To elaborate, she conjured a scale made completely of light. One side had an orb of white, the other, black. "Within our lives, from the moment we're born, these two fight for control of their host. With every action or inaction tilts these scales." She did so, demonstrating the example. "But I also think the reason we can't help our actions sometimes is because these natures heavily influence them. And if Evil takes over, we lose our sentience, or free will. You've seen this in mental hospitals or comatose patients."

     "What about Good taking over? What happens then?"

     "I could ask the same thing about a hero overthrowing the sorcerer and liberating the kingdom. What does this hero do with this kingdom now that evil's conquered?" Soarin nodded, freeing her to continue. "Now, none of us are born with equal scales. They are never balanced. This is why there are hypocrites and masqueraders, and humble ponies and kindhearted ones who give everything they have. All these have scales that are not balanced.

     "My TS8 Formula was designed to separate the natures and balance them out, therefore giving fallen sentients their will back. However, I made the mistake of thinking it could work only on these ponies. Even as we speak, the war goes on in our hearts. The scales are out of whack. This is shown in many cases; an overblown egotistical personality, a physical deformity, or a mental illness, like dyslexia."

     Pans and dishes clattering over the floor echoed through the room for the second time that night. Both Soarin and Twilight looked at the sound's source and saw Glider struggling in a food cart, all legs in one shelf, and her wings fluttering helplessly. A waiter tried to help, but she shouted at him. "I don't need your help! Just watch where you're going!" Managing to pry her limbs out, she snarled at anyone in her path, and flew back to the second floor.

     "What was that about?" Soarin pondered.

     Twilight couldn't provide an answer, not even an 'I-don't-know' for not wanting to sound dumb. They both settled back as she continued. "Anyway, these illnesses can be cured with the TS8, putting these two in perfect balance, for a time."

     "For a time?" Soarin looked skeptical. "Why not get rid of evil altogether?"

     "It won't work. Completely reforming someone is not only impossible, but it's unkind. By doing so, one would remove all free will to act as they please. Even pulling a harmless prank would be out of the question for one of a completely pure heart." She released the spell, evaporating the scale. "And besides, Evil can never really die. 'Darkness always had its part to play. Without it, how would we know when we walked in the light? It's only when its ambitions become too grandiose that it must be opposed, disciplined--sometimes, if necessary--brought down for a time. Then it will rise again, as it must.'

     "Been reading 'Abarat', huh?"

     "It's a classic. And it applies well to this ideology."

      "Hey, sugarcube?" Applejack called galloping towards her and Soarin. "Pardon me for breakin' up your, um . . . soirée?" The unicorn frowned at her, but was ignored. "But Silver's sayin' they gotta get to closin' up shop. We'd better go get Spike and get us home."

Oh, right. Spike's still guarding the Alicorn Amulet. I hope he wasn't awake the whole time . . . In the back of her mind, she knew that by the time they 'picked Spike up', her friends would know what she was up to. But for the time being, she'd let them savor the feeling of not being deceived for a bit longer.

     "I'll be right there, Applejack." When she left, the doctor slipped on the cloak Rarity had lent her, brushing the fabric meticulously. "I'm sorry to break this up so quickly, but you probably need to go back to your friends, right?"

     "Yeah, I do. But I'm lucky to have any friends, considering what I'd been through as of late." He sighed, gently touching his bruise.

    Did he even have any friends outside the Wonderbolts when he was still a part of the team? Or did he even have any friends now, besides those two mares?

     It only reminded her of when she moved to Ponyville under the charge of making friends, to her reluctant obedience. She didn't have time to make friends when she needed to find the correct recipe for the TS8 Formula, and this whole, 'friendship' thing was just driving a wedge into her priorities.

     Did she ever tell her friends how much she hated doubting her mentor's wishes?

     Through all the friends she'd made in Ponyville and the lessons she'd learned, she had honed her mind to have a tolerance towards the Governors and those who bashed her work, and, most importantly, two of them indirectly contributed to finding the key to the TS8; Zecora with showing her trade in little-known potions, and Pinkie Pie, with finding the Mirror Pond.

     Would she have even gotten close to unlocking the puzzle without the magic of friendship?

     Twilight touched her hoof to Soarin's, sending sparks up her leg. "Then be glad to know you have one more friend." Sparks of doubt ran in his emerald eyes. "No, I mean it, Soarin. You may have just saved my Mother by doing this. It's only fair to extend my hoof in friendship." She withdrew a card from her pocket, a business card with just her name, profession, and Canterlot address. "If the condition of your bruise worsens, or, more importantly, if you need somepony to talk to, I'm staying in Canterlot for a couple weeks."

     As Soarin's eyes glinted, worry spread within Twilight as she remembered what Rarity said; about that 'special whistle'. "But I mean simply that. As a friend."

     "Oh, you needn't worry yourself, Doctor," he answered, seeing the fear in her eyes. "I set my standards of respect--to myself and to others." Taking the card with feathers, he tucked it away, starting to back up. "I'm sure you've got a busy night, so I'll leave you be." Before trotting to the staircase, he added, "And thanks. I mean, for everything. That friendship and whatnot."

     Twilight kept her eyes locked on the room where he eventually disappeared. A cold chill swept through her as she pried her hooves from the carpet, and to the exit. I'm sure we'll meet again, Soarin. A small smile crept onto her face. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one who saw the world as a large scale; some ponies more good, some more evil, but none ever staying on one nature. Everyone was insane in this world, in their own way. And her Formula was the cure to insanity, the beacon in which it would lead them back to the light.

     Exiting the Altrotta and joining her friends, Doctor Sparkle returned to the world of cynics and madmares, where passions are shot down and careers ruined if you didn't take care. But I will. By this time next week, the Governors will finally see what I'm going to accomplish, all those scandalous rumors will die out, and honor will be brought to the Princesses. But most importantly, my Mother will finally be free. All because of an outsider's opinion.

But for now, there's work to be done . . .