Everything You Wanted

Scootaloo twisted upon her bed. The rusted-through cot squeaked beneath her weight, each groaning spring begging her to buy a new cot and let them finally rest in peace. Instead, night after night, she lay down on the same battered furniture and tried her best to sleep. Occasionally, she considered sleeping on the floor instead, until the sounds of oversized scuttling reached her ears and she remembered why she kept to her bed.

Sometimes, in the early hours, she would look over at her prized possessions: a pair of framed photographs. Three fillies smiled back from the first, laughing as they stood in front of Cheerilee’s schoolhouse for the last time, while none other than Rainbow Dash herself grinned back from the second.

It was strange to think she’d once known these ponies: a captain of the Wonderbolts, an heir to the Apple family legacy, and a rising star on the music scene. Now, they were just photographs in a low rent apartment, kept safe by scratched glass and rotting frames. Usually, they brought her comfort on those nights she couldn’t sleep, but tonight was an exception.

Tonight, of course, she was sleepless for a new reason. She tried not to dwell on it, tried not to look at the center of the room, where an arcane symbol burned quietly in the midst of the soiled concrete. Occasionally, something would scuttle across it, only to vaporize in a blaze of inscrutable forces.

Part of her wanted to try and cook something on it, if only because the price of natural gas was climbing through the roof. Of course, there was always the risk of magic poisoning and growing a horn or something, but it was almost worth it just the same. Maybe a horn would actually be useful.

There was a soft rush of air, and suddenly a dark shadow loomed over her. Two baleful eyes gleamed from its depths, cold and alien as the stars in the sky as they swept over her room. “Oh dear god, what is this place?” The shadow swung side to side, revealing a long canine muzzle that shifted and danced in the twilight. “This always happens when mortals industrialize. Would it kill them to show a little generosity?”

“Uh, maybe?” Scootaloo flinched as two pale, glowing eyes fixed on her. “Are you the Giver?”

“The Giver? That’s seriously what they went with?” He sighed, shaking his head in a disturbingly liquid motion. “This is the last time I leave my records to mortals. Call me Viscous. Two guesses why.” He grinned, the motion stretching his fangs unnaturally wide.

“Because, you’re...made of liquid?” She offered a nervous grin. This wasn’t quite the dark ritual of forbidden arts she’d been sold on.

“Close! I’m a fluid, not a liquid. All liquids are fluid, but not all fluids are liquids. Think of it like a square rectangle thing.” He slithered his way over towards her cot, and shot it a disdainful look. “Really? You couldn’t afford a pinch of arsenic on this thing?”

“Wouldn’t arsenic kill me?” Scootaloo said.

“Yeah, if you sat on it before cleaning it, but really, if you kill yourself with your own poison you don’t deserve to live.” He sighed and opted to simply hover in the midst of her living room. “So, if the surroundings weren’t clue enough, I’m guessing your life took a crap turn.”

“You could say that.” She felt her wings buzz self-consciously, and it was all she could do not to shoot them a glare.

“Ooof, are those vestigial?” he trailed off at her expression. “Okay, so you are a cripple.”

“I...yeah. Yeah I’m a cripple, who am I kidding?” She slumped back on her cot, letting out a heavy sigh. “All my life, I wanted to fly with the Wonderbolts, with my idol. Now here I am with a pair of bum wings and a life to match.”

“Oooohhh, tough break. Well, maybe not.” He formed a set of claws out of his shadowy mass, and casually polished them upon himself. “I mean, this way you get to meet me, after all.”

“Yes, it’s been worth every minute,” Scootaloo deadpanned. “Shouldn’t you be offering me forbidden power right now?”

“Oh, right. That was the deal, wasn’t it?” He tapped his chin contemplatively. “Lemme guess, wings?”

“Not just any wings! I want the most kick-flank, hardcore, sky wrecking wings you’ve got.” When he turned to stare at her, she rolled over and stood her ground. “Hey, I burned three chickens and sold my soul for this deal: I’m getting the full package.”

“Woah, wait, those weren’t live chickens, were they?” There was a beat of awkward silence before Viscous let out a low whistle. “Damn, you are seriously dedicated.”

“Wait, so I sell my soul in this deal, and you get wrapped up over some chickens?” She glanced at the runes now burned into the floor. “Did I get the right guy?”

“Well, to be entirely fair, it’s not like there actually is ‘a soul,’ so to speak.” He shrugged. “Certainly not one shaped by such petty concepts as barter. Really, the whole prospect is utterly asinine.”

“Wait, so I didn’t sell my soul? Then what the buck was the point of the whole ritual?” She glared at her now pointlessly ruined floor.

“It was testing for dedication. You throw around ominous terms like soul and sacrifice, and the uninvested tend to lose interest.” He chuckled. “Can you imagine how much I’d get called on if I asked for cash? Even at ten pounds of gold I’d be booked from here to eternity.”

“I...feel like I should be angrier.” Scootaloo just stared blankly. “Whatever, so, there’s no actual price? Besides the chickens.” Her nose still wrinkled at the memory.

“Oh, there’s a price, but it’s hardly so steep as souls and such.” He flicked a limb, and a scroll dropped from his shadowy substance. “Full terms are on there, but the gist of it is this: I grant your wish, and you go looking for others who need wishes granted. Then they do the same, and on it goes.”

“That’s it?” She crooked a brow. “No rituals and stuff?”

“That’s it. The rituals are just for when I can’t oversee things. Once I’ve got someone ‘on the ground,’ so to speak, I can trust their judgement. Well, unless they disappoint me, but,” he shot her another one of his too-wide grins, “I find people try to avoid that.”

“I, uh, okay then.” She found herself sweating. “So, wings?”

“Ah, so you agree then?” She nodded, and he simply continued to smile. “Very good, we’ll begin immediately. Mind, this might be slightly disorienting. Memory deletion can have that effect.”

“Memory—”

“—deletion?” Scootaloo blinked.

She was in an apartment, but it wasn’t her own. She still recognized the Manehatten skyline, but now it seemed lower down. She realized she’d been moved higher up, to one of the nicer pegasai apartments. Gone were the grungy furnishings of her hovel, replaced with a clean absence of anything. The room felt more like a box than a home.

“I saw this apartment, and simply had to put you here.” Viscous’ voice prompted her to turn around with a yelp.

“Don’t do that!” The instant her wings flared, she knew something was wrong. She lurched for a moment before she caught herself. A quick glance took her breath away. Where her stubby little appendages had been, there were now mighty spans of polished metal, done up in gleaming shades of her own colors. “Woaaaah.”

“You like?” He chuckled, smiling as she nodded. “You better. You know how long it took me to put those things in? Do you have any idea how messed up pony physiology is?” He let out a low grumble. “I really hate magic.”

“Really? Didn’t you get here by, you know, magic?” Scootaloo said.

“Yeah, not because I wanted to. The work’s gotta go on, no matter the method.” He said, shrugging.

“Yeah, so, about that ‘work.’ I just have to find another pony who wants,” she glanced back at her wings, “to be so epic and awesome they could die?” She gave them a quick flap and squealed with delight as she nearly smacked into the ceiling. “That would have winded me before! This is so cool!”

“That’s the gist of it. Just keep your ears to the ground. Really, it’s a part time thing at best.” He glanced around the space. “Meanwhile I can get things set up here.”

“Things?” She glanced around the empty apartment. “Where are we, for that matter?”

“Oh, just a little place I found. One of the advantages of being a master of the material arts is that currency is never hard to come by.” He flicked one of his limbs, producing a stack of golden bits as easy as magician’s stage trick. “Don’t worry about being caught for counterfeiting, by the way. I don’t use the term ‘master’ lightly.”

“So you can just make money whenever you want?” She let out a low whistle. “So, like, do I live here now?”

“Why not? You’re my high priest after all. Or maybe prophet would be better?” He laughed, starting to glide around the room. “What better place for a mare of the cloth to live than the temple of her faith?”

“You’re going to build a temple,” she paused to look around, “in a middle income apartment.”

“Hey, at least I’m not one of those chumps who piles a stack of rocks in the woods and calls it a place of worship.” He waved her off. “Anyway, I brought you here so you’d know where it is. You go collect your effects, chase your dreams, and I’ll get rolling on my miracles over here.” From his shifting darkness, he produced a tape measure and a marker, starting to plan out the floor. “Oh, and if you know any good sofa shops, that would be fantastic. Also, pick me up some letters. Mail order makes my life so much easier.”

“Uh, sure, can do.” She made her way to the door, sparing one last glance for the strange interior decorator she’d summoned, and stepped out into the hall.

“And milk! We need milk!” His voice chased after her with a cackle.

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes, making her way out of the building.

At first, it was strange having ponies stare at her. Their eyes inevitably caught on the polished gleam of her new appendages, and after the first few minutes she started to revel in the attention. She hadn’t been much of somepony back in her Ponyville days, but after moving away, she’d dropped off the map. It was nice to capture a little of that attention again.

Still, as she moved back into the slums, she found some of that attention growing a little avaricious. Uneasily, she found herself slowing down, hesitant to go further into what was essentially the underbelly of the city. As she eyed the grimy streets ahead, she found herself longing to keep the filth from her wings. And then the solution hit her so hard she laughed.

Spreading them wide, she gave them a few experimental flaps, rocketing into the sky as she did so. “Woah! This is even better than I thought!” She nearly overbalanced on the first few flaps, but found the balance wasn’t too different from her old set of wings. She had to pace her flaps, the larger wings proving slower to respond, but they were so much more powerful she could hardly be bothered to care. They were so powerful, in fact, that she nearly sped clean past her apartment, having to rapidly backpedal in a gust of trash.

“Home sweet home.” The words were bitter on her tongue. For the past year, she’d turned a blind eye to the state of her living conditions, but through the lens of fresh hope, they looked more decrepit than she could imagine. “Did I really sink this low?” She briefly considered heading in to take the stairs, but then she remembered her new pair of wings.

With a few quick flaps, she made her way up to her room, and pulled open the window. Maybe the broken latch should have concerned her, had she possessed anything worth stealing. As a matter of fact, she began to realize she barely had anything worth taking. Aside from her pictures, she was content to let the rest rot where it sat.

“Well, I guess that’s everything.” She stared at her hoofful of pictures, and found a smile teasing at her lips. “Hey girls, been a while. We should catch up sometime.” As she flapped her wings, the air beginning to rush past her, she felt her smile grow into a full blown grin. “You know what? Why wait?” She was about to turn towards Ponyville when she remembered Viscous’ request for mail, and his comments regarding ‘failure.’ “On second thought, girls, I think our reunion will have to wait just a bit.”

“So, uh, do you, uh, need me for anything?” Scootaloo dodged aside as Viscous wheeled about a cart of power tools. “Errands, labor, an alibi when the cops ask why you turned an apartment into a construction zone?”

“Nah, I’ve got that all taken care of,” Viscous said, his smirk bespeaking no end of ‘inventive’ solutions to that particular problem. “I gave you wings to go chase your dreams, so fly along little birdy! Fly free!”

“Uh, yeah. Sure thing. I’ll probably be gone a while, you know…” Even as she spoke the words, she edged her way towards the door.

“Pffft, you’re not at my beck and call. I can probably do anything I’d ask of you anyway. And it’d probably come out better besides. Go off, live life, and keep those ears open, eh?” With that, he hefted up a jackhammer, and started to brace it against the wall.

“Okay then, good luck with…this?” She quickly slipped out of the door, wincing as the staccato din of the jackhammer started up. “What a gigantic bag of nuts.”

Flying. All her life, Scootaloo had dreamed of flying. She’d been flown, and she’d hovered under her own power, but those had only served to whet her appetite for the real thing. Now, at long last, she was experiencing it for herself. It was spectacular.

“Hey slowpokes!” She blew past a family of pegasai, the small band no doubt having opted to forgo the trains just as she had. By the time they’d scattered in alarm, Scootaloo was already an orange and purple streak blazing towards the horizon. “Later slowpokes!”

A small part of her felt bad for scattering the family like a flock of pigeons. The rest of her was so high on thrills she didn’t care. Below her, the grand expanse that was Equestria spilled out like a map, only now the mountains were real instead of drawn, and the rivers sparkled and the grasses waved. She was doing it, she was finally flying.

She was free.

“Ponyville, here I come!” She started to flap her wings faster, feeling the metal moorings pull on her back. It was a strange sensation, so different than her old wings. Before, she could feel every joint, every muscle burning as she struggled to go faster and faster, desperate to fly. Now, however, it was as though they’d been doused in ice water. She could feel her wings, but there was no pain or stress. There was only the cool flow of air across their polished feathers, and the force upon their joints.

She pushed herself harder, curious to see her limits. The cold steel responded, keeping pace with her every desire. The air began to drag against her face, but still she went faster. The land below began to blur, but still she went faster. The force holding her back grew heavier, but still she went faster. The pressure disappeared before her, the barrier broken in a blaze of orange across the sky.

And still she went faster.

It was intoxicating. All she needed was to try, and it happened. Her wings hammered with the force of thunderclaps, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest. Where flesh and muscle would have protested and torn, the cool steel of her wings merely obeyed. There were no limits in this place, no boundaries. There were only dreams to chase, and the speed to catch them.

Oh, and there was Ponyville.

The wind lashed across her as she tried to stop suddenly, the smooth flow of air turning to vicious turbulence that whipped across her fur. Though her wings worked tirelessly and without complaint, the rest of her body howled in protest as it was forced to stop far faster than it was ever intended to. For a moment, she seriously feared she would tear apart in midair, victim of a horrible double-edged deal. Then, slowly, the strain began to fade, and she pulled into a hover, her entire body feeling as though she’d plowed clean through a brick wall.

“Okay, next time, pace yourself.” Panting more from pain than exertion, she settled into a glide towards the town she’d once called home. Below her, Ponyville sprawled out in a way it never had during her youth.

As the seat of a princess, Ponyville had grown from a small town into a city in its own right. Well, more of a suburb to be exact, the buildings keeping a small, homey feel despite multiplying endlessly in number. Perhaps it had been done to try and avoid the towering spires of Manehatten and the grimy shadows they never failed to cast, but the end result was a town that stretched to all sides like an overgrown spiderweb, several times larger than it had any right to be.

Fortunately, Scootaloo’s first stop wasn’t within the suburban sprawl. Or, at least, it hadn’t been when she’d last seen it. However, as she swept out towards Sweet Apple Acres, it was with an endless procession of buildings following her every flap. By the time she had reached Sweet Apple Acres, it was clear that the labyrinth of development had been quite happy to engulf the modest orchard, surrounding the trees within the way a river would a rock.

“Geeze, this place sure changed.” She angled her wings down, aiming for the farmhouse she remembered from her youth. As she did, she spied the old Crusader clubhouse, weathered but still in good condition. The sight brought a smile to her lips. “Maybe not that much.”

As she settled down on the ground, she caught sight of a familiar russet red stallion. “Big mac!”

“Hm?” Big Macintosh glanced up from where he stood beside the farmhouse, spitting out the axe with which he’d been chopping firewood. Just as time had touched the old Apple farmhouse, so too had it touched Big Mac. Years of working the farm had kept him in top shape, but his once lustrous red coat had been paled and bleached by the endless sun. He looked worn, but still strong, as befitted an Apple. “Scootaloo?”

“The one and only!” She galloped up and gave him a fierce hug. Until she saw him, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this place. “Sorry I never visited, just, with train rates what they are…” Never had she hated her wings more than when they’d trapped her in Manehatten, locking her to the trains to see her friends. Or not see them as the case had been.

“It’s okay, welcome back.” He returned the hug in kind, his heavy hooves squeezing her like a comfortable vice. The grip loosened a bit as he felt the stiff steel of her wings. “What’s this?”

“I, uh, got treatment for my wings!” Technically true, though from his expression, Big Mac clearly picked up on the ‘technical’ aspect of it. Scootaloo sighed. “Look, it’s a long story, and…I’d rather just tell it once. Where’s Apple Bloom and Applejack?”

“Market, Council.” He took another look at her wings, and shrugged. “Should be back soon.”

“Thanks. So, how’s the farm?” She took a glance around. Upon closer inspection, the buildings weren’t doing as well as they’d first appeared, with the bright paint beginning to chip and peel and the wood beneath dulled by sun and wind. “Need any help?”

“Enope,” Big Mac said.

“Looks like this place has seen better days.” Scootaloo coughed gently, eying the rust upon his axe. “I thought Ponyville was doing well for itself.”

“Property Taxes,” Big Mac said, and Scootaloo ahhed in comprehension. She’d been forced out of her share of apartments by rising property values.

“Well, don’t all these ponies buy more apples? Aren’t you making more money?” she said.

“Enope.” He picked up the axe in his mouth, and went back to chopping wood.

“But...why? You could make a killing on this place! It’s like a small city in walking distance!” Scootaloo said.

“Can’t plant more apples to sell,” he replied. “No room.”

“Oh.” So that was it, they were hemmed in. “Can’t Twilight help or something?”

“Enope. No hoofouts.” He spoke the words with conviction and pride, the next log splitting with a definitive crack.

“Yeah, I can see that.” She couldn’t stand hoofouts herself. She probably could have made it out of Manehatten earlier if she’d just been willing to beg for a ticket and someplace to go. Instead, she’d stuck it out, and now she had a sweet new pair of wings. Sure, she might have unleashed some dark god upon Equestria, but then again, that happened every Tuesday anyway.

That still left the question of how she’d explain herself.

“Scootaloo?” Despite her dark thoughts, Scootaloo felt her heart lift at the voice. It was several years older, but there was still every ounce of that sweet sunny charm to it.

“Apple Bloom!” Scootaloo whipped around in time to see one of her best friends in the world racing down the road towards her. As she felt those familiar hooves hug her close, it was as though everything slid backwards in time, the years vanishing like smoke. For an instant, she was a filly again, a big bright world waiting all around her.

“Scoots! I thought you died!” said Apple Bloom, tears welling in her eyes. It suddenly struck Scootaloo how big Apple Bloom was. She'd clearly taken after her brother over the years, to the point where she made Applejack look like the delicate one in the family.

“What?” Scootaloo pulled away to look her friend in the eyes. “Really?”

“Well, I don’t know. We used to be so close, then all of a sudden the letters stopped coming back. I even came to Manehatten to look for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” Eyes still brimming with tears, she grabbed Scootaloo for another hug, even as the orange pegasus struggled with what she’d heard.

“Apple Bloom,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“What happened to you?” The words weren’t angry, just concerned for a friend. “Why didn’t you ever reply?”

“I...couldn’t afford postage.” Scootaloo pulled away, her eyes averted in shame. “There’s not a lot of call for a flightless pegasus, part of why I moved to Manehatten in the first place, but it was just as bad there. I could barely afford to stay fed and housed, and several times I had to move to a lower rent apartment, and couldn’t afford to send you the change of address.”

“Oh, Scootaloo. Why didn’t you come home?” she asked.

“You know how much a train ticket costs these days?” She gave a bitter snort. “Not as if I could just fly home.”

“But, then, how’d you get here?” Apple Bloom finally broke her hold around Scootaloo. As she did, her touch brushed the metallic wings at her sides, and her eyes went wide. “What in tarnation?”

“I flew here.” Pushing down her remaining melancholy, Scootaloo threw on her best grin and flared her wings for all to see. Opened wide, they cast an impressive shadow, solicited a surprised ‘oooohhh’ from Apple Bloom. “Not bad, eh?”

“Are those your wings?” Apple Bloom reached out a hoof, caressing the smooth steel. “They’re amazing!”

“Yeah, I know, right? I actually flew here from Manehatten! Today!” She gave her wings a self indulgent flourish before settling them back against her sides. “Probably set some new records, maybe inspired a few fillies, you know how it is.”

“This is fantastic! You can finally get into the wonderbolts! How’d you do it?” Those last words almost instantly killed the mood, leaving Scootaloo to freeze with guilt.  Apple Bloom picked up on it instantly. “Scootaloo, how’d you do it?”

“Magic?” Scootaloo offered.

“Well of course it’s magic.” Apple Bloom took another look at Scootaloo and sighed. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

“No, probably not.” Scootaloo cast a glance over at the farmhouse, suddenly so much less inviting. “Can we sit down? It’s kind of a long story.”

“Sure. You coming, Mac?” When the red farmpony shook his head, Apple Bloom simply nodded and led Scootaloo inside the house. The interior of the Apple family household had fared better than the outside, the old kitchen implements and furniture clearly benefiting from plenty of tender and loving care. Apple Bloom sat herself on the far side of the table, facing Scootaloo as she did the same. “Alright, spill. What did you do?”

“Alright. It all started last year. I’d just had my last job shut down by the health inspector, and I had to make rent. Lucky for me, there was an old curio shop looking for help. Of course, I played the ‘I knew Twilight Sparkle’ card for all it was worth. It didn’t get me very far, but he was curious enough to let me take a swing at organizing the books. Thanks to learning with Twilight, I managed to do a good enough job that he took me on for some part time work.” She heaved a sigh. “It really wasn’t enough to make rent, but it was better than nothing, so I kept at it while I looked for other work. Most of it was garbage, old yard sale trash and stuff, but one day this book came in.” Scootaloo paused, beginning to worry her lip. “I could tell right off that book was bad news. Pony who sold it looked like he’d been through tartarus and back. There were bags under his eyes, his ribs were showing, and he kept fidgeting and glancing over his shoulder. Still, it was an old book, and if there were two things we sold, it was old and books. Of course, we bought the damn thing and put it on the shelves like everything else, but I just couldn’t get it out of my head. There was something different about it.”

“You read it, didn’t you?” Applebloom’s eyes said she already knew the answer.

“Of course I read it!” Scootaloo answered anyway.

“Why would you do that? You said yourself it looked evil!” Apple Bloom folded her forelegs, summoning up her best disapproving glare, clearly borrowed from years of Applejack’s guidance.

“I said it looked different. It wasn’t like the pages were bleeding or anything.” Twilight had once actually hosted an informative seminar on evil books, and section one had been entirely devoted to the topic of bleeding literature. Section two had been on cover materials, but by then everypony had fallen asleep.

“Scoots, haven’t we had enough problems with dark gods and all?” Apple Bloom said, Discord’s name not needing to be mentioned.

“Never stopped us before,” Scootaloo said.

Apple Bloom sat there a moment. “...you got a point.”

“See? And it’s not like I tried any of the really evil stuff,” Scootaloo scoffed. “I mean, you wouldn’t believe some of what was in there.”

“Well that’s a real comfort,” Applebloom snarked. “How about you tell me about what you did do?”

“Alright, alright, I was reading through the book, and it was all about summoning evil things, usual dark tome stuff, but then this one page falls out. It looked like somepony had stuffed it in there, and on it was a ritual for summoning something called the Giver.” Scootaloo leaned in a bit, her eyes taking on an excited gleam. “Apparently, you could summon him and he would grant you the power to fix your life. The page said to use it in case you were actually dumb enough to summon something from the book.”

“So you went and summoned him,” Apple Bloom concluded, nonplussed.

“Well, yeah.” Scootaloo deflated a bit, shaking her head. “Apple Bloom, my life needed fixing, and I was out of ideas.”

“I can’t believe you couldn’t find a way to come to us for help.” She scowled, her eyes hurt and confused. “We’re your friends Scoots!”

“Well maybe I didn’t want to come to you for help! Maybe I didn’t want to be Scootaloo the cripple, who couldn’t cut it on her own!” A deathly silence fell, and a moment later Scootaloo let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Scoots, you know we’d never…”

“But I would. I would know I had to run to you for help. I was alone, and broken and it was all my fault.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I couldn’t face it. Anything was better than that, even my soul.”

“Wait, your soul?” Apple Bloom stared, aghast.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Scootaloo replied with a snort. “Turns out he didn’t actually want my soul. I don’t think he actually believes in them even. It was just to scare ponies off from summoning him all the time.”

“Well...okay.” Applebloom blinked. “So, he didn’t want anything?”

“Well, not exactly. He wants me to keep an eye out for other ponies for him to grant wishes for.” She shrugged. “Seems innocent enough, though I think he’s got some screws loose. Last I saw he was trying to build a temple inside a middle class apartment.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I think he’s probably more crazy than dangerous.” She sighed. “Either way, I got my wings, and I said I’d do it for him, so I will.”

“I really think we ought to tell Twilight and the other elements.” She chewed her lip. “He could be a lot more dangerous than he looks.”

“Apple Bloom, I...fine, I’ll tell them as soon as they get back. Alright?” She leaned back and sighed. “I’m just...I’m just glad to be home.”

“Have you spoken to…?” Apple Bloom didn’t have to finish.

“My parents?” Scootaloo snarled. “No. I told you nothing would get me to talk to them again, and that means nothing.”

“Alright.” Apple Bloom spoke the words with the same reluctance she always did. “Well, you can stay here then, so long as you help out. Honestly we could use it. What are you gonna do now that you’re back?”

“Now that I’m back?” Scootaloo rolled her shoulders, a bit of her pep coming back. “I’m gonna join the wonderbolts, that’s what!”

Apple Bloom couldn’t help but smirk in return. “About time, Scoots, about time.” As she started to get up, however, the front door opened, revealing none other than her sister. “Applejack? I thought you were going to be in meetings all day.”

“I was, then all of a sudden Twilight gets a letter from the princess, and has to go take care of something ‘special.’” She sighed, offering Scootaloo a warm smile. “Good to see ya Scootaloo, Mac told me you were back in town.”

“Yeah, it took me a while, didn’t it?” Scootaloo scratched at the back of her neck. It was strange seeing Applejack after so long, especially when those very same years had so clearly been unkind to her. Between a struggling farm and the duties of an element, Applejack had clearly endured more than her share of stress. Between her frayed hair and tired eyes, she could have aged a decade since Scootaloo had last seen her. It was a testament to her vitality that she seemed no weaker for it. “What’d Twilight have to deal with?”

“Didn’t say, some sort of trouble in Manehatten.”

Scootaloo felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, and quickly caught Apple Bloom’s worried eyes.

“Uh oh.”