A Stranger In Ponyville (OR, A Genre Shift in Three Acts)

Chapters

2. Interview With the Manchild
3. They See Me Trollin'
4. In Which A Manchild Seeks A Suitable Mate
5. It All Starts Coming Together
6. Mr. Cake is Cold-Hearted and Mean
7. "Girl" Is the New "Boy"
8. The Doctor Is In
9. Operation GTHO Ponyville
10. This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
11. Strangers in CWCville
12. Don't Send in the Clowns
13. La Resistance
14. Strategery
15. Friendship is Tragic
17. SHIT GETS REAL
18. My Brother's Battle (First Movement)
19. Is This What It's Like to Fall Forever?
20. Belly of the Beast
22. Diabolus ex-Machina? Never Heard of It!
23. My Brother's Battle (Second Movement)
24. And Now, For Somepony Completely Different
25. Stand Together, Fall As One
26. When the Sky Falls, Hold Out Your Hooves
27. You Smooze, You Lose
28. Saying Goodbye
1. First Encounters and Impressions
16. Holidays: Not Just for the Post Office Anymore
21. Hey, Wasn't Chris-Chan Supposed to Be in This Story?

2. Interview With the Manchild

Everything was cold that night, as if a chilling mist had fallen on the library. I remember that I was working on an actually fully-functional levitation spell and was close to a breakthrough, but the chill in the library was intolerable. The cocoa I had drunk and the blanket Spike had placed on my shoulders worked together to bring me to sleep.

It was the abyss I saw that night. The first time I'd seen it for myself. A great expanse of nothing, a mouth full of void and nonexistence. I was becoming colder somehow, despite my blanket, despite the warmth in my belly, as if neither were enough. As I grew colder, there was something, I realized, inside the abyss with me. I gazed into the abyss, and the abyss gazed also into me. Just before I could see it for myself, my eyes snapped open as I heard a loud, nerve-wracking knock at the door.

Lyra’s best friend Bon-Bon had shown up at the library at around three in the morning. Her face was stretched worryingly, her eyes displaying such vulnerability as I had never seen in her before. I did not yet know how much of a horror story this had yet to become.

It was beginning to rain outside as I let Bon-Bon into the library. Predictably, she did not apologize for waking me up this early (as Bon-Bon is pushy and rather unapologetic), but instead came right to her point. Lyra Heartstrings was sneaking out of their apartment every night, without telling Bon-Bon where she was going, and she wanted me to investigate.

I said, only half-awake at this point, that I would see what I could do. Bon-Bon reminded me how important this was (at least to her), and promised there’d be a reward in it for me. I’m still perplexed as to why she thought my aid could be bought; I don’t come off as THAT mercenary, do I? But I realized how important Lyra’s safety is to Bon-Bon (Since, thanks to her own abrasiveness, Lyra might actually be the only pony who accepts her unconditionally), and agreed to the job.

Either way, it wouldn’t be until two nights later that I would camp out near their apartment, waiting for Lyra to show herself. The first few nights, nothing happened. Interestingly, the dream of the abyss came again and again those nights, always ending before I could see who my mysterious neighbor was. Each night, I would fall asleep around four or five in the morning, fall into the abyss, then awaken near noon.

The morning after the third night, the abyss opened its eyes. One was greener than the other. This was the very last time I entered the abyss, and thank goodness. But that morning, I awoke cold and damp, as though I had thawed from a layer of ice. It was at this point that I considered my lucid dreaming a nuisance, and after reporting to Bon-Bon, asked if I could back out of the deal. My sleep was being affected, I told her.

Bon-Bon was relieved that Lyra was not stealing into the night, and understood the extent of my own problem. She told me that if the week went by without Lyra slipping out, she’d give me the reward and call the whole thing off, canceling the deal with a severance package.

But it never came to that, as on the fourth night, Lyra had exited her apartment through the window, her saddlebags on her back. She was dressed in dark colors, and I couldn’t help but imagine her as some kind of ninja: experienced greatly with stealth, her body moving snakelike across the moonlit streets. I was almost afraid that she’d know I was following her, turn around, then get me in the face with a shuriken.

Following her was tricky work. Despite my “invisibility” spell I’d enchanted myself with, there was still the possibility of being heard, felt, and smelled. When tailing Lyra, I always made sure there was enough distance between us to avoid any physical contact. I had made preparations earlier to make sure I carried not a scent, using only odorless soap to bathe; and as for being heard, you know I am not the kind of pony who is quick on her hooves. There were a few times in which Lyra was certain she was being followed, and every time she turned to look, I stood stock-still in order to remain invisible to her.

It’s actually a disturbing phenomenon, to be honest. It’s always creepy to feel as though one is being watched even though you cannot see if anything’s really there, but I feel it’s much creepier when others can look in your direction, look right at you, and can’t see you. I always imagine they are able to look at my soul, rather than my body, and I cannot help but shiver.

Fortunately, Lyra did not hear my shivering, and resumed her ninja business. The moon was only half-full that night, so there was not much light outside the gas lights lining some of the streets. However, in the shabby apartment complex she was heading toward, there were a few lights on, and I knew immediately that she was likely to head to one of them.

As Lyra went up the stairs to get to the second floor of the apartment complex’s catwalk, I grimaced at the noises made from the stairs. Lyra noticed them too, and muttered something about how the apartment’s owners never seem to do anything about it. She walked much more slowly and quietly, but the stairs still creaked and groaned, as if protesting her weight being put on them.

I stood there at the bottom of the stairs, wondering how I was going to cross those noisy stairs. My mind gravitated toward the idea that I should use the Levitation spell I’d been perfecting. Now was as good a chance as any, I had hoped, and began to quietly cast it on myself as Lyra made it to the second floor.

I began to float off the ground, and with my mind I could control how high I levitated. My calculations were a smidgeon off, however, and the height adjustment feature was much too sensitive. I crashed into the overhanging ceiling with an audible thud, knocking off my concentration, and I fell to the floor with a loud splat.

Lyra had heard all this, and the first thought in my mind was that I had failed the mission. She was going to head back the way she came, and if she found me, she’d throw her ninja stars or attack me somehow, a silent assassination, the gruesome end of the once-famous Twilight Sparkle.

But none of this happened, and Lyra just stood there, as if waiting for the noise to happen again. I had gotten back up at this point, my head aching from the ceiling impact, and struggling not to lose my balance. I couldn’t be certain if my Invisibility spell were still on at this point (You know how some enchantments tend to cancel each other out when cast), and in fact wondered if Invisibility and Levitation weren’t compatible enchantments after all. Layering and combining enchantments was never easy, not even for me.

I tried to look for a nearby reflective surface to check if I were still invisible, and finding none, I merely followed Lyra’s footsteps. I walked underneath the catwalk for the second floor apartments, counting the number of doors I was passing by. Near the other end of this building did she knock at a door. Muffled sounds. Door opened. A sound of two ponies greeting. Lyra entering. Door closed.

I went up the stairs as quietly as I could, the stairs under my hooves making sounds like mice shrieking. Making my way past the same number of doors I had counted on the first floor, I had made it to Lyra’s current location. I undid the lock with telekinesis. I made a mental note also to inform the apartments’ owner that not only did the stairs need fixing, but the locks needed to be made magic-proof.

Inside, I was greeted by the sight of toys—mounds and mounds of them. Some of them were probably models, the kind a teenager would blow his weekly allowance on and spend an afternoon building and painting, then leave on his shelf for decoration. The rest were children’s toys, ranging from action figures based on animated cartoons, to stuffed animals. The unusual aspect of this collection was that while some of the models were evidently cared for, the rest were strewn about haphazardly upon the floor.

The suspicious smells got to me too. There was a stale fishiness in the air, similar in fact to the same smell that was in my library’s bathroom after Spike used it sometimes. Which reminds me, I need to remember to ask Spike about this smell, as it seemed to only follow males.

The apartment itself was tiny and cramped. You could see the entire place right from the doorway, a fact which caused me great alarm since Lyra was ALSO visible right from the doorway. Luckily for me, her back was turned: placing some folders on the nearby couch and looking at a curtain which I guessed hid the bathroom.

Quickly closing the door behind me, I weaved my way through stacks of cardboard boxes and other forgotten objects, sitting down between a few of them. I heard Lyra conversing with somepony familiar. I recognized the voice as the stranger that had been heckling the town, and wondered why on your green earth she wanted to even be in the same room as him.

The sound of a toilet flush. Then a curtain being withdrawn. Somepony, likely the Stranger, sitting down on his couch. Intently, I listened, watching the shadows on the wall for context.

“So, what can you tell me about where you’re from?” asked Lyra.

Said the stranger, “Not all that much. Just that where I’m from, ponies don’t speak and do magic, and the people there are not nice or honest.”

I believe I’ve mentioned before his bizarre and inconsistent speech patterns. Here, he was speaking at a much slower pace as though he were having trouble piecing his thoughts together. Either that, or he was sounding distracted—most likely at the idea that a mare would ever want to speak to him, and multiple times at that.

At this thought, I felt more disturbed. I didn’t doubt my little ninja could defend herself against anything the stranger decided to pull, but it was a scary thought nonetheless.

He also had this strange way of saying things, mushing words together and drawing out the wrong syllables. So his above sentence was said more like:

“Noddall dat muuuch… Juss dat whir om frum, ponays dun s-speak ‘n do mashic, an’ da people dere are… not nice ‘r on-iss.”

He also carried something of an accent I recognized, similar to Applejack’s, but it was well-disguised under his speech impediment. His squeaky voice made it harder to tolerate. Lyra continued her interview.

“You claimed before that you came from a land populated with humans. Are you saying humans are generally untrustworthy? Does that mean I can’t trust you?”

I pieced it together. Good grief, he claims he’s human. He's crazy!

But at the same time, it kind of made a bizarre and scary amount of sense, clicking with reality a little too closely, as if he’d been transformed into a half-pony, half-human state. It would certainly explain his bizarre appearance.

“Noddall da hum’nz are bad. Summer g-good, ‘n fact. Like my mudder.”

“Tell me more about the human morality system. Is it similar to the one ponies follow?”

I nodded. Good question. Hilarious answer.

“Da huminz firm whir I’m f-frum all have dere own idears as to… what… dey b’leev in. As fer my mudder an’ me, we b’leev in da One True God, aaan’ we b’leev dat da people shud be good, an’ not steal, an’ not kill each udder, an’ not slander eesh udder.”

My face, I imagine, had an expression that slid about as the stranger gave his answer. Lyra’s next question asked the same ones floating in my mind.

“So, no stealing? If that’s what you believe, then why did you steal from those market stands?”

A moment’s pause. I saw his shadow fidget.

“Uh… w-well, dat wuddn’t me. Dass juss sum slander by dose dang, dirry shrolls.”

My face went flat, and I could imagine that Lyra wasn’t exactly buying his story either. If she was, she was giving him nothing better than a nickel for it. He continued.

“Fer years, dem dang, slanderous shrolls, who hide unner dere mudder’s skirts—”

“Uh-huh…”

“—an’ dey say all dese hor-horrible dings bout me. But derrong. Wrong! I AAAMMM a good person—”

“Listen, I…”

“l—a good person, who nebber—nebber did what dey said I did.”

And it went on like this, Lyra not being able to get the stranger back to her questions. It was as if just by giving him her attention, he felt he had the right to wear it out. After a few minutes, Lyra managed to calm him down and get the interview going again.

“Never mind the stealing, then. We’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“On de account dat it dint.”

A moment’s pause. I could only imagine the thoughts running through Lyra’s mind at that moment, but none of what I came up with was pleasant.

“Before, you mentioned a One True God. Is he similar to our Celestia, raising the sun, governing his people, and so on?”

“He is allus watchin. An he’ll punish da trolls.”

A disturbed silence.

“So… He takes a ‘hooves-off’ approach when it comes to governance?”

“He does da watchin whennn… no-buddy et-spets it. No-buddy seems t’know or care dat he is.”

Confounded by this answer, Lyra finally lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Is he, or is he not present in your world, to govern and guide his people? Yes or no.”

“No, he is nut pres’nt, as in, in-person. Yes, he does guide da people, or at lease he tries to.”

As Lyra’s interview continued, I listened. Lyra, as I’ve said, is interested in all things related to humans, and her research has been debunked by Canterlot experts time and again. Was she truly so desperate that she thought she could depend on this stranger to give her straight answers? The only thing for certain was that he was, very likely, a human being transformed into a bizarre, pony-esque shape. If this turned out to be true, then whoever had transformed him was already in serious trouble (as polymorphy spells have been outlawed for centuries now).

Their interview continued for about an hour. I concluded that Lyra was desperate for answers regarding humans, and the stranger was desperate for company that had reason to stay for a while. I felt pity for them both, Lyra moreso than the stranger. If only there were some concrete answers to her questions! I must say that I’ve become more curious in the history of humans as a result of my eavesdropping, even today.

So eventually, Lyra ended her interview. She took all her papers and pens (which she used to record the interview; I had mistaken her silence as being stunned or angry, when she was really just writing down his answers), and she left almost as quickly and as quietly as she came.

I was lucky to have still been invisible, but Lyra had closed the door behind her too quickly and I was left there, in the beast’s lair. There wasn’t any way I could open that door and simply slip out into the night undetected, so I tried to hole myself up and wait for the stranger to fall asleep. Unluckily, he apparently had become a night owl at that point.

I have never experienced an all-nighter that didn’t involve my studies, and the fact that I was stuck in a smelly, messy dungeon was like some kind of divine punishment. After an hour of being in that filth, I began to wonder how I might force an escape. I watched the stranger play with the toys on his floor, speaking in strange voices.

When a child does it, it’s cute. When an adult does it, it’s creepy. It was disturbing, but harmlessly so. I knew he did not have any advantage at all when it came to anything he tried to do, so it wasn’t as if I didn’t feel safe. It had simply felt as though I had accidentally wandered into a surrealist horror story, but that won't really happen until much later.

After a while, his attention drifted from his toys to art. He was drawing something, hastily; and when I walked up behind him quietly (thankful for my invisibility) I saw that he was drawing a comic book.

Although I’m not much of a fan of comics, Rainbow Dash, Spike, and Pinkie Pie are. Still, even they might feel disgusted had they read his comics: childish art with sloppy and painful color schemes, flat characters with no interests outside of behavior stereotypical to their gender (Girls love to shop, right?), and a plot that seemed to just be made up as he went along.

I understand some artists simply do what they do, not to have their work judged by critics and appreciators, but simply because it’s relaxing. No one around to tell them they have no talent, no one to please but themselves. And in this sense, art can be quite fun. I assumed that was what the stranger had in mind, simply drawing for fun.

That was, however, until he had drawn a scene of two of his characters—a married couple—in bed, saying such grotesque things to each other. If my lover were to say anything like in this comic while we were in bed together, I’d have bucked him right off and forced him to sleep on the couch. I soon realized that I was still watching him draw out this scene, perhaps in morbid and obscene curiosity, and began to back away.

Unfortunately, my rump had collided with a drawer, causing a model hastily stored there to fall over. The stranger looked up at the source of the noise. Remember when I said that it can be very creepy when someone looks at you when you’re invisible? This horrendous, invading feeling was multiplied by the sight of those two eyes, the same eyes that stared at me from the abyss, one greener than the other, staring in my direction, hungry.

Hungry.

For certain he’d seen me. For certain he’d try to force himself upon me, since he had eyed my flank just the other day, as if wanting to mount me. I decided the time to act was now. I was terrified beyond rational thought, as at this point, I had it in my mind that he had seen me, when in fact, he had not. I was still invisible, but being looked at by that freakish, fish-eyed… goon made me think I had become visible again.

So I rushed him. Not like me to act without thinking, but there I was, breaking character. His art supplies flew as he was knocked into the wall, his wasteful bulk jiggling like a trash bag full of gelatin. He was sure to know I was there now, visible or not, and he got up as if ready to continue the fight.

He screamed then, a childish roar that a five-year-old would use when stomping his hoof after not getting his way. He tried to run at me, but I had put up a protective telekinetic shield, which he hit full-on, in the face. His revolting facial features warped even more for a second (A second I see every time I close my eyes now), then he rebounded back into his wall, knocking even more of his models and toys and art supplies around. He had hit his head on the wall, and slid down, unconscious.

One of the neighbors was sure to have heard the ruckus, so I quickly gathered myself together and left his apartment, grateful for the clean night air and my chance to escape.

It would be another hour before I managed to find my way home again, and the next day I told Bon-Bon all about what was going on. I took care to leave out my encounter with the stranger, as that was a horror she didn’t need to know. Bon-Bon took the news a... little hard.

She put up with Lyra’s quirky interests the same way Lyra put up with her brash attitude, and would often let Lyra’s behavior slide. But now that her interests were bringing her back to the stranger, Bon-Bon became scared for her best friend’s safety. We decided we needed to confront Lyra about this, so I went with Bon-Bon for support.

Lyra was quick to admit it, especially since we were in the confines of Bon-Bon’s and Lyra’s apartment. Nopony else could hear, and it was evident she didn’t want her conversations with the stranger to be made public. At first, Bon-Bon was predictably angry, raging that Lyra could have been hurt by that pervert, or worse. I told her, and Lyra agreed, that the stranger is in such bad health and shape that he wouldn’t be able to do much.

I was however, curious about what she had learned from the stranger. Lyra, with a frown, simply led us to her desk, pulled out a manila envelope marked “The C. Chandler Interviews” and hoofed them to us. She admitted that these interviews led nowhere important, but she kept these anyway in case anything he said turned out to be true.

I had no time to browse them that day, and asked if I could borrow it for my own interests for later. Lyra agreed, almost too quickly—as if she wanted those files out of her apartment as quickly as was possible. She apologized to Bon-Bon for making her worry, hoping to hear the end of it, but Bon-Bon made her promise to never visit the stranger again. This was a demand Lyra accepted, again too quickly.

As I left the apartment, Bon-Bon decided to give me the reward she promised. She scribbled some numbers down on a piece of note paper, and hoofed it to me. It was a phone number. When I asked her what it was for, she merely winked at me and shut the door.

My curiosity eventually got the better of me, and come evening time, I tried the phone number. I had never before felt so embarrassed: the perverted heavy breathing and moaning will ring in my ears when I try to sleep from now on. Bon-Bon’s prank was the first of many that would follow, but the next few were directed at our town’s most disliked resident.

3. They See Me Trollin'

Lyra was not the only pony in town interested in the stranger’s uniqueness. I think that was probably the stranger’s only saving grace, his inherent aura of surrealism. Being with him was certainly something else, something quirky and impalpable, and there were quite a few who had wanted to be in his presence simply to experience it. For a small while after he first arrived, the stranger was something of a celebrity.

Of course, they had only sought him out after his bizarre welcoming party, and only before he began stealing from the marketplace. Only a few minutes would pass before they tired of his novelty, and they would go off in search of more-pleasant company. His days of stardom had ended after only a few days, and only spiraled downhill from there, as I have so far outlined.

That didn’t mean there were no ponies that were interested in him any longer. That just meant that they had interests outside of trying to get to know him better. Lyra, for example, had expressed interest in him out of her general curiosity of humans, and remained objective regarding what she felt about him personally.

Others however, took simply to tormenting him. I cannot say this is something he did not deserve, for if anypony truly asked for reality to beat them to a pulp, it was the stranger. But on the other hoof, it wasn’t as if any of these pranks were called for. Some of them were harmless of course, but others were downright cruel.

The first prank I remember seeing was one done by none other than local troublemakers Snips and Snails. These two were among the number who wanted to hang out with the stranger because they heard how peculiar he was, only for them to quickly realize he was not worth their time. Snips was the brains (And even then, he often lacked the sense to formulate good planning), while Snails was the muscle (If only because he was simple and Snips was lazy).

These two together aren’t much better than these two apart, and their prank, while successful, was still amateurish, although clever. I knew something was strange right away that morning when I found Applejack giggling to herself. I asked her what was so funny, and she told me that Snips and Snails had asked to clean up around the farm.

While an act of good wasn’t out of their reach, I was still concerned. Apple Bloom (Applejack’s younger sister) had once told me that they both held crushes on Applejack, which was adorable; and at first, I thought that was probably the reason for their offer of assistance.

Then Applejack told me what chore they selected.

The Apple family owns a dog, Winona, friendly thing, cute. But as Sweet Apple Acres is a large place, it is easy for a single dog to do her business, then for the result of said business to remain where it was laid, only for unsuspecting farmers to step on it.

It would do Sweet Apple Acres good if Snips and Snails were actually cleaning up Winona’s messes, and even better if they could do a good job. However, I felt something was amiss. It wasn’t that Snips and Snails were purely malevolent, it was that they often do things that cause an avalanche of undesirable consequences. (The town is still jumpy whenever anyone mentions Ursa Majors. Or Ursa Minors. Or Ursa anything.)

That afternoon, I found the files Lyra had lent me lying right where I had left them. Spike looked them over and looked at me with the face he usually reserved for suspecting others of foul play. He asked me what the big idea was, and all I could manage to tell him was that a neighbor was studying our latest resident, and I had volunteered to help manage her findings. He seemed to believe me, but only reluctantly; out of all my closest friends, Spike was the one who trusted the stranger the least.

After looking at the file’s manila envelope, Lyra’s loopy hoof-writing bearing the name of this collection of interviews, I truly wondered whether I should look into what Lyra found. After a few seconds, I simply put it in the drawer in my desk, leaving whether or not I remembered to read over later up to fate.

Instead, I decided to find Snips and Snails and get to the bottom of their sudden act of charity. It wasn’t long before I found them, hauling a cart that had a trash bag full of Winona’s “left-behinds”.Also on the cart wereother trash bags: it was likely Snips and Snails were also taking the Apples' garbage to the dump as well. After some small talk (Which predictably went nowhere), I managed to get to the topic of what they were doing.

They said they were helping Applejack with some of the farm chores she’d neglected to do. I knew this was only half the story, just by looking at Snails straight in the eye. He snapped under the pressure, and admitted they were going to paste the “left-behinds” on the stranger’s apartment door as a prank.

I told them I was very disappointed in their behavior, explaining that they would be damaging property that didn’t belong to them and was already in poor shape (I could still remember the creaky stairs and inadequate locks). Snips, in a moment of surprising deftness, asked me why I had no qualm against their target being the stranger.

I suppose I could have told them about how something as mean-spirited as pasting a door in excrement could hurt somepony’s feelings, but the stranger struck me as one who persisted. Despite the number of times Ponyville had shown him the backs of their hooves, he still kept getting back up, never learning from his mistakes, refusing to be tempered into something better. I honestly doubted his feelings would have been truly hurt—he would likely have attempted to chase them, and if he caught them, he’d harm them. Despite the stranger’s lack of health and hygiene, he was larger than these boys and lacked most forms of self-control, while Snips and Snails aren’t exactly kung fu movie material.

Looking back on it now, I really should have told them that pranks should be done in good humor and without the use of dog poop. But it didn’t matter either way, as who showed up but our stranger. He had been begging again, and was wearing uncomfortable-looking clothing he probably found at some thrift store. He spotted the three of us, and recognizing me, decided to stop and chat.

He still hadn’t figured out that I had invaded his home the other night (Hard to remember the face of somepony you can’t see), and told me his side of the story about this “Invisible Invader”. He chuckled at the term a little, as if he meant it as a joke. If he did, it wasn’t all that funny. Not even simple Snails was amused.

His side of the story was… greatly farfetched. I could go into great detail on it, but the bottom line is that nearly all of it was false. As long-winded and delusional as his story was, Lyra was apparently not included in his account (I assumed she had asked him to keep their interviews a secret). The stranger seemed to make up the story as he went along, stuttering and speaking more slowly than he usually did. His story ended with his emerging victorious against the intruder.

You wouldn’t believe it if I were there to tell you myself instead of simply sending you this letter, but I had to fight the urge to simply twist him in a knot with my telekinesis. I mean, it was a real battle of self-control. However, I found it was much more prudent to let him think himself a hero, lest I should reveal my role in the whole affair.

Instead, I got an even better idea.

“So, you defeated this intruder, okay. What next?”

He stared at me a bit blankly.

“What next?” I repeated. “Did you call the police? Tell the landlord he needs to buy new, magic-proof locks?”

He stammered a bit, only for Snips and Snails to chuckle at him. It seemed even they had figured out his lie. He defended himself verbally, telling them about how he had brought this intruder to the police headquarters himself. I saw a sly look in Snips’ eyes. It was uncharacteristic of him, and it honestly made me worry.

“Did you lift him up?” he asked.

“Coss I did,” said the stranger.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You don’t look strong enough to lift up somepony and carry them.” Snails was chuckling. Those two seemed to share the same wavelength, and I figured out they had thought up a way to prank this stranger (in a way I hoped would not be as mean-spirited as their original plan).

“Can so!” Just like a child. The look in Snips’ eyes suggested he had the stranger right where he wanted him.

“I don’t think so,” Snips persisted. “In fact, I bet you can’t even lift up one of these trash bags!”

I wanted to protest, yet something inside me prevented me from saying anything. I assume it was a morbid, quasi-villainous curiosity that desired to see this played out. Part of me wanted to play the good Samaritan, be the good guy, and prevent this stranger from hurting himself in public. The other part twirled its moustache and cackled, “Get on with it, then!”

The stranger took up Snips’ challenge and trotted to the cart. I took a few steps back, knowing exactly where this was all going, and the boys both did the same. Snails’ grin in particular was much meaner than normal, and Snips could hardly contain his laughter.

Out of nowhere, the stranger began to grand-stand. I’m sure I’ve probably told you about Trixie the Great and Powerful, and I can safely say even she would have rolled her eyes at his juvenile presentation. “FILLIES AN JANGLEFUZZ!” (Seriously. “Janglefuzz.”) It got the attention of passerby, some of whom began to come closer to this unfolding event.

“DA STRONGMAN WILL NOW DEMMASTRATE HIS GREAT STRENG’T AND MIGHTY MUSCLES BY LIFFING UP DIS TRASH BAG! Note: dis trash bag weighs a GRAND NUMBER OF POUNDS!” (I understand I don’t need to write what he says in all capitals, but it IS quite fun.)

The stranger struggled with the bags. I took note on how he at first tried to lift them with his forelegs. Why had he done that, I wondered. Most ponies lift things with their mouths, yet the first thing he did, as if from memory, was use his forelegs as if they were…

… hands.

I raised an eyebrow, took out my journal and added this note. I then remembered he referred to himself as “strong-man”, and not “strong-stallion.” The evidence toward our stranger’s true identity was slowly beginning to build, and I realized Lyra might have truly been onto something.

I heard a sound like a clap (Or more likely a cart getting kicked) followed by a strange, almost splashing, noise, followed by Snips and Snails and the gathered crowd all laughing their heads off. I jerked up from my note and saw that the stranger had fallen off the back of the cart, and the trash bag had fallen onto his face, and burst. Its contents buried his head.

If I am to be anything around you, Celestia, I shall be honest: I cackled like a witch. All those years I’d spent suffering the mean-spirited laughter of others, and there I was, doing exactly that to somepony else. After the temporary and euphoric villainy subsided, I realized the gravity of what had happened, and looked to see the stranger sitting up, excrement both fresh and old sliding off his face. The only place where the excrement hadn’t stained him were under his eyes, where fresh tears were rolling down.

I felt awful for having laughed at him. I stepped forward, apologizing, only for him to stand back up, indignant, yelling at me as if I were behind it all. How I was a “dang dirty troll” who picked on autistics like him, and so on and so forth. His anger seemed to explode from him, but his spiel went on and on, and an unhealthy amount of it was made up of his self-centered worldview.

He had lost my sympathy almost instantly. I had extended my hoof to help him, and he had bitten it. I vowed simply to never help him again (A vow I’d probably never accomplish), and decided to simply leave him there, poop on his head, crying his selfish tears. I took both Snips and Snails home, told their parents what they had been up to, and let them handle it from there.

When I got home, I looked over the note I had jotted down in my journal about the stranger behaving as though he thought he still had hands. As though he’d had hands at one time, for most of his life, and had only lost them fairly recently.

I went to my desk and withdrew Lyra’s interview files. I was tired by this point, and while I love to study, I felt I could go over this particular case tomorrow. I tore out the notes I’d jotted, stuck in with the interview files, put it back in my desk, and went for an afternoon nap. Predictably, I had forgotten about the files and a few days afterward, another prank would be pulled on the stranger, this one possibly far more vicious.

Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash had set up a good prank, they felt. Rainbow Dash would trick him into believing Applejack liked him, and get them conversing. Neither had any idea where this prank would go, they later told me, and simply decided to just watch and see how Applejack would react.

“She really, y’know, digs you,” Rainbow Dash had told him. “She left the welcoming party early because she was so embarrassed that she didn’t know what to say to you.”

And that was all it took to convince him that a mare he only spoke to for a few minutes, who absconded his presence the moment she was able, was secretly in love with him.

It disturbs me how gullible the stranger was even after the prank Snips and Snails had pulled on him, but I suppose it should be expected of him at this point. His underdeveloped social skills and childish interests are accented well by his naiveté. So with only a few weak excuses, Rainbow Dash was able to convince the stranger to screw up some courage and go to Sweet Apple Acres.

I was on my way there in the afternoon when I was certain she was off-duty, to see if she would return that book I’d let her borrow (You’d never know it, but Applejack is a sucker for trashy romance novels). The moment I had arrived, I felt I had walked into a warzone.

I can’t remember if you’ve ever met Big Macintosh, but he is quite a large stallion. His frame is impressively muscular, so much so that most of the mares in town fight the urge to swoon in his presence. His strength is unbelievable, even given his gargantuan physique, but his gentle green eyes (accented by his coltish freckles) and tousled blonde mane speak of the sweet and intelligent creature he really is. His coat is a warm and desirable shade of red, the kind that seems to glow instead of burn, and his green apple cutie mark shines proudly when the light hits it just right.

And yes, I’m gushing at this point. But don’t tell Applejack, it’s a bit hard to admit you have a crush on your best friend’s big brother.

Anyway, Big Macintosh, usually kind and wise, showed both the stranger and I what fear truly is. I was merely the witness to the sordid scene, so I got it lucky. The stranger however, was the object of his wrath and got it through a tree.

After breaking them up, I asked what had happened. Of course, the stranger told it one way, while Applejack and Big Macintosh told it another way. The actual story was that the stranger had decided to ask Applejack out for a night on the town. His bizarre mannerisms and quirky way of speaking had likely turned Applejack off to him (She was not present when he spoke freely of his disgusting interests at the welcome party), so he decided to charm her through the power of song.

Not kidding. He tried to serenade Applejack right there, in the field, during the daytime. The lyrics were made up as he went along, basically begging her to go out with him. He ended his song number by touching her foreleg—which is when Big Macintosh showed up.

He’d already heard of the stranger at this point, and didn’t enjoy the fact that he was on his property. He also didn’t appreciate the fact that he was touching his sister. It wasn’t even an obscene touch, just a tap to her foreleg. But the thing is, Big Macintosh is very protective to those he loves and very wary of those he doesn’t.

So there the stranger was now, stuck in that tree trunk. To be honest, I had no idea at all Big Macintosh could be that ferocious, and at that moment I really thought over my crush on him. It wasn’t even a guess that he was angry at the stranger for invading his property and harassing his kin, but looking at him at that moment, I realized he actually did feel some shame for being so hard on the stranger.

It took us some time to work him out of the tree, even with Big Mac’s and Applejack’s help. It was an arduous task, as the stranger’s fat simply made it too difficult to squeeze through either side of the whole he’d made. Eventually, Big Mac got sick of our slow progress and tedious efforts, and merely knocked the tree down, stranger and all, and asked me to hold one side.

My telekinetic grip strong, I held the tree a foot off the ground. Big Macintosh placed one hoof on the tree’s lower end and with a simple downward motion, he broke the tree in half. The stranger made a sound as though he thought the world was ending (and for him, it likely was).

Despite how I cannot recall the exact words of everypony during these events, I will always recall the stranger's reaction. He got up in Big Macintosh's face and started ranting again, but I held a gasp when he mentioned that, and I quote: "You have SHATTERED my heart level!"

I felt my stomach backflip as my eyes widened in shock. "Oh no," I said, "Your heart level? Do you have some kind of condition?!"

"Ah'd say he does," Applejack quipped. I nudged her.

"Chris," I told him, "Why didn't you tell anypony about your heart condition? My goodness, if you have such a weak heart, why are you so overweight? You need to start eating right, exercising--but don't do it too much, don't put too much strain on yourself, that'll only make things worse!"

I went on and on, telling him what he could do to rectify his condition and take care of himself. It would only be a few days after this that I would learn that his "heart level" was really just his form of expression regarding his emotional state. While anypony else would have used terms such as "crestfallen" or "heartbroken" or "discouraged", he goes and makes up his own terms.

Either way, the stranger ignored my charitable suggestions and ran away, still screaming, proclaiming to anypony who’d listen that Big Macintosh was “cruel” and “mean” and hated autistics, and lah-dee-dah. Applejack seemed to be stifling the urge to laugh.

Later on that day, we caught Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie in Applejack’s barn, laughing. Upon closer inspection, there were several empty hard cider barrels. The two spoke in slow and slurred sentences, completely inebriated out of their brains. They admitted they were behind this whole afternoon affair, and when confronted, they attempted an escape—only for Rainbow Dash to smash into a beam and fall to the ground, and Pinkie Pie to fall into an empty barrel, all the while singing “Maggie's Farm.” She soon fell asleep.

I discussed what should be done about their antics with Applejack and Big Macintosh, and we all reached the conclusion that when our prankster duo came around, they could do the Apples' farm work for the next week to pay off the cider they'd lost.

However, Applejack seemed to get a wicked idea in her head as I left, and it wouldn't be until the next day when she showed me photographs she'd taken of Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie positioned so they were snuggling each other in a bed. She told me she was saving it to blackmail Rainbow Dash if she tried to back out of helping on the farm, and I held her to that statement, burning the photos after their work week was up.

As for the stranger, it was these pranks that caused him to apparently lose his faith in ponies. For the next few days, he tried to hole himself up in his apartment, only to find that he needed money. He returned to the streets to beg some more, and with his begging came trouble.

4. In Which A Manchild Seeks A Suitable Mate

It was around this time I began to truly feel sorry for him. Being so totally talentless, so completely unable to take in and accept the world around him, he was like an insect to the rest of this world, constantly stepped on just for existing. I wanted to sympathize with him, but as always, his egotistical behavior made it difficult.

When I saw him the next time, I dropped a few bits at his feet and continued as if he weren’t there. I felt bad about simply giving him money while simultaneously pretending to ignore him (“Here’s some money, now go away”), so much so that the next time I saw him, I gave him some money and greeted him.

The third time I had stopped to converse with him. This time, I was walking with Rarity who, still remembering the disgusting and untoward things he told her at the welcome party, kept a comfortable distance. Either it was the memory or the smell.

She thought up a good excuse—that is, one the stranger wouldn’t be able to tell was an excuse—and galloped her way back home. The stranger looked at me quizzically, his eyes again not meeting mine, and wondered aloud why she had to get home in time to get out of the rain. It wasn’t as if there was any scheduled.

So he WAS getting smarter.

This aspect, this infinitesimal (and in retrospect insufficient) personal growth of his had led me to the idea that he could be taught to behave himself and become a better pony. I could tell you I was wrong, but you probably figured it out yourself a few sentences ago.

So I agreed to help train him how to act towards others. The first lesson I tried to teach him was the act of humility. He balked at this at first, saying he had been humiliated quite enough, thank you. I then had to explain to him what humility was, and wondered if I should have given him basic thought lessons as well.

He seemed to think over this whole humility angle, as if it were some kind of foreign culture he’d never heard of. He asked me if being humble was an attractive behavior to mares. I answered, “Yes, of course. Mares like a guy who can admit when he’s wrong.”

Then it hit me. He was only in this because he wanted to appear attractive to females. The uninitiated would think that horniness is a sufficient motivator for attempts at self-improvement, but there’s enough evidence to soundly thrash that theory. One should only improve him- or herself for the sake of genuinely desiring to blossom into something better than they are, not to impress others.

Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle. Roll credits.

Anyway, by the time I realized his aspirations would jeopardize any attempt to civilize him, it was too late. He got it into his head that mares enjoyed the company of humble males—not taking into account things like good personal hygiene, making eye contact, and not mentioning what you like to do with your private parts.

So away he went, to make a fool of himself. I have no idea why I did what I did next—perhaps it was the guilt that I had just started an avalanche—but I thought best to follow him. Before I could, however, he became a ghost in a crowd, dissolving into an alley and disappearing.

What had I unleashed.

It wouldn’t be until the next day that I would find him.

I was with Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy at this time, on our way to the library from Fluttershy’s house. (We were going to set up our Saturday board game hour, you see.) Rainbow Dash noticed him first, and snickered. I looked at her as her snicker grew into the wild laughter of a mad-mare.

When Fluttershy and I asked why she was laughing, she pointed behind us. There he was, the stranger, sitting near a table outside Sugarcube Corner. On the table was a sign and an artbook. I could already guess what it was he was drawing, and didn’t care to venture witnessing it. On the sign was an interesting slogan.

“LONELY VIRGIN, VERY HUMBLE, ONLY ASKING FOR THE RIGHT GIRL

MUST BE 18 TO MY AGE (30) TO QUALIFY”

I suppressed a laugh by snorting, while Fluttershy covered her mouth in bafflement. Rainbow Dash continued her cackling, saying “What, does he think this is some kind of job offer or something? How much is he paying?” At this, we all began to laugh until tears rolled down our faces.

The LONELY VIRGIN looked toward us, having heard our roaring guffaws. We tried to calm ourselves down—only for Fluttershy to say, “Think I might get an interview?” To which we all exploded again. It was so unlike Fluttershy to say something like that, and I assume Rainbow Dash was merely rubbing off on her. Might not be such a good thing, now that I think about it.

The stranger seemed to not notice that we were laughing at his ridiculous sign, or if he did, he responded rather nonchalantly. Waiting there only attracted worried stares from others walking by, while some (mostly local teenagers) pointed at him and laughed.

After we finally regained control of ourselves, I decided it was time to explain how this, too, was unacceptable public behavior. Sniffing away my tears of laughter, I walked over to him, getting his attention. I asked him if I could have a seat, to which he replied, “Yes.”

Thinking over what I could say was a little more difficult to do than I had previously thought. I looked over to Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy only to see them grinning, as if they thought I was honestly going to take him up on his offer. Finally, I chose to simply get to my point and ask the question on everypony's minds.

“Chris, what the hell were you thinking?”

The stranger stared at me, blinked once, then looked as though he was thinking over his answer. Rainbow Dash had ducked her head, suppressing another fit of laughter from my question’s delivery. Fluttershy merely looked away, grinning even more. After a second or two of this awkward silence, he asked me what I thought he was doing.

I told him he was in a public place, with a sign advertising the fact that he’s a virgin. Which, by the by, is not at all something somepony should casually drop, especially not on a sign. I explained to him that relationships take a lot of effort in order to work, that love works on its own time… and in the middle of all this, I had a sudden epiphany.

I was sitting there, talking to somepony I had already known to never heed anything I say, trying to explain to him a concept he’d never grasp, and I was being completely serious. I immediately clammed up. I gave up, right on the spot, and decided to leave.

As I did, I saw Derpy Hooves coming towards the two of us, a big smile on her face. Another resident of Ponyville I don’t think you’ve met yet, Derpy Hooves is probably the sweetest and most innocent creature you’ll ever meet. She’s clumsy, but it’s her big heart and bigger smile that tends to win ponies in her favor. In fact, I like to think, now, that she was everything our stranger had the potential of being had he merely applied himself.

But the first thing the stranger did upon seeing Derpy come by was taking note of her appearance: her endearing silly-sounding voice and twisty-eyes seemed to agitate him somehow.

“G’morning, Twilight! Whatcha doin’?”

I smiled and explained that I was just going to gather my friends for an afternoon of board-gaming. She smiled and said it sounded like fun, then looked at the stranger. “Hey, you’re the pony I keep hearin’ about, aren’t you?”

Almost cautiously did our stranger nod. It almost seemed as though he thought she was going to bite him. I was glad Derpy didn’t notice—or if she did, she wouldn’t let it get to her. I like to think Derpy assumed he was being shy.

That’s when Derpy looked at his sign. When she asked him what all this was about, I immediately wished she hadn’t, since the stranger was likely to take advantage of somepony as innocent as Derpy. Instead of what I expected, the stranger’s answer was even more offensive.

“S-Sorry, I dun take ponies a’yer persuasion.”

Derpy cocked her head at this, and I admit at first I didn’t really know what he meant either. She asked him what he meant by “her persuasion”, to which he replied, and I quote:

“I dun date mentally-retarded ponies.”

The color drained from Derpy’s face. She has a bit of a learning disability, and had been bullied since she was a foal for it along with her googly eyes. To be honest, she was probably lucky the stranger would never hassle her for a date (Unless he became so desperate for nookie he expanded his current standards), but Derpy later told me she thought he meant he wouldn’t be her friend. I should have known Derpy wouldn’t have automatically assumed he meant romance.

Either way, Derpy’s feelings were obviously hurt, not that the stranger noticed or cared. My mouth dropped and my eyes bulged in an angry portrait of horror when he further expanded his point. “Ponies like you ah like lookin’ inna-a window ta hell. Mates me uncomf’table.”

Once again was my self-control tested. How I so wanted to pick him up in my telekinetic grip, twist his fat, clown head until his brains finally got their share of oxygen! Derpy looked downcast, trying to hide the fact that she was about to cry. “I-I’m sorry,” she said, weakly. “I din’t mean t’make you mad an’ hurt yer feelings.”

I wanted to explode. HIS feelings?! What about HERS?! I glared at the stranger, this most unlikeable and repugnant creature before me now, and wanted to strike him. No magic, no telekinesis, as I was too angry to concentrate even on something that simple. Suddenly, Fluttershy had come near.

“EXCUSE me?!” she growled. “Just who do you THINK YOU ARE?!”

Oh here it came. Fluttershy’s prized and infamous Stare. It was enough to send a dragon fleeing back to his cave, to undo a Cockatrice’s curse, and make any disobedient foal behave. You bet it made the stranger shrink in his seat.

“Who do you think you are?” she repeated, at a lower volume this time. It was too late, though; many passerby had stopped to watch. It wasn’t every day timid little Fluttershy blew up at somepony. “What gives you the right to judge Derpy? Don’t you think she gets enough crap from other ignorant ponies who think she’s less of a pony for being different?!” (I must admit I’ve never heard Fluttershy say the word “crap” before. It wasn’t nearly as funny as I thought it might sound.)

At this point, Fluttershy had forced the stranger off his chair, and he was backing away, as if daring an escape. Fluttershy seemed to catch this too and she herded him around the patio, not giving him a moment’s peace; unloading a lecture on accepting ponies for who they are and not what one wants them to be. “For somepony who admits to being lonely, I’d have thought you’d understand how she feels! But you…!” Fluttershy’s face began to become red with rage.

“You!” she growled. At that point, I’d honestly thought she was going to attack him—and evidently, the stranger did too. A strong odor of dung began to cling to the air, and I apparently was not the only pony to notice. Fluttershy grimaced at the smell, and looking at the stranger, she saw…

… Do I really want to tell you what she saw? This story wouldn’t be complete without it, so I guess I’ll compromise and leave an implication: one of the ponies gathered around (a foal) pointed and cried, “Mama! That guy just pottied!”

As Fluttershy's anger grew, I noticed the temperature in the area dropping. At first I thought it was just me, but I noticed Rainbow Dash shudder; not from the sight of Fluttershy angry, but from the same cold I felt. Several other ponies began to shift slightly, uncomfortable with the sight of Fluttershy's outbursts, uncomfortable with the stranger's uncalled-for comments, and uncomfortable with the falling temperature.

Fluttershy looked at the stranger in horror as he shrunk away. If he shrunk any more, I thought, he’d become microscopic. For a few seconds, Fluttershy fumbled for words. Finally, she said “You! You’re a SLUG! Look at you! You’re absolutely DISGUSTING! How you think ANYPONY could EVER even WANT to be NEAR you is beyond me! You judge everypony else, and ignore your own problems! How are you supposed to IMPROVE with an attitude like yours?! WHAT IS YOUR MALFUNCTION?!”

She then did something I had never seen her do before. She punched the stranger. Full-on. Straight to the face, knocking him down. Suddenly, Fluttershy backed away, horrified that she’d gone too far, lost control again. She ran from the patio, tears in her eyes. Rainbow Dash decided to follow her (she’d need the consoling, for certain).

In most normal cases, somepony would have immediately called for an emergency, or at least helped the harmed to a more-comfortable position. But it seemed like time was moving much more slowly in the aftermath to all this, nopony really sure what to do. I assume nopony present really wanted to help the stranger, perhaps as punishment for hurting Derpy the way he did. There he lay, his excrement now splattering the concrete of the patio, lying in a crumpled heap.

Suddenly, who should move forward and help the stranger to his feet… but Derpy. “Looks like Fluttershy got you good, huh, mister?” she asked. He wobbled a bit, Derpy catching him before he fell. She nearly buckled under his girth, but managed to get him back up to standing. His right eye had swollen shut, and it looked like he was once again fighting the urge to cry.

Nopony said anything. I went over to Derpy and the stranger, drinking in this sight. Even after he had acted so thoughtlessly and hurt her feelings, Derpy was not about to hold a grudge. She looked up at me and smiled as if what had just happened was just a little misunderstanding. I wanted, right at that moment, to hold Derpy; wondering if by holding her, I might absorb some of her innocence.

As for the stranger, the crowd parted as he wobbled away, his stupid sign and artbook forgotten, not saying a word to anypony, his day totally in ruins. I looked at the items he’d left behind, wondering if I should bring them back to him. I had wanted to punish him somehow, for some time now, and decided confiscating his belongings was as good a punishment as any.

These items would later be put into the same file as Lyra’s findings and my notes from the other day. I looked at the manila envelope, and for the strangest reason, I felt it was looking back at me, as though it were some ancient container of evil sorcery.

I had to get to the bottom of this. Just what WAS our stranger, and what was he doing here? The damage he’d already done to my friends and neighbors was beginning to mount up. He’d be shunned and totally unhappy here if he decided to still stay after what had transpired in front of Sugarcube Corner. Something needed to happen, something needed to be done.

I opened the manila envelope, taking out the items I had already placed in it, along with Lyra’s notebook. It was time to really investigate now, before things began to get worse than they already were. My board game afternoon completely forgotten, I poured myself some coffee and sat down.

It was about time I got to work.

5. It All Starts Coming Together

I studied this strange case, rereading Lyra’s notes, looking over these pieces of evidence, scrutinizing this whole situation from multiple angles, getting up, sitting down, getting up again, pacing about the library restlessly, jotting my theories and ideas down on my blackboard as they came to me.

Luna’s moon had risen when I heard a knock at the door. It was Lyra. Apparently, she had only just discovered Bon-Bon's mean-spirited prank, and took it upon herself to apologize on her friend's behalf. After telling her it wasn't a big deal, I asked if she had any time to spare, as I may have needed her input.

After she settled into a chair, I noticed she was sitting in a strange way: her back against the chair, neck to bottom with legs outstretched. I asked her why she was, and she told me “This is the way humans sit on chairs.” This was interesting, as it was exactly the same posture of the stranger as he sat in that chair in front of Sugarcube Corner. I jotted this down. Lyra cocked her head at me curiously.

“Interesting,” I said, putting down the pen. “So,” I began, “you said in your report that you’d met our stranger when you and Bon-Bon were out shopping…”

“Yes.”

They had been shopping when the stranger had approached them. He seemed shy and timid in their presence, something Bon-Bon took advantage of, insulting him. The insult had flown over his head, and he asked Bon-Bon out on a date. (I had wondered how he got that black eye near when he first showed up in town…)

“It was sometime after this that you began these secret meetings with him, leaving Bon-Bon out for obvious reasons. These interviews are…” I struggled with my words. Which did I want to use? Revealing? Disturbing? It was a mix of both, really.

“They’re interesting,” Lyra concluded, “But I don’t think they lead anywhere.”

She’d asked him about multiple things, from human cultures to what colors a human could see, to what the average human diet was. I was disturbed by his answer to the diet question in particular (Although at least ponies weren’t on their list). I asked how much of this she felt was true.

After thinking a bit, Lyra answered, “Not much of it. I kinda find it hard to believe humans are that barbaric.”

“So were ponies at an early point in our history,” I reminded her.

Lyra shrugged. “That was back then; these humans are evidently barbaric even in modern times.” The look in her eyes suggested she was offended by this possibility, this idea that humans were generally untrustworthy and sadistic. She held them in high regard I had been told, and these uncomfortable findings were either actually untrue or facts being outright refused .

“Listen,” I said as comfortingly as possible, “Lyra, you need to be a scientist about this. A scientist mindset is supposed to be objective. You collect what information you can and try to add it all up to see what the truth is.” I looked down at the notebook. “Some of his answers were pretty contradictory though, especially the ones in regard to himself.” The offending answers were highlighted in pink, as if caught red-hoofed at the scene of a crime.

“I noticed.”

I looked at the theories I had scribbled on the board, and noticed Lyra was trying to read them. Her hoof-writing was much better than mine, my hasty chicken scratch scrawl probably looking like a foreign language to her. I apologized, then tried to explain what my theories were.

One theory was that our stranger is a human being who had somehow been polymorphed into a strange and ponyesque shape. Since Lyra didn’t think to ask if he’d been on the business end of a polymorphic spell, I didn’t know if he was simply omitting this himself. I further theorized that the other humans from where he came from cast him out for looking like a freak amongst them, if his comment on their xenophobia was accurate.

"Of course," I added, "on the other hoof, he could also be the end result of a Blue Magic Pocket." I nearly laughed.

"Blue Magic Pocket?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, it's just some theory by that crazy Doctor. You know the one."

Lyra seemed to rub her chin. “Well, your theory seems solid,” she agreed, “do you think we should ask him if it's true?”

I looked over the two belongings he had left behind at Sugarcube Corner. “I really don’t trust him on a personal level,” I said. “And besides that, I don’t think he quite trusts us anymore. After the pranks, and after what happened earlier today, I think he’s learned not to openly trust us.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Learned? Twilight, I don’t think this guy learns anything.”

I pursed my lips. “Our subject is in fact, learning, but all his conclusions are wrong. His self-centered worldview paints everypony else as out to get him.”

Lyra giggled. “Did you read what he thinks of other males?”

“Yes,” I groaned. The stranger believed that other males were an obstacle: claiming they’d “taken all the pretty girls, leaving him with none,” despite that there were plenty of eligible bachelorettes. He seemed to not understand that if a mare refuses romantic advances, it's for various reasons that likely aren't anything against him personally. Of course, now that it became common knowledge that he's a creepy pervert thief...

Lyra threw her head back and laughed. “I swear, not a whole lot of what he says makes any sense, but at least now I know why he hates Big Macintosh so much.” She kind of blushed as she mentioned the stallion’s name. I smirked. It was relieving to know I wasn’t the only one crushing on him.

“Not his fault he’s such a chick magnet,” she muttered.

I left the Big Mac anecdote where it lied. “Still, what he’s told us is quite revealing,” I continued. “It’s evident he’s really a human, concerning his un-Ponylike appearance and mannerisms. He found his way here, and either doesn’t know how to leave or doesn’t want to.”

Lyra mulled this over. “If I were him, I’d have left town the moment things started getting hostile.”

“So you think he might not know the way back to the human world?”

Her head seemed to slide on her shoulders to look at me, a wry grin and a dry expression in her eyes. “If he knows anything at all, Twilight," she said, "this would not be among them.” Filly didn’t miss a beat. I chuckled at her comment.

“OK, then. How about, tomorrow, we go to his apartment. We bring all our notes, and conduct a final interview. Maybe we can get him home.”

Lyra seemed to like this idea, and agreed to get up early so we could get this done. It was time to put all this behind us. As Lyra left and I settled into my bed, I found my excitement for tomorrow’s planned events clouding my sleep. I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep that night until my thoughts drifted to Big Macintosh: his size, his face, that scent...

Yes, I know he’s dating Cheerilee, but a girl can dream can’t she?

The next morning, Lyra and I met in front of the Carousel Boutique. We had our things together, ready to finally finish this. After psyching each other up for what we were going to find, we went on our way.

At the apartment complex, we knocked on his door. Waiting for several minutes until we came to the conclusion that he was either still asleep or he was currently out, we decided to speak to the landlord. He told us the stranger had not been paying his rent, and was kicked out yesterday.

First getting punched out by Fluttershy, then losing his apartment… yesterday must have been awful for him. We wondered where he had disappeared to. Lyra merely shrugged; our trail had suddenly gone cold. She suggested perhaps that he really DID know his way home and merely left after his crushing day.

I told her if he was still here, all we really had to do was wait. He’d show up again, eventually. He always did. And if he didn’t, well, all the better for Ponyville.

Of course, he hadn’t left. Where else could he go?

6. Mr. Cake is Cold-Hearted and Mean

Lyra and I kept in contact, meeting at the end of each day to trade notes on our findings of humans in general, and to let each other know if either of us had managed to find the stranger. I found my curiosity regarding humans increase; Lyra had every right to be interested in such a remarkable race.

However, until I managed to see the stranger again, our meetings were short, to the point, and over rather quickly. She told me she didn’t want Bon-Bon to know she was having more “secret meetings” and jump to conclusions.

It wasn’t too long before I discovered the stranger was still in Ponyville.

He seemed attracted to Sugarcube Corner, for reasons I don’t think I really want to know. I theorize that not only did he have an uncontrollable sweet tooth, he seemed to crush on Pinkie Pie. Much like the way he crushed on every mare he happened to share a glance with. If Pinkie Pie ever thought that this was his reason for coming, she never showed it.

In fact, after he ruined one of Pinkie Pie’s parties (You know, her very reason for being), I’m surprised she ever allowed the stranger back at all. She’s a good girl, kind of silly and naïve, so it’s not all that strange for her to have put the past behind her, I guess. You’d have to screw up pretty badly for Pinkie Pie to inflict her wrath upon you (That reminds me, never break a Pinkie Promise. The results can be terrifying).

Pinkie Pie would tell me this story almost as soon as she got off work that day, at first too fast, then too slow, until I goaded her into giving the story to me straight. It started out regularly, Pinkie Pie baking some cakes when she heard a familiar voice.

When she came to the desk, she saw Mrs. Cake talking to the stranger. The first thing Pinkie worried about was whether or not he was trying to hit on her. The marriage between the Cakes had already become slightly tempestuous thanks to the questionable parentage of their twins (Although I do stand by Mrs. Cake’s assertion that her family tree includes unicorns and pegasi, I do understand Mr. Cake’s concern), and Pinkie Pie had hoped to avoid putting their union into any further jeopardy.

So what does our girl Pinkie Pie do? Take a guess. Does she

A. Ask him to leave?

B. Tackle him like a football player, complete with a helmet?

C. Throw a refrigerator at him?

D. Throw a refrigerator at him, then stuff him in it?

E. Stuff him in a refrigerator and then throw it?

If you answered with any of these solutions: congratulations, you’re absolutely dead wrong! Your prize is learning what actually happened! Tell her what she’s won, Bob!

Pinkie had always had a streak for doing bizarre things, but putting a stick of butter on the stranger’s head must have been a surreal experience for every party involved. Strangely, the butter melted on his head despite having only been refrigerated just before. The stranger looked at her objectionably, then began to cry.

Mrs. Cake asked her why she had gone and done that. Pinkie told her all about the welcome party, the things he said, and what he’d been up to since then. She merely looked at the stranger, the butter dribbling off his head like a melting yellow hat. She gave him a towel to clean the butter from his brow and politely asked him to leave.

Obviously, the stranger—like most temperamental children—did not enjoy being told “No,” and began to rage at the unfairness he believed was being levied at him. Pinkie Pie would tell me that he mentioned that Mrs. Cake was partaking in “The World’s Favorite Game of Kick the Autistic”. Pinkie then said she had never heard of this game, and asked him what the rules were.

This question only angered the stranger more, and he began to raise his voice at her, to which Mrs. Cake became upset. When she told him that if he does not leave quietly she would call the police, he responded in the most mature and responsible fashion he could think of.

He called Mrs. Cake a fatty.

Now, I admire Mrs. Cake. She is able to look like a desirable mare despite her spread (Or alternately, probably even because of it), and evidently her husband agrees. It’s not that she doesn’t care about her weight, it’s that her husband has convinced her he doesn’t mind how she looks, and will be with her no matter how old and fat the either of them get.

But the sheer meanness of this stranger—this sudden burst of a childish fit—added to his generally unpleasant presence, along with his comment about her weight (While simultaneously ignoring the fact that Mrs. Cake’s weight came with her age, while he doesn’t have an excuse) caused poor Mrs. Cake to lose her cool and begin to cry.

Almost as if he possessed a “My Wife is In Danger” alarm, Mr. Cake came down from their room upstairs (He had been taking care of the twins as it was his turn that morning). He looked at his wife, who was in tears, then to the stranger—this ugly and unwelcome little gnome-pony. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing an impressive anchor tattoo on his right foreleg (Pinkie tells me he used to be in the Navy when he was younger), and scowled.

Pinkie had hid under the front desk at this point, but heard the stranger on the receiving end of a solid thrashing. A table had been overturned, Mrs. Cake cheered on her husband, the sound of a kick, then a yelp, then a crash. Mr. Cake ran out after the stranger and waited by the front door. “And don’t come back! You’re not welcome here!”

If I ever meet a stallion similar to Mr. Cake, you know I’d snap him up. Few stallions are, pardon my French, as badass as he is.

Well, after being told all this by Pinkie Pie, I had asked if she knew where he had escaped to. She merely shrugged and said she didn’t know. If he were merely living in a cardboard box at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised. His antics, circus of shame and humiliation as it were, had robbed him of the sympathy of nearly every pony in town, so I can’t imagine anypony giving him any change.

But if he couldn’t get any money, then how was he eating? How could he afford any food? Was he still being provided for somehow? How was he still able to afford his ridiculous and uncomfortable-looking clothing with chump change? The only answer to these questions was that he was still receiving some money, but I had no idea where from.

The trouble really started to cook come the next day. I hadn’t known about it beforehoof, but Apple Bloom had later told me that one of her classmates, Featherweight, had reported his camera missing late the day before. This was considered a major set-back to the student newspaper, and nearly every student had searched the school, then the playgrounds, and came back with nothing.

It was also later reported that somepony had broken into the student newspaper’s printing room, which Diamond Tiara was in trouble for (she had neglected to close and lock the doors). They found much of their newsprint paper missing, and the printing press had signs of having been used. The piece that had been printed was found on nearly every doorstep, and extras had even been flung all over Ponyville.

When I woke up that morning, after most of this had already transpired, Spike had brought in the newspaper (Which, suspiciously, was only one page long). He looked like he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do about what he’d read, and handed it to me. He walked downstairs, and figuring out what it was he wanted to do about what he’d learned, he burst out laughing.

I read the paper, which was perhaps a hoof-full of paragraphs long. I have attached it to this letter, so that you may read, without peripheral or second-hoof knowledge, what kind of character our stranger is.

Carrot Cake: COLDHEARTED and MEAN

In the Morning of XXXX, a Man was Found Running away from Sugarcuve Corner in TEARS. It was because of the Cruel and Unusual Punishment of being Beat Up by none other than local Autistic Hater Extrordinar, Carrot Cake.

HE IS CRUEL AND a horrible PONY. He took his Wife like ALL males away from People who better Deserve Them, GOOD, and KIND PEOPLE LIKE ME!!!!!! He Like sto play the game Kick the Autistic, and is probably a HOMO!!!!

All readers of this newspapper are encouraged to Seek Out and Make Him Pay for being mercyless and cruel to us Autistics. Everypony At My Command will come and Make Him Pay, and I hop the ghost of My Father Gives him the Nightmares Tonight so he can PEE IN HIS BED WHEN WE FIND HIM!!!!!!!

Have a nice day.

Strangely, there was no photograph, despite Featherweight’s camera having been stolen.

I decided to investigate. Once again, our stranger had gone too far.

The place to begin my investigations that day was Sugarcube Corner where the stranger had been assaulted by Carrot Cake. When I had arrived, Mr. Cake was being interviewed by local police, who were getting the story straight. When they learned that he was acting to protect his wife from a deranged customer, they took their things and left, continuing their investigations elsewhere.

After witnessing this, Spike and I wondered if it was a good idea to interview Mr. Cake. His reputation was now being put into question by local authorities, and we didn’t want to impose. Suddenly, the door opened and in walked Snips and Snails, wearing some rather large smiles.

Snips greeted Mr. Cake enthusiastically, asking if he really DID punch out the stranger (Since who else could have written such an article?). When Mr. Cake, embarrassed, admitted to losing his temper and throwing the stranger out with a few bruises, Snips and Snails let out a cheer, proclaiming how awesome Mr. Cake was.

Surprised, Mr. Cake asked them how beating up a fat pony made him cool. They explained that the stranger had broken into their school and vandalized their property in order to slander him. Apparently, Mr. Cake hadn’t known about the stranger’s recent crime, and was shocked at this news. Can’t say I blame him: the thought of the stranger around foals made me shiver.

Just then, we all heard a loud thump at the door, followed by a groan. The door opened and in stumbled Derpy—who had crash-landed again. She walked over to Mr. Cake, almost in tears. I didn’t want her to ask him what I thought she was going to ask (“How could you do something so MEAN?”), but then she made a comment that cleared up a lot of questions.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Cake! I let Chris stay at my house ‘cuz he had no place left t’go, an’ he stole Featherweight’s cam’ra an’ took pitchers of you an’ Big Mac to use as dartboards, an’ he broke into th’ school an’ used their press t’make a slander paper ‘bout you! I’m so sorry!”

Mr. Cake hugged her, followed by his wife, and then I hugged her, all of us a great big ball of sympathy. I couldn’t imagine what having a pony like the stranger in one’s house could do to one’s sanity, and somepony as simple and trusting as Derpy could have been seriously hurt from all this. (I quickly asked who was at her house to watch her daughter Dinky, and she said Dinky had stayed over at her friend Twist’s house.)

So we called the police, told them about the stranger at Derpy’s house, and let them take care of it.

Featherweight got his camera back, and I was able to find enough blank newspaper print and newspaper ink at my library to refill what they’d lost. As for the stranger, he was thrown in jail to be tried for breaking and entering, theft, vandalism, alleged attempted assault, and libel. You can bet the student paper had a big story for their next issue! As for the Cakes, they saw their business skyrocket: many ponies came specifically to do business with The Pony Who Fought and Won. (A few even asked to have their picture taken with him!) All in all, a happy ending.

But a few loose threads remained. Namely, the stranger’s real identity, his real home, how he managed to get here, and how he can return.

Lyra and I decided it was time for one last interview. Taking our notes, we went to the jail where he was being held.

7. "Girl" Is the New "Boy"

The interview got us nowhere.

After everything he’d suffered at the hooves of Ponyville, he felt he could return the favor by denying us an interview. Lyra attempted to explain to him that we were really trying to help him, only for him to tune her out, delving once again into his tired excuses. I felt like just giving up this whole endeavor, to just let him rot in his cell for as long as it takes for him to behave.

Before we knew it we were out of the precinct, Spike, Lyra, and I. Spike kicked at a stone as we left, evidently grumpy. I knew his reason for assisting us in this case: the sooner we could get the stranger to leave, the better. The news that the stranger would be staying in Ponyville—jailed, but still sharing the same air he breathed—made him uncomfortable.

We gathered in the library once again, brainstorming ways to get the stranger to talk to us. Spike suggested the threat of violence. “In a jail, Spike?” Lyra asked. “Where there’s lots of guards?”

Spike shrugged. “Okay then,” he said, “how about sweets? He likes sweets.”

I mulled this over. He did love sweets, and prison food was pretty close to garbage. He had only been incarcerated for a day or so, so he didn’t have enough time to get sick of the awful cuisine. I proposed we could wait a week before we tried Spike’s idea, which would be long enough to leave him howling for a treat.

It was during this week I decided to get my life back on track. Compiled all my notes into what would become the first draft of this report, managed my library and lent and returned books, re-instigated the ruined board game afternoon for me and my friends (And invited Lyra, Bon-Bon, and even Derpy—who turned out to be an ace at Risk), started a painting in order to pursue a new hobby…

… after a while, I had realized how eaten up by the lunacy of the past month and a half I had been. This was my life: my friends, my library, my studies, my hobbies. They had often been put to the back-burner in favor of this insane adventure, this surreal expedition with this mysterious stranger. This seemingly endless waltz was slowly grinding down to an eventual halt.

By the time a week had passed, I wasn’t sure I wanted to just jump back into this madness. The stranger was already in jail, he was being tried, he’d get convicted easily, he’d be in that jail for years. We wouldn’t have to worry about him at all. Why should we figure out if he’s a human or not?

The possibility of a foreign, undiscovered creature being in our midst. This was the focusing point of not just Lyra’s curiosity, but also my own. This was the reason we had pursued the stranger so obsessively: for the sake of closure, of making a discovery nopony has ever made before. If it turned out we were right—and we likely were—we’d get our names in the history books. We discovered humans.

So after some internal debate, I decided to see this through to its end. I told Lyra to meet me at Sugarcube Corner, where we’d pick up a cake to bribe him with. It turned out to be a little more difficult than I thought, since Mr. Cake’s popularity hadn’t yet died down, and the crowds were still thick.

After our struggle to obtain a cake, we made our way to the prison. Bribe at the ready, we inquired about our stranger.

“Mr. Chandler?” said the receptionist. “He was released as of yesterday.”

Spike let out a joyless, horrified squeal. A guard looked through the door to see if everything was OK.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “He was arrested on charges of theft and vandalism!”

“There wasn’t enough evidence to mount a case.”

This time it was my turn to let out a disgruntled noise. “What do you mean there wasn’t enough evidence?! He had Featherweight’s camera in his possession—”

“Mr. Featherweight was proven to have misplaced his camera long before Mr. Chandler had found it.”

“—But he broke into the school!”

“The school hadn’t locked their doors, and there were no hoofprints that matched Mr. Chandler’s.”

“The newsprints? The libelous article he wrote about Mr. Cake?”

“An article that did absolutely nothing at all to Mr. Cake’s reputation.”

I felt like strangling this receptionist. She was not unlike a machine, doling out this information coldly and lifelessly, as if the possibility of a creepy thief did not perturb her in the slightest. The stranger apparently had access to the kind of lawyer provided by the taxpayers—the kind that constantly put the criminals back on the streets. I need to make a report on the faulty law system, but that’s clearly another report for another time!

We left the jail in tranquil anger, none of us saying much on our way back to the library. Too upset to even eat a delicious cake, Spike threw it away in disgust—looking at it reminded him too much of the stranger.

At a loss for much to do, not knowing where the stranger currently was now, we tried to pull ourselves back together. Lyra suggested that the stranger may have come back to Derpy to see if she’d let him stay. Spike asked why he’d do that, especially since Derpy had sworn him off for good—but I reminded him that a) the stranger is not smart, and b) Derpy is too forgiving for her own good.

When we arrived at Derpy’s house, we were greeted by her daughter Dinky—cute, energetic, and just as bubbly and innocent as the mare that gave birth to her. She led us inside to her mother, who told us that the stranger hadn’t been by. “Didn’t the court put him away?” she asked.

Lyra shook her head, as if she wanted to say something, but thought it might come out too angry.

Spike suggested she keep Dinky indoors while that maniac was on the loose, and we all left, now all out of clues. We sat at an empty table at Sugarcube Corner, exhausted from our traveling. Pinkie Pie gave us some shakes to ease our minds (and told us not to worry about the money), and asked what was bugging us.

Her face puckered when she learned the stranger was out again. As long as Mr. Cake was still at Sugarcube Corner, there was no way the stranger would ever come by again, but to be on the safe side, Mr. Cake had gone and bought new locks and bolts for the doors.

As we drank our shakes, we discussed our plans. It felt almost like we were planning to hunt down an exotic creature in some deep jungle, gentlecoltly hunters of high-class breeding readying their blunderbusses for the one shot they’d get. While we may have considered skinning him, we doubted we’d need to mount his head on our wall to pride ourselves as we smoked our pipes in the study.

Out of nowhere, Lyra made a bold suggestion.

“Why don’t we just ask the Doctor about all this? Think he could come up with something?”

I scoffed. Normally, I’d have tried to remain civil, but the day (and these experiences) were all beginning to wear on me. “You mean Whooves?”

Fought the urge to laugh. Whooves was a nice enough stallion, but when word got out he claimed to be from another dimension, everypony thought him mad—including myself. Everypony but Lyra, actually; she had tried to dog him at every corner, trying to get an interview to see if humans existed in other dimensions. It wasn’t long afterward that he became something of a recluse.

“Yeah, him.”

“Him and his stories of interdimensional travel?”

I, a student of the study and science of magic, told her as politely as I could that such a magic wouldn’t—or at least—shouldn’t be possible. Unless it was some unpredictable outcome of a “Blue Magic Pocket”, bubbling up and exploding, giving birth to results unlike normal magic (Something I said with an uncharacteristic snicker).

“Blue Magic Pocket?” Lyra asked.

“Oh, it’s his theory. Basically, the idea is that Equestria is literally a magical land: magic builds up beneath our Earth, going from the normal magic used (considered white) until enough builds up that it changes color to blue. Normally, the magic in Equestria’s soil is used by Earth ponies for things like improving the crops they plant, but when that doesn’t happen often or fast enough, the magic keeps building until there’s so much in one ‘pocket’, it overpowers itself and explodes—causing unpredictable results.”

Lyra seemed to listen intently. As I finished my lecture, she nodded slowly. It was evident this was her first time hearing this theory.

Originally, we all laughed at his Blue Magic Pocket theory, since although it might have made sense to the uninitiated, it contradicted several already-proven theories regarding the magic in Equestria—for example, Equestria’s Magic Clouds. (I mean, how else are pegasi able to stand on them?)

We all laughed at him then, including myself. It all seems so silly now, especially since it slowly began to fit into the overall developing situation. It fit too well, honestly.

Lyra finished her shake, licking at the cream for a finish. “That was the best shake I’ve ever had,” she declared.

“Yeah,” Spike said, “Pinkie Pie knows how to mix ‘em.”

I looked down at mine, which remained only half-finished. “I kinda feel bad for leaving Bon-Bon out of this,” I said. “She probably would have liked one, too.”

Lyra chuckled. “She sure would have. The trouble is, we hardly have any money for things like shakes.”

Spike went back to his shake. “Why not?” he asked between slurps.

Lyra sighed. She looked around to make sure Bon-Bon was nowhere near, then leaned in and said in a whisper, “I’m the only one of us who has any reliable source of income.”

“Why hasn’t she gotten a job?” I asked quietly.

“Have you SEEN the way she acts towards other ponies? She has this reputation for being mean, sometimes even to me.” Lyra moved her empty shake glass lazily, looking at it as if she couldn’t figure out whether to smash it or not. “I’m her only friend, but sometimes, I really wish I wasn’t.”

I suppose I should have figured out long ago that Lyra’s and Bon-Bon’s friendship was in a tumultuous position at that time. Lyra always seemed so intimidated in Bon-Bon’s presence, almost never speaking when she was present. It all seemed borderline abusive.

Spike tapped my shoulder, drawing us both back to reality. I looked at him to see that he was pointing in some direction. Following his finger led me to see perhaps the most insane thing I’ve ever witnessed.

At first, I had thought it was some ugly mare wearing awful clothing, but upon closer inspection, it was the stranger, decked out in pearls, lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, and an ugly dress with sandals. He looked as though he had raided Rarity’s makeup without really knowing how to apply any of it. As he walked by, however, I noticed he carried with him a new kind of flamboyant confidence, one he had lacked before.

Was he… proud of himself? For going out in public while wearing an ill-fitting, ugly dress? For honestly believing he looked “hot” in it? For scarring the minds of children? (I know that Spike still has night terrors regarding this event.)

For almost a minute after he’d left, Lyra, Spike, and I were all struck completely dumbfounded. A traffic jam of half-complete thoughts began to pile up in our minds, none of them ever making it out our mouths. With our thoughts came our emotions, confused and bubbling with anger—but for some reason, instead of feeling more like a burning fire, our anger felt like a cold wind.

We had to figure out what exactly he thought he was doing, so we tried to follow him (hard not to spot the only stallion in town wearing mare’s clothing). Eventually, we managed to corner him.

Lyra was the first to demand an explanation, and she did so with only two words.

“CHRIS. WHY.”

“I am Tomgirl,” he claimed. I told him a name and wardrobe change wouldn’t be enough to dissuade us from knowing who he was. He told us it wasn’t a name change, just that he decided he wanted to wear a dress to express himself—a “Tomgirl” being the gender-opposite of a “Tomboy”.

I didn’t care to hear this. Out of everything he had pulled—stating his sick interests in the presence of a child, defecating allover himself in public, stealing a child’s camera, breaking into a school, insulting Derpy, slandering Mr. Cake—this was the most incomprehensible thing he had yet done (Though admittedly, not the most wicked). I decided right there that the history books can go jump in a lake for all I cared: this human needed to be sent back to wherever it was humans lived. We needed him OUT of Ponyville before his insanity threatened to harm others.

But it wasn’t as if he’d spill on where he was really from or what he really was. We couldn’t make him talk, and he had no reason to talk to us (and he knew it). There was nothing we could do to force his cooperation, so we simply left, angered and defeated and disgusted.

It had reached nightfall by the time we returned to the library. We were now completely exhausted from this day’s events. Still no way of knowing how to send him back home, or where his home even was.

We had fallen asleep on the couch, the three of us. Bon-Bon would probably be worrying sick for Lyra, and the library had been closed all day, inconveniencing any Ponyville readers. Unwittingly, we were allowing this stranger to slowly damage our lives.

I felt it was high time we damaged his life a little ourselves.

8. The Doctor Is In

When we woke up, it was already close to noon, and the library still hadn’t been opened. In fact, we only woke up because Bon-Bon knocked at the door, and by "knocked", I mean that she practically kicked the door down. After chewing me out for feeding Lyra’s obsession with humans (Which I felt I kind of deserved), she took her friend by her hooves and dragged her back home.

I lied back down on the couch, staring at the ceiling as though my answers were written there. Spike decided to go fix a brunch for the two of us now that he was awake. As the inviting scent of coffee and cooking onions and carrots wafted into my nostrils, I began to retreat into my mind. In my mind were the answers to my task, I just had to look for them.

Had to analyze all this from a different angle, reach different conclusions that might help. The stranger was gullible, constantly interested in mares, totally insecure in everything but his cross dressing, possibly a human being at one point, from a totally different place…

Suddenly I sat up. I had an idea—an idea that was on the one hoof odd; odd for the sole reason that when Lyra suggested it, I shook it off without thinking he could help. The other hoof held the notion that the reason I hadn’t gone through with it was that, as mentioned before, I knew he was crazy.

It was then, after breakfast, that I’d decided to visit the local curiosity shop, run by the Doctor (though he never seemed to have his doctorate around). Although she was as deep into this as I was, I decided against bringing Lyra along. She was already in enough hot water with Bon-Bon as it was, and Whooves probably didn’t want to be near her after she practically stalked him.

I remember when he and I had first met, I thought he was merely a kook. I suppose I should have realized that if Pinkie Pie has premonitions that are spot-on accurate, and if Granny Smith’s strange ingredients for making Zap Apple Jam actually work, then Doctor Whooves is able to see and interact with things that might not exist. Even if he was a bit eccentric, if anypony knew about unpredictable magic, it would be him!

“The stranger? You mean that Chris character I’ve heard so much about?” he inquired.

I nodded. I gave him the Interview files and other items from Lyra’s and my study of him. He had gone over them with me, over some tea; and he was as disturbed as anypony else from what he read. Although I caught him grinning at some of the interviews and notes, most of his facial expressions were fairly worried or depressing.

“I wanted to know if interdimensional travel is actually possible at all, and what else may happen as a result,” I asked.

The Doctor looked into my eyes. I never noticed it before, but his eyes were very pretty: a whimsical and curious blue. If the eyes are the window to the soul, his were open to allow in a gentle breeze, and the interior was just gorgeous and inviting. Not that the exterior wasn’t—his caramel coat and reddish-brown mane weren’t so bad to look at, and his turquoise bowtie and fashionably brown tweed jacket complimented his overall physical shape.

Yes, I need to get out more. And maybe get a coltfriend while I’m at it.

“I thought you didn’t believe the Blue Magic Pocket story—and if I recall correctly, you told me to my face, that it was the silliest, corniest, most un-researched, un-learned, and unbelievable theory ever pushed to the Magic Science Council. You then added I should go shave my head as penance.”

He got me there. I fought for words while he smiled at me, his eyes tilted quizzically, waiting for some excuse. Finally, I said “OK, yes, yes, I didn’t—and I was slightly drunk at the time, so I didn’t mean that part about shaving your head. But I can’t think of any other way to explain why he’s here. If there were any other humans around, I could just say that he might have been cursed into a different shape, but there aren’t any humans in Equestria—and there haven’t been for millennia.”

His smile doubled in both its length on his face and its haughtiness. As he sipped his tea in an obnoxiously long, drawn-out way, I could practically hear him hum “I was right and you were wrong, I’m gonna sing the ‘I Was Right’ Song.” While his arrogance was annoying, it’s not like there was much I could do about it; he was the only pony I knew who could fit these pieces together. He put his tea back down, almost quickly enough to make me jump.

“Well,” he said, his Trottingham accent coloring his already attractive voice, “while it’s entirely possible, especially with Blue Magic Pockets, being pulled from one world to the other is an experience that comes at a price.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “Like polymorphism?”

“Polymorphism, lycanthropy, hideous mutations, discoloring of the flesh, growing a second head, pimples, sudden loss of appetite, receding hairline, all of it can happen if one is not prepared.”

An awkward pause as the Doctor sipped his tea again. He motioned for me to try mine. It was hot and sweet, not at all unwelcome. I decided to ask him a question that, if he was right about all this, I felt I should know. “How… DO you know so much about this kind of thing?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, so I’ll just say it. I am actually from another world, one where I was able to travel through time and space, going anywhere and anywhen. I am both A Time Lord and The Time Lord, from the planet Gallifrey. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” I remembered how much I’d laughed at this rumor when I’d read it in the Gabby Gums column; how much I’d laughed at him. I set down my tea, and thought I should apologize to him for judging him.

When I did so, he merely smirked and drank more of his tea. “I’m not surprised,” he said, not coldly, but with enough bite to sting. “It all must sound crackers to you, but I find that out of every group it’s the ‘scientists’ that tend to doubt what’s true, whether natural or magic or what have you.” I fought the urge to slap him for his sudden rudeness, but on the other hand, it wasn’t as if I didn’t deserve a reprimand.

He motioned for me to follow him to the back of the curiosity shop. I believe I forgot to describe the place, but it was really more of a museum showcasing pieces of a surrealist circus jungle. Masks from places I’d never heard of lined the upper walls (A spiky, heart-shaped purple mask with large orange eyes was especially chilling), alien musical instruments displayed in one corner, and foreign furniture in another. All collectible, yet affordable for the truly curious.

Anyway, the centerpiece of this collection was kept in the back, away from prying eyes. It was a large blue box, almost an outhouse with windows, with a large light on top and a foreign word I couldn’t read written above the door. “This,” he said with a flourish as if the thing were a prize on a game show, “is the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space, TARDIS. ‘Tar’ for ‘TAR’, and ‘Dis’ for ‘DIS’. It is what I use to travel, truly nothing like it.”

After looking at it, he invited me to walk into it. He never let anypony so much as touch it before, so being offered to enter it was something I should probably consider a privilege. It was far larger on the inside—more like a house being impossibly fitted into a milk carton—and felt more like a spaceship. After drinking in what I had been exposed to, I asked him if he could still use it.

“Certainly,” he said. “I use it sometimes when I want to take a vacation.”

“To other worlds?”

“Yes,” he said. “Although I take different shapes when I travel from dimension to dimension. I assume it’s the dimension itself trying to make me conform to its Alpha Planet’s ‘dominant species’, but that’s the theory anyway.”

I had gotten even more than I desired. The plan was finally coming together. I could get the stranger to leave even sooner. I then told the Doctor about what I had planned, and after some debate, we agreed to use the TARDIS to drop him off at the dimension he was from—the dimension ruled by humans.

He warned me the stranger’s exact dimension might be hard to find—a small chance, he claimed, but still a chance. While ours, a world ruled by ponies, was in fact an “Alpha” dimension, there were numerous “Beta” dimensions that were more like branches on a tree. While the Alpha was the trunk, the Beta’s were all different versions of the same dimension. The Doctor even claimed that there existed a dimension where the genders were flipped, colts for fillies, fillies for colts. I had the oddest feeling that I may have been there once.

I asked him which dimension he was from. Within the TARDIS, he showed me a large map, seemingly built upon his Dimensional Tree Model he had outlined to me. He pointed to an Alpha marked “Human Dimension”, then slid his hoof to a branch marked “Mine”. “If the lad claims to be from a dimension where the people of a nation called ‘America’ are currently led by a human with dark skin, named ‘Barack Obama’, that would be the Human Alpha Dimension,” he instructed.

“What if he isn’t?”

At this, the Doctor didn’t seem too off-put. “Well,” he said looking at the map more closely. “If a Blue Magic Pocket really DID draw in someone from another dimension, then it’s almost a hundred percent likely it’s from an Alpha dimension, as those are the ‘centerpieces.’”

I cocked my head. “Isn’t this a theory?”

He looked at me queerly. At first, I thought I might have offended him by questioning his explanation. He merely chuckled, “Twilight, my dear, I’ve traveled through enough dimensions and discovered enough phenomena to know nearly a hundredth of everything in existence.” He elbowed me, holding a boyish grin and an impish twinkle in his eye, “Just show me some faith.”

So I tried poking a hole in his theory. “But on your diagram, it looks like your dimension is a Beta. Yet you were drawn…”

And before I could finish, the Doctor chuckled again. He turned around and said, “I’m working under the assumption our subject lacks a TARDIS.” (Not the only thing he lacked, I thought.) “I’m a Traveler of dimensions and planets and time. He was probably just an average guy, minding his own business. I was drawn here because the Blue Magic Pocket attracted my TARDIS to it, not because the Blue Magic Pocket itself drew me here.”

I suddenly noticed a curious device nearby. It was shaped almost like a wand, but it was cerulean and completely alien—much like the TARDIS. I picked it up with my telekinesis, only for the Doctor to demand I put it down. “Sensitive equipment!” he hissed. He took the wand and put it into his coat pocket, as though that was where it usually belonged. “I might have let you into the TARDIS, but that doesn’t mean you should just touch anything!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have left such sensitive equipment lying around.”

He looked at me in a maddening, puzzling way, as if he wanted to argue but knew he could not. Instead, he merely muttered something and continued our original conversation. After some more talking, we left the TARDIS and walked out back into the curiosity shop.

I looked at it, still in awe for its unreal wonders, over how so much could have fit in so small a package. In many ways, I like to think it was similar to our stranger, only inverted: not much on the outside, but peculiar on the inside.

I thanked the Doctor for his time (it seemed to sadden him immensely to see me go), and told him I’d come back with the stranger around sometime tomorrow.

The answer seemed so obvious now. I just had to get a few things ready for the operation. I wrote up the plan over the rest of the day, working out some of the kinks, meeting up with the key players for this scheme, going over the details. It was hard trying to convince Rarity to go along with it, but the promise of letting Spike help her with her diamond digs seemed to make her more agreeable.

OK, so I just had to get the information out of the stranger now. With everything else in place, and with surprisingly little effort, I had a working plan. It was time to make the final preparations, and then the next day, my study of this stranger would come to an end—my studies and the continuing terror both.

9. Operation GTHO Ponyville

I imagine the stranger was pleased with himself, his fat and disgusting self, as he wiggled and slithered down the street the next afternoon in a poor imitation of feminine movement. The look on his face was completely made up of smug self-satisfaction. Victorious glory to the stallion that braved the crowds with nothing but lipstick and a blue one-piece dress!

It wasn’t even a flattering dress, either. He probably fished it out from a dumpster.

As he rounded a corner, a ninja ran past him, quick and silent as a knife thrown from the shadows, sidling him, taking his tacky purse. The stranger decided to give chase to this ninja, and followed her to the Carousel Boutique. This ninja was running quite slowly, as if on purpose, to remain in sight of the stranger, who constantly ran out of breath (Though in his defense, it’s hard to run in heels).

The ninja, now tired of the game she was playing, threw the purse through an open window in the Boutique’s second floor, running off. The stranger decided the purse was more important than the thief and knocked on the Boutique’s door.

No answer. He knocked again.

Still no answer. He tried the knob, and it turned out the front door was unlocked. Not one for respecting other ponies’ privacy, the stranger moved in, slowing his movements, moving into the unlit Boutique like a spy—a fat, clumsy spy, but a spy nonetheless—retrieving vital files from an evil corporation.

I watched from nearby, my Invisibility spell turned on. The ninja from before jumped down next to me (I had told Lyra I was going to be standing next to a red barrel), and removed her mask. Lyra looked at me, trying to find my eyes. “All right,” I said, “Good work. Time for phase two.”

And with that I slipped into the Boutique, the stranger’s invisible shadow.

Inside, the stranger made his way up the steps to the second floor, where Rarity’s bedroom was. He tried to remember where the purse had been flung, I’m certain, as he was counting the doors. He noticed the light was on in one of the rooms, and moved closer. Inside, he heard somepony talking, as if to a mirror.

“Yeah, Rarity! Totally dope!”

Her accent was rather thuggish and masculine, her choice in slang quite urban. Despite this, it was still Rarity nonetheless. Opening the door more slightly, the cross-dressing stranger saw Rarity decked out in a basketball jersey, white baseball cap, and baggy jeans. I tried to suppress a laugh; just being inside such a monkey-suit was probably murdering Rarity by now. The slang was hilariously forced, though, and bounced off Rarity’s embarrassed reflection, making it look like Rarity had an equally stupid-looking clone.

“None-a dose bitches gonna know it’s you, brah! Too cool to fool, yo!”

“Rarity?”

A VERY awkward silence had crept into the room along with the stranger.

“Rarity? Yerra… a Tomboy?”

Rarity looked as though she were about to break down in tears. Those lessons on acting more masculine probably hurt her more than they should have. I wondered if Roid Rage had been too tough on her. “Y-Yes,” she blubbered, throwing herself to the stranger’s hooves. “Yes, it’s true! I am secretly a Tomboy! I am ashamed of my own femininity! Ashamed, I say!”

The stranger, in a strange moment of empathy (Although I suspect it had something more to do with comparing Rarity’s predicament with his own), told her it was OK to be a Tomboy since she was getting in touch with her inner colt.

“Y-Ya shud be proud-a who you are, Rar’ty. An’ I always t’ought you were vurry pre’y.”

These words, forced and fake, drew an equally bogus smile from Rarity. So far so good.

“Oh, I’m ever so pleased that SOMEpony in this town understands!” She began to pet the stranger’s head, only to withdraw her hoof to see it covered in a dark dirt. She looked to the stranger and immediately shifted her tone back to the forced urban slang. “Yo yo yo! Maybe we oughta hang out like chums n’ crap! Yo!”

When Fluttershy said “crap,” it was scary. When Rarity said it, I nearly blew up laughing, nearly screwed up my whole plan. Her slang was too uproarious for me to at least not grin. I was grateful neither of them could see me, almost as grateful as Rarity probably was that none of her family members were here to see this.

So the stranger asked where they ought to hang out. Sticking to our plan, Rarity wanted to go to the curiosity shop. He wanted to take her to the Hair Of the Dog, a local bar. She looked at him as though he had simply skipped to the part where he asked her for sex. She came out of her stunned silence, already averse to the idea of taking him anywhere—especially wearing this butch outfit.

“I-I thought we could speak to the Doctor.” Her slang came back, cornier than ever. “He’s always got the whizz-bang heezy! Going on! Bro! Pimp!”

“I wannit ta goooooo to da barrrr,” he whined. And I’m not exaggerating at all: he literally whined at Rarity to go get drunk with him this early in the day. At this point, I didn’t find it all that surprising. After all, I already knew his sleeping patterns were spotty at best; he probably thought it was later in the day at this point.

Rarity looked like she wanted, so badly, to argue; to charm him into agreeing with her. To be honest, I’m not so sure her being manipulative was ever a good thing. She has this old-fashioned way of thinking that females are meant to charm males into behaving exactly the way they want them to—and it’s just so easy for her to do. She’s so beautiful and confident, stallions bend to her every will.

But wearing that ridiculous ghetto costume and having to act butch seemed not just to dampen her spirits, but robbed her of her security. She was left in an awkward position, and the look in her eyes seemed to convey her confusion too well—not that the stranger noticed. He seemed to be looking at her everywhere BUT the eyes.

I gave Rarity a tap, nudging her to continue. She apparently forgot I was going to be there, invisible, to oversee the operation, and nearly jumped forward. The stranger thought she had fallen forward and moved to catch her, only to force her backward, and into me. The two of us fell over from the force of the stranger’s accidental shove.

The plan was not going as planned.

Rarity on top of me, I whispered “The bar isn’t open, tell him that.” The stranger helped her to her hooves, but didn’t apologize for knocking her over. Predictable. Rarity attempted to tell him the bar wasn’t open, only for the stranger to once again tune her out.

Instead, he came up with a better idea. “Well den if da bars are all closed, why dunt we just go do someding else dat’s fun?”

“Like the curiosity shop?” Rarity asked, trying to get back to the original plan. I got back up, slowly, trying not to make any sounds or sudden movements. The stranger walked about in the room, taking in the decorations for the first time. Don’t run into me, I thought. Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t. It was bad enough the first time.

“I dun like da curry-ossum-y shop,” he slurred. He looked at himself in the mirror, and adjusted his hair. It was stiff and made crackling sounds as he moved it, and I had to stifle a whining grimace (so I settled on a disgusted puckering of the face). Rarity wasn’t afraid to wince at this sight. “Da Doctor dere is kinda scary.”

Yeah, sure, I thought. The Doctor’s a pretty scary guy. He’s scary because he actually bathes, is only rude when he knows he has every right to be, is actually attractive, is a successful inventor, has done more with his life than you ever could, and I’m getting off-track. I was suddenly frightened by how angry I felt over his comment about the Doctor—and I couldn’t figure out if it was because he was once again comparing himself to someone else as if he were better, or if it was because I had slowly begun to despise him for the sake of hatred.

A sick chill began to creep into my body. It was like being covered in snakes made of snow: I could feel this cold rage slithering all over me. I could feel the urge to lose my self-control. It’d be so easy to grab him with my telekinesis, grab him by that disgusting hair and shake him until his spine warped, until his neck broke, until it’s cold COLD COLD COLD—

I breathed deep. Keep it together Twilight, I told myself, this is almost over. Keep it together. Just a few more hours.

Rarity decided to get the stranger interested in something until the bar opened. I figured that I might have to rework some of the plan at this point, and whispered to Rarity that I would go tell Whooves to meet her at the bar, and have his TARDIS ready.

Outside, it was nearing four o’clock. The sun was just beginning to dip in the sky, and soon the bar would be open for the night. I had to move quickly. I wasn’t at all comfortable leaving Rarity behind, so I told Lyra—who was still waiting outside the boutique—to keep an eye on things and not hold back if the stranger tries anything on Rarity. I removed my invisibility, since I didn’t think I needed it for now.

I weaved my way through the streets quickly, but not at a pace so fast it would attract attention. Unfortunately, attention had become something I couldn’t avoid at that point, as who else could have spotted me but Bon-Bon. She tried to stop me and ask where Lyra had gone. It was evident she didn’t trust me very much anymore.

As I gave an excuse (I can’t remember what it was now), I tried to get away from her, but I was tackled to the ground, Bon-Bon sitting on my back. “You’re not going ANYWHERE until you tell me where Lyra is!”

I perked up my head, shaking out the taste of dirt in my mouth. “Why are you getting so HOSTILE?!”

“You’re feeding Lyra’s obsession!” she hissed in my ear. “She’s been at this for years! It was cute at first, like she was a foal who believed in Santa Clop, but it got worse after she was convinced that Whooves guy was from some other human world! Now everypony thinks she’s demented! And that creep Chris has gotten her back to her old ways… and you helped her. You HELPED her, Twilight! And I’m not gonna let YOU make her situation worse!” She put her forearm on the back of my neck and applied pressure. “Now TALK! WHERE. IS. SHE?”

With my telekinesis, I flung Bon-Bon from my back and to the ground. Passerby watched in shock and confusion. Bon-Bon had caused a scene, costing me time. Once again angry, I got in Bon-Bon’s face. “She’s at the Carousel Boutique! Do you know why? Because I asked her to stay there! Because she thinks I’m a better friend than YOU!”

Bon-Bon recoiled as though I had physically struck her. I pressed my attack. “You’re so controlling of her, she wants to get AWAY from you! You smother her with your presence so much because she’s the only pony in this town who could STAND you! You invade her privacy constantly, so she has to sneak out when you’re not looking in order to LIVE. HER. LIFE.”

We stood there for what felt like hours, my eyes burning dangerously, Bon-Bon’s face looking crushed. “You did this,” I said quietly, “to yourself. You have no friends besides Lyra, because you’re not much better than Chris.”

Bon-Bon mumbled something I couldn’t hear, but the tears in her eyes said everything. She walked away, slowly, like a wounded vampire seeking shelter from oppressive sunlight. I had never felt so awful for something I’d done before, and part of me wanted to apologize.

The other part argued that Bon-Bon DID have this coming. Constantly mothering Lyra as if Lyra couldn’t decide things for herself, alienating every other pony in town as if it was all a game, the mean-spirited prank she pulled on me for helping her out. I closed my eyes, breathed, and got back to my mission.

As I neared the curiosity shop, I had a sudden thought. I had just given Bon-Bon directions to the Carousel Boutique. Where Lyra was. Where the stranger was. I cursed my own thoughtlessness and had found I had a decision to make. I could head back to the Boutique to intercept Bon-Bon and prevent her from sabotaging the plan, or I could simply get the Doctor.

Before I could decide anything, I saw the Doctor flip the sign on the front door from “OPEN” to “CLOSED” and exit his curiosity shop. He saw me, and waved. I hesitated, not knowing if I should turn around or go to him. He stopped waving at me, and his eyes widened, as though he could sense something was wrong. He quickly trotted towards me and when he was near enough he whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“I think I might have just jeopardized the whole operation.”

“What happened?”

“No time to explain, we have to get back to the Boutique before Bon-Bon does!”

I turned to leave, only to feel a sharp tug on my tail. I turned to see the Doctor holding it in his teeth. “Wait jusha momen’,” he said and let go of my tail. He seemed to kind of blush, as though he’d never touched a mare in his life. I fought the urge to giggle.

“You need to get there before she does?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well, then!” he said. “I have just the thing you need!”

“Speed boosts?”

“No.”

“Long-distance teleportation?”

“Ick, no! One never knows where they’ll end up! I have something much better.”

He led me back into his curiosity shop, into the back, to the TARDIS. “Remember what I said when I said I could go anywhere and anyWHEN?” he said. My eyes widened. How could I have forgotten? “Then we need to go back in time and prevent me from meeting Bon-Bon in the marketplace!”

As the TARDIS opened, the Doctor looked at me with the same face you would often make when I did something silly. “No,” he answered. “We need to make sure not to run into our past-selves.”

“Pfft, so?” I scoffed. “I’ve already done it once before.”

“You got lucky that time,” he said. “It was just once, but anything could have gone completely wrong!” He put his front hooves on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, as if scanning me for lies. “And do you remember meeting your future self in that marketplace?”

He got me there. “If you went back in time now, and your past self saw you, the mind of your present self would implode from getting memories it doesn’t remember having. Your mind would melt!” His gruesome explanation made me cringe.

“Well, what do you suggest?” I asked.

He let go of me and led me into the TARDIS. I had already seen the inside of the TARDIS once before, but I found myself taken away with awe once more. Looking at all the strange lights and devices was like being on another world.

Suddenly, there came a tap at my shoulder. The Doctor asked if I’d been listening.

“Of course not,” he said impatiently. “Listen! We’ll need to go back to the point in time, in which you left the Carousel Boutique. You said Lyra, Rarity, and Chris were all there, correct?”

I nodded. “Right. So we’ll go back in time, around forty minutes, behind the Boutique. I remember leaving it from the front.”

The Doctor nodded and went to work. I had no idea what anything did, but I watched intently. Not sure I learned anything, outside of that the buttons all made funny noises. After a while, I began to grow impatient.

“Hey, are the coordinates set?” I asked.

“Almost,” he said without turning.

I groaned. “Well hurry! We’re running out of time.”

He turned around, his smile becoming impish. He looked as though he was fighting a laughing fit. “Really?” he asked. “Considering that we’re going to go back in time…” He finished inputting the coordinates. Suddenly, a tray of tea and cookies came from nowhere.

“Time is something we have plenty of. Take a break for a mo’ while I get everything ready.”

From the look on his face, I could tell he could read mine perfectly—for mine was twisted with an impatient rage. Again, I felt that ungodly chill. I smacked the tea set to the floor. “ARE! YOU! CRAZY?!”

The Doctor looked at the fallen tea set, then to me. Before he could say something stupid, I began to rant. “I asked you to HELP me! Not dick around and serving me tea when we should be going back in time like you promised! Unless this has all just been some big, impressive lie!” That cold was growing, almost crushing me now. I began to cry from its arctic weight. “I thought I could believe you, Whooves! I wanted to believe you!”

“I’m sorry.”

His capricious blue eyes looked away. I stopped almost instantaneously at his apology. From what I’d known of him—his haughtiness and arrogance and incongruity—I never expected him to say those two words. There seemed to be a swell of sadness, suddenly, emerging from deep within him; like an ugly flower that blossomed too fast. I felt myself calm down, the chill beginning to fade.

“It’s…” He breathed, and started again. “It’s been a very long time since I ever let anypony into my TARDIS, and…” I thought he was going to cry, but instead he looked at me, his blue eyes pleading with mine to not feel angry at him. Suddenly, I felt like crying myself.

I realized it now. Whooves, this reclusive Doctor who ran a shop selling inimitable baubles, hadn’t had any real company outside of the occasional customer. He was…

He was lonely. He was very lonely, and he didn’t seem to know how to handle it.

We shared a silence for a moment or two. He turned back to the device he was working with, using movements that seemed robotic and lifeless. I tried to find words to express an apology, but before I could so much as breathe a word, he said, “Just forget it, Twilight. It isn’t a big deal.” His voice was flat and quiet. “You’ve been studying that Chris pony so much, I think it must be rotting your brain.”

I smiled. THAT was totally the Doctor. I felt myself blushing as I apologized. “It might have. And either way, I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. That was uncalled for.”

He finished putting in the coordinates. “All right,” he said, turning to me. “Find something you can hold onto. When this baby hits 88 miles an hour…” He rested his hoof on the Great Big Go Button (Don’t ask me, that’s how he labeled it). “… You’re gonna see some serious shit.”

There was a loud noise that made me jump, a sound like a key being drawn against a piano string, only amplified a hundredfold. I panicked, and ran about, trying to find something to hold on to, but in a second, the sound died. “OK,” said Whooves, “We’re here.”

I blinked. “Just… Just like that?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Poke your head out there and look.”

“Why can’t you?”

He rolled his eyes impatiently and walked out of the TARDIS. He motioned for me to follow, which I did.

Outside, we were behind the Boutique. I looked up to see the four o’clock sun still in the middle of its dip, the clouds exactly as they were before. I looked forward and could see myself disappear into the marketplace. “I…” I mumbled. “I just traveled. Through. Time.”

“And you haven’t snapped back to your original time, right?”

I checked myself to make sure I was all in one piece, not ready to be flung back to my original time. After a few seconds passed, and no time-jumping occurred, I grinned. “It WORKED!” I cheered, hopping about. “OhmygoshitWORKED!”

I then grabbed the Doctor by his face. “Do you KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?” He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.

“… No?” he offered, meekly.

I dropped him as I twirled girlishly about. “It MEANS you have a safe and dependable means of transportation through time! I mean, oh my goodness, the implications of what we could DO with it is just astronomical—”

The Doctor looked behind me. “Er, Twilight…”

“I mean, Star Swirl had his theories, and Time Travel Magic has NEVER been all that dependable—”

“Twilight.”

“Oh, I HAVE to introduce you to the Princess! She’ll want to know everything about the TARDIS! She’ll want to know everything because IT’S AWESOME!”

The Doctor, his patience at an end, merely harrumphed and turned my head to face another direction. Bon-Bon was coming nearer to the Boutique. She looked as though she’d been crying.

“Is THAT the Bon-Bon you were talking about?”

My eyes widened. She’d have to be stopped! I turned to the Doctor. “OK, I’ll take care of Bon-Bon. YOU go and trick Chris into getting into the TARDIS.”

The Doctor gave me another of his puzzling looks. “Because THAT wouldn’t look like a kidnapping at all, would it?”

I pursed my lips. Technically, that WAS what we were doing. “All that’s missing is a trail of candy and my black gloves. Wouldn’t want to leave traces,” he added. I glared at him. “Just do it.”

As the Doctor went in through an open window, I looked out at Bon-Bon. Suddenly, she noticed me and her face went from despair to anger. I don’t think a pony’s face was meant to contort the way hers did at that moment, and for a moment I considered running and hiding.

She had stopped when she saw me, but started again, started walking towards me. I began to feel that angry chill again. It was as if Bon-Bon was carrying winter on her shoulders…

10. This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Without saying a word, Bon-Bon closed in on me. Her eyes spoke more than her mouth could, really. I imagined I knew how a rabbit felt when cornered by a ravenous wolf: afraid, helpless, nowhere I could really run, no options left but to face an onslaught.

She stopped almost three feet away from me, her glare not once breaking eye contact. I still felt that arctic wind, as if Bon-Bon carried it here with her. Or maybe it was just her glare—it was enough to put Fluttershy’s Stare to shame.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a quiet, furious voice I’d never heard her use before. “Why. Are you. Doing this.” She took one step forward. I took one step back. What could I say? Yes, I was certainly planning something—if successful, it’d make the stranger leave for good. If not, he’d stay and make everypony even more miserable. But how to explain? Where to begin?

“What. Are. You. Hiding?” Bon-Bon’s slow, venomous words were delivered as though she were twisting a knife in my head: cruelly, coldly, hatefully. Her eyes were bulging with anger at this point, and I had shrunk against the wall, slowly becoming more and more terrified, my plan of action forgotten, that intense and hateful cold coming closer...

“Bon-Bon?”

We both turned to see Lyra, who had apparently heard everything. “Bon-Bon, what are you doing here?”

Bon-Bon’s glare softened only a little at the sight of her friend. “Hello,” she curtly greeted, “Found yourself a new friend?”

Lyra looked at me apologetically, then to Bon-Bon. “Yeah. I don’t need to ask you for permission to make new friends.”

Bon-Bon began to breathe harder. At first I thought she was going to attack Lyra, but instead, Bon-Bon shook violently, as if fighting the urge to cry. “Y-You don’t… You don’t want me anymore, do you?”

“That’s not true Bon-Bon. You know it isn’t.”

“So why are you hanging out with Twilight and constantly spying on that creepy pony, instead of hanging out with me and doing the things we used to love doing together?”

Lyra looked as if she knew she’d have a difficult time answering that. “A pony can have more than just one friend, you know.”

“Answer the question,” Bon-Bon demanded quietly.

“That IS my answer,” Lyra argued. “I’m hanging out with Twilight because she’s my friend. She listens to what I have to say and doesn’t try to force me to see from her point of view. She doesn’t try to corral me or bully me into anything.” They both seemed to be near tears at this point in Lyra’s confession. Lyra’s lip trembled and her voice weakened. “And I… I don’t know what to think of you anymore, Bon-Bon. I wanna like you, but you make it so hard.”

Bon-Bon sat down. She hadn’t said anything throughout Lyra’s confession, simply taking this gentle application of a harsh truth. Lyra continued. “For the longest time, I was your only friend.”

“Yeah, you were.” Was Bon-Bon… sniffling? I recognized the crushing tone they used. Was. Were. Past-tense. “But you wished you weren’t.”

Lyra’s face betrayed her inner emotions at that point: confusion, uncertainty, a dash of sorrow. She met Bon-Bon’s eyes again. “Yes,” she answered. “Sometimes I…”

Suddenly, Lyra’s face became a mask of rage, as if a dam in her heart had burst and she was flooded with anger. “Sometimes I wanna stand up to you! I wanna stand up to you and kick your ass!” She got up in Bon-Bon’s face. “Sometimes I wanna just strangle you! Strangle you just to make you shut the hell up! Make you shut up and leave me alone and get out of my life!”

Bon-Bon seemed so totally broken by these words. She reminded me of a toy, once beautiful and beloved, now cast aside and forgotten on a dusty shelf. Hot tears began to flow from her eyes, slowly, then more and more. My eyes moistened as I unintentionally began to feel the extent of Bon-Bon’s crushed spirit.

Lyra began to cry as well. “I wanted to like you, Bon-Bon, but you… you’re so... cruel. You're so thoughtless and mean. It’s disgusting how possessive you are of me. You’re…” Her mouth began to coil. “You’re too much like Chris. Observing him alongside Twilight made me realize how similar the two of you are, and made me wonder how the hell you and I even became friends. I thought I could change you, but… but I can’t.”

My front hooves covered my mouth. This was it. Lyra and Bon-Bon weren’t friends anymore. I, the Element of Friendship, had accidentally destroyed the friendship between two ponies. I had betrayed my own element! What had I done! Was salvaging my plan really worth this?

But there was no way to change the outcome. Bon-Bon merely got up and began to walk away. I got the feeling she was not headed anyplace in particular, just… away. She didn’t say anything. Not good-bye, not how dare you, not I’m sorry, not what can I do to change, not give me a second chance. She merely left.

She looked back at the two of us just as she was beginning to vanish into the throngs of ponies wandering the streets after their work hours were done. She disappeared then, as if being swallowed by the crowd, digested into the town.

The tears didn’t stop flowing from her eyes.

I looked at Lyra, who was watching Bon-Bon fade out of her life. Her eyes, those yellow eyes of hers, seemed so lifeless now. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean for it all to come to this.”

Lyra patted my shoulder and wiped away her tears, sniffling as she did so. After a confused second, she wrapped her forelegs around me and held me tightly. Her body shook as she sobbed; she wept into my mane, telling me that… that this was the way things had to be.

Sometimes, friends can’t stay friends. Sometimes, even extending friendship to somepony can be a bad idea. I had learned that from the stranger: any attempts at improving or befriending him was an exercise in frustration that never ended well—and it seemed Lyra had learned this too.

Suddenly, we heard a crash. We both dashed into the Boutique, Bon-Bon now forgotten. Inside, the Doctor had been knocked down. The stranger roared at him like an angry foal, the same yell he belted at me when I had invaded his temporary cave. I looked at the Doctor incredulously. “Really?” I asked him. “He knocked you over? Really? Him?”

The Doctor stood back up, undaunted. The stranger began yelling at him now. “Dis is all yer fault you JERK! Yerra dang dirty troll! An yer here ta stop me fum findin true love!” The Doctor rolled his eyes—along with Lyra and I. Suddenly, I realized Rarity was no longer in the room.

“What did you do to Rarity, you creep?!”

He tried to explain, but I can’t remember what exactly he said. His accent, layered on top of his constant slurring, stammering, and spittling, along with his frustrated screeching made it difficult for me to understand a word he said. I think some of it may have been in a different language.

Finally, I had had enough. I picked him up with my telekinesis and threw him against the wall hard enough to shake the entire building. Lyra and the Doctor both shrunk a bit and looked at me in horror. I hadn’t noticed, as I suddenly shut out the rest of the world.

The world had evaporated now—there was only myself and my prey. This creature that had led so many to pain and ruin. He hurt Derpy and took advantage of her, he made Fluttershy become a monster, he tried to slander Mr. Cake, he shoved the Doctor down for no reason, he hid Rarity someplace, he made Lyra want to end her friendship with Bon-Bon…

I snorted. My eyes had taken on a quiet coldness, and the stranger could see it. It terrified him. Yes, terror. His fear fed my rage, and I could feel my hate for him pulsating inside me like a second heart, beating, feeding the rest of my body with blackest malice. I picked him up…

… and threw him down. And picked him up...

… and threw him down. I kept doing this, enjoying it, tasting it like his pain was fine dining. Making him pay for everything he’d done to ruin my friends and ruin me. Suddenly, I felt even colder—as if my body were…

I looked down at myself. My body was beginning to freeze, literally! Looking back up at Chris, I saw a tall, shuddering ghost-horse.

A Windigo. It must have been following me ever since I began hating the stranger.

I recalled at that moment back when you had me and my friends act in that Hearth-Warming Eve play. I distinctly recall being told that the Windigos designed for the play by the special effects team were more of a facsimile, a "family-friendly" design of the actual thing. Well I saw the real thing, and... what can I say? Looking at the Windigo was like looking at Death. Its eyes were empty and cold, as if they were merely a pair of holes in its head; its lips were drawn back so far I could see its jagged, sharklike teeth. Its anatomy was similar to the ones in the play, only it was even more like an exaggeration of equine physiology, as if it were more of a ghastly parody of what you'd created.

Its black eyes fell on me, and its lips contorted into a hideous grin. I began to feel colder and colder, the ice crawling up my legs as if threatening to devour me. Its grin grew wider, as if to say, "I win." I suddenly screamed, as did Lyra. (She later had claimed that she saw the Windigo as well, so it wasn't just me!) Finally, the Doctor ran towards me and tackled me, trying to get me under control. He wrestled with me, my body no longer under my control, as if the ice covering me were a creature all its own, until he finally pinned me to the floor. He slapped me, once.

“Get a hold of yourself, Twilight!” he yelled, the fear in his voice evident. “This isn’t you! You are not a monster!” He repeated the last five words more slowly, more quietly. I calmed down. I must have lost consciousness, for the next thing I remembered was waking up with a damp towel on my head and no ice on my body at all.

I sat straight up, and looked about. We were still in the Boutique, or at least I had thought so. The red light of the setting sun cast dark shadows all around the main lobby, the blackness splattering the walls like cubist art. At the window stood the Doctor. He appeared worried.

“Hey,” I said. I got up and trotted toward him, asking him questions: how long was I out? What happened? Where is everypony? What happened to Rarity?

He said nothing, but instead rested his forehead in his hoof, leaning on the windowsill. His body shook with fear. “I let this happen,” he said quietly. “This is all my fault. I leave my sensitive equipment lying around, and this is what happens. I’m so careless!”

I tried to ask him, again, what happened. He merely pointed outside. I exited the Boutique.

The Boutique was a ramshackle. It looked as though it had been abandoned for years, and never had been a Boutique to begin with. Shiftless ponies bustled about, their ill-fitting and poorly-designed, hideously-colored clothes making them seem like legions of pauper clowns. Ponyville seemed to be an uneven city now: lopsided buildings, both abandoned and lived-in, dotted the horizon, made of bricks and stones, washed in ugly colors. Even the clouds seemed to have been built clumsily, as if drawn by a child. Up in the sky were zeppelins with their searchlights beaming down on the town, apparently keeping sentry. On their sides were pictures of the stranger, as if to say his eyes ("One's greener than the other!") were everywhere.

“What in..?”

I walked forward, trying to ask somepony, anypony, what day it was, what year it was. Finally, I had found a newspaper. It was the evening paper of the same day I had begun this operation, but the news it bore on the front made my stomach drop. I have included an excerpt of it in this report and a full copy of this newspaper in the supplementary materials I have sent you—otherwise, you would probably think I had gone crazy.

For a moment, I prayed on your great wings that my going crazy was all it was.

CWCVILLE TRIBUNE

MAD DOCTOR APPREHENDED

Earlier today, infamous Troll Doctor Whooves had been apprehended by CWCville's beloved and honorable Troll Buster squadron on accounts of fraud, larceny, trolling, and first-degree murder. When asked how he would plead, the Doctor said, “Duh, I am dumb and bad, so please do the execution thingy now.”

As our Great and Beloved Mayor, Christian Weston Chandler, cast his sentence, the Doctor bowed his head in silent submission. He was executed later, at 5:00 P.M., by drilling to the testicles, drawing and quartering, and being dumped in acid.

I dropped the newspaper in horror. The stranger had become Mayor?! The Doctor had been executed?! This town… was it Ponyville? It had been renamed? What the heck was going on?!

I picked up the newspaper again and raced back to the Boutique-That-Was-Not-A-Boutique. I threw it at the Doctor’s feet and asked him to read it. As he did so, the color drained from his face. His eyes met mine, and our fears interlocked, intertwined.

“What. Happened?” I asked again.

The Doctor, still terrified, put the newspaper down. He looked away, as if searching for answers. He looked back at me, his face as white as ash. “The TARDIS. He took the TARDIS.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Holy crap, shit just got real! So far, everything has led up to this. This is where the big adventure starts, everypony!

11. Strangers in CWCville

For the longest time, it seemed neither of us really knew what to do. I decided to break the ice a bit and try to see if the Doctor had any clues.

“What happened, exactly?”

“Not sure. While I was trying to get you to come around, I guess Chris became terrified of both you and the Windigo that tried to attack you. He had run out while I tried to make you more comfortable.”

“What happened to the Windigo?”

“Again, not sure. I guess once you snapped out of its hate spell, it just ran away. Anyhow, Lyra had called out to me, saying that Chris had gotten into the TARDIS. I asked her to keep an eye on you and get me if your condition changed, and went out to get him.

“When I knocked on the TARDIS’ front door, he told me to go away, like a sulking child. I told him he’d better get out of there, but he knew I had no way to force him out. He didn’t even believe me when I offered him jelly babies! I guess he must have found the Instruction Manual for the TARDIS—”

I raised an eyebrow. “You keep an Instruction Manual for the TARDIS?”

He glared at me, his teeth gritted. “Sometimes I’m forgetful, all right? And besides that, I’m more surprised he could read it!”

I thought this over a moment. The stranger was definitely from the human dimension. If the Instruction Manual were written in the same language that was written above the TARDIS’ front door, then of course he’d be able to read it.

“So you’re saying he went back and rewrote time?”

“Look outside again and tell me he hasn’t.”

I wanted to smack him, but instead decided to ask other questions. “So if he’s rewritten time, how come we aren’t…”

“Phased out? We used the TARDIS earlier. I imagine we have some kind of time... shield... thingy going on.”

I looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

“We used the TARDIS to travel through time. Therefore, you and I still have some time before we melt away and this reality becomes concrete.”

My eyes widened. “Melt away?”

He walked forward, the fear in his eyes just as apparent as mine. “In a few days’ time, you and I will fade away as this reality takes root in the normal time continuum of your dimension. This new Beta will consume the Alpha, replacing it. And when those few days are up, you. And I. Will cease. *To exist**.” The volume of his voice dropped to near a whisper. “We will become *nothing at all.”

I sat down. “Great Scott,” I exclaimed quietly.

“I know,” said the Doctor, wiping his face nervously, “this is pretty heavy.”

After a few seconds, I had a plan. “OK,” I said. “I have an idea. Let’s go find my friends.”

“Are you so sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. “This IS an alternate reality. They could be anywhere, doing anything. You might not even recognize them, and they might not recognize you.”

I pursed my lips. He had a very strong chance of being right, but what else could we do? I asked him if he had a better idea. “Only one I have right now is to find the TARDIS. I don’t know how we’ll do it, so I’ll just go along with yours for now.”

With that, we left the abandoned building and went back out into this new, wretched city. CWCVille. Even the name was enough to make me feel like gagging.

It took us some time, but we made it to where Sweet Apple Acres was supposed to be. Instead, a large building stood in its place. Upon closer inspection, it was more of a shopping arcade that seemed to stretch for a mile or two. It was similar to the other, sloppily designed buildings, but it still held some air of importance to it. Over its front door was a neon sign depicting the stranger’s head and the words “CWCVILLE MALL”. Ponies were shuffling into and out of the mall in droves.

An obnoxious song was being played over the speakers, the singer’s voice both tone-deaf AND familiar. It was pretty whiny, too, something about SO needing a cute girl his age. As the song finished, the radio’s announcer called it “The Song that Defined a Decade”—"If it did, it must have been a miserable decade," mused the Doctor—after which, an announcement from the “Great Director” to report any “suspicious troll activities to local authorities.”

Applejack apparently was out of the question. We decided to go to Sugarcube Corner—only to discover it had been replaced by a statue of the town’s Great and Wonderful Mayor, standing in a daring pose fit for a superhero. There was an obvious artistic license done to the stranger’s anatomy, as instead of fat and unhealthy, his physique more closely resembled Big Macintosh’s. On the base, the inscription read: “OUR GREAT DIRECTOR.”

The Doctor shook his head in complete disgust. I was beginning to seriously worry. We headed to Fluttershy’s cottage—the only other place we could reach on hoof, as Rainbow Dash lived in the sky—and as we arrived, I noticed that the house was at least still there, although for some reason I couldn’t spot any of Fluttershy’s animals about. The hutches that used to be in her yard were missing completely. The lights were on, as the sun had gone down by now. I ran to the cottage, in the hopes that Fluttershy at least still lived there.

I knocked and waited for a response. After a second, there came a familiar, timid “Who is it?”

“Fluttershy, open up, it’s me.”

Silence. “Me who?” she asked quietly from just behind the door.

The Doctor looked at me. “She probably hasn’t met you in this timeline.”

I shook my head, shushing him. “It’s me, Twilight Sparkle.”

A few seconds’ wait, and the door was unlocked. It slowly opened, Fluttershy peering out awkwardly from behind it.

She looked different. Her mane and tail were still pink, but they were disheveled and overgrown; her coat was still buttery yellow, but she had no cutie mark. She was also skinnier, as if she barely ate very much now, and her eyes looked deader, hollow. She looked at me up and down as if questioning whether I was really there. “Twilight?” she whispered. “How…?”

I reached out my hoof and touched her foreleg. “It’s OK, Fluttershy. I’m here, everything’s gonna be all right.”

Her eyes began to water as I spoke. As soon as I said “right,” she burst out bawling and fell to my hooves, begging my forgiveness. “What?” I asked. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“He made me do it!” she cried. “He made me do it! That awful mayor!”

“What did he make you do?”

She continued to bawl and ask me for forgiveness. “Gracious, Fluttershy! YES! YES I FORGIVE YOU, NOW TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON!”

Her bawling slowed into sniffles. She looked into my eyes. “I have no idea how you’re even here,” she mumbled. “You’re… you’re in the cemetery, with the others. Where you’ve been for the past four years.”

It was like a scene change in a movie. There we were in the graveyard at night, shining lights on the tombstones that bore my name, Pinkie Pie’s, Rainbow Dash’s, Rarity’s, Applejack’s… Not knowing what else I could do, I sat down as tears began to roll down my cheeks. The Doctor rested a forehoof on my shoulder.

I looked at Fluttershy, who’d brought us here. “What happened?”

Fluttershy seemed so broken. Her voice was a creepy monotone, as if her emotions had crumbled away long ago. “It’s against CWCVille law to display a cutie mark. Most of us try not to find out what our talents are, and if we do, we shave off the part of our coats where the cutie marks are.” She looked at me. “This is all done so that the mayor feels better about not having a cutie mark himself.”

The Doctor grunted, muttering how that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. I’d have to agree. Fluttershy continued. “When all of you got your cutie marks but me, we all decided to keep it quiet. But one slip, one mistake, and he found out. He captured me and forced me to talk, to confess.” Her face became somber and she looked away. “He forced me… to push that button that sent electricity through you and ended your life, Twilight.” Tears streaked down her face as her voice began to crack. “The betrayed look in your eyes is what I see every time I close mine now.”

She began to shake with sobs. “It sounds silly, but at first I thought you’d come back from the dead. To give me one more chance.” I looked at the Doctor, who was equally horrified by this situation. I walked to Fluttershy and put my forehooves around her, telling her I forgave her—for real, this time.

To be honest, I should have expected this. The six Elements of Harmony could have very easily become a threat to the stranger’s oppressive regime, and it only made sense for him to squash a potential enemy before they became a problem. The only question was how the stranger had thought to do this. He didn’t seem the cunning strategist type to me—but on the other hoof, he DID have the huge advantage of time travel...

The Doctor decided to break the dismal silence. “How did things get this bad?”

Fluttershy looked at him, and I could see, even in the dark, that her hollow eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. “It’s been like this since long before I was even born.”

The Doctor and I shared a glance. It looked like it was time for a history lesson.

The library was a wreck, but at least it was still there. Grafitti, boarded-up windows, and other signs of vandalism implied it wasn’t operational, but there were still lights on. I knocked at the door, only to hear a grouchy young voice inside yell, “Oh, for crying out loud! Who could it be at this hour?!” I heard some shuffling coming from inside. Right behind the door I heard him yell, “Buzz off! Library’s closed!”

“Spike?” I said. “Spike, is that you?”

A few seconds passed. “Twilight Sparkle?”

“Yes, Spike, it’s me.”

The door was unlocked and opened slowly. I fought the urge to recoil in horror. Spike’s face looked burned on one side, his eyelid completely gone. Many of his teeth were missing—and so was his right leg and his left hand, with robotic facsimiles replacing them. Even though he was a child in my original timeline, he looked forty years older here.

“Spike?” I asked, my lips trembling, my voice a thin whisper.

“Twilight?” He walked closer to me, hobbling along on his fake leg. He reached out—my eyes began to water as I noticed he only had two fingers left on this hand—and touched my face. His face softened, and the tears came like a flood. “Celestia’s mane, you’re alive.” He drew me into a hug. “You’re ALIVE!”

I held him closely, fighting the urge to cry. Ever since you left him in my care, Spike has been like a son to me. To see him in this shape, and this evidently unhappy with his life… it tore me to pieces. It was unforgivable. I kissed his head, telling him how much I loved him.

Fluttershy wiped away a tear. The Doctor sighed sadly. He walked closer to the two of us. “Listen,” he said quietly. “I understand the emotions going on here, but we need to get inside before anypony sees our cutie marks.”

It hadn’t occurred to me at that point that our bare flanks were still proclaiming to the world what our talents were. Spike quickly led us inside the library. He asked us so many questions that we hadn’t any time to answer. Instead, I asked for a book on Equestrian history.

After reading it, the Doctor and I were equally mortified. History had changed so much. After a few hours, we decided on which pages we wanted to keep for this report. Attached to this general report are some of the historical documents, but here is a summary of the more-important events.

THE FOUNDING AND GENERAL HISTORY OF CWCVILLE

“Our beloved town was founded in the year XXXX, when Celestia rewarded our Beloved Mayor with land near the Everfree Forest for helping her in the fight against Discord. It was not long before it became a bustling burg thanks to our Mayor’s soup hotel ideas taking root in every town. With this money he received for his wonderful and creative ideas, our Mayor created many new jobs and tightened our town’s security—and that’s how we became bigger, better, and safer.”

THE BATTLE AGAINST NIGHTMARE MOON

“When the thousand-year curse ended and Nightmare Moon broke free from her lunar prison, who was there to stop her but our wonderful Mayor. With his Magic Blue Wand, he was able to cast her back into the darkness from whence she came. Nopony is as STRONG as our Mayor!”

THE BATTLE AGAINST CELESTIA

“With Nightmare Moon defeated, Equestria was once again safe. However, it seemed as though its current Princess was unable to deal with the public opinion siding with our Mayor’s favor. In jealousy, the Princess decided to wage a war against our Mayor, but even though it was an expensive and exhaustive war, our beloved city came out on top, and the tyrannical Princess was toppled.”

After having read the last attached document, I finally wept. The news that you had met a terrible fate—after learning what happened to Spike and my friends—was just too much for me to handle. My beloved mentor… reduced to the historical villain role, a mere footnote in the history of this tyranny.

The Doctor became angry and began to pace the library. “He stole my screwdriver,” he muttered. “He stole. MY. Screwdriver.”

Snapping out of his tantrum, the Doctor tried to comfort me by saying that the stranger was obviously rewriting history the way he saw fit. After all, he evidently won the war against you; he could say whatever it was he wanted. He theorized that the Mayor had killed Luna (maybe even by accident) to "banish" Nightmare Moon, and that you—or this version of you—in your grief, declared war over it.

His voice fell quiet as he looked into my somber eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he said.

“How are we going to stop him?” I asked. “Before, he was just a thoughtless moron, but now he has so much power…”

The Doctor, Fluttershy, and Spike all looked at each other. This situation was hopeless. Before anypony could say anything, lights turned on outside. We heard the sound of sirens, flooding us from all directions. The library had been completely surrounded!

Before any of us could react, the door was broken down and armed ponies swept into the room like a deluge. Some even jumped through the windows. Their weapons were all aimed at us. For a few seconds, nopony said anything. Fluttershy laid flat on the ground, covering her head and saying a silent prayer. Spike held both his arms in the air. The Doctor and I stood closer together.

For a few moments, that was all that had happened. It was as if time had frozen and we had become a painting that depicted hopelessness. Slowly, heavy hoofsteps entered the library. A few of the armed ponies bowed. “Captain Macintosh, the violators have been successfully apprehended,” said one.

I stifled a gasp. Their Captain was none other than Big Macintosh, now decked out in what looked like the kind of armor you’d see in a science fiction convention. His features, like everypony else’s, was noticeably different: his eyes lacked that gentleness and friendliness I remembered, although the sharp intelligence remained. His tousled blonde mane I’d fantasized about had been chopped down to a cru-cut, and his chiseled face lacked the silent warmth I was familiar with. He also lacked a cutie mark.

“Good work, Troll Busters.” He walked toward us menacingly, his smug expression never changing. His voice was what I remembered—rich and deep—but there was so much malice in it now. He looked to Fluttershy. “Why, hello again, Miss Fluttershy.” She whimpered. “Seems you have a hard time stayin’ outta trouble. First the cutie mark violators from four years ago, and now I find you hangin’ with these…” His voice trailed as he looked at the Doctor and me.

It then snapped together. I had forgotten everypony thought we were dead. Heck, the Doctor had only been reported dead earlier that day. I grinned. This was my chance. “Thought you killed me, huh?” I said. “It takes more than the electric chair to stop somepony as powerful as I.”

Big Macintosh began to stammer. He finally fixed himself and began to read our rights: “Y-You have the right to remain… uh, dead. Anything you say or do will be considered very strange because you’re dead. You have the right to an attorney, but it won’t do you any good because you’re dead. Do you understand these rights that have been read to you?”

I responded by casting my teleportation spell. “Shoot her!” he bellowed, evidently changing his mind. “Kill her again!”

But before anypony could fire, I had teleported us outside the library. Without hesitation, we ran as the armed ponies began to give chase. We disappeared into an alley, hoping to hide. All we really did was find ourselves further into the bloated intestines of CWCville.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Before any of you make the obvious joke regarding how Chris learned to operate the TARDIS, allow me:

"If you need instructions on how to use the TARDIS to fuck up the time-space continuum, check out the enclosed instruction book!"

12. Don't Send in the Clowns

Hiding in the shadows of an alley was easy—made even easier thanks to my Invisibility spell cast over myself and my friends. The armed guard ran past us several times in their search, but never once spotted us. By the time they had brought in search dogs (Which would have been a problem, especially since I never bothered studying the Disguise Scent spell for some reason), we had already fled the entire area.

That only meant we were in an unfamiliar part of CWCville now. The streets here were much meaner and intimidating: vulgar words were painted onto walls in vibant colors, suspicious ponies damaged property that likely didn’t belong to them, and overturned carriages lined the sidewalks. A fe ere even on fire. Fluttershy held onto the Doctor and Spike for safety. I did the same.

It’s weird really. We’ve come so far in the world as a society in our social philosophies and the roles of gender, and yet we females still seem to depend on males to give us comfort and safety. Despite that Spike and the Doctor would have been easily beaten up by anypony in this area, they were also the only trustworthy males there, and in this aspect I felt myself become somewhat safer.

But they weren’t the only males we recognized. There were two gang members who were suspiciously familiar: one short and fat and blue, the other tall and thin and orange. “Snips? Snails?” I asked.

The moment they looked at us, I realized I should have just never gotten their attention. They looked far different from what I remembered: Snails’ teeth had been filed down into intimidating points and his hair was worn as a Mohawk. Snips wore shades and had his hair slicked back—which would have been really adorable if he didn’t have an alarmingly long scar across his face. They both had tattoos all over their forelegs, bearing similar emblems as if to show whose side they were on.

Snails saw us first and flashed his sharpened teeth in a shockingly terrifying smile. “Hey!” he called to a few other gang members behind him. “Lookie here!” Before we could react, we were surrounded by them.

Snips sneered. “How do you know our names?” he asked.

The Doctor gallantly put himself between me and Snips. “I can read your mind,” he said.

The gang members all laughed. The Doctor sneered nonchalantly. “Let’s see,” he said. He pointed to one gang member, then another, then another. “YOU are looking at my purple friend and wondering how flexible she is, YOU are looking at my yellow friend and wondering if her tail is real or fake, and YOU…” He stopped and winced while pointing at the third gang member. “… Well, if you intend on doing that, the least you could do is buy me flowers and dinner first!”

This gang member blushed and shrunk away from his fellows, who eyed him suspiciously. “I-It’s his accent,” he said.

I looked at the Doctor. He could read minds too? But mind-reading magic is too undependable and always is a danger to the “read-ees”. His quirks continued to fascinate me.

Snips and Snails both brought their gazes back to us. “Oh, a mind-reader?” asked Snails. His teeth were visible again, and he walked toward us menacingly, the other gang members closing in. “Can you read my mind right now?”

Spike was apparently intent on going down fighting, handicaps or no. “You come any closer…” he warned.

Snips chuckled. “Oh, please. Behave. This isn’t like that. Naw, we’re interested in you guys now. Real interested. In fact, we’d like to introduce you to our pal, Dr. Chuckles.”

If somepony like them knew somepony named Dr. Chuckles, that probably meant he wasn’t very pleasant. Before any of us could protest, we felt blunt objects come down on our heads, and all went to black.

When I awoke, I was tied to a chair in a dark room. I looked about, and found the Doctor, Fluttershy, and Spike all in similar situations. The Doctor and Spike were both still unconscious, but Fluttershy looked to me pleadingly. She whispered something I couldn’t hear, and sobbed. I listened harder, and discovered she was saying she was sorry.

“Listen,” I whispered. “Stop apologizing. This isn’t your fault. I forgave you for betraying your friends. I wasn’t there when it happened—well I… I was… but I wasn’t.” This confused Fluttershy almost as much as it did me. “Fluttershy, you have to be brave. The Fluttershy I knew was timid and introverted, sure, but she knew when to stand up to bullies. You have to have that same courage the you had! The other you! The courage you had when you were you… and…” My eyes went out of focus as I lost my train of thought. Time travel is confusing.

“Oh please!” said a thin, quiet, wicked voice. “You sound like pages from a self-help booklet!”

A click, and the lights turned on. We were in what looked like a warehouse, boxes here and there, girders lining the walls. There were gang members sitting by smoking cigarettes, Snips and Snails among them. It broke my heart to see what this reality had done to them, but at that point, I had grown used to disappointment.

But who really caught my eye then was a familiar tall and thin yellow Earth pony with his orange mane frazzled and messy. He was wearing a dark purple, beat-up suit with a dead rose resting in the pocket, and his face was painted white. At first I thought it was clown make-up, but when he walked closer to us, sneering and eyeing me with disturbingly unfocused eyes, I noticed that his face was covered in ashes. His eyes were outlined in horseshoe-polish and red lipstick had been applied messily and haphazardly.

“Dr. Chuckles, I presume?” I asked. I hadn’t bothered to ask if Mr. Cake recognized me, this being an alternate reality and all, but I knew it was definitely him. I was shocked the moment I saw him of course, but as I mentioned, I had become dead to surprise by this point.

He licked his lips, making a loud and ugly slurping sound and further smearing the messy lipstick. I noticed one side of his face was stitched in such a way that his mouth was in a constant sneer. “The one and only.” He circled us as the Doctor and Spike came to. Spike began to struggle in his chair.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Dr. Chuckles whispered. He licked his lips again, loudly. He looked to me. “And you, Little Miss Unicorn, wouldn’t dare to use your magic. You probably can’t see it from here, but there’s a bomb wrapped around your horn. The moment it feels your horn glow, blows your head off.” His eyes were completely detached it seemed; regardless of how ugly his threat was, those eyes had no life or emotion to them.

“You leave Twilight alone!” Spike shouted. Dr. Chuckles looked at him with that same uninterested expression he had the moment he came in. After a second of just staring at Spike, like a snake, his foreleg came up and hit Spike, hard, knocking him and his chair over. “Said shut up,” he growled.

I was beginning to panic. I needed to formulate a plan. Couldn’t use my magic, that would kill me. Couldn’t undo these restraints, the gang members would notice—they were keeping watch. There HAD to be something else I could do!

Dr. Chuckles walked to the Doctor, who stared him down unflinchingly. He slurped his lips. “So,” Dr. Chuckles began. “You’re a mind-reader huh? Can you tell me… what I’m about to ask you?”

The Doctor said nothing, simply continued to glare. Finally, he said, “You’re going to ask me why I’m not dead.”

Dr. Chuckles reached into his pocket and threw down the evening newspaper—the same issue I had collected. “So you read minds. Do you…” He grinned, which was not a pleasant thing to see. “… Mind tellin’ me your secret? There somethin’ I’m not privy to?”

“What’s your game?” asked Spike.

Another kick, this time to his stomach, causing him to wince and writhe. I felt my anger bubbling. “I’ll ask the questions, you one-legged shit.” He turned to the Doctor. “How’d you escape our…” He rolled his eyes mockingly. “’Great Director’? What’s your secret?” Another slurp.

The Doctor said nothing. It wasn’t as if the truth would convince Mr. Cake/Dr. Chuckles to let us go. In fact, he would have probably killed us if we told him the truth. “Not talkin’, huh?” His sneer doubled back into that awful grin. “How ‘bout we play a game? I call it ‘Tooth Or Dare.’”

He whistled for one of his henchmen, who brought him a pair of tweezers. After looking us over, his eyes fell on Fluttershy. “Got a pretty mouth, girl. You know, my wife had a pretty mouth. Thanks to our mayor, she doesn’t have a head to go with it.”

The mayor had executed Mrs. Cake? I had to fight the violent urge to vomit or cry at this news. That would explain Mr. Cake’s moral (and mental) decay. But I knew exactly where this little game was going to go, and I dreaded hearing the rules.

“Here’s the rundown.” Slurp, slurp. “You tell me why the Mayor didn’t actually execute you, I won’t pull out any teeth. Every time I ask a question and you don’t answer or you lie, I pull a tooth. Now when she runs outta teeth, I’ll start on your girlfriend. And we’ll just keep goin’ and goin’ till ya talk.”

The Doctor breathed harder, trying to hide his panic. “Why do you wanna know?”

Dr. Chuckles grabbed the tweezers from his henchman so hard, it pulled him forward. Another henchman held Fluttershy’s mouth open, all the while with her screaming. Not about to stand the noise, Dr. Chuckles slapped Fluttershy hard enough to leave a bruise.

As Fluttershy hushed and began to sob quietly, the Doctor’s face twisted into rage. Dr. Chuckles, his clownish appearance like a demon in this light, looked at him sideways, tweezers in his teeth. He smiled again. “Why so furious, Doctor? You tell me what I wanna know, I won’t hurt her. Simple. No need to get mad.” Slurp.

He held up the tweezers. “Now… Why did he let you go?”

“He didn’t.”

“Wrong answer.”

I closed my eyes as I heard Fluttershy screaming more, a sickening plucking noise, then a clatter of a small object against the floor. Fluttershy began to sob. “He didn’t let me go! I swear!” the Doctor shouted over Fluttershy’s objections. “I swear!”

“Then why are you still here alive? You escape?”

“… Yes. Yes, I escaped.”

“How? How’d you get past the guards? He has so bucking many, I can’t even get in.” Silence. “HOW DID YOU ESCAPE?!”

Fluttershy screamed some more, a pluck, a clatter. “I was teleported out!” the Doctor lied. “I was teleported out!”

“Bullshit! His fortress has anti-magic fields! You need special registration in order to cast any magic while you’re near it!” Scream, pluck, clatter. At this point, my emotions were becoming a whirlwind. Fear, anger, anger, hate, hate, cold, cold, cold, NO, DON’T! Don’t do this again, Twilight! Don’t let the Windigo come back!

Or was the Windigo coming for Dr. Chuckles? No, remain in control, Twilight! Remain calm!

“Spill it! How did you escape?”

“… You know what? You know what, just kill me.”

A snort. I finally opened my eyes again. Spike was crying silently, still on the floor. The tweezers were bloody now, and I didn’t want to look at Fluttershy’s face (Didn’t have to, Dr. Chuckles was still in front of her). Tears of fear stained the Doctor’s face as the gang members started laughing.

“What? Doctor, don’t let them do that, you—!” I choked. “What am I gonna do if you die?!”

“Aw, the little girlfriend wants her puddin’ all safe and sound,” Dr. Chuckles cooed. His henchmen laughed louder. He glared at his henchmen, and they quickly shut up. “Are you laughin’? Who’s laughin’? His mare wants to protect him, like mine did.” Slurp.

Dr. Chuckles dropped the tweezers and walked toward me. I really wanted to look away, but for some reason, his eyes had captured mine—I was staring into the eyes of a zombie, a dead stallion walking. I silently wished I had stayed with the Windigo. At least I knew what it was and how to make it go away.

“I don’t think anypony in this warehouse right now has any reason to withhold information about busting into or out of the Mayor’s fortress. I don’t see any point in this charade. You tell me what I wanna know, I can bust a cap in the Mayor’s fat ass, and that’ll be the end of it. Everypony’s happy.”

At this point, he and I were only inches away. I could smell his whiskey-stained breath, hot and sticky amid the cold I already felt. He turned his head to look at the Doctor. “So why don’t you talk? What are you hiding and why?” Slurp.

The Doctor said again, “Kill me, Chuckles. You’ll see what I mean.” He looked at me, a twinkle in his eyes. Trust me, his eyes said, just trust me, everything’s gonna be OK.

Dr. Chuckles snickered, his smeary lipstick looking like blood on a killer’s mouth after his meal. “Y’know what?” he giggled. He drew an impossibly long-nosed gun. “Why the buck not?” He lifted it, aimed, and fired, before I could say anything.

Tears began to roll down my face. The Doctor was pushed backward so fast, his chair had hit the wall so hard, that it broke. He laid there, facedown, on the cold floor, his warm blood becoming a small and nightmarish ocean beneath him.

I looked at Dr. Chuckles. His shoulders were shaking as if he should be laughing, his head was thrown back, revealing a row of awful, tiny little yellow teeth. It would have been a cackle, if it hadn’t been for the subtly terrifying absence of sound.

Suddenly, the Doctor’s body began to glow. Dr. Chuckles stopped “laughing”. He, his henchmen, and Spike, Fluttershy and I all watched in wonder as he, now completely white as if he had become an angel, stood back up. As the glow died down, there stood the Doctor.

A completely different Doctor. While the clothes were the same, bloodstain and all, his mane was now darker and coltish, his smile young and radiant instead of learned and haughty. His eyes, instead of the curious blue, had become an impish shade of gold, and his coat was now gray. His cutie mark, the hourglass, was about the same—but the sand within it was distributed differently.

Dr. Chuckles was in complete shock. Suddenly, while all this was going on, I noticed a dark figure emerge from the shadows, grab a goon, knock him out quietly and drag them into the shadows. The Doctor began to monologue and as he did, the shadow kept devouring Dr. Chuckles’ henchmen.

Dr. Chuckles tried to raise his gun again, but his fear had gripped him so completely he could barely move at all.

“You see, I can regenerate myself when I am near-death. Hardly anything is instant death to me, even the Mayor’s clumsy instruments, so I essentially can’t be killed. You might be A doctor, Chuckles, but I am THE Doctor. I am A Time Lord, and The Time Lord.” His young face became more devilish as he grinned. “And I am about to lose a hoof in your sorry clown ass!”

Dr. Chuckles let loose a feral scream and raised his gun as the Doctor ran toward him. I wanted to close my eyes, not wanting to see the Doctor “die” again, but as I watched, the Doctor seemed to know when the bullets would be fired and where, and dodged each of them expertly. When he reached Dr. Chuckles, he tackled him and pinned him to the ground.

One punch, another, and another, Dr. Chuckles losing teeth similar to how Fluttershy had been losing hers. Suddenly, the Doctor was pulled off of Chuckles by one of the remaining henchmen, and Chuckles began to crawl away. The Doctor dodged the henchman’s punch, got him in the stomach with a fierce headbutt, then finished him with an uppercut, knocking him into a support beam.

Dr. Chuckles picked his gun back up and put it up against my head. “Stop right there, Whooves!” he shouted, blood and spittle flying from his mouth. “Stop or I kill the girl! I’ll kill her, I mean it!”

The Doctor froze. The only two henchmen left were Snips and Snails, who tackled the Doctor and began to beat him up. I wanted to call his name but was too afraid to do anything. Dr. Chuckles began his absent laughter again as he watched, enthralled.

Suddenly, a blast of smoke came from just in front of us, startling all in the room. From inside it came a deep and raspy, yet still identifiably feminine, voice. “I am the terror that trots in the night!”

“Oh, not you!” Dr. Chuckles growled. He tried to pull the trigger—which made me jump—only for there to be no bullets in the chamber. He looked at the gun in shock.

“I am the shadow of vengeance that steals the light from your eyes!”

Dr. Chuckles threw the gun into the smoke, I guess in an attempt at doing some kind of damage. He was already terrified by the Doctor’s regeneration, and this new threat had finally pushed him past his limit. He pushed me over and decided to flee—but the moment he tried, a purple streak flew across the room, bounced from Snips, to Snails, to Chuckles, striking them all like a bolt of lightning.

She stood victorious over her toppled enemy, the battle won. Her wide-brimmed purple hat went well with the rest of her darkly colored costume—a costume I and a few of my friends had once donned. She turned to us, her raspy voice confident.

“I am the Mysterious Mare-Do-Well!”

13. La Resistance

For a few seconds, nopony was sure what to do. I just stared at the Mare-Do-Well as she tied Dr. Chuckles and his cohorts around a support beam. I suddenly felt some tugging, then an increased amount of slack. I looked behind myself and saw that Spike was untying me.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“I’m fine. What about Fluttershy?”

We looked over to Fluttershy, who was being cared for by the Doctor. He had taken out a box of tissues from his coat pocket (?) and began to put the tissues in her mouth in wads to absorb some of the bleeding. He turned to me. “We need a doctor,” he said. “I don’t think this’ll be enough to stop the bleeding entirely.”

“Then follow me.”

The raspy voice had come from right next to me, causing me to jump. The Mare-Do-Well had the feet of a shadow, for whenever she moved, she never made a sound. Before I could say very much, she took a moment to undo the bomb on my horn. She apparently had a utility belt and tools for this kind of thing.

“I take it from the utility belt you wear, you aren’t a unicorn…”

The Mare-Do-Well looked at me. The glass covering the eyes were one-way goggles, same as the ones I used to wear when I had the suit; the dark mask itself perfectly disguising everything about her head besides its general shape. It was actually very creepy, now that I thought about it: it was as if she had not a head or face, but really some false object meant to simulate the part.

“Don’t talk,” she grumbled. “It’s distracting me.”

With a click from her instrument, the bomb, now harmless, clattered to my hooves. She then took the bomb and—much to our collective shock—attached it to Snails’ horn. “Wh-What are you doing?!” I yelled. “Are you insane?! He’s just a kid!”

The Mare-Do-Well turned to face me so abruptly that I jumped back. “Hurm. He’s a kid—with magic powers, who works for one of the most dangerous gangsters in CWCville.” Snails was barely conscious at this point, and I prayed he wouldn’t panic when he found that thing on his horn.

She turned and opened the warehouse door. We all hesitated until she turned to us again. “You said you needed a doctor,” she said. “I know where you can find one. Let’s go.”

I turned to my friends. “I don’t trust her. She’s unstable!” I whispered.

“She also knows where we can find a doctor. I say we trust her for now, figure her out later,” opined the Doctor.

Spike shook his head. “I’m with Twilight. She’s not much better than that Chuckles freak.”

Fluttershy looked at the Doctor and shook her head, signifying her agreement with us.

“What are you waiting for?” We all jumped again. The Mare-Do-Well had crept up on us while we were debating, and stood directly behind me as she spoke. “The CWCville police are gonna be here any second, and they’re gonna find a half-dead clown along with two ponies who were supposedly already dead.”

With no other alternative, and our choices apparently made for us, we decided to follow the Mare-Do-Well. Before leaving however, I noticed the Doctor had stayed behind in the warehouse for a few seconds. He then came out with a smile on his face, and nodded to me. I had no idea what for, but I decided he’d tell me on his own time.

As we followed her through the shadowy streets, I learned a great deal more about the extent of the damage to the citizens of CWCville. The soup hotels I had read about were really more or less sensationalized (or rather romanticized) pauper drop-offs, and the only reason such a place would be built would be if unemployment was obscenely high. Judging from the number of ponies still on the streets after dark, it seemed either there was no longer any vacancy in the current hotels, or these gangland streets were more tolerable living conditions.

“No wonder there are so many criminals,” I said aloud. “Unemployment this high, everypony gets desperate.”

The Doctor looked at me as he tried to keep Fluttershy on his back. “You study politics now?”

“I study a little of everything,” I said. “But I mostly study magic.”

“Hurm. No talking.”

I wanted to slap that stupid vigilante. I was still disgusted with her placing the bomb on Snails. She was totally dangerous and off her rocker. But the thing was, we all knew she knew this town better than we did; and if we demonstrated that we didn’t trust her, she might label us an enemy. We already had the stranger and his new power to contend with, and we didn’t need a psychopath like her following suit.

A few more minutes passed. It began more and more to feel like these alleys were a clumsy maze, with demented-looking buildings and childishly designed lampposts. It all just seemed to go on forever. “Are we there yet?” asked Spike, quietly. He was seated on my back, and had begun to lean downward on me. It was evident he was very tired: the hour was late, and he IS still a baby dragon, even in this timeline.

“Hurm, no talking!”

I had had enough. “Look, give him a break, he’s just a kid.”

She turned again. In the play of the shadows and the dim lights, she appeared almost a devilish specter, a black cut-out from her surroundings. The glass eyes seemed to glow. “What is it with you and kids?” she asked. “With that kind of mentality, no wonder Chuckles captured you so easily. Nopony in this town can be trusted! Nopony but the PVCC!”

“Then why are you trusting us?” asked the Doctor.

The Mare-Do-Well looked at the Doctor. “Because you’re one of the founding members. Doctor Whooves.” She looked away. “The reason you were executed today? The Mayor branded you a ‘Troll’ and you were hunted down.”

A few seconds of eerie silence passed, as though the Mare-Do-Well had lost her train of thought. She turned back to us with a sudden, mechanical jerk of her head. “I was told to retrieve you at this exact location.”

“Who told you?” I asked.

She looked to Doctor Whooves. “You did.”

The Doctor and I shared glances. This Mare-Do-Well was more insane than we’d thought. She continued. “The Doctor told me that at nine o’clock tonight I would find him and a few friends in that warehouse, at Dr. Chuckles’ mercy. He told me he would give me an explanation for why once I rescued him.”

The Doctor decided it was time to come clean, and told her our story thus far—which was also the first time Fluttershy and Spike heard it. “That’s insane,” the Mare-Do-Well said. (“So are you,” I thought.)

“But it’s what happened,” the Doctor argued quietly. “Surely you were informed about my TARDIS?”

“The Mayor found it and destroyed it a long time ago. I didn’t think he had one too, but it makes sense—now if he tried to escape through time, we wouldn’t be able to chase him. He could recuperate and try again.” The Mare’s head suddenly looked up, as if she had just hit a realization. “Hurm, that’s how he managed to stay young for the thousand-plus years he’s been alive.”

She looked at us—both of us. “All right, I believe you, Doctor. But it might take some time and some effort to convince Shining Armor.”

My heart skipped a beat. “My brother is here?”

The Mare nodded. “Hurm. The other half of the PVCC’s Founding Fathers. I think it’ll do him good to see you specifically.”

Part of me was reluctant to see Shining Armor. It wasn’t that I disliked his company, not at all: you of all ponies know how great my love for him is. I was afraid of what he’d been turned into. I had already seen what the stranger had done to both gentle Big Macintosh and loveable Mr. Cake, and the effects it had on my town and my friends. Did I really want to see his hoof-work on my own brother?

On the other hoof, my brother was the leader of the apparently last stand against the stranger. There was a quiet sense of pride that swelled within me. Leader of the royal guard in my own timeline, leader of a band of rebels in this one… It felt like no matter what happened to the world, Shining Armor would always live up to his name and protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, and lead them to a brighter future.

We continued our trek into the sewers. “Careful,” warned the Mare-Do-Well, “there are turtles and rats down here.”

The Doctor smirked. “Do the turtles bite?”

“No,” said the Mare-Do-Well. She became more dramatic. “They’re ninjas.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Swell.”

Fortunately, we never ran into the ninja turtles the Mare-Do-Well mentioned, and we eventually found ourselves at a wall that was browner than the others. The Mare-Do-Well looked at this wall, and all around it, as if searching for something. She pressed a brick like it was a switch and the door opened. She turned to us, me specifically. “The exact brick changes every hour, thanks to the Doctor’s magic and technology. Keep that in mind in case you need to come back here.”

I cocked my head. “So how did you know it was on this wall instead of anywhere here in the sewers?”

The Mare-Do-Well tapped her glass eyes. “Detective Mode,” she said. It seemed although she lacked my magic and Fluttershy’s wings and Pinkie Pie’s Pinkie Sense, she had still gone and made several adjustments to the original design. There were no handicaps for the Mare-Do-Well.

Beyond the door was a spiral staircase leading upward. As we climbed it, we began hearing voices. On the top floor was the entrance to what I assume was a subway station. Like everything else in CWCville, it seemed hastily and improperly designed: the walls and floors all seemed to lack proper measurements, with some walkways being tiny enough to maybe allowing a rodent through and other walkways big enough to hold a dance party.

I never even knew Ponyville had a subway station this old, but then again, so much had changed in this reality, we likely don’t have one at all in our time, and this one was probably built by the stranger and was forgotten.

In here were several ponies, only a few of which I found somewhat familiar: one was Minuette, whom I may have spoken to once or twice, and Blossomforth (One of Rainbow Dash’s co-workers) was also present. The rest were ones I didn’t recognize—perhaps because this reality had changed them to the point where I couldn’t recognize them. They greeted the Mare-Do-Well while eyeing the rest of us suspiciously. One of them spoke up.

“Who are these guys? New recruits you found?”

Blossomforth stretched and lay down, catlike, on the staircase. She seemed to eye the Doctor the same way a loose mare does a dashing stallion. This Blossomforth must have grown up differently—which wouldn’t be at all surprising, really. You’ve probably already read the stranger’s artbook I included with this report, so you and I both know that, if the stranger were in charge of the education system, we could hazard a guess as to what his preferred role of females is, and that he would teach them accordingly.

Her eyes opened up a little wider, snapping into a realization. “Doctor?” She stood up, walked down the staircase to us, and looked the Doctor over more closely. “It IS you! Aren’t you supposed to still be in the Mayor’s fortress?”

The Doctor simply stared at her, as if wondering whether or not he should repeat our story. Instead, Mare-Do-Well did it for him—although her sentences were shorter and to the point. The other ponies looked at each other uneasily. I could tell they weren’t wondering about the authenticity of the Mare’s recounting of the Doctor’s story; they were afraid of the Mare herself, and were considering how to go about telling her their doubts, especially if their leader Shining Armor wasn’t there.

Finally, one of them (an Earth pony with a scar on his side) pointed to Spike and I and said, “Until Shining Armor comes back from his current mission, they’ll need to be detained. Security reasons, no exceptions.”

With a groan, I was forced, along with Spike, into a small cell. “B-But we needed a doctor!” Spike said as he was thrust into the rectangular room. “Fluttershy—her mouth—”

He didn’t need to say any more, as they brought in a doctor—Nurse Redheart, actually. Although I recognized her from that one time in which she helped Rainbow Dash during her hospitalization, it seemed here that she was even stricter than she was in my original timeline. Not to mention she was a doctor and not a nurse.

She investigated Fluttershy’s mouth wounds. “Dammit, Caramel!” she said to the scarred Earth pony, “I’m a doctor, not a dentist!”

Caramel shook his head. “Sorry, but you’re the closest thing we got. Can you patch her up?”

“I’ll try. I only became a doctor last week, now I’m getting dental work?”

They removed Fluttershy from the cell, leaving only Spike and I. They took her to where I guessed was the “hospital wing” of this hideout, while the Mare-Do-Well went with them. I watched from behind bars as they took Fluttershy away. She looked to me, frightened. Although I wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be OK, the only thing any of us could do was put our fates into the hooves of these rebels.

The Doctor stopped by our cell and looked at us. “I’ll get this all straightened out,” he told us. “When your brother shows up, I’ll just tell him our story so far.” I looked down at my hooves. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I was beginning to cry.

“Hey… hey, don’t cry.” His voice was filled with genuine concern. I felt the Doctor’s hoof stroke my mane. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I know everything is happening very fast, and that we’ve been running around more than we should. We’re in a very dire situation now, and because there’s still work to be done, we need to stay calm and collected.”

“Why are you so calm?” I asked him. “Somepony we barely knew has been given power beyond his wildest dreams, and he created a world that bows down to him at the expense of everypony we love. Almost all my closest friends are dead, and the ones that aren’t barely have anything left. Big Macintosh, Mr. Cake, and the Mare-Do-Well are psychopaths, Snips and Snails are punks, and I’m so terrified to see what’s happened to Shining Armor. How can you BE this calm?”

For a while, there was no response. His hoof went from my mane to my face, stroking it gently, bringing my eyes up to meet his. They were so different now, but I still knew I could trust him. He was still the Doctor who’d shown me the TARDIS in his curiosity shop, who had just died and come back to life, who was comforting me now.

“I’m calm mostly because I’ve traveled time before, and visited alternate realities before.” His eyes fell away, then came back to meet mine. His voice became quieter. “This is all my fault, Twilight. I should have been more careful. I’ll understand if you want nothing more to do with me after all this is said and done, but mark my words, we’re going to find a way to fix this mess, you and I.”

Honestly? Part of me wanted to blame him for this chaos. It was his fault that any of this happened, after all. But the other part of me took the blame: this was my idea. He may have gotten careless, but I was the one who ignored all the variables in favor of a single, selfish goal. This was easily both our faults, and here he was, taking all the blame himself.

“No,” I told him. “No, it’s not all your fault. If I’d just accepted Chris for what he was and just continued my life normally and left him alone, instead of investigating his origins and trying to send him back, none of this would have happened. It’s both our faults—and we’re facing the consequences of our actions.”

We stared at each other a little more, in silence. So vulnerable were the both of us at that moment, so helpless in the clutches of this difficult situation. While the rebel group seemed decent and might give us a fighting chance, there was no way to be sure we’d survive these “consequences of our actions”.

“Hurm.”

We suddenly jumped, the Doctor retracting his hoof. The Mare-Do-Well was standing almost right next to the Doctor. “Hate to interrupt, but we need you to answer a few more questions for us, Doctor.”

The Doctor looked into those unblinking, callous, lifeless eyes and nodded uncomfortably. He began to follow the Mare-Do-Well as she led him back to the others. “I’ll come back to get you,” he whispered before leaving. “So stay put.” I heard them walk away. A door opened. Slammed shut.

After they’d left, I turned my attention to Spike. He was already asleep on a mattress that had been laid out on the floor, his prosthetic leg apparently a problem when he tried to curl up in his sleep. I once again fought back tears at the sight of Spike in the state he was in now. If only I knew a spell that could regenerate lost limbs. I made a mental note to study up on whether or not such magic could be possible.

Spike sputtered and mumbled in his sleep—something about me. I heard him say my name in almost a whimper, and the facial expression he took was one of fear and shame. I nuzzled him, shushing him quietly, telling him “I’m here, it’s OK.”

I laid myself down by Spike’s side on the mattress, coiling around him. His body was warm and small, and so fragile-looking now. I rested my head underneath his, giving it some support, using my neck as his pillow. “Good-night, Spike,” I whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

14. Strategery

I’m not sure how much time had passed between the beginning and end of my slumber, as we were still in that underground cell when I awoke. Mine was the kind of wakening that is slow, achy, and leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth—the kind that makes one wish they remained asleep.

Spike’s head still rested on my neck, and he was snoring softly. Groggy, I decided it was more prudent to try resuming sleep, until a rapping came at the barred door. I looked up, careful not to wake Spike, and saw the scarred Caramel from before. Blossomforth and the Doctor accompanied him.

“Get up,” he commanded.

I did so carefully, leaving Spike to sleep. Blossomforth unlocked the cell door and slid it to the side. The three parted and let me walk out.

Behind them was my brother, Shining Armor. I wanted to run to him, hold him, cry in his chest, but seeing the state he was in was, like the state of all my other friends, heartbreaking.

His blue mane was overgrown and shaggy, and his jaw sported a rogue’s worth of stubble. His blue eyes were bloodshot, bags beneath them, with a visible scar over his right eye. His uniform was much different now, more of a black jacket with silver padding here and there; it was ripped and battered. From the looks and smell of him, I’d say he hadn’t bathed in a while either.

The most saddening part, for some reason, was that, even in his current shape, he still wore his marriage ring proudly on his horn.

He and I shared an awkward stare, the silence almost suffocating. Shining Armor made the first move. “Twily?” he whispered, coming closer. He looked me in the face, then up and down. His voice was gruffer and more haunted than I’d thought it would be.

I wanted to say something, but for some reason, I couldn’t. I smiled instead, tears forming in my eyes. His face became long, and his eyes wide, as if he were seeing a ghost.

“I told you already,” said the Doctor, slowly. “We’re… we’re from another timeline. Another possibility, a whole new reality. This Twilight is…”

He sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Not… my sister.”

I walked up to him and held him, Shining Armor’s tears falling on my head. I felt him shudder, as if he wanted to just throw me off, throw me away, hit me, rage at me why I couldn’t have been there for him. His emotions were in a wreck, not at all a good fit for a leader his caliber.

“It’s OK, Shining Armor,” I told him. “We…” My mind searched for the right words. Even though his size dwarfed me considerably, he still felt so vulnerable. I had to know the right thing to say to him. “No matter what timeline or dimension it is… no matter what happens to either one of us…” I looked him in the eye, wiping away a tear from his face as it crumpled with his emotions. “I’ll always be your sister.”

We held each other for what I’m sure was only a minute, but felt like longer. My memories of our childhood, the Shining Armor from my dimension, my home, again flooded my mind, all our dreams and secrets we shared. I wondered how our childhood here was, under the constant watch of the stranger’s one-eye-greener-than-the-other.

My mind then came across a train of thought I wished I hadn’t found: I wondered if he was present for my execution. I wondered how Shining Armor felt about Fluttershy being the one who was forced to pull the switch. I wondered if his wife Cadance were still here with him. I wondered if our parents were still alive in this dimension. I wondered if he had anypony left to live for, if this guerilla effort against the stranger was the only thing he really had left.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted suddenly, burying my face in his chest. All my pent-up frustration and terror and despair had finally caught up with me and began to crash forth like rapids. I tried telling him all that had happened so far, at a stumbling and hasty pace, my words quickly becoming near-meaningless, incomprehensible blathering, a blob of apologies and tears.

I felt him stroking my mane, shushing me the way he did when we were young. Specifically, for some reason, it reminded me of the time he’d sent away some bullies who had pushed me into a puddle and caused me to cry. It felt like that now, as if he were merely sending away all these bullying bad feelings, these crushing emotions. I shook, my shuddering sobs muffled in his battered uniform. I felt his kiss on my head.

“It’s OK, Twily, it’s OK. If you’ll always be my sister no matter what, then I’ll always be your brother, no matter what.”

A clearing of a throat is what brought us back to the present situation. I looked to our friends, the Doctor straightening his bowtie, Caramel standing erect, and Blossomforth sniffling back happy tears. Shining Armor let go of me and stood back in his leaderly pose. (I almost giggled aloud, as that pose was the one that he used when practicing in front of the mirror when he was young—for the day he’d be leader of the royal guard, he’d say.)

“Doctor, I have no reason to doubt your story. I have seen you regenerate before with my own eyes, and the fact you still know everything about our past adventures leads me to believe that you are the Doctor Whooves I’ve come to know—at least, the alternate you the you… told us... about.” His eyes seemed to lose focus on the last sentence.

I raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”

The Doctor smiled. “Turns out that big plan the Mare-Do-Well mentioned earlier was one the Doctor living in this timeline helped to plan.” He leaned in on me and whispered, “For the sake of clarity let’s call him the Alterna-Doctor.” Standing back upright, he looked as though he were about to laugh out loud. “Anyway, it turns out you and I were apart of the Alterna-Doctor’s plans!”

“We’re… how?”

“You see, a Time Lord is able to see events in the future—and every moment is a stepping stone to a possible future.” He held me by the shoulders. “Alterna-Doctor saw us coming. For some reason, it seems as though we’re an important part in his plan!”

This was a lot to take in. “So when you claimed to those gang members that you could read their minds…”

“I was reading their possible futures in which they had their way with us, yes. I did that specifically to change the future so that didn’t happen.”

I scowled. “So explain why Dr. Chuckles was a better option?”

His face lost color as he looked away. “The alternative was even worse. I’d rather not think about it, thank you.” He suddenly came back to me. “Oh! By the way, before I forget…” He reached into his coat pocket and removed the horn-bomb the Mare-Do-Well had placed on Snails. “I nicked this before the colt came to.”

Shining Armor, Blossomforth, and Caramel gasped. “What are you doing with that!” Shining Armor demanded.

The Doctor chuckled. “Shining Armor, you of all ponies should know this horn-bomb is totally useless unless activated. I’ve turned it off. Perfectly safe.”

Blossomforth trembled. “It’s a bomb! It’s anything BUT perfectly safe! What are you doing with a bomb?”

The Doctor dropped it. It clattered on the stone floor like it was a plastic toy, and Blossomforth squealed in fear. “It’s not dangerous until it’s activated,” he repeated. “I just gave you a weapon, the least you can do is thank me!” He picked it up again and placed it in his coat pocket.

Blossomforth growled and walked away. “That wasn’t funny, Doctor!”

Caramel chuckled. “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s… kinda sensitive.”

Shining Armor and his teammates led us to a fairly large room. I supposed it was meant as a security room for the subway system, but because of the mish-mash nature of proportions, it could have been anything else—even a bathroom. There were some undetailed chairs and vague tables, one of which bore a rather large map. Across the back wall was a flag that bore the acronym PVCC (Or “Ponies Versus Christian Chandler”).

“What the ‘Alterna-Doctor' and I had planned,” continued Shining Armor, “was to have him infiltrate the Mayor’s fortress and turn off the magic shield.”

My mind, like a never-ending library of memory files, plucked one from recently: Dr. Chuckles had mentioned a similar shield. It was why his unicorn henchmen were useless unless he knew how to deactivate it. I nodded; this infiltration was a good plan. “But he was caught and executed, wasn’t he?” I asked.

The Doctor chuckled. “What happens when I die, Twilight?”

I felt very stupid for having asked the question in the first place. But the fact that only the Doctor’s close friends and acquaintances knew this about him, meant that the stranger lacked this knowledge. If he tried to execute him, the Doctor would merely regenerate his body good as new.

“How long does it usually take to regenerate, Doctor?” I asked.

“Usually not that long. But I can delay it. I regenerated right away when Dr. Chuckles shot me in order to freak him out; I imagine Alterna-Doctor probably delayed his regeneration until his ‘body’ was put into the fortress’ morgue for later burial.”

I then turned to my brother. “OK, and the Alterna-Doctor told the Mare-Do-Well to rescue us earlier this evening. We were told you were on a mission I’m assuming he sent you on. What did he ask you to do?”

Shining Armor looked like he was thinking over how to answer the question. Finally, he said, “He sent me to mend some fences.”

I looked at him curiously, then narrowed my eyes. “If you want me IN on this operation, you need to keep me in the know. What do you mean by mending fences?”

“He means he has allied himself with me.”

I turned around at this deep voice, and was met by a unicorn stallion dressed in red armor and a dark purple cape. His round red helmet seemed iconic somehow, like one of Rainbow Dash’s favorite comic book superheroes. He walked over to me, took my hoof and kissed it. I, naturally, blushed at his gentlecoltly advance.

“I am Magneighto, Master of Magnet,” he introduced.

I pursed my lips. “Don’t you mean, ‘Master of magnetism’?”

“No, Magnet.” He looked at me earnestly. “It’s a place. I’m its master. Hence, Master of Magnet.”

I nodded, somewhat perplexed by his response. I then looked around: the Doctor, Shining Armor, Caramel, Blossomforth… it felt like somepony was missing. “Where’s the Mare-Do-Well?”

Shining Armor smirked. “She’s already played her part for now. All she would probably do is make it hard for Magneighto to work with us.” The look in his eyes as he said this implied there was quite a bit of bad blood between the Mare and Magneighto, so I decided it would be more prudent to not ask about it.

Instead, I asked how on earth Shining Armor managed to convince Magneighto to ally himself with the PVCC. “To make a long story short, it took a bit of a trade to do,” Shining Armor said.

Magneighto seemed angered by Shining Armor’s choice of words. “Trade?” he asked. “She is no trade.”

Shining Armor bowed his head and apologized quickly for his choice in words. He had only gained this ally recently, better to not offend him. I raised an eyebrow at this exchange. “Are you holding somepony hostage?! Please tell me you’re not holding somepony hostage?!”

“I’m being held hostage now?” asked Derpy Hooves, who jumped up from under the table. “Cool!” She looked about the same as she does in our timeline, but she wore an oversized army helmet on her head, which only emphasized her googly eyes and made her look even cuter. I fought the urge to squeal. (I wish I’d taken pictures to show you, you’d have loved to see it.)

“No!” said Magneighto. “No, you’re not being held hostage, and it isn’t cool to be held hostage.”

She merely took in what Magneighto told her and smiled at him. “OK! I’m not a hostage! But is it OK if I'm their friend instead?”

Magneighto couldn’t help but smile back and stifle a chuckle. "Yes," he grinned. "Yes, it's OK for you to be friends." Derpy let out a cheer. Different timeline, same old Derpy.

Shining Armor fought the urge to laugh, but the smile in his eyes gave him away. “All right, that just leaves us waiting for—”

Suddenly, a colt leapt down from the ceiling and onto the planning table. He was covered head to hoof in a costume that was red and blue, very “arachnid” in its theme—the black lines drawn over it were reminiscent of spiderwebs. His eyes were covered in the same glass eyes the Mare-Do-Well had, but his were a bright and friendly blue. He stood up in grand bravado. “The Spectacular Spider-Colt!”

Everypony stared at him as if he were an alien. Shining Armor sighed. “You waited up on the ceiling for hours to do that, didn’t you?”

“Totally worth it,” he said, and jumped off the table, clinging to the wall. I kept my eyes on this one, as he was wiry and constantly moving about on the wall as everypony else spoke.

Shining Armor looked around. “Well, in addition to the few of us in this room, there are maybe about twelve others.”

Against the stranger’s forces? Dr. Chuckles had said there were so many guards he and his goons couldn’t even get in. “A blitzkrieg is out of the question, then,” I mused. “Would this be an infiltration job? What exactly is our goal here?”

“I’m assuming the Doctor wants us to lead an attack on the fortress. He’s already doing the infiltration part to bring down the shields.”

I blinked. “He… he didn’t tell you what he wanted you guys to do when the shield went down? You’re assuming you’re going to just…”

Magneighto chuckled. “That’s where I come in. Do you see my cutie mark?”

It was a magnet emitting waves. “I am a talented unicorn sorcerer, my dear. My greatest talent however is the manipulation of magnetism.”

I put two and two together. “So… you’re going to break their weapons and armor?”

“Leaving them completely defenseless, yes.”

“You can do that?”

“Easily.”

I smirked. “So why not rip out the entire fortress and shake it until the Mayor surrenders?”

Shining Armor spoke up. “It has come to our attention that the Mayor is in possession of a dark secret—the reason he hasn’t gone out in public for years. If we just destroy his fortress, we won’t find out what this secret is, and there’d be no way to convince this city that he was evil.”

I could probably hazard a guess as to what this secret was, and decided I should break it to them right there. However, the Doctor looked at me as I opened my mouth—looking at me in such a way that if I had told of the stranger’s secret, our own credibility might come into question.

Now that I have the time to think it over, I know the Doctor was right: if I’d admitted that the stranger were not a pony, but a being from a whole different universe, that would bring the question of where he had come from, and how he had become so powerful. The first question’s answer would be vague at best, while the second would probably have cost us the PVCC’s trust.

Instead of blurting the stranger’s secret, I nodded at Shining Armor knowingly. “So the magic shield goes down. Magneighto disrupts all weapons and armor.”

Shining Armor nodded. “Yes. Then, I’ll direct my forces from one direction, while Caramel will bring our other troops from the other side; pincering them while they’re helpless.” He turned to Spider-Colt. “Did you bring your camera?”

Spider-Colt held it up.

“OK. While the battle is going on outside, I want you to infiltrate the inside of the place, find the stranger’s secret, and give us photographic evidence.”

Spider-Colt nodded. “You can leave it to me, Shiny!”

I chuckled a bit. “Shiny” was Shining Armor’s least-favorite nickname, and it seemed Spider-Colt knew this already. Shining Armor merely sighed in exasperation, then looked to the Doctor and me. “The Doctor told me the two of you specifically needed to confront the Mayor himself. He didn’t say why, but knowing what I know about him, he has ideas.”

That meant the only things I really had to do were plot out how the Doctor and I could infiltrate the place. We were told this operation would go down later tonight—plenty of time to rest for this battle.

In closing, Shining Armor looked at everypony in attendance. He nodded. “This is it,” he said, “This is our last stand against the Mayor. It’s do or die. I want each of you to know that you’re all fine ponies, and I’m honored to fight alongside each of you.”

His eyes fell on me for a second, and it seemed he didn’t know whether to smile or to cry. Instead, he did neither, hiding his emotions even though his eyes betrayed them. He swallowed, sighed, and finished, “And I am honored to fight FOR each of you.”

Derpy had poured some glasses full of wine and passed them around. We toasted. “To Celestia, and to those who have fallen,” Shining Armor said.

We drank to the toast. To your memory, and to those who had fallen.

15. Friendship is Tragic

After our toast, the PVCC members present vacated the room, leaving only Shining Armor and myself. I got the feeling that he wanted to see me directly, and that everypony else present understood his feelings and left the two of us. When we were alone, he used his telekinesis to float over a few bottles. I recognized the content of the bottles as alcohol. “Care for a drink?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow, although I tried to reason away my surprise. Bad future, desperate times, it all made sense even the strongest would be driven to drinking. But this was my brother! Flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood. He put the bottles down and poured some into one of the toast glasses. He pushed the glass to me.

“I… only drank the toast to be polite,” I stammered awkwardly. “I-I don’t actually… drink.”

He nodded. The glass remained where it was as he brought the bottle itself to his lips and lifted. Tense silence took the room as I watched him down the whiskey, as if to slake a perverse thirst that refused to be quenched. After a few seconds, he came back up for air.

“Been a long time,” he said. “Been… four years, I think? Yeah, four years since…” He paused. Shining Armor’s eyes, haunted and empty, gazed obscenely at the bottle before him, as if it lusted for his mouth and he could feel it. “Since then. Yeah.”

I gulped. “Look,” I said, “I know what you must have gone through, and—”

He shot me the glare he reserved for intimidating others into silence. It worked—I lost my voice at that moment and felt like hiding. “No,” he growled, his eyes now possessing a drunken fire. “No, you don’t.”

He got up on his hind legs and leaned over the table, crossing his forelegs and looking up at me as he did so. The bottle landed gently before him. I remained silent, caught by his pitiful gaze.

“Let me tell you a story,” he said.

“It began, well, before all this. Before the PVCC, before the revolution. There were these two stallions, see? One was captain of the guard, the other was his subordinate. They were both family stallions: the captain had a wife and sister, the subordinate had his younger siblings, both girls. These two stallions were best friends, the captain taking on the subordinate as his dedicated pupil.

“But then, there came a day in which everything fell apart. The captain’s wife suddenly became very sick. The doctors he found could tell him nothing. Her sickness was unlike anything they’d ever seen. The subordinate suggested presenting this matter to their leader, the Mayor.”

He paused in his story to take another drink. His voice became thicker—with despair, as opposed to drunkenness.

“The captain had served the Mayor for many years, training his guards and soldiers in the martial arts. For this, the Mayor was very grateful, so he decided to use his powers to take the captain’s wife to a dimension in which a cure for her sickness existed. He took her along with a few guards, leaving the captain and his subordinate to handle things while he was away on his quest.

“Many weeks passed. When the Mayor finally returned, he brought with him terrible news.”

I bit my lip as I pieced together what Shining Armor was telling me. “Cadance…”

Another swig of the bottle. His eyes, bloodshot and beaten, looked back up to me. “Yes. The captain’s wife had died during the quest.

“When this had happened, the subordinate and the captain’s sister had both tried as hard as they could to lift his spirits. The captain was beginning to falter in his line of duty, and the Mayor noticed.

“So the Mayor takes the captain aside one day.” At this, Shining Armor looked at the bottle again, the lust for alcohol slowly transforming into anger. “And he tells him, he tells the captain that he needs to ‘get over it’. He tells the captain about the time he had lost a beloved pet.” The bottle was surrounded by Shining Armor’s telekinesis, glowing in his mind’s grip. As he spoke, his words became tighter, angrier, and the bottle began to crack.

“The captain, his faith in the Mayor shaken and his whole life devoured by the void his wife’s death had left behind, tried the best he could to follow the Mayor’s advice. He believed in the Mayor because…” Again, a pause as he looked at the bottle. With a grimace, he broke it mid-air, making me jump as the alcohol and glass sprinkled on the table and floor. “He did this because he was a stupid, stupid stallion.”

Another bottle floated over and uncorked its top. After another swig, he continued his story.

“Then one day, his sister discovered her love of stargazing while on a date with the captain’s subordinate. The cutie mark she received that night was the beginning of what I had hoped to be a very bad dream.” He shuddered. Another drink.

“The captain and his subordinate both loved the sister dearly, and tried their hardest to hide her cutie mark from the public. When one of the subordinate’s own sisters received her cutie mark, even more was put under wraps. And then the friends of their sisters began receiving theirs. Before long, they were knee-deep in a huge cover-up. And before they knew it, the Mayor found out.”

He got up off the table, the bottle still floating before him, and began to pace around the room. His nervousness was apparent, but he continued.

“Neither the captain nor the subordinate knew who told the Mayor. But it came to pass that the Mayor, disliking those who questioned his authority, put their sisters and their friends to death for breaking his Golden Rule.

“The captain and the subordinate reacted to this differently. The captain, having nopony left to live for, decided to throw away his life. The subordinate stayed with the Mayor. Why? I dunno. He still had one other younger sibling he cared for. I assume he stayed cowed to the Mayor to make sure she could be kept safe. But who knows, really?

“Anyway, the captain, he throws away his life. I mean, literally. Off a cliff. All the way down.” At this, Shining Armor stopped in his tracks, and looked at me. There was so much profuse shame in his face, such immense sadness in his eyes. The last four years were nothing but a cruel episode for him, his life decimated. He sighed and turned away, looking at the wall.

“So he finally died, the captain. But at the bottom of that cliff, as his heart began to slow and stop, he heard…” His voice trailed off as his eyes became wistful, nostalgic. “No,” he corrected, “felt a word.” He looked to me again. “Do you know what that word was?”

He walked back over to me, the bottle floating nearby. Shining Armor looked me straight in the eye. “’Arise.'” He paused to let that word sink in.

“Wait,” I said, “you tried to kill yourself, but you came back to life? How does that…?”

“Dunno,” said Shining Armor. “But either way, I rose from the dead. I assume it’s because I... still had a job to do.” The bottle came back to his lips, but suddenly, the color of the glow surrounding it changed, from his to mine.

Shining Armor adopted once again his death glare, shooting it at me, his self-loathing and contempt for others radiating from those bloodshot eyes. For a moment, I wondered how such a broken creature managed to be shaped in the form of my brother.

The silence between us was long and heavy.

“Put it down,” I whispered, trying to hide my fear of this… this unfamiliar stallion assuming my brother's form. “Please.”

His glare lessened until gradually, finally, the bottle was placed back on the table. “You’re going to be leading a mission tonight,” I reminded him, “it wouldn’t do for you to lead them while you’re drunk.”

He said nothing but looked away. “You’re right,” he said, after some silence. His eyes came back to me, looking me up and down. “You know,” he said, “when you said you’d always be my sister, no matter where we’re from, I thought you were just saying that to make me feel better.”

His eyes twinkled a little as a small smile curved his lips. “But now, I think you really meant it.” We stood there, awkwardly for a few minutes more before I excused myself. Being in the presence of alternate versions of ponies you’ve known for a short while is one thing, but the presence of a creature, who on the one hoof is my brother, and on the other a wholly different entity altogether, is a surreal experience.

I wanted to love him, just as I loved him in my own timeline. But this Shining Armor was dirty, sullied, broken. It was the Mayor’s doing, of course; his hoofwork was everywhere. The buildings, the streets, the living conditions, the ponies, my brother… I felt my heart blacken at the thought, and felt a chill.

Suddenly, someone spoke to me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Hey,” said Spider-Colt. I turned to see him crawling on the wall next to me, his long and skinny legs making him seem like a bizarre half-spider, half-pony hybrid. “You look a little like you could use some company.”

Deep down I wanted him to go away. He must have seen it in my face, so he did precisely the opposite—he gave me the company I needed.

“I take it Fearless Leader told you his life story.”

I nodded and sighed. “This is all so confusing,” I said.

“What’s confusing?” he asked.

I thought over my choice of words. “OK, maybe confusing isn’t the word I’m looking for,” I said. “It’s more like… bizarre. Surreal. He’s my brother, but at the same time, he isn’t anything like my brother. Where I’m from, he’s so happy and proud, but here…”

I looked down to my hooves and felt hot tears begin to well up.

“Hey, everypony suffers. Your brother’s just tricked himself into thinking he’s the only one who is.”

I looked up to see Spider-Colt sitting on the bench next to me. His glass eyes were much wider than the Mare-Do-Well’s, open and free like a child's. In their wondrous gaze I could see a warped reflection of myself. How fitting, I thought; it captured how I felt exactly.

“It’s one of the many side effects of grief," he continued. "For a while, you become self-centered. It’s all about your pain, your loss. We all handle it differently, but that's the one part that almost always remains the same…”

“I was just told that my brother attempted suicide and that my sister-in-law is dead,” I said angrily, almost yelling. “How am I supposed to feel?” I felt the tears come, felt them fall. I looked away.

“See?” he said. “For a while, it’s all about your own pain. But the thing is, you aren’t alone. He isn’t either. Nopony suffers alone.”

I looked up to Spider-Colt. He pointed outward, to the rest of the subway station. His hoof first hung out, toward Blossomforth. “See her? Blossomforth?”

“I see her.”

“She was going to be apart of the weather team. She failed the entrance exam. It was her last chance at scoring some decent pay, escape from her life as a prostitute, and she failed it. Before Shining Armor gave her a reason to keep going, she was going to end it all, too.”

His hoof then shot toward another pony, the scarred Caramel from before.

“Caramel had a promising career as an electrician. In fact, he was the one who helped to build this place back up to functioning. But he was caught in an accident, sometime after his girlfriend left him for some other guy. The Doctor managed to convince him to join the PVCC a little after that.”

He brought his hoof over to point at Magneighto and Derpy, who were walking around the subway, talking and looking at the lights and fixtures.

“Now, Derpy? Hoo, boy,” Spidercolt said as he stretched on the bench. “Her mom didn’t like the school system, but homeschooling is illegal here. Mayor wants to indoctrinate as many as he can, see? Not to mention that the disadvantaged are often…” He moved his hooves as if trying to find what he needed to describe. He finally sighed.

“Y’know, never mind about that. So anyway, she sends Derpy over to a place called Magnet, where she was mentored by Magneighto.”

“But he’s a unicorn, she’s a Pegasus,” I said.

“So?” he said. “He didn’t teach her magic, just giving her a general education. But over time, they got close. After a few years of being her mentor, he proposed to her.”

I began to fit the pieces together. Shining Armor’s rescue mission alluded to before agreed neatly with everything in Spider-Colt’s story.

“So, the Mayor kidnapped Derpy because Magneighto was a powerful sorcerer, and used her as a bargaining chip to control him?”

He nodded. “Yep. Thanks to Shining Armor, Magneighto’s going straight. Not that Maggie was all that bad to begin with, but you get the idea.”

I bit my lip. I really wanted to ask him about Dinky, Derpy’s daughter. In the original timeline, she never mentioned who Dinky’s father was, and I assumed that she would tell us when she felt ready to. I looked over to Magneighto and Derpy again and saw them looking up at a painting.

It was a painting of a mother holding her foal, the parent and child looking deep into each other’s eyes. It was very moving, by itself, and I wondered who painted something so beautiful in a world this ugly by design. My eyes fell to Derpy, her back turned to me. Her body shuddered as she cast down her face, Magneighto looking to her and sadly resting his head on her neck.

My question was answered.

"So what about you?" I asked Spider-Colt. "What's your story?"

After a second or two of silence, I turned my head to see that Spider-Colt was crawling up a wall, into a dark corner. "I'm looking for somepony," he called back as the shadows swallowed him. "Somepony who can't be found."

Some time passed, and I decided it was time to find Fluttershy and see how she was doing. It was a bit difficult to navigate my way through this subway station, for as I’ve said before, it was rather poorly designed. I wondered who in Equestria the architect was, and after getting lost twice, I wanted to strangle him.

After getting some directions from Minuette, I finally found the hospital room. It was as drab and poorly designed as the rest of the place (How the heck did this place not fall apart?!), with only a few beds, some nightstands, and a radio. There was a nurse here, but it seemed Dr. Redheart was out for the moment.

When I walked over to Fluttershy, her back was turned to me. As I came closer, I noticed she had her mouth open and was looking into a mirror—she put it down when she saw me in the reflection.

“Hey, Fluttershy. How are you doing?”

Fluttershy looked at me with her haunted eyes, but said nothing for the longest time. She looked away. “Twilight,” she said finally, “I know you aren’t from this timeline… but…”

She looked like she wanted to ask a question, but was afraid of the answer she’d recieve. After fidgeting nervously, she finally asked, “Where you’re from… is everypony… still alive? Are we happy?”

Her question nearly made me cry. The quiver in her voice as she solemnly asked this question would have been enough even to make Roid Rage’s eyes moist. I hugged Fluttershy then, stroking her mane, telling her all about Applejack, and Rarity, and Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash, and our adventures, and how much we really loved each other. Fluttershy tried not to show her broken heart, but her tears were all I needed to know it was there.

“Fluttershy,” I told her as her tears ran down her face, “Fluttershy, I know you’re trying to survive in this awful place, and that it’s hard when you don’t have your friends with you. But I want you to know, right now, that…” My throat became thick and I choked. I tried again. “That it’s OK to make new friends. Not to replace those you’ve lost, but to impact their lives the same way you impacted ours. It’s OK… to keep on living, even after we’re gone.”

She buried her face in my mane. I felt her shudder and sniffle, as I stood there, being there, for her. I comforted her the way a best friend knows how, and after almost ten minutes, she came around again.

Her face still in my mane, she asked me, “Is the Fluttershy where you’re from… Is she brave?”

“If by brave, you mean she wasn’t afraid of anything, no. She was very timid—a lot like you. But if you meant brave like, she went in and got the job done despite how scared she was… Then she was the bravest pony I know.”

Her embrace tightened in thanks. I continued. “She was also really good with animals.”

“She is?”

“Yep. It was rare to see any animal uncomfortable in her presence…” As my voice trailed off, I had noticed something rather ugly about everything I’d just said.

I used the word “was” five times. Past tense. Why was I using past tense?

Deep down, did I really abandon the prospect, the goal of restoring our Alpha timeline? Was I losing hope of going home? It seemed odd that I’d abandon that way of thinking: we had allies now, and a plan that was sound. Why did I lose hope then? Why hadn’t I noticed my growing sense of doubt until that moment?

Fluttershy nuzzled me. “Hey,” she said, “I’m going to go talk to Shining Armor, if that’s OK.”

I snapped out of my thoughts. “Why? Why do you want to talk to him for?”

She walked by until she was nearly out of the room. When she was by the door, she stopped and turned. She smiled, revealing her missing teeth. “I want to apologize to him.”

And with that, Fluttershy walked out of the hospital room, leaving me alone in this disproportionate chamber. I sighed, and decided I should probably go wake up Spike and go over the details of the plan with the Doctor.

Before I left, there came a quiet, raspy voice from behind me.

“Wait,” she said.

I turned to see the Mare-Do-Well emerge from the shadows. My heart had nearly leapt through my chest when she appeared (The same way she always did: suddenly). I fought the urge to turn and run as she slowly advanced to me.

She stopped just before me. “Did you really mean what you said? About friends?”

Slowly, I nodded, not knowing what to say.

The Mare-Do-Well looked at one of the beds, as if she needed something else to look at in order to gather her thoughts. After a second or two, she turned back to me—her head snapping back alarmingly fast like before—her raspy voice approaching anger. “Then you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

“What… What do you mean?” I backed away a little, afraid that she might jump me.

“Friends won’t always be there for you,” she growled. “You get to know them for a little while, and then they leave! They vanish! They fill your head with stupid lies—how tomorrow’s gonna be better, how they’ll never leave you when you need them… and…”

The Mare-Do-Well sat down slowly, as if sinking onto that cold concrete floor, as her voice trailed off. It gradually lost the rumbling rasp and evolved into a voice I recognized.

“… and then… they vanish. They leave you. They leave you, alone, wondering…”

She looked down to her hooves. “…Wondering… what it was you did to deserve losing their love for you.”

Minutes ticked away as I stood there, watching this frightening figure of darkness shudder. I realized that mask hid much more than just a face: it hid so much unbearable pain and loneliness. And everypony she met was so afraid of her. I wondered how long she had carried this pain and nurtured it in her heart. Years? A lifetime? An eternity?

I got over my fear of the Mare-Do-Well, gradually, and came closer to her. Then I put my forelegs around her, embracing her. “Bon-Bon,” I told her, “It’s true that friends can’t always be there to save the day. But everypony deserves to have friends. Nopony deserves to be alone. Nopony deserves to not be loved.”

She pushed me away. “No,” she said, her rasp returning, “That isn’t true. If it is, what about Dr. Chuckles? He deserve somepony?”

“He did,” I told her. “In my timeline, he was a very kind pony who was married to a sweet mare and had foals of his own.” My eyes misted at the memory of Mr. Cake. “Because of… all THIS… all of that got taken away from him. He became what he is in this timeline because…”

It hit me. It wasn’t just this timeline that was my fault. Everything in it, that was created because of my stupidity, was my creation. Big Macintosh leading ponies to arrest innocents for fraudulent crimes, Mr. Cake becoming a vicious gangster, the Mare-Do-Well becoming a lonely vigilante, Fluttershy enduring so much survivor’s guilt, Spike losing his limbs, Shining Armor being the only surviving member of our family, everypony in so much misery…

“…Because it’s all my fault.”

The Mare-Do-Well looked at me with her glass eyes as I sank down. “I created this timeline because of my own stupidity and hate. I ended your friendship with Lyra in my own timeline because of my own stupidity and hate. ”

Suddenly, she stuck her head in front of my vision. Even though it was just a mask, I could still tell her face was contorted with anger. “What do you know about Lyra?!”

I backed off again, this time making it almost to the door. “Lyra and I—” she said as I turned and ran. “LYRA IS DEAD! HE KILLED HER, HE KILLED HER AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!”

Tears flew from my face as I ran through the warped hallways, their surreal dimensions becoming an even bigger convoluted nightmare as I continued my flight. All the while

("You get to know them for a little while, then...")

I wished I could just disappear, just vanish

(“They vanish!”)

But no matter where I went, I became more and more lost

("What it was you did to deserve losing their love for you.")

The hallways twisted and turned, the ugly colors rushing by me like a nauseating whirlwind, everything began to spin, and finally I ran into somepony hard enough to knock us both to the ground.

It was the Doctor. “Twilight, what—”

Before he could finish, I buried my face in his chest and wept. “It’s all my fault,” I murmured, “Everypony’s miserable, and it’s all my fault.”

“Not this again,” the Doctor chided. He stood me up and dried my tears with a handkerchief he pulled from his coat pocket. “I thought we already went through this. We both made this mess, and we’re going to clean it.”

As he finished wiping away my tears, he pulled me close to his chest. I could hear his heartbeat… heart… beats? (He later told me that he actually has two hearts. Fascinating.) “You have to pull yourself together,” he told me. “We can’t afford to lose yet.”

He seemed to think over his last few words. Strangely, it was as if I could feel his thoughts become heavier. “We can’t afford to lose at all,” he amended.

17. SHIT GETS REAL

“Fluttershy!” I exclaimed. “You have to get away! I’ll try to distract it!”

I stood up, ready to think a plan over to distract the rampaging Ursa Minor, when I noticed it… wasn’t really rampaging any more. In fact, the way it was smiling made it look cute enough to hug. Fluttershy giggled. “Oh, Twilight,” she said softly, “there’s no need to worry; Ben’s not a threat.”

She fluttered over to the Ursa Minor and nuzzled it. It began to lick her face—or tried to, anyway; its tongue was easily twice her size. I then noticed something. “Fluttershy? You…”

Her flank was once again decorated by butterflies, as they had been in the original timeline. Furthermore, her voice was no longer a whimper—it was as soft and buttery and feminine as I remembered. Her eyes, once haunted and sorrowful, shimmered for the first time in what must have been years. “You’re… You’re all…” I couldn’t seem to find the right words to express my joy.

She fluttered down from the Ursa Minor’s affectionate licks and gave me a hug. I grimaced from the fact Fluttershy was damp from the Ursa Minor’s tongue, but I returned the embrace regardless. “You told me that I was good with animals in your timeline. So I thought, why not try that?”

“But an Ursa Minor?! You could have been seriously hurt!”

She gently let go of me and began to cuddle Ben’s nose. “Oh, you don’t understand,” she said, “Ben’s just a big shweetie, yes he is! Yes he is!” Ben began to wag his tail and whimper like an overjoyed pet. “I found him caught in a bramble patch, the poor thing. It took me all day to get him out. He was such a brave boy!" Ben licked her again. "He’d never do anything to hurt anypony!”

The Doctor smirked at me. “You changed the future,” he told me. “Specifically, you changed hers.”

My mind traveled back to the moment earlier that day, when the Doctor told me about his ability to see the future: Every moment is a stepping stone to a possible future. My eyes widened. I looked to Fluttershy to see her nuzzling Ben again, telling him he was a "good boy", and “Mama” was “so proud.”

The sound of hundreds of clicks shook the air around us. As if from nowhere, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by Troll Busters pointing at us with their rifles. “Surrender in the name of True Love!” shouted one. (I noticed the Doctor suppressing a chuckle at this.)

I looked to Fluttershy, who displayed another aspect of her that I’d missed: “The Stare.” Despite the clear advantage of having weapons, the Troll Busters were visibly afraid. “Back off,” she hissed. “Nopony hurts my friends.”

“I repeat, surrender NOW!”

“They didn’t even do anything wrong,” Fluttershy said indignantly. “What are you going to pin them for?! The crime of coming back from the dead? What would your mothers think of you, locking up innocent ponies for things they’re not responsible for?!”

A few of them seemed to think this over. “I never knew my mother,” sobbed one. “She spent so much time shopping, she forgot about me…”

Their squad leader rolled his eyes, his rifle not going down. “Surrender now! We have guns!”

Fluttershy never broke her stare. “I have a bear.” As if on cue, Ben growled in their direction, threatening bodily harm to anypony who fired a shot. Many of them backed down.

“W-We have rocket launchers!”

“She has a bear,” the Doctor said. Ben seemed to growl even more angrily.

“W-We, uh… we have bazookas!”

“She has a bear,” I joined in, shooting them a haughty look.

“W-We… um… we have… the power of love?”

Unfortunately, the power of love apparently doesn’t stand a chance against an angry universe-bear, and the Troll Busters ran for their lives as Ben roared at them. I hugged Fluttershy again to celebrate our victory.

But I celebrated too soon: the wall of the auditorium was knocked down, and through it came a tank. It stopped just before us, and the top opened up. The squad leader from before popped up through it. “WE HAVE A TANK!” he shouted.

Before we could react, he gave the signal to fire. Fluttershy warned Ben to flee, but he was the kind of size that would be hard to miss. A deafening sound cracked through the air, and the shell shot straight for Ben…

Only to stop in mid-air, surrounded by a white aura.

I blinked. Fluttershy, the Doctor, and Spike were equally perplexed. Suddenly, from the open hole Ben had made earlier, in floated Magneighto. He stood on the frozen shell. His steely gaze fell on the tank, which was surrounded with the same white aura as the bullet.

“PONIES!” he announced with a flourish. “WELCOME TO DIE!” And with that, he jumped off the bullet as it shot backwards, into the tank, blowing it up.

I remember how in some of Rainbow Dash’s favorite action movies the hero would walk away from an explosion like it was nothing. Unfortunately, physics doesn’t quite work that way, and we were all very nearly blown off our hooves, our ears beginning to ring. As the dust settled, Magneighto floated down to greet us.

“Miss Sparkle! Miss Fluttershy! Doctor!” he greeted. His eyes fell on Spike, who looked at him with confusion. “…Dragon child!” said Magneighto, not knowing what else to call him. “The anti-magic fields have been brought down, and I just got through deactivating and disassembling the majority of the Troll Buster’s weapons. It’s safer for you to proceed now.”

"What do you THINK you're DOING?!" Fluttershy bellowed as she walked up to Magneighto. She got right in his face, Stare in full force, causing the great magician to cower. "You—You just KILLED all of them! I know they were being bad ponies, but that does NOT give YOU the RIGHT to take a LIFE!"

Magneighto stumbled over his words, until finally, he said, "This is a war, Miss Fluttershy. Ponies are going to get hurt."

Fluttershy stamped her hoof. "But that's all that's ever HAPPENED! Ponies hurting other ponies! Everypony hurting each other! I'm sick of it, Magneighto! SICK of it!"

"Then what do you call bringing in a bear to--"

"Ben is only here to scare them! I don't want anypony to get hurt!"

Spike suddenly got in between the two of them. "Look, Fluttershy, I know why you don't want to hurt anypony. But the truth is, these guys are gonna use lethal force on us. Even with most of their weapons disabled, they're going to try to kill us. We're gonna need to protect ourselves, even if it means we need to become lethal ourselves."

Fluttershy fell silent. Her Stare faded away, and she began to sniffle. "I-I'm sorry, I just..."

Magneighto placed a comforting hoof on her shoulder. "I understand, and I'm sorry. But this... this world we live in. This is the way things are."

"But things... things don't HAVE to be like this," she said. Ben sadly nuzzled his "Mama."

Spike looked from Magneighto to Fluttershy, then to me. I suddenly had a great idea.

"Hey, Fluttershy. Maybe you should go with Magneighto for now. I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you're able to show him how to win a fight without having to kill anyone."

Magneighto made a perplexed smirk. Fluttershy smiled and clapped her forehooves together like a happy child. It was hard not to smile at that moment—the Fluttershy I’d known and loved was back, full-force. She fluttered upwards and took a seat on Ben’s back. “Be careful not to step on anypony, OK, Ben?” she asked. Ben grunted and nodded, then walked further into the mall, Magneighto floating close behind.

Then we took flight, the three of us, into the mall. The shops were all closed, of course, and there were no other ponies about—the mall closed early on Christian Love Day, it seemed. Suspiciously, there weren’t any Troll Busters around, even though we heard the sounds of battle coming from far away. Our footsteps echoed in the emptiness of this place. It was actually a far more tense feeling than it had any right to be.

Suddenly, the Doctor stopped. “Twilight!” he said. “Get DOWN!”

He pushed me down just in time—a series of bullets tore into the wall behind us. We got up and ran as the bullets flew by us, ripping the walls to shreds. The sound of rapid gunfire was almost a screech, like a monstrous banshee was chasing us and scraping its fingers on the wall. We took refuge in a nearby sports supply shop. Spike kept up as best he could with his fake leg (Which is to say that he did an amazing run), and managed to hide behind a display stand outside the shop.

I heard heavy hoofsteps enter the shop. “Come on out, infidel!” called Iron Will. “You commit the crime, you eat the lime!”

“It’s ‘you do the time,’ you idiot,” I muttered to myself.

Still clad in his priestly white robe, Iron Will was carrying a Gatling gun, one hand holding the turncrank, the other holding a steadying lever. His upper body strength must have been incredible if he could actually lift one and carry it around like it was a toy.

He began shooting displays, searching for us. I remembered that now that the anti-magic field was down, I could turn myself invisible. But why hide? I’d spent so much time hiding and running; it was getting old hat. And even if we tried to run, Iron Will would only follow us. I formulated a better plan.

I looked out from behind my hiding place and looked at the Gatling gun again, studying its mechanisms from afar. I focused my telekinesis on it, carefully bending some of the parts. After a few seconds, he turned and saw me.

“You shatter the Mayor’s heart,” he said as he began to point the gun in my direction, “I blow you apart!” I nodded, as that rhyme was somewhat cool.

The Gatling gun clinked and shimmied; Iron Will looked at it in confusion as it overheated and began to sputter ominously. “What in—?!”

But before he could finish, the Doctor tackled him. The bulk of the gun was likely heavy even for Iron Will, and he toppled over almost too easily. The Doctor had grabbed a baseball bat and brought it down hard on Iron Will’s face. We then rushed out of the shop, leaving him unconscious.

“Where’s Spike?” I asked.

The Doctor pointed over to where Spike hid—the poor thing shivering, his color faded from his face. The battlefield was no place for someone his age and condition. “We have to get him to safety,” I said. “I’ll take him.”

“No,” said the Doctor. “He’ll be fine. We need to—”

I faced the Doctor, angrily. “I NEED to take him to safety. Spike’s…” My face fell. “Spike is MY responsibility.” I trotted over to where Spike was. I noticed he was crying, his wide eyes darting about as if mad. I nuzzled him. “It’s OK Spike, I’m here.”

The Doctor pulled me away. “Twilight, you need to trust me—”

I shoved him away, picking up Spike and placing him on my back. “I do, Doctor. I really do. But not this time.”

“Just show me a little faith!”

“I have,” I argued. “But the thing is, you said every moment is a stepping stone to a possible future. You even acted surprised when Fluttershy came to our rescue, as if that wasn’t supposed to happen. That means your ability to see the future isn’t perfect.” He looked at me with an expression of both frustration and befuddlement. “Don’t look at me that way. We can’t just leave him here!” I said.

“Trust me, he’ll—be—fine,” he said, emphasizing each word. I fought the urge to deck him.

“Easy for you to say! You can regenerate! You don’t know what it’s LIKE to die! You don’t know how scary the idea of dying even IS!” I growled coldly. “Spike isn’t just a child, he’s an amputee! There’s no way I’m leaving him in the middle of a battlefield!”

The Doctor looked at me as if he didn’t know whether to belt me or just leave me behind. Instead, he looked to Spike’s false hand, and pointed to it. “See that button on his hand?” he asked.

I admitted I hadn’t noticed it before—but of course, before, it was not blinking green.

“Spike might be a child,” he said, “but once you were… removed, in this timeline, he eventually became more self-reliant. Didn’t you stop to think about why or how he was running the library all by himself?”

I thought this over. “Well, OK, so he’s more grown up, but what does that have to do with—”

“And didn’t you notice that his artificial limbs were properly constructed to match his body type exactly, instead of being ineptly designed like everything ELSE in CWCville?”

I fell silent.

“He became independent to the point in which he began utilizing his time to build machinery in secret. His first successes were his own artificial limbs.” The Doctor pointed to the glowing green button on Spike’s hand. “Spike just called his greatest invention; it’s going to come rescue him.”

I wanted to say something, but could not. The Doctor merely looked at me as if he expected an apology. I looked away, feeling colder than I should have.

Before I could think of anything to say, several Troll Busters jumped down from the second floor, sliding to the ground with ropes. The Earth pony Busters were equipped with knives (Knives made of plastic; evidently, they had a backup plan in case Magneighto ever betrayed them), the Pegasus Busters had mounted arm rifles (Again, plastic), and the unicorns’ horns began to glow—picking up nearby debris to use as makeshift ammo.

One Troll Buster (a large black unicorn wearing a brown uniform) spoke into his yellow badge. “Intruding trolls Doctor Whooves and Twilight Sparkle apprehended! Awaiting orders, Mayor!”

We were surrounded, our fates once again at the mercy of the enemy. Predictably, the Mayor ordered us dang, dirty trolls to be killed (“After all,” he said, “dey all bin killed once b’fore. Mmm.”). Before they descended, I quickly put up a protective barrier.

The most annoying quirk about psychic shields, I find, is that they take quite a bit of focus to project. Any element of the shield can give its caster a headache: its size, its shape, damage inflicted, even its color (I preferred purple, although the one I cast this time was the default white). I’ll never understand how Shining Armor can withstand this kind of inconvenience.

This quirk quickly kicked me in the cranium, repeatedly, as the Troll Busters pounded on the shield tenaciously. Their unicorn members even tried to cast a Magic-Intercept spell on me. (Luckily, the education system of CWCville only teaches magic that fails—like everything else made by the Mayor.)

“What do we do now?!” I asked the Doctor, my voice breaking as the beating continued.

“We wait.”

“That’s most of what we’ve been doing! What happened to all the running?!”

A few seconds passed, my strength quickly leaving me as our assailants continued their battering. Spike began to come to, shaking his head. The Doctor patted his back. “Back with us, Spike?”

“I’m the prettiest girl at the Belle-View Mall!” he replied, his voice still drowsy.

“I’ll take that as a ‘Not yet.’”

I took it that we were waiting for Spike’s “machine” to show up and save the day, but it was likely underneath the Library, which was miles away. My strength couldn’t hold much longer; these Troll Busters were about to descend on us like vultures!

Just before my shield broke, a black boomerang-like object spun through the air and was lodged in the head of one of the unicorns. Suddenly, three members of the PVCC shot from my right—Blossomforth, who tackled two of the pegasi simultaneously; the Mare-Do-Well, who slammed an Earth pony to the ground; and Derpy Hooves, who brought down wrath like I’d never seen her do before. “FOR THE HORDE!!!” she shouted.

I lowered my defensive shield, dizzy from the stress. The Doctor told me to rest, then joined the other three in taking out the Buster squadron. After only a few seconds, the remaining Busters lay in a bruised, groaning heap.

My blurry vision began to correct itself as the headache slowly left me. “Yo, Twilight,” Blossomforth asked, looking me over. “Y'arright?”

“I’m fine,” I replied. I looked behind me and saw that Spike had fallen off my back. I gasped and put him back on. I readjusted the saddlebags I had thought to wear earlier (after all, how else was I keeping evidence of this adventure?), then straightened up. “Let’s keep going.”

“Hurm,” the Mare-Do-Well growled. “You two need to find the Mayor. The kid can stay with us.”

I wanted to argue, to keep Spike by my side. Even though this was a different timeline, and a different Spike, I felt that maternal instinct to protect him as best I could welling up within me. But the Mare-Do-Well’s lifeless glass eyes seemed to glare at me—no doubt still despising me for my… rather loose involvement with Alterna-Lyra’s death.

At the same time, I didn't trust her either. Her mental instability, constant anger, and general hatred of me could be exercised in all kinds of ways on Spike...

Derpy must have noticed my hesitance. “I’ll take him someplace safe,” she offered.

I thought it over for a second. “OK,” I agreed. “Take him to Shining Armor.”

As I placed the slowly reawakening Spike on Derpy’s back, I instructed her that he tried to summon a special machine he’d built, and that it might arrive on the battlefield at any moment. She nodded, smiling. “OK,” she said, “I’ll let Shiny and Maggie know.”

“Maggie?” I giggled.

“Yeah! He’s my Super-Best-Friend! You met him, right?”

I looked at her strangely. “Super-Best-Friend”? Was that a euphemism for “husband”? The relationship between her and Magneighto seemed rather sketchy to me all of a sudden. “Yeah,” I stammered, “Yeah, I met him.”

Derpy smiled again and off she flew. The Mare-Do-Well looked to Blossomforth. “Let’s go. Spider-Colt hasn’t reported back to us yet.”

As the Mare took off, Blossomforth groaned. “But I’m the Captain,” she said under her breath, and followed anyway.

The Doctor and I began running. For some reason, it seemed to be quite natural for him, as he never tired or ran out of breath. The sounds of battle were still quiet, and gradually, we slowed—becoming wary of any other ambushes awaiting us.

“Hey, Doctor?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

I breathed a sigh. “For… for that outburst. I had no right at all to say any of that to you.”

Looking at his face, I gathered he had already forgotten about it—that was, until he opened his mouth. “The one with the tray of tea and biscuits? Or the one about how I can regenerate so I don’t know what it’s like to die?”

His words didn’t seem all that haughty, but they stung nonetheless. I felt hot tears gather in my eyes. “Would you just accept an apology? For once?” I asked. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for making you feel miserable!”

I sat down, trying to gather myself. “I’m sorry for… for everything. I got you in on that stupid plan—”

“—and I left my TARDIS out in the open where he could get to it,” the Doctor said. He rested his hoof on my shoulder. “I thought we talked about this before, Twilight. We’ve talked about this over and over again. It’s not your fault. There’s no need to beat yourself up. So stop doing it.”

I sniffled. “You’re right,” I said. “I’m just wasting time. Let’s keep going.”

I felt so cold, so disgusting. Why was I having so many breakdowns at this point? This was the third time that day I felt my soul falling apart for something the Doctor kept telling me wasn’t entirely my fault. I blamed myself for the bizarre circumstances we had found ourselves in—for the Doctor, alternate timelines were a common occurrence. To me, alternate realities were a brand new concept, and having created a near-apocalyptic reality was… well, it was a huge shock.

But the Doctor was right. There was no need for water-works; there was only time now for action. We had to keep going.

Suddenly, an air vent popped open. I lit up my horn, ready to cast a Missile Strike spell, when out of the vent crawled Spider-Colt, his camera slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t scare us like that!” I said.

“Pfft, if I wanted to scare you, I’d be wearing a ‘Chris-Chan’ costume. But Chris-Chan-Colt just doesn’t have quite the same punch as Spider-Colt, does it?”

He dropped from the wall and walked up to us. “Anyway, I’ve found the Mayor’s secret.”

I rolled my eyes. “More diaper pics?”

Spider-Colt looked at me, his lips pursing, suppressing a gag. “Don’t remind me. That wasn’t a pleasant experience for me, either.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be telling Shining Armor this?”

“Well, yes,” he said, “but, ah…”

He held out the photos he’d taken. I had to stifle a scream as I took in everything I saw—and from the equally terrified and disgusted look on his face, the Doctor had done the same. “She… she told me to get you guys first. The Alterna-Doctor is waiting for you alongside her.”

“Where?” I whispered. “Where is this room?”

“It’s deep within the mall’s underground complex. Where the REAL fortress is.”

Spider-Colt reached into a pocket on his suit (How spandex could ever have room for pockets, I’ll never know), and hoofed us a map of the mall, with hoof-drawn additions, likely his. “There’s a secret elevator, here,” he said, pointing to an X in the parking garage. Next to the X was a jumble of letters.

“These letters, are they a password?” I asked. Spider-Colt nodded.

“Then let’s not waste any time,” said the Doctor.

Spider-Colt told us he would go find Shining Armor and tell him about our plan—hopefully, he would provide backup if he wasn’t busy. The Doctor looked strange at that moment, as if he were receiving a signal being relayed to his mind. “No,” he told Spider-Colt, “No, in fact, I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to know at all.”

Spider-Colt was just as confused as I was. “Why not?” he asked.

“Just trust me on this one. It isn’t a good idea. Instead, I think you should go find Fluttershy; she’ll be in the parking lot right now, riding an Ursa Minor—”

“What?”

“—not hard to miss.” The Doctor patted him on the back. “Just do it, OK? You’ll understand why once you get there.”

Spider-Colt shrugged, then left, crawling through another air vent. I looked at the Doctor. “What was that all about?”

He smiled, his boyish face lighting up like a Hearth’s-Warming Tree. “I’m just changing the future a bit—a little like somepony I know.” He nudged me as he turned, causing me to blush.

The Doctor and I then ran, this time following Spider-Colt’s map, to the basement.

Where Cadance was being held prisoner.

18. My Brother's Battle (First Movement)

For the past several days since I wrote the previous paragraph, I have been procrastinating, hesitant to continue this account. It is not that I am refusing to do my scholarly duty and continue explaining my findings, it is that what happens next is genuinely disturbing. However, at the insistence of my helpful editors Spike and Lyra and the Doctor, I must continue this account.

The evening light outside went from blazing orange to a burnt purple, casting everything inside the warzone-mall into a confusing slush pile of shadows. Every corner the Doctor and I rounded felt like something was going to jump out from behind it, every hall we ran down felt as if there were invisible eyes observing us… The mall had quickly become something of a temple of doom, where in every corner hid something unspeakable.

The sounds and smells of battle were inconsistent: they would feel farther away sometimes, but closer at other times. I have been in some very tense situations before, but being in the middle of a warzone in a hostile alternate dimension is easily the scariest.

By the time the Doctor and I had reached the parking lot, we had attracted the unwanted attention of several Troll Busters. Their plastic weapons firing at us from behind, we managed to hide behind a rather curious blue carriage.

I cursed. “We were so close!”

The Doctor tapped his hoof on the ground as another bullet bounced off the carriage. “We need a plan,” he said.

“I KNOW that!” I yelled impatiently. “What, you think we ducked down here to have sex?!”

Yes, I know. Extremely awkward. I imagine the Troll Busters were just as befuddled as the Doctor at my outburst; they stopped firing for a few seconds and I think I heard one of them laugh. The Doctor seemed to hide a smirk.

“Twilight, you’re a smart girl,” he told me, “but it’s become clear to me you haven’t been acting rationally lately. You need to think. You need to be allowed time to think.”

Bullets whizzed by. It seemed insulting that he would suggest I needed to stop and think while we were being shot at, but then I realized, he was right.

“I’ll try to distract them,” he said. Before I could protest, he immediately raced out from behind the carriage. “Look at me, I’m distracting you!” he shouted at the Busters. “Boogie boogie boogie!”

“Look! A distraction!” yelled one of the Troll Busters. “Shoot it before it boogies again!”

I began to worry, but I kept forgetting that the Doctor was able to foresee the future. He was able to tell when a round would be fired and where it would go, just like he did with Dr. Chuckles before, and danced about, effortlessly avoiding every shot.

But he couldn’t keep that up forever—he was only buying me time. I looked about in this parking lot, noticing that most of the carriages here seemed very heavy (although ugly and malformed like everything else). I peered out from behind my hiding place and saw the Troll Busters next to some particularly heavy-looking carriages.

I used my telekinesis to lift up as many of the carriages as I could and floated them over the Troll Busters. One looked up and screamed, which I took as my cue to drop the whole load. It fell like a giant cascade of metal, flattening the whole troupe with a loud crash.

I ran to the Doctor, who was catching his breath. “I knew those jazz dance lessons would come in handy someday,” he said. I managed a smile.

“Don’t get too comfy,” I told him. “We still have an entire fortress to run through.”

Suddenly, the loud sound of metal being thrown against the wall broke the quiet of the parking lot. We looked behind us to see Big Macintosh walking over his fallen comrades toward us. Nothing to say to us, just this look of wicked glee twisting his lip into a cruel smirk, causing his green eyes to pierce the both of us with his malice.

I tried using my telekinesis to throw more carriages at him, but he merely smacked them away as if they were bothersome flies. Neither of us felt like running—that would require turning our backs to him, which would not be a very good idea. Our minds were racing at that moment, trying to figure out a way to escape the incoming danger.

Big Macintosh stood before me now, only a few inches away. I could feel his hot and whiskey-stained breath stroking my face. He saw the fear in my eyes, the fear that paralyzed me, and he drank it in. Time seemed to stop at that moment, as it does for most times of peril, and once again did the abyss stare back at me, both its eyes green this time.

A flash of purple light snapped me out of my mental retreat. Big Macintosh was no longer towering over me. The Doctor pointed to my left, where Shining Armor had shoved him into a wall. I called my brother’s name.

With a smart, quick swing of his foreleg, Big Macintosh swept Shining Armor away. Shining Armor corrected his balance in time to kick off a pillar, landing gently on his feet as though he’d never been touched. The two shared a cold silence, their eyes burning holes into each other.

“So, you finally had the spine to come back?” asked Big Macintosh.

“You know I couldn’t leave my student to his own devices,” returned Shining Armor.

The two of them began to circle each other like rival predators. The Doctor whispered to me that we should probably leave—and while that was the best idea, that was my brother there, in that fight. I wanted to help him. The Doctor told me helping him wouldn’t be a good idea; Big Macintosh is unlike any other enemy we’d encountered so far.

“If you love your brother,” the Doctor whispered, “then you must trust him, and believe that he can win! Let him fight for you, to protect you. Like all good big brothers would do.”

I wanted to follow his advice, but…

… I hesitated.

“When last we met,” Big Macintosh said to Shining Armor, “you were the master and I the student. Now I am the master.”

Shining Armor sneered. “Master of what? You have no kingdom. The Mayor promises you nothing he intends to deliver.”

“You fought for goals you knew you couldn’t reach. I fight to keep what I still have.” Big Macintosh let out an insidious chuckle. “While you were my mentor, you were still an idealist. I was a realist.”

“A realist?” Shining Armor looked as though he could barely contain his rage. “We both fought under the Mayor, but for our families. Families he went out of his way to destroy! Why would you continue to fight under him, knowing this?”

Good question. I hadn’t considered it before, but what reason did Big Macintosh have to work for the Mayor? His sister was put to death just like… well, like Alterna-Me. I found my curiosity beginning to take hold, causing me to stay and watch, even as the Doctor tried to push me in the direction we needed to go.

Big Macintosh lost his cruel smile for a second. His scowl was far scarier. “Because unlike you, I still have mine. You have nothing.”

Shining Armor dashed at Big Macintosh like lightning; I could feel his anger as he bore down on Big Macintosh, a hurricane of kicks and shouts. Big Macintosh saw an opening, a pause in Shining Armor’s onslaught, and grabbed him. He threw him against a wall, where he pinned him with one hoof and brought the other hoof across his face. I gasped as I saw Shining Armor’s blood hit the floor.

“We have to go!” said the Doctor. “Now!”

“Your anger is your weakness,” Big Macintosh laughed as he brought down his hoof again and again. “Isn’t that what you always taught your students, Shiny?”

Suddenly, his hoof was caught in mid-air. He looked to it, seeing it covered in a purple glow.

“Leave my brother alone!” I shouted as I twisted his foreleg. The Doctor winced as he heard it snap, the bones and joints coming undone.

This distraction was what Shining Armor needed. He pushed Big Macintosh away, then jumped forward, bringing all Tartarus with him. It was difficult for my eyes to keep up with how fast his hooves were moving as he brought them to Big Macintosh’s face again and again.

Finally, Shining Armor threw Big Macintosh into a wall.

Big Macintosh stood back up as though Shining Armor’s blows were merely mosquito bites. He twisted his foreleg until the bones reconnected with a sickening crunch. “Why do you protect her?” he growled, pointing at me. “She isn’t Twilight Sparkle. You and I both know this.”

This statement gave Shining Armor pause.

Big Mac got back up. “She insults her memory just for looking like her. For sounding like her, for smelling like her. She’s an impostor, and I refuse to let her exist!” It was at this moment I realized why he seemed so hostile towards me: he was dating my counterpart here. I didn’t consider how deeply hurt he was by losing both his sister and his marefriend.

It drove him to madness. It was the only reason he would continue working with their killer: sheer, unrestrained madness.

Shining Armor shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. She might be from a different world, but she’s still Twilight Sparkle. She’s still my sister.” He steeled himself, ready for another round. “And I will fight to the death to protect her from you!”

Big Macintosh reared up. He laughed, his voice bouncing off the concrete around us, causing this garage to feel haunted. With that, the both of them rushed at each other.

Their battle raged on, as the Doctor and I managed to escape further into this dungeon. Behind me I could hear them cursing at each other, beating each other senseless. I tried to suppress the tears that flowed, I tried to remind myself that these two stallions weren’t my brother or Applejack’s brother. But at the same time, they were two stallions, previously best friends, fighting to the death...

At this point, I realized that alternate realities and the alternate versions of ponies one knows were simply too complicated and confusing for the average mind. My comprehension and perspective on reality was becoming more and more unhinged as this madness continued. It took all I had to keep myself together, from not worrying about the outcome of my brother’s battle, to focus on what I needed to do.

At the elevator, the Doctor sought the panel where we would put in the secret number sequence. I looked over the map again. “Should be somewhere around the elevator,” I said. “I don’t think it could be anyplace else.”

The Doctor slid his hoof around the elevator, around the walls next to it. “I’m not feeling anything,” he said. “No loose panels or invisible buttons or anything.” He turned to me. “Are you certain we’re at the right door?”

“I thought you could see the future. You tell me.”

He seemed taken aback by my statement. “My future-sight isn’t perfect,” he snidely responded, mimicking my voice. “Besides, you’re the one with the map. YOU tell ME.”

I didn’t feel like arguing. Before I could, however, there came a raspy voice from right next to me, making me jump. “It’s right next to you,” said the Mare-Do-Well.

She walked next to the elevator, put out her hoof, and finding the proper spot, she gave it two good taps. A small panel flipped around to reveal a keypad. We looked at her in confusion. She pointed to her eyes. “Detective mode,” she replied.

I put in the password and the elevator opened. I looked to the Mare-Do-Well. “Listen,” I said, “Thanks for helping us, but… You might want to head back now.”

There was a pause between us. The silence intensified as I looked into those glass eyes of hers, trying to read her emotions. Even though her face was a shadow, I could tell there was a lot of hatred within her, a lot of anger and resentment. Was it focused on me? Or was it just hatred for hatred’s sake?

“No,” she said. “I’m coming.”

“No you’re not.”

She turned to look at the Doctor. From her reaction, it was as if she had never been told “No” before. “What do you mean?”

The Doctor kept his composure. “You always try to intimidate others into swaying to your side. You’re unstable and you’re unreliable. Even with your skills and gadgets, I don’t think we can depend on you to do what’s right.”

I could feel her anger rise and took a step back. “What gives you the right to say that to me?” she demanded.

“Don’t you get it?” he told her. “You only got where you are with the PVCC because you intimidated them. They were afraid to make you their enemy. You’re a bully. You think you may be on the right side, but your methods make you a bigger villain than—”

“Stop.”

“No. You need to hear this.”

“Stop!”

“Your methods contradict your goal so thoroughly, that you’re a hypocrite. You don’t want a world that has peace, you want a world where the Mayor isn’t around. You depose him now, without bothering to look for that secret he’s hiding, somepony even worse than he is will take his place.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“How do you think you know me so well?” she asked.

“I’m a Time Lord. I can see your past, and your future. I know exactly what it is you want to do in this mission, and I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

I looked around. We were wasting time. I could feel eyes starting to look at us, observe us from afar. We needed to cut this confrontation short. I jumped in.

“Bon-Bon,” I said, “for reasons that are too complicated to explain, we need you to stay away from the Mayor. This is important!”

“Hurm. You don’t understand,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” I admitted. “But I don’t think you do, either.” Again, a pause. “You trust the Doctor, right?”

“Not this one,” she said. In a flash of darkness, she shoved the Doctor into the elevator as it opened and jumped in after him. She threw a small, round object out behind her as I tried to follow them. It exploded in a flash of bright light and earsplitting noise, causing me to become severely disoriented.

As the strange effects of the flash-bomb wore off, I leapt at the door—but it was too late. I pounded on the door. “Let me in!” I cried. I put my ear to the door. Mumbling, muffling. A thud. A cry.

A stream of indignant curses flew from my mouth as I pounded some more, crying the Doctor’s name. I backed off, preparing to send a Missile Strike spell at the door. As I backed off, my rump collided with something behind me. I looked behind me to see Big Macintosh.

“Hello again,” he greeted. Before I could do anything else, he back-hoofed me into the wall. As I collided with it, he moved like lightning across the floor, pinning my shoulder to the wall. He leaned in close enough that I could smell his rancid breath.

His features were bloated with bruises, and he was bleeding from his mouth and nose profusely. His green eyes, perhaps because they kept his intelligence but lacked his kindness, were blazing with homicidal intent. He looked like a desperate wild animal that had finally found a meal after a long period of starvation.

“Gonna try some magic tricks on ole’ Big Mac, huh, Living Dead Girl?” he taunted. He brought up his right hoof and threw it against the wall next to my head, crushing it like cardboard. He removed it to reveal the deep indention his hoof had left. “Let’s hear you say ‘abra-kadabra.’ I wanna see some magic!”

I began to cry in fear. I couldn’t focus my magic at all, my mind polluted by fear, swimming with the terror that shook me. Suddenly, I felt him let go of me and I fell to the floor. I looked up to see that Shining Armor had decked Big Macintosh, sending him across the parking lot.

“Abra-kadabra,” said Shining Armor.

“Big Brother,” I whispered.

I explained the situation as quickly as I could—the Mare-Do-Well was out of control, she attacked the Doctor, the elevator was stuck—and before I could finish, he looked at the elevator door and punched it, breaking it open. I felt more than a little silly, since the Doctor and I could have done that to begin with.

“There,” he said.

A moment’s pause as I looked down into the never-ending shaft. It felt like looking into an abyss, into which my descent, while my currently only option, held my doom before me.

I looked to Shining Armor, to this version of him. Like Big Macintosh, he was battered and bruised, blood coming from his lip and his left eye punched into a purple mess. But there was something more fundamentally unwell about him.

His eyes seemed so hollow. I thought over Big Mac’s words from earlier, about how I was like an impostor to this reality’s Twilight Sparkle. It must have been extremely hard for Shining Armor too, I thought, to see a pony who looked and acted just like his little sister who had died so very long ago. Not knowing what else I could do for him I reached up to hold him.

“Thank you,” I told him.

He looked as if he didn’t know what to say to that. “Just go,” he said. “Don’t look back!” He leapt back into his fight, his enemy howling for blood. I looked down the shaft. It seemed to go down several floors, spiraling into a yawning, shadowy drop.

I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and while casting a Feather Fall spell on myself, took the plunge.

I entered the abyss, my brother’s battle raging above.

19. Is This What It's Like to Fall Forever?

It felt a little like falling forever, slowly. I had once read a book in which the main character followed a white rabbit into a hole that had the same kind of effect, this feeling of slowly entering an eternity-fall. For a second I humored myself by wondering if there would be growth serums and talking doorknobs as well. (That book was weird.)

Suddenly, I felt my horn give a jolt, almost as if it were struck by something invisible. I gasped as I felt gravity beginning to reclaim me, falling faster and faster. The Feather Fall spell had worn off sooner than I thought it was supposed to, and at a loss for anything productive I could do, I screamed.

The elevator below me, like a coffin at the bottom of its grave, rushed up to meet me and introduced itself with a crash. I lost consciousness upon impact, only recollecting pain in my legs and body as I came to.

That’s when everything began to grow brighter. Everything became a blank light, and everything became very, very cold. Suddenly, I felt somepony near me. Was it the Doctor?

“Hey,” it said, “Get up, Twilight! Don’t make me have to push you!”

I looked up slowly, my vision blurry, likely from the impact. I could see a blue-ish blob, with red on top. It fluttered its wings. “Come on, we’re gonna be late,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Yeah, sugarcube,” said Applejack from someplace nearby, “We got ourselves a trail to blaze!”

Rarity, from where Applejack’s voice came from: “Darling, really, we must be going now. Come on!”

Pinkie Pie was nearby, too. “Come on, Twilight! You don’t wanna miss my super-duper party I’m throwing, do you?”

I smiled. “Oh, thank goodness,” I breathed in relief. “Girls, you won’t believe it, but I had this really weird…”

And then all at once, they evaporated. I was in the elevator shaft, talking to no one at all.

“…Dream."

It was just a dream. This was the reality. I was at the bottom of an elevator in the middle of a warzone in an alternate dimension of my making, while my friends—all the ones who’d died in this dimension—were just a dream.

What a screwed-up, terrible joke.

What I’d give to be home again! To be among my friends, who would be alive and well! What I’d give to be with my brother and sister-in-law, with my parents, with you, Celestia, all alive and well and happy! This dream was like a carrot being dangled in front of my nose, then cruelly whipped away.

For a few minutes, I just sat there, on top of that elevator, my legs aching from the fall, confused. Suddenly, I felt it come up from deep in my soul, this feeling of icy sadness. I put my head down on the cold metal of the elevator ceiling and wept. And not the silent tears rolling off my cheeks as I did earlier: my deep and heaving sobs bounced off the walls of the dark elevator shaft as the tears fell from my eyes in droves.

“Twilight?” I heard a voice whisper from below. “Twilight, are you up there?”

I snapped my head upward, then looked down the maintenance door on top of the elevator. I found the Doctor looking up at me, looking ncerned. He looked as if he'd just walked away from a terrible fight, bruises all over him, a little blood coming from his lip. “Are you all right?” he asked.

I turned my head away and wiped away my tears. “I-I’m fine,” I lied.

“You don’t sound fine.”

After a second, I looked back down the shaft, half-expecting to find that the Doctor was just a dream too, but there he was, his golden eyes looking back up at me. “You’re blaming yourself again, aren’t you?” he asked.

I said nothing and tried to look away. I shivered, feeling cold and violated.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he asked. “Look, Twilight, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. If you keep blaming yourself and breaking down, we might not be able to complete our mission and save everypony.”

“Why does it matter?” I asked. “I’ve already ruined everything.”

I heard him groan from below, his patience finally at its end. “Oh, for God’s sake, Twilight! Get down from there and let’s get going! You haven’t ruined anything, not yet!”

“If I haven't ruined anything, what are we trying to fix?”

The Doctor made a sound similar to the ones I make when Spike gives me attitude (and he’s been doing it more often these days. I suspect adolescence). “Don’t make me come up there!”

I curled up into a ball. “Doctor, just go. You don’t need me. You’re the one who saves whole worlds and dimensions. It’s like your job.”

“And it’s yours too! You're a hero, Twilight! How many times have you saved Equestria?!” his whisper had become nearly a shout. “You saved not only Equestria, but at the same time rescued Celestia’s sister from Nightmare Moon. You saved the entire kingdom from Discord, and played a huge part in saving it from the Changelings! You’re a talented magician! You never give up!”

“I never gave up before because I knew my friends would always be there,” I admitted. “But now they’re not. Besides Fluttershy, they’re all dead, and Fluttershy’s not even the Fluttershy I know.”

For a second or two there was silence.

“...Twilight, how many friends do you think I’ve lost over the years?”

I perked up my ears when he asked this question. His voice was back down to almost a whisper, but it carried with it an immense sadness.

“I’m old, Twilight. I’ve lived longer than most other living things. And in those many years I’ve lived, I’ve lost so many friends. I’ll never see them again unless I travel through time to observe them and their happy futures. It’s a grim irony that their futures are only as happy because I’m not there to screw it up.”

I looked down the maintenance door to see that the Doctor wasn’t looking up, and was sitting down. His voice sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“I screwed up your life too, Twilight. I understand why you don’t want to continue anymore. You’re not like me, you’re not used to losing a friend. You’re not used to the idea that your friends are… are better off without you.”

I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

“And it doesn’t matter how often I make friends or fall in love, it doesn’t ever cause the hurting to stop. Maybe you’re right, Twilight, maybe we should just give up and let ourselves fade into nothingness. Maybe the whole world is better off without the two of us.” He rested his head on the floor, defeated.

The tear fell off my face and landed on his back. The Doctor looked up and his eyes met mine. Not knowing what else I could say, I merely said, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

I thought over my answer carefully. I crawled down the maintenance shaft and landed in front of the Doctor, my legs aching from the impact. I remembered my conversation with Spider-Colt from before, and his opinion on grief. How it turned wounded people to selfishness, how it caused suffering. “For being a weepy little coward. For thinking I was the only one who was suffering. I don’t know what’s come over me lately, all these feelings of grief and frustration and helplessness. Maybe it’s just the general situation, but you’re right.”

I put a hoof on his shoulder as he stood up. “We made a mess and we gotta clean it up. So no more tears. You with me?”

A strong smile spread over the Doctor’s face as he grabbed my hoof and shook it.

“Always!”

20. Belly of the Beast

I must admit, there are times when I feel very ashamed of myself.

True, I had broken down several times in one day over something that was only marginally, peripherally my fault. And I had snapped at the well-meaning Doctor more than I really needed. And I acted like a wimp when I needed to be strong.

But the fact that my healing spells were only the lowest-level ones available is simply, utterly embarrassing. It’s positively inexcusable! All the knowledge I possess—all the documented sciences of magic and the arcane—and I still have trouble with soothing aches and minor scuffs. Spike tells me it’s due to my haste in learning a spell: the moment I think I’ve mastered the basics of the spell, I move onto the next one I have queued in my learning itinerary.

He’s right. And I cursed my haste as I tried and failed to heal both the Doctor and I. After failing for the third time, the Doctor meekly suggested we put up with our wounds.

“They’re not that deep,” he said. “I mean, I’ll live. You’ll live. Thank Celestia you hadn’t fallen that far.” He winced suddenly, and looked away from me, awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean to remind you…”

I sighed. I hadn’t forgotten your passing in this dimension, and it was still hard for me to take. “It’s all right,” I said. “If anything, what we’re trying to accomplish will avenge her. At least, this version of her. All the more reason for us to succeed.”

After some silence between us, the Doctor smiled proudly.

“By the way, what happened between you and Bon-Bon?” I asked.

The Doctor told me about the Mare-Do-Well: after the elevator took off downstairs, she had tried to beat him up, only to be surprised when it turned out he knew how to fight too. After taking some good lumps to the face, she had escaped through the maintenance exit on the roof, explaining why it was open.

I laughed, suddenly.

“What’s so funny?” asked the Doctor.

“Before all this, you were knocked down so easily by Chris,” I chuckled. “Remember?”

The Doctor shared a smile. “Well, that was due to being caught off-guard by his bizarre appearance.” (I had forgotten the Doctor hadn’t already seen the “Tomgirl” version of the stranger at the time.) “Besides which, that previous version of me was more a thinker than a fighter anyway. I assume I’m such a scrapper thanks to this younger, spry body I have.” I found it odd that he was talking about himself as if he were separate people, but in retrospect it makes sense.

Kind of. I guess.

He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out various objects—a rubber ducky (“For baths”), a strange clam-shaped device with buttons and screens (“For when I’m bored”), and a shiny coin with a 10 imprinted on it (“Got this off a duck in a top hat”).

“What ARE you doing?”

“I’m looking for a few things. One of them's my sonic screwdriver—that blue wand thingy the history books claimed Chris had. He stole one when he likely found it in the TARDIS. I thought I had a spare or two in here, and I’ve been checking them every so often just to make sure I didn’t miss a spot.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why do you keep checking your pockets then? It’s not like they keep changing their contents or something.”

The Doctor looked at me and smiled. I merely sighed. Everything I learned about the Doctor, although fascinating, usually ended up becoming baffling or surreal. Sometimes it felt as if he were some whimsical cartoon character brought to life—I dreaded the thought of him and Pinkie Pie ever engaging in any sort of contest or debate.

"The other one's something the Mare-Do-Well dropped," he continued. "A diary of some kind... Ah! Here it is." He hoofed it to me. A simple, oil-black diary with yellowing pages .

It was the Mare-Do-Well’s diary, and I don’t feel like writing everything it said into this document—much of it is elaborately written and schizophrenically paced . Later entries were made almost years apart, but the earlier ones were written in an obsessive way, some entries with only an hour between them. It was a disturbing look into the cunning mind behind the shadowy disguise.

The most important bit of information I got from it was that the Mare-Do-Well was torn by Lyra’s absence and often pined to see her again. She seemed rather possessive of Lyra (similar to the Bon-Bon in our reality), to the point where, when Lyra took up this reality's version of Featherweight as a journalism student and assistant, she became bitter about it. She started wearing this costume apparently to stalk her ex-friend until she witnessed her murder, and eventually caught her killer, who claimed the Mayor had put him up to it. (I’d rather not describe what happened after that, thank you.)

I included the diary in the supplementary material, but let me warn you before you read it. Besides the personal information and insight into the Mare’s character and state of mind—and I adopt this vulgar phrase only because I cannot think of any kinder, more succinct way of saying it—there is some *scary shit** in there.* I know at your age and experience you might think you’ve seen it all, but if it was enough to give the Doctor shivers, I’m not sure how you would take it.

Perhaps what I found the most terrifying however, was the final page of the diary. It was a crude and childish drawing (In stark contrast to the flowery cursive writing) depicting Lyra and Bon-Bon on a hill under a tree. There was no reason to really be afraid of it, a simple drawing. But it was as if the picture itself was the last good memory the Mare-Do-Well possessed. So terrified was she of losing it, that she hastily scribbled it down in her last desperate attempt at remembering what it was like to be happy.

I slowly closed the diary and put it away. The Doctor and I shared shared worried looks. "Well," I said at last, "We should really get going."

“She's still out there, somewhere,” he said, cautiously looking out the elevator. He breathed hard, on edge. “If we can stay quiet, we can probably avoid her. But we should be prepared for anything.”

“Should I cast my Invisibility spell on us?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “She can see things that are invisible, remember?”

I sighed. “Detective Mode, right. So no other choices, huh?”

I cast a Light spell on my horn, casting light and blessed visibility all around me as we exited the elevator. It looked like we were in a warehouse: boxes piled high, moving equipment here and there. There was a wet and musty odor in the air, hanging thickly, accompanied by an uncomfortable chill. It was almost like breathing through a damp sock.

We ventured further into the complex maze of steel and pipes and wires and machinery. Like everything else in CWCville, it was sloppily designed and grotesquely misshapen, with walls and floors almost switching places sometimes; and after a while, it felt like we were in the congested internal organs of a monstrous metal animal. If it weren’t for Spider-Colt’s map, we would have been hopelessly lost—and even with it in our possession, navigation was tricky.

I began to wonder why there were no guards or Troll Busters around. I suppose it was possible that they had all been called upstairs to fight the insurgence being waged above, and because of the quintuple-threat of the PVCC, Magneighto, Shining Armor, Spider-Colt, and the unexpected addition of an Ursa Minor, there were none left to spare.

But the lonely emptiness of the place became thicker and thicker the further we ventured. Besides the quiet shuffling of our hooves, there was no other sound. Occasionally, I would stop (prompting the Doctor to do the same), and listen intently. My ears would only be greeted by this dark abyss around us, hissing a hopeless void of sound in my ear. It was not unlike my dream from much earlier in this adventure, the dream in which I would fall forever, into a yawning darkness. In retrospect, it feels prophetic now.

The thick and intense darkness around us made the experience worse. Even with my horn-lamp, there was very little visibility. Exploration and routing became even harder thanks to our inability to govern our direction. We went around in circles at least twice, much to our consternation; the Doctor withdrew a marker from his bottomless coat pockets and began to make landmarks to avoid this problem. “Something we should have done from the start,” he mumbled.

Then there was the additional disquieting element of being stalked by a mad-pony. I had witnessed her firsthoof, earlier, when she had quietly taken Dr. Chuckles’ hench-stallions into the darkness… it was like watching flies being unwittingly devoured by a spider. Would that happen also to us?

I thought about what had happened in the darkness where the Mare-Do-Well took the hench-stallions. What hideous act had been performed on them there, under that gruesome curtain of darkness? I didn’t recall ever seeing them again after she dragged them away. She didn’t even tie them to the support beam like she did with Chuckles, Snips, and Snails. Was that because she didn’t expect them to get up, after she…?

Cold sweat began to bead my face. I noticed the tension in the Doctor as well, his growing panic as the anticipation killed him. We weren’t going to make it out of this alive, were we? The Mare-Do-Well was out there, along with only you may know what else. She was watching us the whole time, I felt it. Her dead glass eyes were observing our every move, invisible to us, concealed by a shadowy shutter. It was enough to chill me to my soul.

Suddenly, out from the darkness before me came the Mare-Do-Well, and she had a sharp, curved weapon tied to her hoof. She brought it up and then down, into my face before I could react—blood, more blood than I thought I had, coming out of me as she dragged that knife across my skull, killing my brain, the Doctor crying my name as I…

As I snapped back to reality, the Doctor whispered my name. “Are you OK?” he asked.

“I-I’m fine,” I lied. We walked more, into this silent prison of crooked architecture and wicked shadows, embraced by the possibility of death all around us.

You taught me long ago of a spell a unicorn can use to “feel” the immediate area: the Mind Find spell. I remember you taught it to me because I complained, as many young foals do, of monsters they think are hidden in their closet. Even the combined might of my big brother and my parents couldn’t chase away this irrational fear I had. But then you, in your most-infinite patience, taught me the Mind Find spell. Once I figured out how to use it, I discovered there was no monster in the dark of that closet, that it was all my imagination.

And here I was ironically in the dark again, being pursued by a creature I couldn’t see but certainly knew was there. I closed my eyes and focused, “feeling” the surrounding area and all its bizarre dimensions. Suddenly, there she was—behind us, silent as death.

I breathed deep and swallowed, still continuing to walk. The Doctor apparently sensed my unease, but dared not speak—he pieced together the why and where. After a while of feeling the Mare follow us deeper into this maze, I finally found enough courage to talk.

At first, I thought over what I might say and how to phrase it. I figured out at this point that she disliked being referred to as Bon-Bon (probably some kind of identity dissociation), and that she was very torn about Lyra—so much so that she devoted the rest of her life to this twisted interpretation of crime-fighting. She was no doubt a violent lunatic—but I didn’t think she was in the same camp as Dr. Chuckles, at the point where she’d be unreachable.

Then I had an idea. I remembered reading some time ago on the subject of dissociative identity disorders and demonic possessions: if the dominant personality is trying to communicate with you, never humor it. Instead, demand to speak to the original personality. But hadn’t I already done so? And didn’t it drive her berserk?

No, thinking on it a little closer now, it didn’t. The first time she exploded on me was when I had mentioned my involvement in creating this world in which poor Lyra ended up murdered. The second time, she assaulted the Doctor because he addressed his “This Is the Reason You Suck” speech to the Mare-Do-Well persona instead of Bon-Bon directly.

I cleared my throat.

“Bon-Bon, listen,” I began. The Doctor’s eyes widened, but he kept his head facing forward as we continued to walk. “The Doctor and I are doing this because we are trying to make right what went wrong. What’s going on here is much bigger than just you or us.”

I felt her soundless hoofsteps leave the ground. I breathed a bit, then exhaled as I felt her land on the rafters above us. “No, you’re wrong,” I heard her hiss. “What’s happening here. You and he are from another dimension, you created this one. You helped to create a world where everypony is unhappy. You’re my enemies, just like the Mayor.”

I breathed again, feeling my panic begin to rise. As I became more and more afraid, I felt colder, almost freezing. But I had to say it, and stand my ground. “I have nothing to say to you, Mare-Do-Well. I want to talk to Bon-Bon.”

Silence. “There IS no Bon-Bon. She died when Lyra did.”

“No, she didn’t,” I said, almost angrily. “She’s underneath that mask, and she is hurt, and she is scared, and she is all alone. You’re the one that’s hurting her. You push everypony away from her so that you can hurt her some more. So I have nothing to say to you.”

Although I had accidentally spoken to the “dominant persona”, my sharp comment seemed to hush her up.

“Bon-Bon, I used to be a lot like you—growing up, I was bullied a lot. So after I became an adult, I was lonely, almost afraid of making friends because I just thought I’d be giving them new ways to hurt me. But it’s only when you open up to others, let them into your life, that you can begin to heal and become a better pony.”

Suddenly, I felt something well up within me that I hadn’t felt in a while: courage. My fear, the chill up my spine, diminished as I delivered a final philosophical blow to the Mare-Do-Well.

“Friendship isn’t weakness, Bon-Bon. Friendship is magic. It gives you the strength to have faith, and keep going even when everything seems hopeless. Surely, you’ve felt this before, when you still had Lyra? That powerful feeling you had in your heart? That’s what it feels like when you have friends who’d do anything for you—but for you to have friends like that, you have to be ready to do anything for them, too.

“So where do you go from here, Bon-Bon? Do you want to hide behind that mask and let that monster control you for the rest of your life? Or do you want your life to be yours again? Do you want to have friends again?”

Silence continued as the Doctor and I walked. My Mind Find spell had worn off, and like the Feather Fall spell, it wore out faster than I had expected it to. Everything around us was pitch-black save for the soft glow from my horn.

Suddenly, we heard sounds. Soft hoofsteps closing in from in front of us. We stopped and held our breaths.

She walked close enough to us for us to see her. When she was right in front of us, she stopped and looked at me straight in the eye. Several seconds passed as we stared each other down. Maybe before I had been terrified of her, but now I could see her, totally, for who she was.

One half a psychotic blood knight. The other half, a lost and lonely little girl. I could tell, even behind those glass eyes, that I was looking at the latter.

Without saying a word, Bon-Bon walked by the two of us, into the light I cast, between us, and then out again. We listened intently, both of us speechless as her hoofsteps echoed into the abyss of darkness around us.

22. Diabolus ex-Machina? Never Heard of It!

The Chan-Bots had frozen in place, their gaze all fixating on the Mayor, who looked puzzled by this sudden development. “I-I’m not an impostor!” he yelled. The Chan-Bots all looked back to our brown-striped savior, who pointed back to him.

“He’s lying! He’s been slandering mah good name fer years! Isn’t dat right, Ian Brandon Anderson!”

The Mayor began to stomp his… well, I guess I could call them feet. They served the same purpose. “I NAME IS NOT! IAN! BRANNEN! SOMETHING!!!” The Chan-Bots all backed away from their lord and master as he bellowed in our direction—shouting in his half-intelligible voice about how we should call him by his “REAL NAME” and went into a confusing tirade, going on about how he had gotten his name from someplace, something about a bear…

In the middle of his story, this Other Mayor spoke up. “You are, you are not the Christian Weston Chandler, you are not the real one.”

This flimsy accusation only seemed to agitate him even more. He stomped his feet. He screamed. He kicked over nearby kickable things. “YOU’RE NOT CHRISTIAN WESTON CHANDLER!”

“My name is Christian Weston Chandler, from Charlottesville, Virginia.”

“CHRIS!!! CHANDLER!!!”

“That’s mah name. And yer slandering it with yer dang, dirty mockeries.”

This surreal argument continued for a while. The Doctor and I smiled at how this Other Mayor knew how to get under his skin so easily, simply by wearing a flimsy disguise. I looked to the Chan-Bots to see looks of concern and confusion on their faces. This gave me an idea.

“Oh my goodness, Doctor,” I said as loud as I could. “So many Chriseseseses! How will we know which one is the REAL, and which one is the FAKE?”

The Doctor seemed to think this over. He took a comical amount of time to do so. “HMMMMMMMMMMM. How about a contest?”

The Mayor seemed to like this idea. “Dat’s right, a contest!”

“But what kind of contest?” I asked.

The Doctor grinned. “A SINGING contest!”

The Mayor laughed. “Y’all have sealed yer fates an yer dooms. I have a voice dat’s got a real Frank Sinatra or Bing Crosby sound to it.” I stifled a chuckle. This was going to be fun.

“OK, we’ll play a song,” said the Doctor as he produced a music player from his pocket. “Whoever sings it the best, is the REAL Chris.”

“All right, den. I’ll go first!” proclaimed the Mayor as he cleared his throat.

The Doctor pressed play.

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I had to fight the urge to dance to the beat. It was a song I’d never heard before, but at the same time, it was so infectious and catchy. I settled for bobbing my head instead.

Before the Mayor could sing the first line, however… one of the Chan-Bots beat him to it.

“We’re no strangers to loooooove,” it warbled.

“Hey!” the Mayor said, trying to interrupt. Suddenly, all the other Chan-Bots began singing along too. The plan had worked: the Chan-Bots became confused when the Other Mayor claimed to be the REAL Mayor, so they all came to the conclusion that neither were the REAL, they were both the FAKE. So from there, the Chan-Bots all came to the conclusion that since neither one was REAL, that they, the FAKEs, were really the REALs.

I think I just gave myself a headache from writing that.

Either way, the room was now flooded with squealy, off-key singing, every voice trying to shout over the others—to the point where the original song had become forgotten amidst the noise. In the middle of this confusion, the Other Mayor led us out of the room and into a hallway.

I nearly laughed. “Um, thank you, Mr…”

He removed his glasses and shirt, putting on a black (and admittedly sharp-looking) hat and a long scarf possessed of many colors. I then noticed he had an hourglass cutie mark. “Please,” he said in a very rich, deep voice awash with the familiar Trottingham accent, “call me Doctor.”

“Alterna-Doctor,” corrected the Doctor.

The Alterna-Doctor chuckled. “Oh, hello, me. How am I doing?”

“I’m doing very well, all things considered. Thank me for asking. Where am I taking us?”

We began to walk further down the hall.

“If I were me, I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

“I suppose so, me. So I take it I’m going down this hall.”

“As am I.”

The Doctor patted my back. “As are we!”

I finally groaned. “Guys!” I shouted. “Stop talking like that! It’s confusing and it’s creepy!”

The Alterna-Doctor rolled his eyes. “Oh, you are no fun at all.” We continued down the hallway as he explained that after shutting down the magic-defense shield, he managed to find what the PVCC had been looking for.

“It’s much worse than it seems,” he said, his jovial tone replaced by a grave one.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

We had gone to the end of the corridor. There was a large metal door, with another keyboard next to it. Apparently, the Alterna-Doctor already knew the code as he punched it in with expedience. “When Spider-Colt took the pictures, he was only looking at the surface of our troubles. The very fate of the space-time continuum is at stake.”

The large door opened with a hiss. We walked inside.

It was like walking into a womb of despair. It was similar to the inside of the TARDIS, in that I wondered how on earth such a place could exist. However, the space-ship feel was far less welcoming in here: it was alien, certainly, but it contained the kind of hostility one feels from entering a forbidden chamber. The moment I stepped in, I felt like there were snakes inside me, all crawling around. The place gave me the creeps.

There were wires, big and thick like tentacles, racing all around the room. In the middle of the ceiling was a large black machine. It looked like a cross between a giant head, a coffin, and a throne; the crevices all emitted a sickening green light that splashed around the room, and it pulsated occasionally as if it were a living thing. The pulses came in heaving shudders, and created a sound that we could feel. And there, connected to this Coffin Head Throne by those tentacle-wires, dangling underneath like a hanged corpse, was Cadance.

She had the appearance of a dead mare: her hair had all but fallen from her head. Several of her teeth were missing. Her eyes had become yellow orbs in deep caves, her pink coat had dulled, and her figure had nearly rotted away completely. It brought me to tears that my old foal-sitter, my sister-in-law, had become reduced to this kind of suffering.

At the same time, I felt like something was trying to leave me. My emotions suddenly became hard to control, and it took all I had to prevent crying uncontrollably.

The Alterna-Doctor removed his hat and placed it over his heart. “Princess,” he said. “I managed to bring them here.”

Her eyes didn’t seem to focus. Cadance struggled to look down to us. When our eyes met, I felt something inside me break. She smiled.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said. Her voice chilled me to the bone: it was the voice of a dying mare.

“Cadance,” I whispered.

And thus she began her story:

“For millennia have I been left here to rot. I had fallen ill to a fatal disease, and my husband, your brother, tried his best to find a cure. When the Mayor promised to find one for me, he instead found this machine, the terrible Diabolus ex-Machina, and used it to control my great power.”

I thought this over. “Your great power? You mean, your Radar Love spell?”

“The very same. He took me back in time to when he first came across the Machina, and gave me to his younger self, giving him directions on what to do. So for the past millennia have I rotted here, in this cage, trapped by the Diabolus ex-Machina to live in a state of eternal death.

“What the Mayor did not anticipate however, is two things. The first is that my Radar Love drains my own thoughts and feelings of love. My love for Shining Armor has been able to feed my Radar Love for a very long time, and once every week, I am forced to cast this spell on all of CWCville…”

My eyes snapped open wider. “You mean, on Christian Love Day?” That explained why I had felt that strange, hypnotized sensation while in attendance of the holiday gathering. This—that he was selfishly using a dying mare’s love for her husband to power a machine that hypnotized his subjects into loving him—was a secret even bigger than his true form.

“Yes. Although I have loved your brother for many generations, I am afraid that so many uses of my Radar Love have caused me to… lose… my feelings for him. And as such, my love-fueled magic will no longer work.”

I covered my mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Listen!” said Cadance, raising a hoof. “For what I have to say next is of vital importance.

“The other thing that the Mayor did not expect is that now that I am cursed into this form, this state of eternal death, I am now able to see all that there ever was, and all that there ever will be. When somepony dies, the universe speaks to them but for a fleeting second. But I am eternally dying, so eternally does the universe converse with me. Because of this, I now understand what is truly going on.

“Many years ago, before time and space were ever born, there was a creature of hideous proportion called the Smooze. When space and time were created and became one, the Smooze became jealous of their combined beauty and created a race of creatures that spread chaos and disharmony across all space and time. These creatures became known as Draconequus.

“Now that pain and hatred existed, the Smooze then created servants that could destroy space and time. Creatures that could destroy all life, devouring them with their wintry mouths. These creatures are known as…”

“…Windigos,” I finished.

“Indeed. But there was one Windigo that the Smooze created, and considered very special. His name is lost to the sands of time, and was crafted in a language that is unpronounceable with our tongues. He was feared by all speaking races that encountered him as Windigus Prime.

“However, upon the first Heart’s-Warming Eve, the Windigus Prime was smote by the love of ponies, and he and his forces were forever cast into the depths of our earth. Until, one day…”

I gasped. “Until,” I began in a stammer, “until one day, the magic in our earth became too weak to hold him!”

“That’s correct. I believe your friend the Doctor has told you of his Blue Magic Pocket theory. This is what happened. The magic built up beneath the earth, and erupted. However, this was not the only thing the Windigus Prime was planning.

“He was half the reason the magic was building up to begin with! He would play with it, toy with it, use it to see into other worlds. In our world, he saw you, in your magnificence and your hubris. In another world, he found a young human named Christian Weston Chandler. When he saw Christian’s selfishness, he concocted his evil plan.

“When it came time for the Blue Magic Pocket to erupt, the Windigus Prime ripped forth and brought with him Christian Weston Chandler, who even now is unaware of he who has brought him here, and led him throughout Equestria's history. As Christian began to cause chaos and hatred within Ponyville, Windigus Prime slowly became stronger and stronger, until, finally…”

I remembered how I tried to kill Chris earlier, before I saw the Windigo. Was that Windigus Prime? “Until finally, he became strong enough to control others?” I asked.

“Until, finally, he came to possess you,” said Cadance. “Surely, you felt your anger growing. All the resentment you felt towards others—towards the Doctor, towards Bon-Bon, towards Christian. It was easy for him to possess you, Twilight Sparkle, for your greatest fault is your haughtiness.”

I huffed.

“In all your wonderful intelligence, you place too much onto your ego. Nearly every action you took before coming here to CWCville was selfish and unmindful of others. You are also a very powerful unicorn, and combined with such a weakness, you became the perfect target for the power-hungry Windigus Prime.”

“Well, then, he’s chosen poorly,” I said, still stinging from Cadance’s assessment of my character. “My magic is currently on the fritz.”

“Windigus Prime took refuge inside you, Twilight. Your anger and selfishness grew and grew until finally, he entered you, possessed you. He feeds off your negative emotions: your anger, self-hatred, fear, loneliness, and sadness. Your use of magic has also fed him, which is why you have slowly begun to lose control of your own powers. You are giving him shape and form, without even realizing it.”

All those times I’d felt cold, I realized, were all at times in which I was emotionally distressed. I rubbed my chin in thought as everything up to now began to come together and make sense.

“If we do not act soon, Windigus Prime will be reborn into this world. And unfortunately, if he succeeds, he will call forth the Smooze.”

“Wait,” I interrupted, “Even ignoring the creepy implication that I’m pregnant with a herald of doom, I thought this Smooze thing existed outside of space and time.”

“Normally, yes. That is where Christian Weston Chandler once again comes in. The Windigus Prime foresaw that the Doctor would become involved in all this, and merely waited for the inevitable to happen. Christian found the TARDIS, and used it to travel through time in order to control our world.

“In doing so, Chris has unwittingly created a world so devoured by hatred and unhappiness that the Smooze could enter it and destroy it. If the Smooze becomes able to walk in our space and time, and breathe our air, and partake in our realm of existence, all is surely lost. The Smooze is a creature of terrible power, and if he becomes flesh as we are, nothing will be able to prevent him from devouring our dimension… and all other dimensions.”

We sat down. This information was more than we were prepared for, but it made sense. We had come this far, too far to back down. Something needed to be done.

“What do we need to do?” I asked.

“First things first, Twilight. We need to destroy the Windigus Prime. After that, go to the Canterlot library. There, you can find a spell that can separate Chris from the TARDIS, and you can use the TARDIS to go back in time and prevent this awful future from ever happening.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Wait,” he said, “If that spell exists, why hasn’t Chris gone and separated himself from the TARDIS?”

Cadance looked as if she were about to chuckle. “Because, he’s Chris,” she said.

“Fair enough.”

The Coffin Head Throne pulsated a bit more as Cadance was lowered down to us. She looked to the Doctor. “Do you still have the horn-bomb?”

He withdrew it from his pocket.

“Place it upon my horn, please.”

We all withdrew in horror. “N-No!” I cried. “We—We can’t do that!”

“You must!” she said. “The Windigus Prime has grown to the point where only the most hateful creatures can draw it into themselves!”

“But you’re not hateful!” I protested.

Suddenly, I felt Cadance’s hoof find its way to my face and sent me down to the floor with a smack. “Idiot!” she cried. “Don’t you remember? This machine has drained me of every drop of love for almost a thousand years! Hatred is not the opposite of love, it is what takes its place when it disappears! My love for your brother is all but gone! And I…”

Cadance made a face that implied she’d have cried if her eyes would have allowed it. “And I would rather die than live without him. I would rather die than for him to find me… and see me for the monster I am now. So… please. Put that bomb on my horn.”

After some hesitance, the Doctor placed the bomb on Cadance’s horn. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The Alterna-Doctor lowered his head and shed a tear. I feared for him… how was he going to break this news to his dear friend, Shining Armor? To my brother? To Cadance’s husband? This development would…

…It would destroy him. It had to be done, but Shining Armor would be destroyed in the process.

The Coffin Head Throne raised her again, a safe distance away from us and close enough to the “Diabolus ex-Machina” to destroy it. “I am going to attempt to draw the Windigus Prime from you. He has been struggling within you throughout this conversation. Afterwards, I will cast a simple spell.”

“Can I suggest one?” I asked, after thinking it over.

“… Very well.”

I breathed. “Since you can see at any point in time, can you cast a spell to any point in time, too?” It shouldn’t be that hard, I thought; all one needs to do to manipulate something is to envision it. If she had seen everything as if she had been there herself, then…

“… Yes, but it may be hard. Why?”

“Almost four years ago, Shining Armor threw himself off a cliff. To die. He—He wanted to die. Do you know any spells that could bring him back to life?”

She thought this over. “I do know of the Feather Fall spell. I can slow his descent at the last moment. He’ll be hurt, but he’ll live.”

I smiled. Everything really DID happen for a reason.

Then she closed her eyes and asked me to concentrate. Concentrate on those I love, and draw from that. I assume she had no love left to give to anypony, so if I felt love for more ponies than her, it would catch the Windigus Prime’s attention and draw him to her. So I closed my eyes, and I thought…

…My parents… Shining Armor… Cadance… Spike… You… My friends… All the ponies I’d met in this dimension… the Doctor…

I focused for a very long time on how much I loved my friends and family. I drew strength from knowing how important I was to them, and how important they were to me. I felt stronger and stronger, as if a great, cold weight was being lifted from me. I heard the Doctors both gasp and opened my eyes.

There it was, the Windigo I saw from before, the Windigus Prime. It was being drawn into Cadance’s body. “Come on, loser,” she growled. “You like picking on kids? Loser! Come on, pick on somepony your OWN age!”

Then the Windigus Prime entered her, emitting a laugh that was shrill and horrendous. It was like all that was wrong with the world—every one of its ills—had gathered together, screamed for an infinite second, then suddenly became silent. I fought the urge to make a mess on the floor.

Cadance’s face looked pained. This was it. The Doctor and Alterna-Doctor both held me and apologized for what I was going to see. Before she cast her spell, I thought I heard Cadance whisper a word.

“…Arise…”

We sat there for a few seconds. I opened my eyes and looked up. Cadance held an expression of befuddlement.

The horn hadn’t exploded.

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Suddenly, she began to laugh. At first, it was a haughty-sounding laugh. Then it became shrill and horrendous. Cadance looked to the Doctor with eyes that didn’t belong to her.

“You insipid fool!” said the Windigus Prime. “You forgot to activate the bomb!”

23. My Brother's Battle (Second Movement)

When tragedy or horror strike, I often find that most sinister of tricks at work: the effect of time slowing down. The Windigus Prime seemed to laugh forever as the Diabolus ex-Machina shuddered along with it.

Windigus removed the horn-bomb and tossed it aside. "Nice of you to crown me king upon my unofficial rebirth", it said. Its voice was near-indescribable to me: it was like the sound of the ocean on fire, the mountains sinking into the earth, a nightmare becoming reality. It was a whisper that was too loud, a circus that was too quiet.

"It's a real shame I'm stuck in this corpse of a body," Windigus chuckled. Its eyes fell on me. I backed away. "Oh, yes... you. I know you. I could have been very powerful if you'd only kept me. I selected you for a reason, Twilight Sparkle." Hearing this thing mention my name is... well, the feeling is similar to hearing yourself sentenced to death.

The tentacle ropes connecting Windigus to the Diabolus ex-Machina lowered it toward us. With a jerk of its withered limbs, the Windigus Prime tore out the tentacles. They withdrew back into the Diabolus ex-Machina as it sputtered and died. The Windigus stood erect, despite Cadance's body not looking at all like she should be moving for a while. Its eyes, Cadance's but with a hellish emptiness, scanned me as I shrunk down.

The Doctors got between it and me. "Such gentlecolts," it cooed. "Always protecting the girl."

The Alterna-Doctor whispered something to the Doctor that I couldn't hear. I theorize the Doctor tended to outsmart his enemies (well, before becoming a "spry, young" Doctor with all the testosterone, confrontation, and bravado all young stallions possess), and was formulating a plan. Whatever that plan was, I was not privvy to. I was too busy being scared out of my mind by the Windigus Prime.

"Brilliant move," it chuckled, "Discuss the plan right in front of the enemy." It raised a hoof and waved it lazily in the air, causing the area around it—not the air around it, but the very area around it—to warp and bend. Suddenly, the Doctors were both swept into the air and floated there, tumbling as if falling eternally.

"Don't worry about them, honey," it said. "They're just gonna keep falling. Forever."

I'm not sure why, but I tried to run. Instead of try to save the Doctors, I tried to run like a spineless coward. Maybe it was the fact that I was without use of my powers and was face-to-face with a hideous and powerful creature created outside the space-time continuum. But whatever the reason, my flight was stopped short as the creature suddenly appeared in front of me.

It had Cadance's body, or what was left of it. It was like watching a corpse being moved like a puppet: something insidiously alien pretending to be equine, inconsiderate of whether or not it was doing so convincingly. It drew nearer to me, causing me to back away. "Wh-What do you want?!" I nearly shouted.

"I thought you already knew, darling," it said slowly. "I am here to call forth the Smooze. He shall descend upon this dimension, and swallow it whole. Then he shall become powerful enough to eat another dimension. Then another. And another."

It took another slow, menacing step.

"And another. And ANOTHER."

I finally tried to stand my ground. "Well... well, I won't let you!" My horn began to glow—only for it to sputter and spark, the glow dying almost as soon as it was cast. My ears began to ring, and my legs grew heavy, and my head became dizzy, and my eyes became tired, and I tumbled forward, the Windigus Prime catching me in its forelegs, cradling me like a mother and child. Its limbs were cold and smelled like something that had been burnt to death.

"I don't think your powers have come back yet," it said, quietly. "I don't think they'll return for a while." It brought its false-Cadance face so close to mine, our lips were practically touching. It breathed an ice-cold wind into my mouth as it spoke. "Until they do, why don't we just talk?

"You know, the moment I saw you, the moment I saw your mother give birth to you, I knew you were the one. It could have been one of the million other Twilight Sparkles, but you were the most unique. I watched you grow up. I watched you when you slept. I watched you when you clung to your brother for comfort. I watched you as Celestia taught you nearly every spell you know. I watched you as you finally made friendships that would last you your lifetime. I have watched you your whole life, Twilight Sparkle. And all that time, I knew you were the one for me.

"I... I wanted to HAVE you, Twilight." It kissed my forehead, and exhaled into my bangs. My limbs were frozen and my body became numb. Tears of terror began to form in my eyes.

I once read about creatures called vampires. They feed off of other living, sentient creatures, by repeatedly preying upon them once every night. They become rather intimate with their prey, often interplaying sexual advances with threats of physical violence. At that moment, the Windigus Prime was a vampire: sensual, despite its rotten appearance; wanting, despite its thirst for violence and destruction; affectionate, despite its intent to harm me.

I was helpless in its grip. The Doctors, still spinning in the air, moved their mouths, as if attempting to call out to me, but their voices came out as breying farm animals. They were as totally powerless as I was against the Windigus Prime.

"Your body," said the Windigus Prime as it took a deep sniff of my mane, "YOUR body was to be mine, Twilight. So..." I felt its hooves slowly, carefully caress my back. "... So very beautiful and powerful and ferocious. We could have become unstoppable; the perfect herald for the Smooze, you and I."

Suddenly, I felt it draw back its face. Suddenly, I found myself thrown down to the floor, my head smacking against the cold concrete. Suddenly, I felt a hoof that was maliciously cold, yet smelled like burning bodies, smash into my face. The Windigus Prime held me there on the floor as its voice became angrier and angrier, the ocean and mountain and nightmare and whisper and circus all approaching a furious climax.

"You denied me your body, you sniveling worm! You would deny me, he who has watched you and wanted for you for all your lifetime, your body, to use in my holy mission!" It raised its hoof, and stomped me again. I began to whimper, totally helpless. "No one dares deny the Windigus Prime what is rightfully *his!***

"All those thousand-more years ago, when the ponies first denied me to create a world my god could devour... All those thousand-more years ago, stuck in the earth, watching the world above like a jealous corpse! I shall be denied no more!"

Then the impossible happened. Well, maybe not totally impossible, but something happened that I didn't expect.

He crashed in through the large door from before, as if forgetting what the password was and just settled for knocking it down. His tentacle legs and bloated face were, while still disgusting and scary, a more-welcoming sight. "Y'all ain't supposed ta be back here!" cried the Mayor.

The Windigus Prime looked up at the Mayor as he crashed through the door and smirked. They shared a glance for a while. "What're you doin' outside the Die-blus Itch Machine?" asked the Mayor.

Windigus laughed. It was enough to cause the Mayor to back away. "O-OK, Candice," said the Mayor, momentarily forgetting the name of the mare he'd been tormenting for centuries, "Ah dun' think Ah like it when ya laugh like dat. Gives me da goosebumps. An da willies. An da heebies, an da jeebies."

The Windigus Prime stood between the Mayor and I. "I suppose I must thank you, my metaphorical father, for your participation in my holy mission."

At this, the Mayor seemed almost... overjoyed. I began to feel my legs again, but remained where I was, thinking over a plan as the Mayor talked to Windigus. So far, the Doctors were currently incapacitated, my magic was not working, the Mayor was going to get himself killed by a hideously ancient demon from beyond the cosmos, my allies were unaware of the current situation and were possibly dead anyway, and the Windigus Prime had the upper hoof. So far, so good.

"F-Father?!" stammered the Mayor. His eyes seemed to dart about. He apparently didn't remember fathering anypony. "But I still haven't found mah sweetheart!" I nearly chuckled. Thousand-plus of years of life, and he was still a LONELY VIRGIN.

"Such a quest is inconsequential," Windigus replied. "While my Twilight Sparkle is responsible for giving me flesh and form, it is you who have given me purpose and—"

"Kin I call ya Crystal?"

"...What."

"Kin I call ya Crystal?" the Mayor repeated. I remembered that he had once spoke about how he dreamed of being a father and

You know what? No, just no. I think I've elaborated on that particular aspect of his personality enough that you already know, or have at least connected all the dots. He saw the Windigus Prime... as his daughter.

"Fool! Do you not tremble in fear of the herald of your world's annihilation?"

At this, the Mayor seemed surprised. "A-Annihilation?!" he squawked. "Ah can't letcha do dat. Defiling CWCville is disrespeckful to all C-Villes! E-Even if you ARE Crystal, I'm gonna have ta put forth da discipline."

I sighed and looked away. His logic was once again unreasonable enough to make me dizzy. Suddenly, I saw a familiar blue wand on the ground.

The screwdriver. The Doctor's screwdriver. I remembered from earlier, the story of how the Mayor had defeated Discord with it. It must have fallen out of the Doctor's pocket while he was spinning or something. All I had to do now was retrieve it. Meanwhile, I could only hope that the Mayor, guileless oaf that he was, would provide a good enough distraction.

"So Ah'm gonna hafta smack yer effin' face down!" With that, the Mayor roared as he reared up on his spidery legs, ready to charge forward with all his might. The Windigus Prime merely laughed at him. Just like that, the Mayor's legs froze and he withdrew his purple, bloated face into the TARDIS like a cowardly turtle hiding from a loud noise. "I-I mean yer face down, monster..." he whimpered from behind the TARDIS doors.

With a wave of its hoof, it threw the Doctors at the Mayor, knocking him over with a loud crash. I saw the Doctors rise again, then come down again, harder this time, on the TARDIS. The Windigus Prime's back was still turned to me, so I silently began to stand up. I couldn't use my telekinesis (Yes, my magic was THAT far gone at the time), so I slowly made my way to the screwdriver. Just as I put my teeth around its handle, the sounds of violence stopped.

Suddenly, I was picked up by an unseen force, and felt a painful cold envelop my entire body. The screwdriver was wrenched from my teeth. "Such cheeky subversiveness!" the Windigus Prime chuckled. "How naughty! I suppose I should punish you."

Then I fell up. Then I fell to the left, to the right, behind me, over me, under me, inside me, outside me, until finally I had landed on a hard surface. The whole world, for a few seconds, was just one big smear of grease and the sounds of wheels and clockwork, then white, then concrete.

I looked up. What had happened? I was in a different environment, now, but everything had become a dark blue. I looked around. I was in the parking garage from earlier. Over there were Shining Armor and Big Macintosh, locked in their fierce battle. Both looked like they'd taken a tremendous beating, and I was kind of surprised either of them were even still standing. Then I noticed something else.

They were both still standing. By that, I mean they were just standing there, like a pair of statues. Not only had I been teleported here, but time had been stopped. I walked nearer to the pair of tired fighters, curious.

Suddenly, I was picked up, a force unseen holding me in place. My eyes darted about as I gasped soundlessly, even though I already knew who was behind this. From underneath me came its insidious laugh.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" it asked. "This host remembers how tender and gentle her husband was, but looking at him now, ferocious, angry..." A long, low chuckle drew itself out, cold and heartless and sounding like bones clattering across the ground. "I would chance to say he is more beautiful even than you, Twilight Sparkle! His soul screams songs of heartache. His loneliness and self-loathing constantly tango within him, their dance neverending."

I saw it slither out from underneath me and draw itself near the two. It put itself between them, and, leaning backwards into Shining Armor as if he were a chair, cupped its hooves around Big Macintosh's face. "And this beautiful beast... So much anger burns within him. Even the love of his youngest surviving sister is not enough to quell the storm in his heart. He is a broken beauty, his pieces glittering in the lonely moonlight. He is a masterpiece, isn't he, Twilight?"

Its hollow eyes looked over to me as it began to caress the side of Big Macintosh's face. "Of course he is. You have lusted for him for some time, now, haven't you?" It planted a kiss on Big Macintosh's bloated lip, then walked over to where I was held.

Its eyes, Cadance's eyes, not Cadance's eyes... whatever they were now, it was a damnable mockery of the gentle warmth Cadance had. It scanned me once more. "You have lusted for him as I lusted for you. For denying me our great destiny together, I feel I should reward you as a traitor deserves. You and Big Macintosh will be together, just like you always dreamed."

I floated down toward the Windigus Prime and it set me softly on the ground, its behavior again donning that false and vampiric benevolence as its hooves found and held my right back leg. "Tell me," it smiled, "What hurts more? A..."

With a sudden movement, I felt my leg come apart, snapping effortlessly in the Windigus Prime's hooves. I let out a scream, or at least tried to. Whatever sound I would have made was absorbed by this eternal second I was currently stuck in. I felt my other hind leg join my right, snapping hideously with applied pressure.

"...Or B?" it grinned. It dropped me on the ground, then leaned close in to my face.

"I must be off now. Your lovely, lonely little Doctor awaits my touch, as does the rest of Chris' world."

With that said, suddenly, like a light turning on, the dark blue vanished, as did the Windigus Prime. The grim lights in the ceiling above once again cast their glow as the battle continued between Big Macintosh and Shining Armor. With a throaty roar, Big Macintosh swept Shining Armor into a steel beam.

He put his hoof on Shining Armor's chest and beat his face. I cringed at this sight, hiding my face with my forehooves. I thought about crawling away, but to where? My hind legs were both broken, and...

...And it was only a matter of time before he'd see me. I looked for something to hide behind, and cursed my misfortune at finding none. Suddenly, Big Macintosh began to speak. His voice sounded like a dying stallion.

"You think you're doing something great, don't you!" he said. He hit Shining Armor again. "But it's USELESS! You KNOW it's useless!" He hit him again and again. "You can't stand up to the Mayor! Nopony can! You're just asking to DIE!"

He threw Shining Armor down. He was covered in bruises, and his face had been punched to the point where it might take some serious doing to repair anything done to it. I wanted to reach out to him, save him somehow. My breathing became heavy as I looked up to see Big Macintosh glaring at me, surprised.

He had this look to him. Malice, of course. I knew if he reached me, it would be the end. But there was something else in those animal eyes, something desperate and hideous. At that moment, I couldn't really understand it. He took a few heavy, awkward hoofsteps (One of his hind legs seemed broken) toward me. I closed my eyes, and silently whispered a prayer.

"Quit praying," he hissed. "She's dead. She can't—hear—you!"

He raised his hoof over my head. I covered myself, expecting the worst. Suddenly, I heard this sound, like a low, fast hum. Then a sound like something heavy being thrown against a wall. I looked up in surprise. A forcefield had appeared around me!

Big Macintosh looked to Shining Armor. Despite his horrible state, Shining Armor had cast a forcefield to protect me. Slowly, my brother stood up. He stumbled a bit, but he got there. "Leave her alone," he croaked.

Big Macintosh turned away from him and looked at me from behind the forcefield wall. He sneered. Rearing up on both his hind legs, he brought down his front hooves on the forcefield. Shining Armor winced and let out a small yelp as Big Macintosh pressed this attack.

"You know you can't keep this up, Shining Armor!" he warned. The beatings intensified, until finally, the forcefield shattered like glass. Shining Armor once again found himself on the ground, whimpering and holding his head in pain. Big Macintosh looked down at me. The hostility just radiated off him.

Suddenly, before Big Macintosh could take another step, another forcefield appeared, this time around him. He let out a cry of surprise, then took in his situation. He looked over to his enemy. Without saying a word, he belted the forcefield around him, going at it like a wild animal left in a cage. Shining Armor winced at every blow.

"I said I was going to protect her, and I'll do it even if it kills me!" he said.

"You die, and she'll die!" Big Macintosh roared. "You know this! You know the only real way to end this! You know the only way you can protect her from me!" His voice shook. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry. "You know what you gotta do, so DO IT!"

I looked into Big Macintosh's eyes as he stared into mine. I finally understood this "look" of his. My eyes widened in shock as it hit me. My heart nearly shot out of my chest. Big Macintosh...

Big Macintosh wanted to die.

"I... I can't do it," Shining Armor said. "I don't want to do it." Even on his back, his face hard to make out in this light, I could tell he was holding back his tears. "Don't... Don't make me do it, Mac."

"If you don't," hissed Big Mac, "I will break this shield. When I do, I will kill her. I'll kill her right in front of you." He proceeded to describe the things he'd do to me in such disturbing detail that I will not repeat them here. "I have never said I'd do something, then not do it."

His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You know you have to do this."

A tense silence took the room. Tears once again began to form in my eyes. Big Macintosh realized he had become a monster, and he wanted Shining Armor, the hero, his best friend, to stop him from hurting anypony else. Why hadn't he just joined Shining Armor's group? What had stopped him?

Apple Bloom. If Big Macintosh had joined the resistance, who knew what kind of horror the Mayor would have done to Apple Bloom. But if Big Macintosh died, then... What would become of her?

"What about Apple Bloom?" I asked him. "She needs you! What is she going to do if you die?!"

"What is she going to do if I live?" he asked. For the first time since I got here, he addressed me as if I were another living thing, instead of prey. "When she knows I'm a monster now, what would she do? She'd hate me." His voice broke. "When she understands that even after Applejack's death I still work for a Mayor that oppresses his own people, and all the terrible things I've done..." He shook his head. "I can't live like this. I can't live, knowing that Apple Bloom hates me for the things I've done."

More silence. He looked over to Shining Armor, who had fought his way back up to standing. There were tears in both their eyes. "Take care of Apple Bloom for me," Big Macintosh told him.

"I will."

"When you tell her about me, don't be shy about telling her what I really was. Tell her the truth."

"I will." Shining Armor's voice had broken, and his tears had run across the blood on his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, likely dreading the terrible thing he had to do. I bit my lower lip, and looked away. What would happen next would be something I did not want to see.

Before he crushed Big Macintosh with his forcefield, Shining Armor told him something he probably should have reminded him from the beginning. He said, in a heartbroken whisper, "I love you." With that, the forcefield was shrunk to the size of a bowling ball, completely destroying Big Macintosh. Then it disappeared with a quiet "pop", and Big Macintosh...

...Big Macintosh was gone.

It felt like an hour had passed after that moment. Even though he wasn't the Big Macintosh I knew, I felt like the world had just lost something important. Like I had just lost something important. Like... Like Shining Armor had just lost something important.

He shook, then knelt, then wept. Everypony he loved had finally been taken from him. His parents, his sister, his wife, his best friend... he was all alone now. I crawled over to him, my hind legs protesting my progress. I held his front hooves, and we locked eyes.

Not knowing what else to say, I said, "I'm so sorry."

Shining Armor had that look in his eyes again, that look he had when we first met in this dimension. Like he wanted to hurt me for not being there for him. His self-loathing and contempt for every other living thing. But suddenly, it broke. He bowed his head and his body shook.

Then, in a flash of light, as if the universe itself were issuing a vicious insult, his cutie mark (that shining shield he was so proud of in my timeline) appeared on his flank. He looked at it. The irony of it all. Protecting a mare he didn't really know beyond how much she resembles his dead sister. Killing his best friend to protect her. Nothing made sense to him anymore.

So he laughed. He laughed so he wouldn't cry.

I joined him.

24. And Now, For Somepony Completely Different

I'm sorry for not continuing this account more, or as quickly as I probably should. Much of these memories are awful, and are emotionally taxing to put into words. I'm sure you understand, Celestia, but just being there, witnessing so much death and heartache, being tormented by killer clowns and interdimensional vampires... it just feels so unreal. If it hadn't been for the supplementary materials I brought with me from that brutal planet, that ugly world, I would seriously doubt I had been there. I would have thought I was dreaming.

To be honest, I really wish I was.

But this story has a conclusion, and I need to get to it. My editors, Lyra and Spike, have both been nagging at me to stop detailing everything in such a frustrating scope as I have been; and both are eager to see this report on interdimensional travel and alternate dimensions and otherworldly creatures finished.

However, I think I've reached a point in this account in which much became a blur. As I've outlined, my legs were broken, and the alternate version of my brother and I were sharing a nihilistic laughing fit. I had just been molested by something that honestly should not possibly exist, and he had just killed his best friend. You'll have to forgive me for not remembering exactly what happened a few hours afterward.

I kind of... snapped, I guess. Not a tearful breakdown, as it was before, but a truly awful, crushing, piercing defeat. The pressure of the situation had finally closed itself around me, like a casket being shut. For the moment, my brother and I were dead and buried. Forgotten.

Which brings me to the next important detail of this account: the Doctor.

I am going to have him write this chapter, since his details are just as important to the overall quality of this document. Really, this report isn't complete without this input. So, without any further introduction, here is the Doctor's part of this account:

Dear me, it seems Twilight has given me the unexpected privilege of writing to a world leader!

First, let me start off by saying how much of an honor it is to write something a goddess will personally read. Even though the events herein are macabre, horrible, and disturbing, it still brings me nothing less than joy, joy, JOY that I am writing to an honest-to-God goddess. (That sounded weird.) It is very rare that I get to communicate with anyone as old (or possibly even older) than me. We should totally get together for some tea, or maybe some jelly babies. Or birthday cake, how does birthday cake fetch you?

Where was I? Oh, right.

I was with myself (Or would it be "BY" myself? I mean, he counted as an alternate me, or maybe even a future or past me. It's so hard to tell. Real wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff), and we were just dragging ourselves off of the Chris-TARDIS that Windy threw us at.

So anyway, we got up off him, and he started to complain. He mewled. He hee'd and haw'd. He bitched, as the kids say. Called us all trolls. You know the drill. Then he finally says that the Windigus Prime is... some kind of "screaming star" troll, or something. I really wish I knew where he was coming from, as it sounded like a magical little place.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Alterna-Me.

He thought it over a bit. "I'm gonna--" then he made a motion like he was strangling something invisible--"NNNNGGGGGGGGG!!!!!" Alterna-Me and I backed away from him. "STRANGLE dat Crystal!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, that worked out SO well for you the first time." Then I raised an eyebrow. "Wait, Crystal? Why did you call it Crystal?"

"Cuz she called me her fadder. So, she's mah daughter. An I named her Crystal. Unless she's a he. She DID have a guy voice. If she's a he, then he's Reginald."

A slow, unsure silence wafted between us before I clicked my tongue nonchalantly. "I'm sure the whole 'father' angle was purely metaphorical..."

"But maybe he's just a Tomgirl, which is totally esseptable" (I'm assuming he meant "acceptable".) "I really think he'd look good wearing a mini."

Alterna-Me and I shared a disturbed glance.

"But Ah'm still gonna hafta punish him fer disrespectin' CWCville. An fer throwin' you guys at me."

Never before had I felt this mentally exhausted. This discussion was over. However, it had become rather apparent that the Windigus Prime, now that it had been given a physical form (No thanks to my unforgivable stupidity), was going to call forth the Smooze and annihilate all existence. It was time, I feared, to form a truce.

I put out my hoof to the Mayor. Alterna-Me looked at me in shock and disgust. "What do I think I'm doing?!"

"Chris," I told him, "after all this is over, you are likely going to have to face the consequences of everything you've done. You'll probably face every pony you've ever wronged, which would be all of them; and they'll all try to kill you, and they'll probably hang your head over a fireplace or something. In fact, I'm fighting the urge to just beat you to death myself. I'm sure I have a wrench or something in my pockets--"

"Get to the point, me," Alterna-Me growled.

"Point? Oh right. We're all gonna die, so we should work together."

Chris gave me with this look. I'm not sure what word I could possibly use to describe it, so I'll just make one up. He looked at me "doubloobedly". He looked at me as if he were twice the boob he is. It's my word, so no stealing.

He cleared his throat, apparently having come to a decision. "Yer diatribe has been understood fully, and yer thoughts have been inputted and essepted fer better improvements. Thank you fer yer time and efforts."

Alterna-Me and I looked at each other, understandably confused. "I don't think you understand," I said. "We're asking you to team up with us. You know, power in numbers."

"Ah already have da numbers I need."

Just like that, the Chris-bots all came into the room like children eager to greet their father when he comes home from work. "Oh," I said, "I kinda forgot about those guys. Where did they come from anyway?"

They all spoke over each other at once, attempting an explanation, but all I could make out was "WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH." Whole lots of shouting and gurgling and stuttering and mumbling. It all became this great big blob of noise before Alterna-Me finally threw his hooves in the air, his patience clearly at its end.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Alterna-Me cried, silencing the Chan-bots immediately. "It was ME, OK? I brought them here!"

I looked at him, confused. "...I'm sorry? Come again?"

"When YOU" (He pointed angrily to Chris) "started traveling through time, you ended up destroying entire evolutionary chains! I had to go back in time to prevent you from sitting on that stupid biped-fish-thingy!"

"Ah thought it was a chair," Chris defended.

"And then after that, you just HAD to return to time traveling, even though I warned you NOT to! I even tried to destroy your TARDIS and take you back home! And what happened?! What happened?!"

Chris looked thoughtful for a moment. "Iss been awhile..."

"You went back to try defeating Discord, only for him to turn you into a bunny that had a toaster for a head! I had to save you from him! Do you KNOW how hard it was to communicate with you?! I had to butter the *toast** first* so you could write words on it when it popped up! And your grammar is awful."

"If it wudn't fer Green County High, I wouldna made dat F in English."

"No excuses! And you just couldn't stay out of trouble! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. You just HAD to keep trying to build your own civilization! How many times did I try to destroy your TARDIS?!"

"Ah dun remember."

"Neither do I! I lost count! It seemed like every time I'd destroy your TARDIS, somepony rebuilt it! And I never figured out who! It was probably the influence of that Windy-Whatever or something, or maybe even some prank by the Master! And then you had this great idea to go meet your previous selves, which should have caused your mind to melt!"

My eyes went wide. "Really? Your mind doesn't melt when you receive memories you don't remember having?"

Alterna-Me shot me this look that told me to shut up without him having to tell me to shut up. So I shut up.

"It's more like, he went back in time and did something differently each time, which impacted the form he would take when he would inevitably be brought into this dimension from his original dimension via the Blue Magic Pocket. Thusly, by going back and forth..." He began counting the clones, doing the math in his head. "... Six hundred and twenty-four times, in time, he has created numerous versions of himself. So it's not like he actually met his past self. Just a slightly altered version of his past self."

I looked out at the Chris-bot army, all of whom wore confused expressions. "Everypony got all that?" I asked. before they answered, I compounded, "GOOD." Alterna-Me continued in the spilling of his metaphorical heart.

"But either way, I brought them all here. Well, technically, maybe not--all I really did was try to drop off his little time clone army in the space-time continuum itself because I became tired of his stupid exploits." Alterna-Me stopped in his tirade, and began to rub his temples. "Where did I go wrong with you, Chris? All I did was try to keep you out of trouble. I thought it might be nice having a fellow Time Lord, but..." He buried his face in his hooves. "I just don't know what went wrong!" he whimpered.

Confidently, Chris struck a heroic pose--well, as heroic as a horrible monstrosity could possibly look, anyway. "Don' worry, Doc. I got dis all unner control."

"No, you don't," said Alterna-Me. "No, you don't. Listen to me--"

"Yes I do!" interrupted Chris. "I got dis! I'M WORKIN ON IT!" He turned to look at his army of time clones. "Errypony, at my command!" he said, "As you may well know, dat evil ghost what was in here a few moments ago... The Doctor is ANGRY at me! It's mah fault, I admit it. I admit it; I want everything ABOUT DAT REGINALD! OUT! Of MY! CITY!" He began to gesture wildly with his spidery limbs. "I'll send out you guys, I'll send out detectives, I'll send out everything in my power!"

Alterna-Me began to interrupt, now visibly angry. "Listen to me. LISTEN! To me."

Chris turned around to meet his gaze reluctantly. Or doubloobedly. Whichever. "Yes?"

"I don't care what you do. Because it isn't going to matter in the long run. You're going to screw up, and make everything worse, like you always do."

"I'm workin' on it!"

"Don't 'work on it!'" I told him. "You're the one that helped give the Windigus Prime get the foothold it needed in the first place. You should feel lucky we're even considering asking you to help us after everything you've done."

"Wait," asked Alterna-Me, "Why are we asking him to help us if he's just going to screw up?"

I thought this over a second. "I just... kinda thought it wouldn't hurt for him to take some responsibility for all this."

"Do you realize something?" asked Alterna-Me, his voice stern. "Do. You. Realize? Lemme tell you. When that Smooze sees that Windigus Prime that you put in that damn corpse, he'll destroy this reality, and we would have to move out of it?"

I frowned. "I see," I mumbled, looking away. I saw Chris look at us, not doubloobedly as before, but as if this whole conversation had some air of familiarity about it.

He suddenly frowned. "Don't you blame me fer this!" he shouted. "You an yer damn scheme to bring me down! You even formed a team-a trolls to come after me, through no fault'a my own!" And he went on like this, lecturing us on how we're all evil trolls.

"Annow, iss time fer me tah take care-a you trolls, once an fer all!" With that, he sicced his army of time clones on us again. I suppose I could have tried another singing contest, but I wasn't sure if it would work a second time.

My eyes fell on something I hadn't seen for some time. My smile came back and my eyes must have been as big as dinner plates, except it would kind of hurt if my eyes were used to serve food because then I wouldn't be able to see.

"My screwdriver!" I dove for it, picked it up, and kissed it all over like it was an old girlfriend of mine.

"Da screwdriver?" Chris looked at it as I picked it up. "Y'mean dat thing? I tried using dat on Discord but the dang thing doesn't work. It's totally useless."

I raised an eyebrow. "It's not useless!" I suppose I could have asked him about why the history texts in the library claimed he'd defeated Discord with it, but the fact is, he rewrote history to his liking anyway. So obviously, it wasn't as if he was being TRUE and HONEST.

"Yuh it is," he said. "It's not like it's really a weapon."

"That's why I like it," I said, "It doesn't kill people. But I'll tell you what it DOES do." I held it up like that one painting I saw that had a knight striking the same pose holding up a sword. "It's really good at opening doors." I pointed it at him. "And it's even better at closing them."

Just like that, the TARDIS doors shut on Chris' face. He yelped in surprise, commanding his clone army to attack us, while he struggled to get the TARDIS doors open. I started "sonicing" them, throwing them around with sonic waves, clearing a path for us. "Sonic boom!" I shouted gleefully as Alterna-Me and I ran from the chamber. "Sonic Boom!"

We exited the chamber, only to find ourselves inside...

Hm. Well.

Remember when I said the events were going to be dreadful and scary? Well, here it is!

We walked out of the Diabolus ex-Machina chamber, only to have walked into the abandoned Carousel Boutique Twilight and I appeared in. Everything was much darker than it really should have been at that hour (half-past midnight, if I recall correctly), and it was all a dark blue. There was an unearthly chill in the air, and the faint smell of something being burned.

Alterna-Me looked about. "OK," he asked. "What... just... happened?"

I checked my screwdriver. Among its other nice features is that when I look at it, I can pretend I know what I'm doing. But I forgot I was with myself, who saw right through my ruse. "You don't know either," he said. "Knock it off."

Suddenly, we both heard the sound of slow, almost damning applause. We looked up to see the Windigus Prime sitting on a pile of forgotten mannequins as if they formed a throne. I'll never get over the feeling of watching a reanimated corpse being moved around by a ghost. It's like watching an invisible child play with his toys, only the toys are out to kill you and the child has absolutely no morals.

"I am so glad you could make it here, Doctor," it said, leaning forward in its throne.

"Well, I'm assuming you brought us here," I said back.

"I meant this dimension," it replied. "I wanted to thank you both for your contributions to my cause. Whether or not you intended it, your bumbling has paved the way for me to accomplish my holy mission."

"Where is Miss Sparkle?" barked Alterna-Me.

It gave an insidious snicker in reply. "By now, I imagine she is wishing she were dead. But onto other matters..."

It waved its hoof, and suddenly, we were outside, in the heart of CWCville, as Twilight and I were before. Before Alterna-Me or I could really do much, the Windigus Prime rose into the air. Suddenly, the ground began to freeze. Buildings began to twist and bend, making their dimensions even more surreal. Carriages began to float up. The earth began to split.

"Wh-What do you think you're doing?!" demanded Alterna-Me.

"Merely seasoning the Smooze's meal," came the answer. "The entire world is now my plaything. Everything within answers to my beck and call. I tell it to prepare itself for uncreation, and it responds accordingly."

How was I going to fight something that had this much power? It shared Discord's power of warping reality. It was able to destroy and twist anything merely by thinking about it.

But.

But it was currently inside Cadance's body. Cadance's magic was greatly reduced over the period of time she was attached to the Diabolus ex-Machina. It even said itself that it could have been at peak power if it had possessed Twilight instead...

My eyes fell once again to my screwdriver. Ever since I came to this planet and discovered it ran on magic, I worked hard on modifying the screwdriver so it could be used not just against physical matter, but magical matter as well. Unfortunately, I only ever remembered to mod on of the screwdrivers I had, and I couldn't tell if this was that one or not. If it could interfere with magic...

It was worth a shot. If not, well, can't say I didn't try.

I looked up at the Windigus. "You must really think you're all that and a bag of chips, don't you, Windy?"

The Windigus Prime let loose a wicked laugh. I could describe it, but the fact is, it was honestly the most terrifying sound anypony could ever not want to hear, ever. "You may live for thousands of years, but you are still a fool. Look around you! Nothing escapes the extent of my power! Now that I have shown you what I am capable of, I will proceed to tear you apart, molecule by molecule!"

It raised a hoof, and just as it did so, I lifted my screwdriver and hoped against hope that I wasn't wrong.

The screwdriver buzzed in its screwdrivey way as the Windigus Prime lurched. Its eyes bulged in surprise and it let out a moan. "What?!"

I waved my screwdriver, the buzzing even more intense. The Windigus Prime fell down to the ground with a splat. The buildings began to regain their original shape. The carriages were set down gently. The dark blue, icy chill, and burnt smell all went away and time began to move normally.

"How are you doing this?! The fat pony couldn't even use that against Discord!"

I grinned. "That's because Chris is Chris, and I'm the Doctor. Oh, and there's more than just one screwdriver. Obviously, mine's better."

The Windigus Prime howled in anger. It tried to stand up, and had a very hard time doing so. It seemed it used magic even to move. Alterna-Me walked over to the Windigus Prime, a confident smirk on his face.

"All-powerful, eh? I think you're wrong. You were only so powerful because of all the magic you borrowed from Miss Sparkle, and made yourself seem really scary only because she couldn't fight back." He stood in front of the Windigus. Suddenly, he punched it, knocking it back down. "You're stuck in a dead body that can't even move on its own without the use of your magic. You're at a complete disadvantage, so I'm giving you only one chance to surrender!"

For the moment, it seemed we had won. But then, the Windigus Prime laughed. "What's so funny?" asked Alterna-Me.

"The fact you forgot to keep that screwdriver going."

Suddenly, we were blown backward, the screwdriver falling out of my mouth. (It's an interesting experience, by the way, to hold objects in your teeth.) The Windigus Prime floated back up, uneasily. It seemed the sonic screwdriver had at least winded the Windigus.

"This has proven one thing: I am wasting time. This body truly is inadequate for my mission..." It then shook a bit, as if it were about to fall again. "I won't last much longer at this rate. I must hurry!"

"Not so fast!" I said as I reached for the screwdriver. Suddenly, six hundred and twenty-four beings appeared out of nowhere. They all looked vaguely like Chris.

"Drones, do me a favor and kill these two, won't you?" And with that, the Windigus Prime disappeared in a "swoosh" of black fire.

The Chriseseseses' eyes all glowed a sickly green, as if they were robots complying with orders. Were they always under the Windigus Prime's control, or was it just waiting for an opportunity? Either way, this teleported army ran at us like an onslaught of what I keep hearing is called "Tard Rage": lots of screaming and violence.

I tried to reach the screwdriver only for one of the Chris clones to kick it away and punch me in the face. Fortunately, this particular clone hit like a little filly with pillows glued to her hooves. However, there was a whole army here, and the numbers were enough to put Alterna-Me and I to bruises and bumps and lost lunches.

We tried to escape, but there were just too many. Just as all hope seemed lost, like a last-minute plot twist in a B-grade action movie, there came a shot from the sky above. It landed among the Chris clones, sending a few of them flying into the air.

Its body was long and cucumber-like, even painted green. The limbs had built-in machine guns and beam guns, with rocket launchers at its sides. The beam it shot was of the "sonic" persuasion, not meant to destroy , but to repel. The bullets it shot, I noticed, were all rubber bullets: while they stung like swarms of bees, the most danger the Chrises would recieve is getting their eyes put out. The rocket launcher seemed to be more for "dangerous" enemies, or as a last resort, as the cucumber savior did not use it at all.

Alterna-Me and I ducked behind a carriage as this cucumber savior of ours gave the Chrises what-for. I slowly looked up over the hood to get a glimpse of the action, and suddenly, getting swept up in the moment, I felt like a young boy watching his favorite action cartoon on the telly. I started yelling directions like "One in the mush for me while you're at it" and "Watch out for the guy behind you", until Alterna-Me pulled me down and told me to keep quiet.

With a loud thud, a Chris clone had landed on top of the carriage's hood. "Da guy in da pickle suit got me again," he mumbled as he drifted off into unconsciousness. (Talk about crashing into slumber.)

We waited there for a few moments after the sounds of violence had evaporated. I looked up as the sound of heavy machinery in movement came closer to us. "Doctor, are you OK?" said a mechanized voice.

I came out from behind the carriage and looked at it again, this warrior of cool green and plated steel. It stopped when it saw me and its "face" opened up.

"Spike!" I cried happily as I ran to him. "Spike, you're OK!" I gave his suit a hug. It is a strange thing to do now that I think of it, hugging a robot suit.

Spike laughed. "Of course I'm OK! It takes more than a panic attack to take me down. By the way, where's Twilight?"

Alterna-Me had gotten out from behind the carriage at this point and stepped over the unconscious Chris clones. "The Windigus took her someplace, but we're not sure where. By the way, how did you know where to find us?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "I saw a whole group of ponies just appear in the sky and descend like a flock of seagulls on a dropped ice cream cone. Anypony would think something was up."

Alterna-Me pursed his lips as if he hadn't thought of it that way.

I picked up my screwdriver, thankful that it hadn't been destroyed in the battle. I checked it over, making sure it was all in one piece. One of the finer features of the screwdriver is that it can also detect things. If I wanted to find Twilight (And I did), all I would have to do is set the screwdriver to locate her unique magic signature.

However, I had forgotten her magic had been nearly sucked dry, so the readings were very faint. I began to run in the direction the screwdriver indicated, only for Spike to stop me. He looked at me, then at the screwdriver. "What are you doing?" he asked.

I explained to him what the screwdriver was and what I was doing. He lifted both Alterna-Me and I into his robo-arms and lifted off, toward the direction we all hoped Twilight was.

25. Stand Together, Fall As One

I would like to thank the Doctor for his contributions to this overall document. His input has truly been invaluable, as was his overall involvement. His descriptions tended to get really wordy, however, so I've scolded him appropriately.

But now, back to me.

It was a little hazy, I recall, coming back to my senses. There were voices around me, talking in hushed tones. My eyesight came back gradually, the blurry colors coming into focus as I recognized the PVCC members. Magneighto was standing over me, his hoof glowing bright white as he held it near my hind legs.

I felt sharp pangs in my legs and winced. "Don't worry," said Magneighto, "I am merely mending your legs. Kind of hard if you keep moving around."

I looked around, now more alert. Fluttershy stood by, sitting on Ben's back, watching Magneighto in befuddlement, with Derpy leaning on Ben. I noticed she had a bulging black eye. Spider-Colt was crawling on a wall near me, taking a photograph of Magneighto, who grunted when he saw the light flash, and politely asked Spider-Colt to stop doing that. "Hey, I'm just trying to get evidence of what happened here," he replied.

Shining Armor was propped against a support beam, his wounds already healed. His eyes were open, but they were also, in a sense, dead. He merely stared ahead at nothing. I had the feeling it would be some time before he talked again.

My eyes then fell to a red mess on the ground. Bits of bone and flesh lied atop it. I stifled a scream, remembering that this was what remained of Big Macintosh. Tears in her eyes, Fluttershy withdrew from her perch on Ben's back and came near and nuzzled me, trying to keep me calm while Magneighto was working on my legs. I felt punctured muscle close and bones snap back into place and winced and held my shouts.

After some silence, Fluttershy spoke to Magneighto. "So... how do you know healing magic?"

Magneighto sniffed indifferently as he went to work on my other leg. "I am well-versed in many forms of magics. My family has been teaching magic for generations, so I learned at least some healing magic. Why do you ask?"

Fluttershy inhaled deeply. I could see the look in her eyes, and knew exactly what she was about to say. "You... you killed all those soldiers earlier. You laughed when you did it. You enjoyed killing them."

Magneighto said nothing, and a palpable silence descended on us, covering us like a blanket. "You enjoyed it," she continued, her voice cracking at "enjoyed." "You enjoy hurting other ponies. So, so knowing healing magic..." She shook her head before she finally came to her point. "Why do you have to be a monster instead of a healer?"

Spider-Colt looked up at her. Magneighto stopped in his healing, pursing his lips and sighing through his nose. Neither seemed to have an answer. Derpy, however, provided one:

"Maggie... Maggie doesn't like having to hurt ponies. He does anyway, 'cuz... Well, it's 'cuz he's had to do it so much he doesn't feel anything for it anymore." Tears began to form in her eyes. "An' the Mayor's a big bully. He kept me a prisoner to make Maggie do whatever he wanted. All that anger in Maggie's heart..."

Spider-Colt intervened before Derpy could burst into tears. "All that anger in everypony's hearts, you mean. The Mayor has wronged every one of us. It's why we're here. It's why we formed this group." He looked down to his own hooves. Even through those reflective glass eyes, I could see the terror flash through his eyes. He looked at his hooves as if he remembered having blood on them once. "It's true. Some of us are monsters now." He looked to his camera.

I wondered, for one stomach-churning moment, what pictures he had taken with that camera today. Besides the horrifying pictures of Cadance, what else was on that thing's film roll? What other horrors had Spider-Colt seen? What other horrors would he have to show the world to prove their leader was a monster? There was a cavernous despair in his voice, not at all something that should be present in the voice of somepony his age.

"Some of us... can't become clean again. Some of us will never be whole again."

"That's the song I've been singing my whole life."

Out of a dark corner came the Mare-Do-Well. Magneighto and Derpy both tensed at the sight of her. She looked their way, then back to me. After a weird pause, she drew closer to me and sat down. "She gonna be all right, Magneighto?" Her voice was noticeably softer, closer to the Bon-Bon I knew from home, but still tough-sounding.

Magneighto swallowed and went back to work. "She'll... be fine."

The Mare-Do-Well looked to me again. Long silence.

"...There, uh..." She breathed a bit. "There anything I can do for you?"

Everypony looked to the Mare-Do-Well in surprise. Her offer of hospitality caught everypony off-guard. After thinking it over, I said, "Just being here. You're doing wonders for me just by being here." I held her hoof and shook it tightly, smiling as I looked into those cold and lifeless glass eyes.

I winced as I felt the bones in my left leg mend. At last, my body was back together. All that was missing now was my lost magic, which was already slowly coming back to me, like it was swimming through an ethereal ocean to reach me. I thanked Magneighto for his work.

I looked back at the other members of the PVCC. "Where's... where's everypony else?" I asked with some dread.

I was met by a shameful silence. Spider-Colt looked downcast, and Fluttershy turned away.

"This was always going to be a suicide run."

We all looked up to see that Shining Armor had joined us again. He had come over silently (silently enough to give the Mare-Do-Well a run for her money), and was standing next to Derpy. "There was always a high risk none of us would make it." He looked out over the remainder of his team: Derpy, Fluttershy, Spider-Colt, Magneighto, the Mare-Do-Well, Ben, me...

Shining Armor's tongue wet his lips. He nodded, accepting that his teammate's deaths were his responsibility. All those mares and stallions, dead... Blossomforth, Caramel, Redheart... all gone. All his fault.

No.

I flew to my brother and embraced him, nuzzled him. "It's not just your fault," I told him. "This is all our faults. Everypony on this team is responsible for this. We're going to press forward, and we're going to win. We may have lost a lot in this battle, but the Mayor is not about to get away with what he's done. It's cost us everything and everypony we love, but the world will know. The world will turn against him."

The world...

My eyes widened. If we couldn't stop the Windigus Prime, there wouldn't BE a world left to save!

I looked up to Shining Armor, and...

...And I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him the world was about to be devoured by an alien monstrosity called forth into this reality by a demon I brought here. I'd have to tell him it's using Cadance's body, and...!

He'd already been through too much already. Now that I'd set him up, gave him resolve to see this mission through to its conclusion, if he knew what I was about to ask everypony, he'd die a little more. I clenched my teeth nervously as I looked up at him.

Spider-Colt stepped between Shining Armor and myself. "Hey, listen," he said to Shining Armor, "I think there's something else going on here, big guy. Something that will.... something that's gonna hurt you to hear. I think the entire world may be in danger. She told me to tell you, but I... I don't know if I should."

Spider-Colt. Ever the hero. If Shining Armor would be destroyed by this news, then Spider-Colt would save me the despair of having to break it to him.

"What are you getting at? Who's 'she'?" Shining Armor asked, not curtly.

"Cadance," said Alterna-Doctor as he entered the room. Everypony's head shot in his direction, and with him were the Doctor and Spike, who was riding around this strange, pickle-shaped mech-suit.

I felt like running over to them and hugging them, but now was not the time. I looked instead, nervously, to Shining Armor. I expected anything. Tears, rage, screaming. Anything. Instead, his eyes widened. "Cadance is alive?!" His voice... it startled me. His voice was filled with hope. For the very first time since I'd met this version of my brother, hope had finally gripped him.

"Barely," replied Alterna-Doctor. He filled in his friend with the details, choosing his words as carefully and as considerately as he could. The Alterna-Doctor never broke eye contact even once during the whole explanation. That took guts, I'll bet. I'd never have that kind of courage.

"The demon possessing her is about to call forth the most dangerous entity known to space and time. We need to hurry so we can stop it."

The Mare-Do-Well stood up. "Where is it? What do we need to do?" From the looks on everypony's faces, it still came as a surprise to find the Mare-Do-Well acting so helpful.

The Doctor answered her. "My screwdriver can zone in on its unique magical signature. If we hurry, we may be in time."

All the PVCC got up. Derpy asked, "But what about the Mayor?"

Alterna-Doctor chuckled. "If Spider-Colt has done his job, we already have enough material to support our cause. Plus, we destroyed the machine he was using to subtly hypnotize the populace into loving him. He's already been defeated."

With that, we all got ready to go. Fluttershy invited me onto Ben's back, as well as Shining Armor and the Doctors. Since the others could fly (Or with Mare-Do-Well, whatever it was she did to cover so much ground so unnervingly fast), we were all set.

And so we shot forth, through the early hours of the morning, to the final battle waiting for us.

It was close to an hour before we found its hiding place. The Windigus Prime had stationed itself at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Like some of the other buildings, it was a drab gray, but this one kind of shot from the ground like a forbidding tombstone, thanks to the eerie moonlight and gathering fog. Above us, the night sky seemed to be swarming and convulsing, almost throwing an epileptic fit. Even without the Doctor's screwdriver, it would have been an easy guess as to where the Windigus Prime had gone.

Alterna-Doctor looked up at it in bewilderment and whistled, amazed that something this tall and poorly-crafted hadn't already fallen over.

"Please tell me we don't have to use the stairs," he murmured, half-jokingly.

"If he's expecting us, he's probably booby-trapped the elevators already," suggested Shining Armor. He turned to his team. "Either way, I think I have a better idea." His horn glowed as he began to concentrate.

Suddenly a large magenta bubble appeared around us in a muted "pop", and we began to be lifted into the air. Both an elevator and a shield. Clever.

Fluttershy, evidently still afraid of heights, clutched tightly onto Ben's fur. Spider-Colt put his hoof on her back and whispered some reassuring words. Spike, still in the pickle suit, looked at me more than a little sadly. I asked him, quietly, what was wrong.

"I had a dream while we were in the PVCC's holding cell," he said. "I... I dreamed you were gonna go away again. Even if we win, you're..." Tears began to form in his eyes. "You're gonna go away, aren't you?"

The roof of the building was coming closer, the view of CWCville at nighttime becoming grander in its scope. It's an ugly town, sure, and from up there it felt like I was looking down at a pile of disjointed plumbing. But to all the ponies who lived here, it was home. For the PVCC, it was the home they were fighting for. What Spike was fighting for.

I pursed my lips, sighed sadly and nodded, looking into Spike's tearful eyes as I did so. I rested a hoof on one metallic arm. "Spike, you're a very brave boy, OK? I don't belong in this world. I have to go home, where there's another Spike who needs me. I don't want to leave him alone."

"But you'll be leaving me all alone."

"Look around you," I said, sweeping a foreleg, gesturing to all the other PVCC members. "They've all lost something important to them. Fluttershy, Magneighto, Spider-Colt, Derpy, Shining Armor, the Doctor, Mare-Do-Well... They're united in their pain. But they gained something else in return. Something better. I don't think they've even realized it yet."

Spike looked at me, then to the PVCC.

"They gained a family," I concluded. "Each other. They'll fight and squabble, of course, but now they'll do anything for each other. Even when I'm gone, I want you to be apart of this family. I want you to take care of them." I looked up at his face. "OK?"

Spike sniffed away a tear. "OK. Just promise to think of me sometimes, OK?"

I gave the metallic hand a squeeze with both my forelegs. "Of course. Besides," I giggled, "there's a place I know I'll always belong." I placed a hoof over his heart. "And it's right here."

He smiled. I made a resolution, right then, that when I got home, I would go out of my way to make Spike smile as much as possible, as often as possible. I'll never get tired of his smile.

Finally, the roof came into view. There, floating a few feet off the ground was the Windigus Prime. Its borrowed body was reclining as if in an easy chair, a cruel smirk on her face. It had been expecting us.

Our forcefield-elevator set us all gently on the ground. I looked to Shining Armor, reading his face. The sadness that usually clouded his eyes was gone, instead replaced by righteous resolve and indignation at the sight of this blasphemous monstrosity that had taken the form of his wife. I noticed the Alterna-Doctor had shot Shining Armor a scanning look as well.

"So, the rats have gathered before the flames," it cooed mockingly as it changed from a reclining position to a lying position faster than anypony could blink. "You are too late to stop me. The Smooze is already on its way. This dimension will be wrapped in the loving arms of god!"

The team, as a single force, stepped forward. The Windigus Prime giggled like a child receiving a present. "Planning on going down fighting, eh? I suppose that's the way anypony would do it."

"Monster," growled Shining Armor.

"I love you too, beautiful," the Windigus Prime responded. Suddenly, its expression became more... placid. It was a strange thing to see. Like watching invisible hooves shape clay into something foreign. "Believe it or not, I really do love you. All of you. Perhaps it is not in a way any of you could understand, but I do. It is why I bring the Smooze. It will take this world, and make it more beautiful." It eyed us all the same way a prostitute would eye her clients. "Make all of YOU more beautiful."

"I've already seen your idea of beauty," I said. "You think it's cute for others to suffer. You talk about love and beauty, but just like you, your words are empty and cold."

"Mortals!" it spat."Never understanding anything more than is past their noses! But don't worry; once the Smooze arrives, then you WILL understand."

The Doctor held out the screwdriver and it glowed. The Windigus Prime gasped as it fell down to the ground. I winced as I heard the sound. Regardless of the beast that posessed her, that was still my sister-in-law, desperately hanging on to what was left of herself, smashing into the ground. Shining Armor, without hesitation, ran for her.

"Wait!" cried the Alterna-Doctor, "Shining, what do you think you're doing?!"

He didn't stop until he reached the Prime. It cursed and swore at him, attempting lamely to bite him as he reached out a hoof. He picked up the Prime's head, Cadance's head, and lifted it off the ground. Suddenly, I understood what he was trying to do.

Shining Armor was trying, hoping against hope, that his wife was still in there, in that body. His eyes (those eyes that had seen such terrible things happen) looked deep into Cadance's. He stared as the Prime continued to curse him, curse me, curse Celestia.

"It no longer matters!" cried the Prime. "Your fight is over! The Shmooze comes, and it will devour everything! And everything will be beautiful again! EVERYTHING!!!"

The Doctor still held that screwdriver, like it was a torch in a dark passage. And just like a torch, it was snuffed out suddenly, causing darkness to fall like a curtain. Before anypony could register what happened, the Doctor was watching the screwdriver fall down, down, down the side of the building. He looked up, into the bruised-corpse face of the Mayor, who'd knocked him over.

26. When the Sky Falls, Hold Out Your Hooves

The Mayor did not laugh, did not quip, did not do anything at all for several seconds as the Doctor watched the screwdriver fall helplessly to the ground below. Neither did anypony else. Not a sound crept from anypony, not even the Windigus Prime. The Doctor looked up to the Mayor, who still held that unnervingly blank expression on his face.

"...Why?" he asked.

The blank stare persisted. Then: "I was tryinna steal it."

"...Why?" he repeated.

"I wannit t'beat da bad guy."

"...Why?"

The Mayor stomped a spidery foot. "Because dis is MY CITY!"

I heard a growl from the Windigus Prime and gasped. I turned my attention back to it, and saw that Shining Armor had the foresight to trap it in one of his forcefields. The magenta bubble surrounded the Windigus as it struggled to get up. "Please," I heard Shining Armor plead, "Please..."

Holding up a forcefield requires not just the concentration of its caster, but its strength almost totally depends on its caster's stamina and vitality. Shining Armor, in our home dimension, has always been very physically fit, so the one in this dimension likely carries similar strength (despite the booze he's become addicted to). Adding to that, the Windigus Prime's host was in very bad shape, both physically and magically; not to mention that it had likely already used up most of the magic it had stolen from me; so there was little it could do to break Shining Armor's shield either way. For now, we were safe.

Suddenly, I felt myself struck by something long and hard, like a gnarled pipe, and was sent for a trip through the air. My ears rung, my legs became numb, and my vision blurred for a few seconds before I was caught in midair by Derpy. She set me down gently as the others began to gather around my attacker, the Mayor.

"Dis is MY CITY!" he repeated. "And none-a you dang, dirty trolls are gonna get in my way! NONE OF YOU!!!"

Magneighto attempted to use his manipulation of metals to bend his spidery limbs, only for it to not work. "Arcanium materials," he muttered, genuinely impressed. "Time for Plan B." As the Mayor leapt for his former general, pipelines shot up from the roof like vines, ensnaring him.

Now that the Mayor was helpless, Derpy shot by us, roaring. Her hooves met the Mayor's face, again and again, pounding away with wet thumping sounds. Eventually, the Mayor got the idea to hide his face by the TARDIS doors. Suddenly, he emitted a strange noise, similar to the key-across-piano-strings the TARDIS emits when it travels through time. The pipes trapping him were blown away, and Derpy was sent flying backwards, crashing into her husband.

The TARDIS doors opened and the Mayor jumped into the air, attempting to squash his enemies below. As he began to descend, a line of web shot from nearby, latching onto one of his legs. Down he went, into the opposite direction, smacking into the roof. Spider-Colt's webline proved impressively strong, as he snapped up the line again, putting the Mayor back into the air. Then he spun the Mayor about his head in a circle, finally letting go after a few cycles, throwing him clear off the roof.

Spider-Colt rushed to the edge of the roof and looked down. A few seconds passed. We all heard (and felt) a thump. He turned and walked back to me. "You OK?" he asked. I nodded.

Trying to get back up on my hooves turned out to be a little difficult. The Mare-Do-Well began to help me up as the Doctor came to join us. Suddenly, a tremor shook the building. Up from the side shot the Mayor, his TARDIS body not so much as dented. He soared through the air like an arrow and struck the ground nearest Spider-Colt, Derpy, and Magneighto, launching them into the air, his spidery limbs shooting forth and grabbing them all before they landed. The look on his face spelled hard times ahead.

"You think you're SO TOUGH!" he said in what I guess must have been his best impression of Iron Will's voice (Which is to say he sounded more like a croaking frog). He threw Spider-Colt at me with a crack of his limb, but the Mare-Do-Well pushed me out of the way and took the hit herself, rolling across the roof, trying to regain her ground. Another limb stomped Magneighto into the roof with a sound that made me flinch. "No you are not!" he said again in his Iron Will/frog voice. "You are weak! I am da strong onnnnne!"

Spike saw his chance for an opening and flew to it. His rubber bullets wouldn't be a match for the Mayor, and the rockets on his back would likely harm Derpy and Megneighto, so he settled for good old fisticuffs. A godlike blow struck against the side of the Mayor's TARDIS body and rang with a thunderous noise, knocking him back a few feet.

"Oh yeah?!" he said, "Well I gotta little chum lee in me!!!" (I've reread all my books. Never came across a "chum lee". I'd really appreciate it if you knew what one was.)

He returned Spike's attack with a swipe from one of his spidery legs. Spike caught it, squeezing it between his hands as hard as he could. The Mayor let out a cowardly yelp and slapped at Spike's hands with a spare spiderleg.

The two continued to wrestle as I fought back up to standing. My horn began to pulse. It was becoming stronger, slowly, like a radio frequency I had been disconnected from was finally beginning to return. I tried casting a shrinking spell on the Mayor, but my horn sputtered uselessly. Still not enough! I groaned.

I heard a slam. I looked up to see the Mayor using hapless Magneighto as a bat on Spike, roaring wildly. Suddenly, a pop, and purple surrounded the battle. I couldn't make out exactly what was happening, but the Mare-Do-Well (Likely the party responsible for the smoke) shot like a howling cannonball into the fray.

I tried finding my way around this brouhaha, still unable to use my magic in any productive way. I saw the Doctor, still standing in shock. Making my way to him as quickly as I could, I shook him a little. "Doctor?"

"...He knocked my screwdriver away. My special one." He looked back down. "I named him Marty. I'll never see him again."

I groaned and rolled my eyes. What is it with stallions and their toys anyway?

I heard Ben roar behind me, and turned to see further development in the Mayor's last stand. Spike and Magneighto and Derpy all lay in a heap. The Mare-Do-Well , however, found herself tossed through the air, slamming into Ben's face as he approached. From where she sat on Ben's back, Fluttershy gasped and covered her face. This action merely angered the Ursa Minor further, his ensuing roar causing the Mayor to flinch. The Mayor roared back in that always-all-the-time intimidating classic childish screech of his—showing his fangs, as it were. Judging from Ben's reaction, he did not expect this to become a roaring contest.

Before Ben could react, the Mayor, his fat, spidery body shuddering nightmarishly, began to crawl up the length of his leg. Ben gave a shout and began to shake his leg, buck repeatedly, biting his own back, trying whatever he could do to get that awful, spidery creature off of him as it crawled all over.

"M-Mr. Ben!" Fluttershy cried. She curdled into a ball as the Mayor approached her.

The Doctor, still "out" from his loss of the screwdriver, sat next to me with a vacant stare in his eyes. I poked him, demanding him to come back to the present. He mumbled something and shook.

The Alterna-Doctor shouted to Fluttershy to jump off Ben. He found he had to do this several times before convincing Fluttershy he'd catch her. Gathering what courage remained in her scrawny body, Fluttershy leapt for the Alterna-Doctor as the Mayor made a grab for her. The Alterna-Doctor managed to get beneath Fluttershy before she hit the ground, landing her on his back. He whispered something to Fluttershy I couldn't hear, and her eyes brightened. "Mr. Ben!" she called. "Roll over!"

Like a loyal pet eager to obey, Ben rolled over, the Mayor shouting as he found himself suddenly underneath nearly a ton of Ursa Minor. As Ben got back up, I got a good look at the Mayor and had to stifle a girlish little laugh. The Mayor lie there, crushed into the roof, his purple face expressing consternation at his recent humiliation. Just as he tried to get back up, Ben picked him up in his mouth and shook him about like a chew toy.

"YOLIDDA!" the Mayor roared. I honestly think he meant to say something akin to "you little", and whatever he was going to call us, I'm unsure of (Although I'm certain it would not have been anything nice). He was raging at this point, and instead of falling into his tired routine of blaming us for everything, he settled for the language of violence, attempting to scratch at Ben's mouth.

Before he could do that however, more lines of white spiderwebs shot for him. The webbing impacted with dull wet thunks, line after line. Thanks to Spider-Colt's expert aim, the Mayor's legs were now stuck to each other, forming clunky white appendages. While he was at it, Spider-Colt webbed the Mayor's mouth shut. It was at this point I noticed Spider-Colt was spitting the web from his own mouth. I winced, feeling split between fascinated and grossed out.

After letting Fluttershy off his back, Altena-Doctor whispered something to her again. "Mr. Ben!" she said, "Can you please do us a favor and keep holding the Mayor?" Ben looked to her, then to the Mayor as he wriggled helplessly between his teeth. He tightened his grip on the Mayor, who let out a series of squeaks and shouts. Fluttershy smiled and pet Ben on his leg, telling him what a brave boy he was.

One threat neutralized, I supposed. I finally smacked the Doctor upside his head, bringing him back to the current situation. "Superman is totally real!" he cried. We shared an awkward stare. For some reason, that statement still rings in my ears, plain as day.

Before he could say much else, however, a sound erupted. I could try to describe this sound, but the truth is, just like our other eldritch abomination, the Smooze was wont to introduce itself with only the most incomprehensible and terrifying sounds it can produce. To say everypony present was gripped by sheer horror is an understatement.

The Smooze was beginning to descend, but it looked more like it was really crawling through the large swirl of clouds in the sky. It was almost like watching something being born, and in a sense it was: it was gaining a physical shape for the first time.

The shape of the Smooze shared much with its child, the Windigus Prime. Everything about it was a perversion of anything that dared to exist: hooves, tentacles, hands, clawed feet, fox tails, ears both long or round; mouths with teeth of any measurement; heads of ponies and elephants and apes and wolves and kings and queens and pigs and knights and dragons; necks of hideous lengths; wings of feathers or leather; all combining to form this wriggling, shrieking, disjointed, blasphemous mass of flesh that I still have nightmares about.

Of everything that had happened up to this point, every traumatizing moment (Re-meeting Fluttershy, Dr. Chuckles, Shining Armor's horrible history, the attack on the fortress, finding Cadance, meeting the Windigus Prime)... Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I later asked the Doctor if he'd ever seen anything like the Smooze.

He didn't answer. Instead, he blanched and asked me to just please please please never ask him a question like that ever again.

The Windigus Prime greeted its parent with its own horrendous howl. The Smooze responded. The Prime turned to us. "Your squabbling has availed you nothing, insects." It chuckled, Cadance's features distorting into its demented smile. It looked back up to Shining Armor and laughed heartily in his face.

"How about it, Beautiful?" it asked. "Before we join the Smooze in his eternal bliss, I'll give you a kiss with your own wife's lips."

I did not like the look that flashed through my brother's eyes then. I never saw it in his eyes before, and I pray I'll never see it in the eyes of our Shining Armor. It's that quality where, even if there were any hope to rectify a bad situation, one throws it all away. One gives up. He broke. After everything else that had happened to him, twisting and bending him into an unrecognizable shape, he finally broke, and that... that bitch broke him.

Before anypony could object, Shining Armor's shield disappeared with a shaking pop. His hoof brought up the Windigus Prime and he held its host body tenderly. "I hate you," he whispered to the Windigus as tears streamed from his eyes. "I hate you."

The Windigus merely chuckled, its useless limbs flapping as Shining increased his grip to dangerous levels. It was then that I realized Shining Armor intended to kill this creature that took his wife from him. I clenched my teeth. Not for the first time, I was struck dumb, unable to comprehend anything of what was going on. I suppose I had finally lost my faith. My faith in, well, everything. What could I do? We'd failed to stop the Smooze, I'd failed in my mission to save Cadance and my brother. My magic was useless.

I was useless.

I think, at that moment, I finally realized how very useless I had been through nearly all of this adventure. Most of it I merely witnessed, a bystander while everypony else—the real heroes of this story—did the real things, the things that really mattered. I was useless.

I cursed, loudly. The Doctor looked at me in shock, not expecting me to say such a word. I ran for my brother, at least wanting to hold him one last time before the end. “Shining Armor!” I called.

He snapped up suddenly, as did the not-Cadance. (Or rather, its eyes focused on me. It was pretty much at the end of its rope where any bodily movement it might have attempted was futile.) I shot for him, stumbling like a stupid foal, catching myself as I felt hot tears form in my eyes. “Don’t do it!” I blurted. “Don’t kill her!”

I leapt for him. Crashed into him, knocking the Windigus Prime to the ground. I wrapped my brother with my hooves, with myself, afraid that he’d die if I let go. I began to weep. “I love you, Shining Armor!”

And just like that, his eyes lit up. It was slight. But it was there. Life had finally been breathed back into his spiritual lungs. He looked at the monster using (and abusing) his wife’s body. His eyes softened, from hate to sadness, then finally… tenderness. A small smile crawled across his lips as he thought about it. Love.

He held me back, tighter. The way he did when I was upset. The way big brothers are supposed to.

That was when, apparently, the Mare-Do-Well had gotten an idea. What Shining Armor told me after all this was over, was that she already knew of Shining Armor’s and Cadance’s combined power of love. He was one of the few ponies she actually admired, and as a result, decided to learn as much about him as possible. (Yes, I realize this places her in stalker territory, but then again, as we recall, she isn’t exactly the best at making or maintaining friendships.) My friends and I may have weaponized friendship, but my brother and sister-in-law had turned love into a terrifying power, and the Mare-Do-Well knew it.

My admittance to loving my brother had apparently made something click. Love. Of course!

Off came the mask and hat. The other PVCC members looked at her, stunned. Her features were… worn, to say the least. Good grief, she looked twenty years older. So many scars on her face from all the fights she’d been in. Her mane was short and frizzy and unkempt, more a neglected nest than hair. Her eyes were bloodshot and glazed. She gritted her teeth as she looked right at the Windigus Prime. “You love hate, don’t you, loser?”

The Windigus gasped curtly. The way it reacted made it seem like it had just been struck.

Bon-Bon moved closer to the edge of the roof, never once breaking eye-contact with the Windigus Prime. “Yeah,” she continued. “You love hate. It’s one of the reasons you had that idiot Mayor tear Shining Armor and Cadance apart. It's why you were trying to trick Shining Armor into destroying your host body. Hate feeds you.” A smirk crawled up her mouth and a wild look sparkled mischievously in her eyes.

The Windigus looked… scared. Genuinely terrified. I had never seen it expressing such an emotion. “Wh-What are you doing?!”

That’s when I put it together in my mind. The Windigus Prime feeds on hate. Cadance herself had stated that the Windigus Prime would shoot straight for the most hateful creature and possess it. Now that Shining Armor’s magic shield no longer surrounded the Windigus, keeping it from feeling the emotions around it…

I gasped. “Bon-Bon!”

Spider-Colt looked the most horrified by what we were seeing. “…Bon-Bon?” he whimpered.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” she spat at the Prime. “You felt it the whole time we were up here. All the hate that’s been bottled up. That’s been destroying me for years.” She now stood at the very edge of the roof. My eyes widened as I finally realized what she intended to do.

The Windigus Prime looked as if it were fighting; struggling to stay inside Cadance’s body. “N-No! No, please!!!” A cold mist began to seep from Cadance’s body.

Spider-Colt began to hyperventilate.

“All that hate. All that spite. All the pain and hurt I feel. The father that pimped me out to his neighbors. The mother that used my back like a bucking ASHTRAY! The girls in high school who lured me into an alley so they could shave my head and beat me senseless!” She laughed, a short, manic cough. “I’m a real beauty, aren’t I?! You wanna have your way with me like you did with Cadance! Like what you wanted to do with Twilight! So come on! I’m right here!”

Finally, the Windigus could fight it no more. It burst forth from Cadance with a terrified shriek as it flew to Bon-Bon. It clawed at the ground as it fought an invisible, almost-vacuumlike force pulling it along. “NO!!!” it protested. “No, you can’t do this to me! We were so close!!!”

“Eat my hate,” Bon-Bon said as the Windigus reluctantly possessed her. She then fell backwards, off the edge of the building. “Eat it and choke! CHOKE ON IT!”

Spider-Colt shot as fast his legs could sprint, crying Bon-Bon’s name as he approached the edge. I had followed him as he went, calling after him, demanding him to wait.

Looking down, Spider-Colt quickly shot a webline from his mouth, and it caught Bon-Bon on her neck. The sudden loss of momentum caused Bon-Bon to spasm wildly. I drew in a sharp breath. No.

No…

I had heard it. It was faint. But I heard it. And if I heard it, so did Spider-Colt. A snap. It must have been kind of loud if I could hear it where we stood. A snap.

The sudden loss of momentum had caused Bon-Bon’s neck to break. For a few seconds, she hung there from Spider-Colt's webline. She hung like a suicide victim, just lifeless. Slowly, Spider-Colt began pulling Bon-Bon up. His movements seemed mechanical. I could hear him begin to sob.

He pulled up her body, settled it down gently, and held it. I didn’t even want to look. I could already tell. Bon-Bon was dead. She had sacrificed herself to defeat the monster that had made everypony miserable. She did it so that Shining Armor could get his wife back. It was the most selfless thing she could have done, and…

…And she did it for her friends. If you want friends who would do anything for you, then you need to be ready to do anything for them too. I realize that now. But at that moment, I felt betrayed. I didn’t think she’d go to that kind of extreme for anypony. That kind of sacrifice...

I couldn’t tell the look on Spider-Colt’s face under his mask as he looked to me, but for the life of me, I could tell he was hurting so much. His was a pain you could feel. The lips on his muzzle—the only part of his head the mask didn't cover—quivered.

“…I…” he started. I hushed him with a hug.

“You didn’t mean to, Spider-Colt,” I told him. “You didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

Silence. A shudder. A sob. He hugged me back, his grip stronger than I expected of a foal. His voice became childish, small. I held him as tenderly as my mother did me the day my grandfather died. I kept whispering to him that he was going to be OK. Bon-Bon did what she thought was best for us. “She was filled with enough hate to destroy a creature that thrived on it. You know why?”

“…W-Why?”

“Because hate is not the opposite of love. It’s what takes love’s place when it is no longer returned. She knew what love was like. She loved once or twice. She knew what it was. She used hate as a weapon to save the love she felt for us.”

A sniff. “That doesn’t make any sense!” Good, because at the time, I didn't believe it either. I was just paraphrasing Cadance.

“It’s weird. Hate can be a very useful power sometimes. And like all powers, its purpose depends on its user.” I looked into Spider-Colt’s eyes. “With great power comes great responsibility, Spider-Colt.”

He removed his mask to wipe his face. I was met with Featherweight, his face heart-broken and stained with snot and tears. “I-I know all that already,” he said. “It’s just… Lyra and I… She was my mentor in photography and journalism. I was there when… when Lyra died.” He sniffled. “And, and she told me… She told me to tell Bon-Bon it wasn’t her fault she had to leave. Lyra was trying to protect her. She’d gotten in over her head with this one case and wanted to leave Bon-Bon out of it because she knew the Mayor would try to hurt her and—and—and I—”

Whatever else he would have said disintegrated into a sob. I held him closer, crushing him against my neck and softly speaking words of comfort to him. Behind us, the Smooze wailed, its birthing process nearly complete. Soon it would come down and destroy everything the ponies of CWCville held dear.

I heard Shining Armor behind me, talking. Another voice joined him. Cadance’s.

Cadance.

“Shining,” she gasped. “Oh… Shining… I-I never thought I’d see you again…”

“Everything's gonna be all right. Don’t talk.” He called for the Doctors to help.

“I’m not the only one who remembers the ruddy Smooze, am I?” asked a panicky Alterna-Doctor as he looked above.

“Not at all,” replied the Doctor. Some silence as I continued to comfort Spider-Colt. I looked behind myself to see the Doctor poking Magneighto. “Hey, Magneighto. You awake?”

Magneighto shook his head back into consciousness. His helmet had been thrown off during the fight with the Mayor, revealing a head of white mane that tussled about his shoulders. Had this been any other situation, I’d have blushed.

“Magneighto, I hate to ask you favors,” said the Doctor, “but you ARE a magic teacher, right? Do you happen to know a Separation spell?”

Magneighto thought. He grumbled. “You’re going to ask me to separate the Mayor from that TARDIS thing, aren’t you?” he asked dully.

“That isn’t bad, is it?”

Magneighto got up and walked over to Ben, who still held the Mayor prisoner in his mouth. “No, I just should have thought of it myself sooner.” At Fluttershy's request, Ben set the Mayor down on the ground as Magneighto closed his eyes in concentration. His red aura covered the Mayor as archaic lettering formed a circle around him. I could make out "Para" and several instances of "Wuka", so I'm guessing the spell he was using was rather ancient unicorn magic.

Suddenly, a crack like thunder, making Featherweight jump. The red light faded, revealing the ingredients that made the Mayor. The stranger and the TARDIS, separated from the stranger’s undesirable bulk. Magneighto set the TARDIS down gently. The Doctor hugged it. “I missed you so much, Sexy!” he cooed. (Yes, he nicknamed his TARDIS "Sexy." Boys and their toys.)

“Hey, glad that’s all sorted out,” Magneighto said somewhat sarcastically. “But, what exactly do you plan on doing?”

“Don’t worry,” the Doctor said as he merrily jumped into the TARDIS. “You’ll see!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Wait!” I called as I ran to the TARDIS.

But it was too late. With a sound like a key against a piano string, the TARDIS vanished.

27. You Smooze, You Lose

The Smooze loomed above us, halfway through its unholy birth canal, every head screaming, every limb and appendage squirming. I stood there dumbly, looking at it, once again useless. Then I gritted my teeth. Then I stomped my foot. Then I growled and threw my head back and yelled at the top of my lungs.

Everything was once again happening too fast. It was like a roller coaster that had forgotten to stop. A giant outer-god was invading reality, my brother and his wife had finally reunited, Bon-Bon had sacrificed herself to kill a terrible enemy, which broke Spider-Colt, and the stranger was no longer the Mayor, and now the Doctor had just… apparently left us all to die.

The stranger had gotten up. He looked about doubloobedly. (Ha! I stole a word!) “Where… am I?” he asked, his eyes looking around cautiously.

“Oh, hullo, Chris,” said the Alterna-Doctor plainly, shuffling about. “We’re only about to be eaten by a giant entity from beyond time and space. His offspring controlled you to be evil or something, I guess. How are you doing?” There was very little interest in the situation present in his voice. (I wondered why this was, but my theory stands that, much like how the Windigus Prime fed on negative emotions, the Smooze was able to spread hopelessness simply by being present. We were all feeling it, at the time.)

The stranger lifted an eyebrow. “I… I dunt really remember. I coulda sworn I was in mah room, playin’ da latest game on mah Life Upgrade.” (Another odd phrase in the stranger’s personal language.) “And den I was here. I have somethin’ of a recollection, but iss all hazy.” He blinked. I shivered from his stare. “I mean, I remember SOME tings, like bein’ in Ponyville, an bein’ a pony.”

And then he looked at me. “Hey, Twilight? Were we dating?”

If I described my facial expression when he asked me this question, it might scare you. “NO,” I stated clearly.

The Alterna-Doctor nodded. “I see. So he WAS under the control of the Windigus Prime, right from the get-go, at least vaguely. Like one of those remote-control cars in a toy store.” He fiddled lamely with his scarf.

“I distinkly remember dat Twilight Sparkle an’ I were really hittin’ it off,” the stranger said.

I let out a controlled groan that sounded more like a growl and looked away. Over there were Shining Armor and Cadance, holding each other tenderly. I softened at the sight. Even though her body was almost completely ruined, Cadance held on. As long as Shining Armor looked into her eyes, she could feel his love for her. They gave each other so much strength, it was unbelievable.

So much strength…

We were so close!

The Windigus Prime's last words rang in my ears. So close? To what? To victory? How was it going to lose? It had already summoned the Smooze...

...Unless.

Unless that meant there was still a chance. It was close to victory, but there was still one obstacle left for it to overcome. Or rather, two.

Cadance and Shining Armor.

It wasn't just that Bon-Bon was weighed down by her hatred and fear. It was that Cadance was no longer tied to a machine that drained her love, and that she saw her husband for the first time in what must have felt like forever, and the most miraculous thing happened. They fell in love again. That's what threw it out.

I looked back up. The Smooze was moving at such a slow pace. I wondered what was taking it so long to just exist already. That’s when it hit me.

As Rarity might have exclaimed, “I-Dee-Yaaaahhhh~”!

“Shining Armor, Cadance!” I said. “Love!”

Shining Armor raised an eyebrow. Awkward silence. “Um, yeah… Please elaborate.”

“Cadance, remember? The Smooze could only physically exist in a world where there was enough hatred and unhappiness to let it exist. You know what that implies?”

Cadance thought. Her eyes, tired and bloodshot against her malnourished face, twinkled as the idea came to her, too. “That… That love… is the only thing capable of driving it out.”

“Precisely!” I knocked the ground with a hoof, compounding my exclamation. Next to me, the stranger apparently came to a completely different conclusion concerning the Smooze-Hates-Love idea.

“Well den, what are we waitin’ for?” asked the stranger as he stood far too close to me to ever be deemed healthy. For the first time, he looked at me in the eyes. He knelt down on one knee dramatically. As soon as I understood what he was trying to do, my heart leaped into my mouth.

“Twilight Sparkle—”

“—no—”

“As often as birds tweet—”

“—no—”

“You are—”

“—no—”

“—my lovely heartsweet!”

I blinked. The stranger, upon losing his power, became less dangerous and returned to just being frustratingly confusing. I sighed. He danced around like a buffoon who just won the lottery, shouting, “Finally! My Love Quest is over!”

No magic. No fuss. No bravado, no shouting, no theatrics. A hoof to his jaw, and he was down. I think I may have hurt my hoof when I did it. The members of the PVCC looked at me in surprise.

I turned my attention back to my brother and sister-in-law. “You two—where I’m from, you two were able to use your love for each other as a catalyst for some of the most powerful magic I’d ever seen!”

“But that was your world,” Shining interrupted.

“And she is yours, Shining Armor!” I pointed to Cadance. “The moment you thought you lost her, your whole world ended! And now she’s back!” He and Cadance once again shared a tender look. “She’s back,” I repeated. “Your love for each other can conquer anything. And the Windigus Prime knew. It's why it changed its plan when it couldn't possess me to become powerful enough to protect the Smooze when it arrived! It's why it tried to trick you into destroying your wife! It’s why it tried everything in its power to destroy you both.”

Seconds passed. The Smooze above us shrieked again, this time angrily. CWCville around us had come alive after the first shriek, the pony citizens all screaming and running for their lives, for shelter, for protection from the giant wrangled mass in the sky.

“There isn’t any more time,” the Alterna-Doctor said as he came near, accompanied by the rest of the PVCC. “That Smooze is coming closer. What Twilight says is true, Shining Armor. It’s your love, the love of both of you that terrifies the Smooze. Your love is all that can defeat it.” He put a hoof on his friend’s shoulder and looked him square in the eye. “We all have faith in you, Shining Armor, Cadance.”

Shining Armor nodded and looked to Cadance. “You ready?” he asked. He held out a hoof.

I was expecting Cadance to take it, but…

…miraculously…

…She struggled to her own hooves. Her eyes never broke from her husband’s. The Windigus Prime used stolen magic to move her body. But Cadance? She never needed magic. She had Shining Armor, and he had her. And that’s all that she needed to live.

Cadance grabbed his hoof, then. She looked to all of us. “All right,” she said, “Let’s do this.”

Shining Armor and Cadance both looked up at the Smooze as it shrieked again, this time sounding almost like a haughty laugh. Shining Armor sneered at it like it was just an obnoxious neighbor's pet that had wandered onto his front lawn.

He turned back to us. “Get away from that Smooze,” he said, “We’re cuttin’ it down.”

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We backed away. The air around them seemed to bend a little, suddenly. The wind picked up, becoming warmer, more welcoming than it had been since the Doctor and I had arrived. They locked eyes. Their lips touched. Their horns touched, and began to glow.

A few seconds, and...

...nothing.

I started panicking. I'm told often that I panic too easily, and I guess that's true, but this was the fate of existence at stake, so I hope I can be forgiven. "It's not working!" I squeaked. "Something's wrong!"

I looked to Cadance and Shining Armor. Cadance already looked tired before, but this action was really draining her! I held a gasp as she fell to one knee. "Cadance!" Shining Armor called.

A multi-colored scarf whipped by me. The Alterna-Doctor grabbed hold of Cadance, and brought her back up. He smiled to Shining Armor. The light that surrounded the two (now, three) became brighter, stronger. I raised an eyebrow.

Wait.

I remembered that the Alterna-Doctor was best friends with Shining Armor. If the love the two friends shared...

The math in my head flew by the quickest it ever did, so quickly it left me breathless. Of course! I ran over to the group and nuzzled my brother, telling him I believed in him. Just as I suspected, the light grew brighter and even stronger. I turned to the others.

"Their power isn't just the love between them!" I explained. "It's love in general! They just needed each other for a catalyst!"

Everypony stared at me like I had just said something perplexing. I rolled my eyes and groaned. "Group hug! NOW!"

A flurry of hooves (plus Ben's nose and a set of metallic hands from Spike's "Picklemech") all gathered around us. Fluttershy, bless her heart, bit her bottom lip in terror of the Smooze looming over us as she held onto the Alterna-Doctor. Featherweight wrapped his forelegs around my midsection and buried his face in my mane. Spike placed a hand on my back and drew his head in close. Magneighto and Derpy both clasped hooves and supported Cadance with their weight. Magneighto looked to Shining Armor and nodded.

The light around us grew brighter and brighter. The Smooze's hundred eyes looked down at us, alarmed that its descent into reality has apparently halted. I looked up, picked one eye, and glared at it. It winked at me, as if recognizing me. I breathed hard. This was it. The magic of our friendship would be more than enough to destroy it. "You lose," I dared to whisper.

Suddenly, the light around us dimmed. I raised an eyebrow in shock. Before I could ask what had happened, the cause had made itself apparent: the stranger had joined our group.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Magneighto shouted angrily.

The stranger looked at all of us. "Don't worry!" he cried over the Smooze's deafening roar. "Duh-Don' worry! I'll save ya firm dat scoundrel!"

The Smooze became more confidant with the dying light. His descent was growing at an alarming pace. I clenched my teeth and looked to the stranger, expecting myself to well up with loathing. But I looked at him, observing the determination in his face, something he'd never expressed before. The determination and the fear. I looked at him, and saw...

...I... kind of felt sorry for him.

I know it sounds absurd, especially in regard to everything he'd done up to this point. Everything he did was done in the name of looking out for number one. Even then, he was under the influence of an eldritch creation, further obscuring how much of his behavior he is truly responsible for. His lack of empathy and detachment from reality made him the perfect tool for this menace above us.

Despite it all, though, he genuinely had no idea what kind of role he had played in this affair. He assumed that by joining in our circle, he would help us. This action he took was the first time he genuinely WANTED to help, and ironically, all he ended up doing was making our situation worse, thanks to the hatred understandably levied against him. None of the PVCC had it in their hearts to forgive him for what he'd done, and I couldn't blame them.

I breathed a conflicted sigh, and reached over, placing a hoof on the stranger. "I'm sorry, Chris," I whispered as I once again punched him across the face, knocking him out of our circle. The object of hate removed, our "Love Beam" burned bright and hot as a star in Luna's sky. I returned to my group, but not before casting one more glance to the pathetic, pitiable stranger I laid flat.

Then it happened. With a sound of godlike thunder, a magenta light began to burn all around us. The Smooze stopped completely, every eye twitching, every mouth expressing a sudden feeling the Smooze was unfamiliar with: pure, stark terror.

The light around us formed into a giant flowerbud. It opened up, and out from it shot waves of angels: angels with swords of fire and whips of vengeance. They soared into the darkened sky above with a powerful scream that broke the blood-red clouds like glass. The Smooze gave one final roar before the angels tore into it, decimating it, driving it back into the portal from whence it came.

It was a breathtaking sight. It was like a fireworks show between the divine and unholy. I couldn't help but cover my mouth and stare in wonder.

The broken red clouds were shot into the sky like bullets. It was as if the Smooze was being sucked up by a vaccuum cleaner, getting removed from existence, getting pushed back out of Time and Space. It gave one final roar as the angels pushed it back, tore it up, thrust it out. Its final, angry cry echoed throughout CWCville, and quite possibly, the universe.

The early morning resumed unabated. The city of CWCville returned to its lonely sleep. The Smooze was no more.

28. Saying Goodbye

Silence.

After the angels’ assault, after the loud noise, the shouting, and the screaming of the Smooze’s horrible million voices, all was silence. My new friends all looked to each other in wonder. It was all over, almost as quickly as it had begun. In this fleeting moment of solace and retrospection, it felt all so unreal.

I licked my lips, gulped, and looked away from the group, to where the TARDIS had been. I wondered, exactly how—why—did the Doctor simply leave us when the going got tough? I thought I knew him so well, always lifting me up when I was falling. I pressed a hoof to my face as I thought of him, and in surprise I drew it away. It was damp with tears.

I heard a thump behind me and turned. Cadance had fallen over. The shock of our final act against the Smooze must have been too much for her poor, battered body to handle at this point. Over the shouts of surprise, I called Cadance’s name. Shining Armor cradled her as best he could, and looked from her to me with vulnerable eyes.

I dropped to my knees next to Cadance and looked her over. I began breathing harder. She smiled weakly. “Shining Armor,” she said in a thin, strained voice, “Shining Armor… my love… where are you?”

“I’m right here,” he choked. She looked up to where she heard his voice. And her smile became wider.

This was it. This was the end for Cadance. The disease that had eaten her away, the machine that drained her magic, the Windigus Prime, the “Love Beam”… all of it had finally caught up with her. The PVCC all gathered around her, wearing somber faces and bearing somber hearts.

“For nearly a millennium, I waited,” Cadance said.

“Don’t talk,” Shining Armor warned.

“A thousand years. A thousand years without you.” Cadance breathed harder as she fought to raise a thin, fragile hoof to her husband’s face. He took it and pressed it against his cheek. The tears that rolled from his eyes drew more out of mine. “A thousand years, I waited. I waited patiently for my death. So that I might join you in the hereafter.”

I heard a silent shriek in the distance. It was quiet. Far away. But in reality, it was actually right behind me, since the TARDIS had only just reappeared. I felt somepony push me from behind. “Looks like I’m just in time,” said the Doctor as he made his way through the crowd. “I knew I’d at least be a few minutes off.”

Shining Armor and I looked up to the Doctor as he sat next to Cadance. He pulled out, from a pocket in his tweed jacket, a green plant that I’d never seen before. He put it close to Cadance’s mouth. “I need you to eat this.”

“Have you no respect?!” Magneighto roared.

The Doctor hushed him. “Hold yourself, everypony!” He returned his attention to Cadance. “Listen, I need you to eat this. It’s the cure to your ailment.” The Doctor then pressed the vegetable to her lips.

“I’m so close to my end,” she said. “I… I won’t make it either way…”

“It isn’t over yet,” the Doctor chided her. He took out what looked like a pepper grinder and got to work mashing the vegetable into a state she could chew. Apparently, he’d neglected the fact that Cadance was in no shape to be doing much. “It’s not over,” he repeated. “You and your husband are going to live a long and happy life together.”

He flicked his eyes up to Shining Armor’s. “And that means no more booze. You’re rather mean when you’re drunk.” Shining Armor grunted and looked back to his wife.

The Doctor finished grinding the vegetable, and took the bottom portion of the grinder off the rest of the device. It was like a little bowl where the green shavings were stored. “It’s not going to taste very good,” he said as he offered it once again to her trembling lips. “But it took me almost five years to find a garden where these things could grow. So you’ll eat it and you’ll like it.”

Shining Armor quickly seized the ground-up vegetable with his telekinesis and put it in Cadance’s mouth. As she chewed feebly, everypony watched in anticipation. She swallowed. The Doctor held out the bowl again. “She’ll need more. At least the whole bowl.”

And so it went, that early morning: feeding Cadance the curing vegetable. It seemed to be extremely effective, too. Color had already returned to her cheeks. She seemed more alert now. She and Shining Armor once again locked eyes. The smile they shared was radiant.

When they passionately kissed, there was a collective sigh of relief. The Doctor stood back up. “Well,” he said as he put the pepper grinder thing away, “that was a close one.” He looked more at my brother and sister-in-law as they continued to kiss. He smirked. “She’s in no shape for something that strenuous yet,” he joked. “She’ll need to get healthier before that happens.”

We all laughed at his dumb joke. It wasn’t that he was being all that funny—it was the kind of laugh you make when you’re just showered with relief. It was a laugh you make because you’re glad you’re alive. The laugh you make when everything turns out OK.

The Doctor produced more of the vegetable from his coat and looked to Shining Armor as he pulled away from Cadance. “You’ll be needing more of these,” he said as he set them before Shining Armor. “Once every week for the next ten or so. It should repair her to the point where she can walk again.”

“Thank you,” Shining Armor said after a pause.

The Doctor blushed and looked aside. “Well, it’s like Twilight told you before. If she was going to be your sister no matter what, then…” He looked to the Alterna-Doctor, then back to Shining Armor. “…Well, I’m going to be your best friend, no matter what.”

Shining Armor drew the Doctor in for a hug. Cadance mustered up her strength and gave him one, too.

The Alterna-Doctor knocked on the Doctor’s shoulder. “You silly man,” he said. “I had my doubts about me, but I really DID pull through. I’m a fine fellow.”

The Doctor shook his hoof. “Thank me for saying so. I’ve always been so polite when it comes to my choice of words.”

“Now I know I’m lying!” laughed the Alterna-Doctor.

I rolled my eyes. “Knock it off, you two. You're being creepy and weird.”

The Doctor looked at me with a twinkle of triumph in his eyes, like he expected some form of congratulation out of me. I returned it with the grumpiest frown I could manage. “What?” I asked.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You beat the Smooze, I saved your sister-in-law’s life. I think that's a fair trade, Twilight.”

I scoffed. “I don’t recall making such a deal, Doctor.”

“Twily,” Shining Armor said. His tone was the kind he’d use when he felt I said something out of bounds. It was a very commanding, almost parental tone, and just like back in my own world, it made me flinch, then hunker down.

“All right, all right,” I said, “Thank you, Doctor. I’m glad you made it back in time.” I pulled him in for a hug. “But next time you’re gonna pull something like that, at least tell me first,” I hissed in his ear.

We pulled away. After sharing a smile with me, he spoke up. “Well, I think it’s time we leave, Twilight.” He cocked his head to the TARDIS. “We have a ride home now.” He then looked as if he had just gotten an idea. He turned to the Alterna-Doctor.

“Your TARDIS got destroyed, right? Maybe we can share mine.”

The Alterna-Doctor smiled and waved his hoof dismissively. “No need, no need.”

The Doctor was taken aback. “No need?” he asked. The way he said it made him sound betrayed. “No need? No need for time travel? No need for adventures? No need for running? Lots and lots of running? Seriously, we do lots of running.”

The Alterna-Doctor gave his double a tired sigh and an equally tired smile. “I understand that adventure’s in our blood. But I think, finally, I found something far greater than a silly romp through time that ends up with millions hurt.”

He waved a hoof out to CWCville. “I have a city to help rebuild. I have people to help lead. But most importantly, I’ve found a reason to stop running.” His hoof descended to the PVCC. “I have a family now.” He let the words hang in the air for a few seconds before he continued. “I wouldn’t trade them for anything. They’re an adventure all in themselves.”

The Alterna-Doctor found himself swept into another group hug as his family expressed their mutual feeling. Ben licked him playfully, accepting him the same way he accepted Fluttershy. I watched the Doctor merely smile sadly as he went back to the TARDIS. He walked by me without a word.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him as he went into the TARDIS.

“Nothing,” he said. “Knock on the door once you’re ready to go.” He closed the door behind him.

I turned to see the PVCC all smiling to me. I returned it, and breathed deep. It was time to say goodbye. I walked toward their closest member, Spike. The Picklemech he was riding fell to one knee—almost like a knight before his princess—and the small cockpit opened. Spike hobbled out and we held each other.

“Spike, you’re a very brave boy. Someday, you’re going to grow up into a very brave dragon. Between then and now, I want you to take care of your family. Put them first in everything you do—just like the Spike who lives with me.” I gave him another hug, this time longer-lasting. “I love you, Spike.” I planted a kiss on his head.

I then moved on to Derpy and Magneighto. “You two. I don’t understand everything about you, but the one thing I DO understand is that what you have is something strong. Unshakable. You don’t just fight for the entertainment value, you fight because you have something you know you can believe in. Hope. Dreams. Love. Innocence. Determination. So long as you two share these things, you can’t ever really be hurt.” I hugged them both. "I'm proud to know both of you."

To the Alterna-Doctor. "You... are a strange pony. No matter how many of your... selves I meet, you all share one thing in common." I gave him a hug. "The only thing bigger than your demented brain is your heart. Take care of my brother and his wife, won't you?"

He drew away from my hug, his chocolate-brown eyes shimmering with barely-held tears. "For what it's worth, you have my word, as a time traveling freak with a demented brain, that I will. Doctor's promise."

Then to Featherweight. “I know you’ve been through a lot. Far more than anypony your age should have ever suffered. But you need to know that life is too short to waste on blaming yourself. It’s too short to waste hurting yourself. It’s not going to be easy, but with your family behind you, you can clean the blood off your hooves. You can become whole again if you just learn to put faith in your family, and let them help you put yourself back together.”

We shared a pause. “If Bon-Bon was willing to die as herself,” he whispered to me, “then I’m willing to live as myself.” His mask that he’d removed before was taken by the wind, and carried away. He breathed what must have been a sigh of relief. “No more masks,” he declared, watching his mask flutter away into the distance. “No more Spider-Colt.” We shared a hug.

To Fluttershy. We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before I nodded. “None of what happened before was your fault, Fluttershy. Never was. You’re a good pony, and you’re with other good ponies now. Just care for them the same way they care for you. Give to them the joy you gave to us, and keep our memory in your heart. Always.” Her eyes swam with tears as we embraced.

I looked up to Ben. “Take good care of Fluttershy for me,” I told him. “I’m depending on you.” It’s amazing how well an animal can understand pony language, as Ben nodded as if comprehending the gravity of my every word.

Finally, I stood before my brother and sister-in-law. I almost laugh. “Do I really need to explain how I feel about you two? You’re two of the most amazing ponies in my life—in a life full of amazing ponies. Every day you wake up, I want you two to fall in love with each other. Again and again and again. It’s your love for each other that will keep you alive... that will keep this world alive.”

I hugged Shining Armor as his liquid pride drenched either side of his face. “I love you,” I told him. I knelt down to hold Cadance. “And I love you,” I told her. “I’m never going to forget either of you.”

I let go of them and backed away. “And take good care of Apple Bloom, like Big Macintosh asked. Raise her like she was your own daughter. ”

Shining Armor nodded. “I will.”

“And seriously—stop the drinking.”

“I will. And Twily?”

I paused and turned my head before I approached the TARDIS. “Yeah?”

All the PVCC came forward and hugged me at once. “We love you too. Don’t forget.”

“If I can get wind back in my lungs, I promise I won’t,” I joked as they let go. We shared one final small chortle as I hopped back to the TARDIS. I knocked, like the Doctor asked. It opened and I went in, the PVCC waving me off and telling me goodbye.

I waved to them before I closed the door. The moment it was shut, everything returned to quiet. I turned around to see the Doctor at his control panel, fiddling with various… things.

“Doctor?” I asked after a pause. He greeted me with an indifferent snort. “Doctor, what was that out there? You didn’t even tell anypony goodbye.”

It was a few seconds before the Doctor sadly looked up to me. “Twilight. We just created a new world. Or rather, Chris did. And he created a world where I ended up settling down. Maybe for good. He invented a selfish world for himself, and oddly…” He swallowed. “And oddly, he created a world where I finally became happy.”

I thought this over a moment. “Doctor, I don’t think he made a world where you’re happy.”

“Well, he didn’t mean to, of course, but—”

I pressed a hoof against his lips to silence him. “No, Doctor. Chris didn’t make a world where you’re happy, he made a world where you’re satisfied. Where you are content. Where you finally stopped running.” I gave him a hug. “You can be happy, no matter what happens. Even if you keep running, or even if you’re standing still.” I pulled away.

“It’s like my friend Pinkie Pie says… You just gotta keep smiling.”

A pause. Then a smile. The Doctor nodded. “I hate to change the topic so suddenly, Twilight, but I think we’ll leave THAT version of Chris outside to deal with the consequence of his actions.” He pointed towards the door.

I’d been so wrapped up in my goodbyes I’d even forgotten the stranger was still out there, out cold. I looked back to the Doctor. “Think they’ll be fair?”

“More fair than he was to them, certainly,” he said as he returned to dabbling with the device… control… thingy. “They’ll probably not give him the death penalty due to the value of wanting him to suffer for his actions, though.”

I snickered. “That’s mean.”

“But you can’t argue that it’s unfair.”

“That’s true.” I clicked my tongue pensively. “So. Where are we going now?”

The Doctor thought it over. “Well, I thought about simply going back to the point in which Chris appears in your original dimension and preventing him from ever showing up, but that might cause this dimension—plus all our memory of it—to disappear.” He looked to the door again. Probably thinking about what the Alterna-Doctor said. “I don’t want that to happen.”

“Well then, what are we going to do?”

He looked to me with this wicked glint in his eye. He smiled. “Twilight, I think you know.”

I thought about it. Then it clicked. “My hilariously overcomplicated plan to get him into the TARDIS so we can ship him back home?”

He nodded. “The very same. I think you’ve figured out by now how best to deal with a sot like our boy Chris.”

I raised a hoof like I meant it as a threat. “The Hoof of Justice,” I said, christening it.

The Doctor nodded again and snickered. “I hope your hoof is hungry for Chris’ face. We’re going back to where he is just about to enter the TARDIS. Hang onto something, might get bumpy.”

With that, he entered the final combinations and off we went. When the sound died down, the Doctor got up and led me out. The doors opened with a hiss. We left the TARDIS almost gingerly, cautious of every sound.

I looked around. “Was Ponyville always this… quiet? And futuristic-looking?” I asked.

Indeed, there were machines of many kinds around, giant ones that might have been buildings. It all seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps the most interesting note was that there was nopony around. Such a huge, futuristic metropolis should have had at least somewhere in the hundred-thousands in population, yet it all felt ghostly and silent.

We explored the area a little, our hooves clanking on the metal floor. “Hm,” the Doctor mused. “I could have sworn I set the dials all correctly. Maybe one or two weren’t oiled well enough. We should go back into the TARDIS and check.”

That was when we heard a rumble, like something huge stampeding toward us from miles away. My eyes widened as we both looked toward where a thin white line grew wider and wider. Suddenly, a familiar squeal roared as a large, hideous creature rampaged through, the white light closing behind him.

The Doctor quickly jumped towards me, knocking me out of the way of the wailing, rampaging giant as it stomped through the metropolis, clumsily knocking things over, shoving things toward where it came from. I looked where the giant was going to step: right on top of the TARDIS. Before I could say anything, the giant tripped and fell over, crushing the TARDIS with its titanic girth.

It seemed like all life and time stopped right at that moment. Our only way home. Smashed by a clumsy, rage-fueled giant.

When I looked up to the giant, I noticed something I hadn’t before. It wore an ugly one-piece dress. Its mane was disheveled and filthy. It produced a stink that was like rotting watermelons. It had one eye that was greener than the other.

It was the stranger!

“How did—?!”

But before I could finish my thought, a banging at the front door (for that’s what it was) brought me out of it. “Chris, open this door!”

I recognized that voice as the original Doctor. Before Dr. Chuckles shot him and he became the other Doctor. For sake of clarity, let’s call him the Original Doctor.

The stranger got back up and dusted himself off, swiping away at the pieces of the TARDIS still stuck to his bottom. They might have made a tinkling sound if we were still the stranger’s size, but to us the remains of the TARDIS landed on the ground with the ferocity of falling meteorites.

The Doctor looked over the damage. There was a look in his eye that was even emptier than when the stranger had destroyed his screwdriver; looking more like a heartbroken little colt. He stomped the ground and cursed.

I looked around more as the reality of the situation began to dawn on me. We weren’t in a different world, we weren’t in the future. We were inside the TARDIS when the stranger originally began his expedition through time.

What’s more, the Doctor and I were only two inches tall.

If I screamed in frustration, I doubt the stranger heard it.

1. First Encounters and Impressions

I'm not even sure where to begin.

It's hard to believe that it escalated to the point it did, since its beginning was rather innocent, if still a tad bizarre. The moment he stepped into my life, and into the lives of my friends and neighbors, everything began to slowly turn topside, until finally it was a challenge to discern between up and down. I suppose I should begin with the day he arrived. It's as good a start as any, I suppose.

It was that kind of day in which you might walk out your door into the sunlight and frolic—only to look down and find you are up to your stomach in mud. The kind of day in which you might cross the street humming a fun tune, only for a drunk carriage-driver to swerve and hit you. The kind of day in which, for no reason at all, despite the circumstances, and against all the odds, you might be eaten by a hydra.

This lazy day in June, the most wary and deceptive of days, is when he rolled into Ponyville. And I truly mean he rolled, as if from the highest hill down its slope, as if cast away from its crown, into our remote village of ponies. He was covered in gunge at the time, as if his trip and fall from the hill had taken him through a swamp. It wouldn’t be till later, after a bath, that the Ponyvillians would truly see him for the first time.

He was of the size and build at which it would be difficult to truly tell from a distance. He was out of shape, certainly, but it would be a challenge to know exactly how much of his body mass could be attributed to his fat (although even a casual observer could tell you it was probably most of it). His flab was covered in a greasy film that seemed to cover him entirely—even after he had bathed. His natural, horrific stench (Which reminds one of rotting watermelons) followed him about, clinging to him in a bizarre symbiotic relationship.

While he was a pony like all Ponyvillians, his head was of decidedly un-equine construction. His snout curved suspiciously before forming a lip, as if it were more of a beak. His mane was short and clumpy, and often mistaken at a distance for a mangy rat that had somehow fallen asleep on his head. His ears, instead of ending in points, were rounded and stuck out from the sides of his head instead of nearer to the top. One eye was slightly greener than the other (A fact he seemed to take too much pride in, despite that it truly wasn’t THAT much greener), and his voice was a constantly fluctuating vocal blob of squeals and stuttering—that is, when he wasn’t speaking in a high-pitched monotone.

Needless to say, his overall shape and presentation was one that could frighten many a foal.

But it was his stare that would catch the uninitiated off-guard. It felt much too lazy, yet at the same time too analytical. Like he would look at you, but not AT you at you. He avoided eye contact almost always, and when speaking to mares, he would be looking at their bodies for certain, but the mares could never figure out if he was sizing them up the way stallions secretly do… or if he was plotting to eat them instead.

It was not for his looks that most came to hate him, for ugliness is something that’s easily forgivable. It cannot be helped. No, this stranger, reviled only a few weeks after he had come to town, held behaviors of which most found obnoxious and repugnant. His rampant egotism often cost him the sympathy of his peers, ending up in several clashes and arguments that usually concluded with his impotent bawling, and promising a shamanic curse—followed by a karmic death—on those who disagreed with him. He was cut from the cloth of selfishness, and it showed wherever he went and in whatever he did.

One might forgive another for such tendencies toward egotism if said egotist had at least some degree of kindness or intellect. Unfortunately, this stranger was in possession of neither: he would often quickly make up stories to disguise his ignorance and be shot down by a more-educated pony (occasionally myself), leading to fierce arguments over trivial matters; and would almost always ignore those in need of assistance, citing some inconsequential event that happened to him as an excuse for dismissing the suffering of others, or as a comparison to let them think he knows how much they suffer.

After only a month, this stranger, a curiosity to some and a nuisance to others, was holed up in his apartment—one he paid rent for through begging. It was still a shock to me when I heard that anypony was truly giving him money (even if it was by some misplaced sense of pity), and upon further investigation later on, I discovered that not all his bits were obtained legally: many times would he walk silently by a stand in the marketplace, pretending he was a shadow, trying not to be seen. His… goofy appearance and… overwhelming stench could not be ignored for long, and he was usually caught (leading to his ridiculous excuses, then to arguments, then eventually to banishment from the marketplace altogether).

Long after his last attempt at theft had ended in its predictable failure (and some time before I discovered both his criminal activity and his apartment), my assistant Spike and I were on our way to the local bakery to pick up some pies we’d ordered for my friends’ weekly get-together. The air, usually clean and crisp (especially in the morning-time!) was suddenly broken—like a kazoo interrupting a beautiful symphony. The familiar stench of rotting watermelons began to creep up on the both of us.

Here he came, this odorous stranger, the smell becoming stronger as he neared us. Spike, ever watching out for my well-being, put himself between us as the stranger drew near. As he began to speak to me specifically, Spike glared at him (but at least didn’t growl this time), and the stranger continued on as though ignoring him.

I had already met this stranger a few times before and discovered I disliked him immensely, but to be charitable, I would constantly make time, even for him. This aspect of myself is something Spike has begged me to work on, as it seems to cause trouble—which I found out any time I caught myself letting the stranger ramble.

I forget now what it was he wanted at first. As previously stated, he was the kind of pony who was evidently not a thinker, and would often say what I presume to be the first thing right off the top of his head (or conversely, from desperately scraping the very bottom). I had known this about him even at that point, and usually would simply stand there, out of ill-advised courtesy, and pretend to listen—nodding here, nodding there—until he would finally leave.

This stranger ran his mouth, repeating the same senseless jokes he’d used several times before, and continuing on in ways that made no sense to me. My friend Pinkie Pie has a similar issue of speaking of nonsensical subjects at a rapid pace, but with her, one gets the idea that wherever her mind takes her mouth is an adventure for both her and anypony willing to listen. The stranger lacked this element to his "random-access humor" as he liked to call it, and as a result, his conversations felt less like adventures and more like being dragged into situations one would rather avoid. Fitting.

I was about to fall asleep on my hooves when he finally mentioned something that struck me as a frightening idea.

He told me of his dreams of the future: an “office job” (As if somepony in his position in life were actually employable at this point), and a lovely wife with a daughter he called “Crystal”. Spike snorted as if about to erupt into a cackle, but I gave him a slight shove to remind him of public courtesy. I merely nodded—though actually interested, this time—and began to ask questions: why does he think he can land such a job with no evident education or training, how does he think he can attract and interest a mare long enough to marry her, why he thought “Crystal” would be an acceptable name, how he thinks he could be a decent father…

…Thinking about it now, I realize I asked these questions already knowing his answers to them. They were clearly egotistical and self-pleasing, not to mention laughably delusional. As he elaborated on his nonexistent parenting skills, Spike pulled on my saddlebags to get my attention. He pointed to his wristwatch (The one you got him for Hearth’s-Warming Eve) to remind me that we still needed to pick up the pies for later.

I interrupted the stranger, not to be rude, but to let him know the conversation had ended. As we turned to leave, I suddenly had the apprehensive feeling that he was watching me as I left. Specifically, watching my haunches: his eyes grabbing hungrily at my flanks. I tried not to look behind me, I tried not to check just to make sure he’d left—simply so that I didn’t appear strange while in public. However, Spike looked behind us, and motioned for me to move faster.

This encounter, perhaps the ninth or tenth out of many, was what truly sparked my interest in him. The first was done out of simple curiosity, and if I remember correctly, it was at his welcoming party Pinkie Pie had thrown for him.

It goes without saying that Pinkie Pie is a party pony. She would throw a party for nearly any occasion—once, she even threw a party for the first time one of the Cake twins said his first words (“poop yucky”)—and she would always throw a welcome party to new Ponyville residents.

She would later tell me that she would need some kind of screening for when she decides to throw any future welcoming parties. Easily the worst mistake she’d ever made.

Anyway, my friends and I were all at his welcome party. I found it strange that most of the usual partygoers had left before we’d even arrived. I found it even stranger that those who were left were trying to think of excuses to leave. That probably should have tipped off my friends and I that something was wrong, but at the time, we didn’t know this stranger very well.

Applejack seemed to be his favorite among us, as most of the questions he’d ask, he’d ask her. Many times did she tell him that any questions he had would be better off directed either at me (for general questions regarding Equestria) or at Pinkie Pie (for questions about local goings-on). Applejack would tell me later that his constant glances and complete dismissal of everypony else but himself and her—as if the universe had shrunk down to accommodate only them—grated her nerves. It was not long before she too, decided to drop out of the party.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Pinkie Pie look so crushed at the outcome of one of her parties. Only an hour and a half in, and she had only a hoof-full of guests left. She had some of her best pastries laid out, only for them to have been barely tasted; she had her favorite games out, and they had barely been touched; she had her favorite punch in the punch bowl, but it had barely been drunk. By the end of all this, she’d certainly be in tears.

What caused the abrupt and ugly ending to this party began as soon as the stranger began to eye Rarity. As he did so, I felt a different emotion in the air, almost like fire or lightning. I looked around and saw Spike glaring at the stranger, his teeth bared. I had never seen him this hostile before (Except when he embarked on The Rampage We Don’t Talk About), and as the stranger began to ask questions, they were at first the usual ones. What do you do for a living? That’s interesting. You must be very talented and patient. How are your parents? That’s nice.

Rarity, ever an attention-horse, actually liked the questions she was receiving and answered as honestly and as amicably as she is wont to. Her resolve and attitude began to waver a bit when she noticed he was sizing her, feeling her up and down with his eyes (“One’s greener than the other!”). She retained her good-natured façade as she began to ask him questions.

Questions he answered far too honestly.

Questions to which his answers were enough to make me put my hooves around Spike’s ears while my face went red.

Now you already know about Rainbow Dash and her fierce loyalty to her friends. You’re best to believe she would never stand for the stranger to say all the perverted things he had, and began to bellow at him for his disgusting display. He timidly defended himself as Rainbow Dash came down on him, whole-barrel, demanding an apology for saying the things he had, especially when there was someone as young as Spike present.

I’ll never forget his response. It’s classic. In fact, I demand a t-shirt to be made of it.

“But everypony learns about it eventually.”

My jaw had dropped at that point, and Rainbow Dash had finally had enough. One quick movement, a buck of the foreleg to his jaw, and the stranger was knocked to the ground. I was sure Rainbow Dash was going to jump him and beat him further, so I restrained her. Rarity probably took the better option and merely picked up the stranger with her telekinesis and threw him out of Sugarcube Corner.

Now that I think on it some more, I wonder why I still kept giving him chance after chance. After the party, I should have known to avoid him like the plague. I know most of my friends did, Rarity most of all.

I wish I could say the same for the rest of Ponyville. Believe it or not, there are plenty of ponies here that become attracted to bizarre occurrences and novelties. One in particular, Lyra Heartstrings, is obsessed with the idea of the existence of human beings. When she met the stranger, things really began to go downhill.

16. Holidays: Not Just for the Post Office Anymore

At this point, I wouldn’t blame you for assuming I’d forgotten about the stranger. Being thrust into a brand-new reality has that effect on ponies. However, everything about this new timeline had the stranger’s hoofprints on it, so it wasn’t as if he would be ignored for long.

In fact, I had learned that there was an event held each week, called “Christian Love Day”, in which all citizens of CWCville would be required to attend, and watch a video message recorded by their Great Director. (While the repercussions of exposing a cutie mark are apparently severe, those who don’t show up are merely fined. I deduced that the stranger had absolutely no idea how to govern, but then again, I had deduced that long ago.)

“Listen,” Spike told me, “if we don’t go, they might get suspicious.”

“Do any of the members of PVCC attend?”

At this, Shining Armor nodded. “Occasionally, and only to throw off suspicions. We ARE an underground group, after all.”

So it was with this logic that we attended the Christian Love Day ceremony. Apparently, it was being held inside an auditorium in the mall (a fact I found very strange), and all attendees were to wear pure white robes. It all felt unnervingly cultic—like those rumors I’d been hearing of a Discord-worshiping sect in my timeline. One devil in that timeline, another one here.

I have to admit though, the robes made it easier to blend in. The Troll Busters guarding the place were great in number and likely had warrants for both my and the Doctor’s arrest. For some reason, Fluttershy hadn’t shown up, which caused me to worry a little. Spike told me it was rare for her to even leave her cottage, so it wouldn’t be unusual for her not to attend. (One imagines the number of fines she’d already been slapped with.)

As the ceremony began, multiple cups were passed around. I assumed it was some kind of religious communion (A religion based on the Mayor would likely be an unfulfilling spiritual experience, to say the least). However, instead of fancy chalices or shiny goblets, what were passed around were soda cups. I suppose the government-enforced CWCville religion was a little low in tithe money.

I have mentioned numerous times the hideous architecture of CWCville, and it should go without saying that every object produced in CWCville is equally atrocious. Not only were the robes of poor quality, they were ill-fitting, and the soda cups were of an equally awkward design. I use telekinesis to lift and move objects, so I can’t imagine how unwieldy it must have been for the Earth ponies, pegasi, and baby dragon in the sitting audience.

Perhaps the silliest part of the soda cup was its big red straw. It was more of a pipe or a bugle than a straw, really—I could have probably fit my head through it. (In fact, I found it so amusing, I kept it. It’s in the supplementary material that accompanies this report. Feel free to use it as a megaphone or something.)

I still can’t stomach the memory of the soda’s taste. Although all in attendance were demanded to drink of it “for it contains the flesh of our Great Director”, I can safely say that, from the way it tasted, it likely DID feature some element of the Mayor. It was disgusting—I looked around to see if anypony, cultist or Troll Buster, were watching, turned my head and spat it back into the cup.

After communion had finished, the lights dimmed, a thumping rock ballad began to play, and a stage light turned on, revealing a very tall character. He withdrew his white hood, and I saw that it was Iron Will—the very same Iron Will who had once tried to teach Fluttershy to be more assertive. I found it ironic that while he was a motivational speaker in our timeline, he was using his talents here as a total crony to the Mayor.

“Who is here to bring honor to our Great Director?!” he shouted, pumping his arms for emphasis.

“We are!” the crowd shouted back.

“For who is it who has filled our lives with so much Truth and Honesty?!”

Chants of “CHRIS! CHAN! CHRIS! CHAN!” built up in the crowd. I became more and more uneasy at the sight of this devotion. How had he managed to build up this much admiration from the very ponies he took advantage of and enslaved? I shuddered at the thought. Looking to my fellow subversives, I noted the look of worry written on the Doctor’s face. Spike seemed dismissive of this whole thing—as if he had only attended out of obligation (which was true).

Iron Will continued his speech, working the crowd into a screaming frenzy—his usual bravado and showmanship eclipsing even the Great and Powerful Trixie. (I actually was curious as to what happened to her in this timeline, but if it was like anything else I’d seen so far, I’d rather not find out.)

“In the next hour, you will witness the largest personal change in Pony-kind!” he belted. The audience roared in applause. “Pony-kind,” he said, more solemnly. “That word should have new meaning for all of us today.”

A large TV set above the stage turned on, showering the audience in its white light. A still image of a war being fought was put onscreen.

“We cannot be consumed by our petty differences anymore!”

The audience cheered again. The still image changed, showing the audience a photo of a unicorn, an Earth pony, and a Pegasus all “bro-hoofing”.

“We will be united in our common interests!”

I had begun to feel a little strange, for at that moment, I felt like I wanted to join this crowd in their cheering. Being together, joining together… these weren’t bad messages. Nopony was really getting hurt…

I shook my head, startled by the thoughts that were creeping into my mind. The Mayor had me and my friends killed, for crying out loud! Why would I want to embrace a religion that WORSHIPED him?! Iron Will was a very convincing speaker, but I felt there was something stranger at work here.

Looking around, I saw that none of the PVCC members were present. “Doctor,” I whispered, “did you see where everypony went?”

“They’re getting ready for the attack,” he told me.

“What? Why didn’t they tell me?”

“We’re trying to remain in disguise. You and I are the ones who have to get to the Mayor.”

I blinked. “But the Mayor’s in his fortress.”

“This IS his fortress,” he replied.

“This can’t be his fortress,” I argued, “this is a shopping mall.” I paused for a moment, and, realizing the full extent of the Mayor’s stupidity, I felt like putting my head through that big red straw and screaming as loud as I could. The Doctor patted my head affectionately as he saw the frustration building in my face.

A mall. A mall was his fortress. He fortified himself in a place of business. Where there would be so many ponies coming and going every day, that I was surprised an invasion hadn’t already happened. I groaned. Having such an open fortress defeated the purpose of it being a fortress to begin with!

However, I’d learned to keep my opinion to myself (If that’s anything CWCville teaches its residents, it’s how to not argue with self-evident failure). I merely sat through the rest of Iron Will’s opening presentation, his booming voice praising the Mayor. It was depressing to watch: from helping the meek stand up for themselves in my timeline, to endorsing submission in this one.

Finally, his presentation ended, and on the screen was none other than the Mayor himself. I gasped at first, and pulled my hood lower, in case he was getting a good look at his congregation. Many applauded, their hooves stomping wildly as their cheers echoed throughout the auditorium. Looking back up, I could get a better view of the Mayor—and was surprised by what I saw.

He was an alicorn now. An alicorn! How badly had he rewritten time so that he would be born an alicorn, or transmogrified into one? On the one hoof, I was shocked by his new form… and then on the other hoof, I had to keep myself from openly laughing at it.

He was still scummy, fat, and greasy, and still wore his ridiculous shirts (I suppose it could have been worse, considering his cross-dressing adventures). His wings, unlike yours, were tiny and cumbersome-looking—even though he now possessed wings, it would take quite some doing until he possessed flight. He still lacked his cutie mark. But what made me snicker was the sight of his horn.

Good grief, his horn. It was… well, it was bent. At a weird, forty-five degree angle. It looked more like a big boomerang had been lodged in his head. When he turned his head occasionally during his speech, it would wobble, which… well, considering male unicorn anatomy, means something very, very, VERY wrong is going on, and I think you and I both know what it is. (Since I’ve never seen a male alicorn before, I’m actually curious if the same idea with male unicorns holds true. Please write me back on this matter, later.)

The room he was in was, like his shabby apartment, filled with toys—except here, he had all the money he could ever want, and of course had access to all the toys he could ask for. The lighting was a tad dark, so I could only make out the toys and some furniture.

“Captain’s Log,” opened the Mayor as the cheering began to quiet. “Stardate, Christian Love Day.” He began the video calmly, talking about recent events and his opinions on them. This was more of an address to his people, I discovered; but the presentation was so overblown and over the top, it might as well have been a rock concert.

As he reached a specific piece of news, his attitude became sour. “It has come to mah atten-shin dat summa-you dang, dirty shrolls have busted inna CWCville prison,” he said, his voice growing in agitation. “You-you busted in an released da prisoner bein’ held dere. Dat slow-inna-mind troll, Derpy Hooves.”

He then began to lose his cool even more, as the audience booed—I’m guessing at the dang, dirty trolls. “YOU BUSTED INNA MY PRISON, AN YOU—AN YOU RELEASE MY PRIZ-NER! ANNOW MAGNEIGHTO DUNT WORK WIT ME ANYMORE! I LOSS MY BEST GENRULL I made from the ground-up ANNIT’S ALL YER FAULT!”

I donned a bemused expression as he continued his childish rage. “An y’all know th’ first ting he did when he quit? Dat dang homo went and—” (here, he began to stomp his hooves like an angry child, which caused his camera to shake)—“BLEW UP MY PRISON! HE BLEW IT UP TA SMIDDEREENS!”

The crowd began to boo more. I would have, too, if I’d lived there—that would be more tax bits put into its reconstruction. I understood how Magneighto must have felt with Derpy being kept where he couldn’t reach her, but such an act painted him in a less-sympathetic light. Derpy must have meant the world to him, though, if he felt he needed to go that far as an act of revenge.

“Whuss worse, dere’s dis—dere’s dis new fella in town. Maybe y’all hearda him. He’s called ‘Spider-Colt’. An he’s—he’s started putting up some dang rumors ‘bout me.”

Was this all he was going to do, I wondered. Whine for hours at a captivated audience? They likely already knew about their town’s prison being blown up, since it happened late yesterday. Everything else he talked about seemed irrelevant. I didn’t care that some colt in a spider-themed costume had taken pictures of him wearing diapers (Hardly anything about the Mayor surprised me anymore).

Suddenly, he got to a point in his monologue that honestly made me shudder. He told his audience what would happen if he personally met any of his trolls, and picked up a clown doll. I noticed he wasn’t able to use his telekinesis to lift it, likely one of the side-effects of his floppy horn.

“An’ dis is what I’ll do to em! Juss like I did wit dat stupid Troll-Doctor!”

The acts he pantomimed with the clown doll were not pleasant to watch. I could describe what he did, but I feel uncomfortable even trying to remember it exactly. The cheering of the crowd made the whole situation dip from surreal to terrifying.

I looked to the Doctor, whose face had lost color. He looked at me, sweat beading his face. “I might be able to regenerate,” he told me, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel pain…” My eyes went back to the screen, where the Mayor was finishing off the doll.

After that grotesque display of his lack of decency or self-control, the Mayor began to breathe heavily, his energy spent (or rather, wasted) on his little tantrum. He looked at the screen with that creepy stare of his, and for that moment, it felt more like he was staring directly at me. The abyss, again staring back. The crowd began cheering again.

“An… An dat’s how I’m gonna take care-a you trolls. An anudder ting…”

I groaned. He got his point across, what more could he want to say? My eyes went elsewhere, wanting to look at something, ANYthing, that was neither the Mayor nor a clown doll. I saw, only a few feet away from me, Big Macintosh walking through the crowd, fully decorated in his sci-fi armor, accompanied by some of his subordinates. I squeaked, pulled my hood down lower, and turned away.

“Doctor, Spike,” I whispered, “we have a problem.”

They both spotted Big Macintosh pretty quickly. “Okay,” the Doctor whispered, “remain calm. He hasn’t seen us yet, and with our hoods on, we look just like everypony else. Just stay quiet and try to blend in.”

What the Doctor hadn’t taken into account was that Spike was a baby dragon—a very different shape from ponies. What was more, Big Macintosh could already tell Spike was there. He and his goons were making their way over already.

I began to panic. What could I do? If Big Macintosh caught us, that was it—finito! Finished!

I felt that I should probably turn us all invisible so we could slip out quietly. But Big Macintosh still had his eyes on us, and the moment we vanished, he’d know automatically we were there, and could easily call for backup. Furthermore, there were more Troll Busters at every corner in the auditorium, four by nearly every door. I then remembered that even if I wanted to use the Invisibility spell, the anti-magic field around the fortress was still up. There was no way to escape.

Attending this was a terrible idea. Why had I agreed to this? The Doctor and the PVCC had told us it would be OK, then the PVCC abandoned us right in the middle of the seminar.

Then it hit me. The attack was going down soon. We needed to get deeper into the fortress… But what about the innocent ponies attending? Were they really going to attack it soon, with all these potential casualties? I felt so afraid and confused, that when Big Macintosh was right next to me I hadn’t noticed until he looked at me in the eyes.

“Well, well,” he whispered. “If it ain’t the Livin’ Dead Girl.” His voice was just as intimidating as last time—and now that he was over the shock of seeing somepony he thought was dead, I had no ace in the hole. He was a wolf who’d found a deer with broken legs.

The Doctor held onto me, whispering, “Don’t worry. Just be still.” My first reaction, naturally, was to yell at him, but I held my tongue. I trusted the Doctor; he had pulled me and my friends out of danger multiple times at this point, even when his advice sounded insane.

I trusted him. I had to.

Big Mac pressed a bizarrely-shaped yellow button that was on his breastplate. “Captain to Mayor, Captain to Mayor, Troll “Zombie Twilight Sparkle” located. Apprehending.”

The Mayor on the screen froze as Big Macintosh relayed his message. He smirked. “Well, well, it seems we found ourselves a troll.” His eyes seemed to scan the crowd—and his creepy stare found us, like a hellish searchlight. “Dere’s no escape, YOUNG LADY.”

The Troll Busters surrounded us as the crowd made way for them. Spike held onto me, the poor thing. “Twilight Sparkle, Doctor Whooves, you are both under arrest for obstructing the Mayor’s Love Quest.”

I stared at Big Macintosh, hoping on your white wings he meant that as a joke. Sadly, he apparently did not. The “Love Quest” the Mayor was on when he still just some stranger was laughable—the pranks, the goofy sign—but I kept forgetting how much power he had now.

The crowd began to murmur at the sight of this. “They bring the prickly-wicklies!” I heard one whisper. “They probably eat pickles,” said another. Grown ponies using such childish euphemisms would have been hilarious if this were any other situation.

“Don’t panic,” the Doctor whispered to me, holding me closer. “There’s a good reason we’re here.”

The Troll Busters brought out their restraints. I closed my eyes, ready for what might come next.

I felt a rumble, small at first, as the Troll Busters got us down to cuff us. I was thrust to the floor, knocking my soda to the ground, as the Troll-Buster placed the cuffs on my legs, and I felt the rumble again—bigger this time, closer. I looked over to the puddle of spilled soda, and as the rumbling grew louder and louder, the puddle visibly shivered and shook.

The rumbling had caused everypony in the auditorium to fall absolutely silent. The tension in the place tightened, twisting around everypony gradually like a turnscrew. Some backed away toward the exit. The Mayor on the screen didn’t seem to know what was going on.

“What’s wit’ da—whyzza—arrest dem arready!”

Suddenly, the wall burst, debris flung forward. The ponies began to panic and run for the exit as dust from the wall clouded the intruding force. Big Macintosh and his goons fled immediately, leaving me, the Doctor, and Spike tied up and laid out like sacrifices to a demonic entity.

I could hear the Mayor’s screechy voice rambling on about how this was all the trolls’ fault (Instead of, you know, asking everypony to stay calm and find an exit). As the dust began to settle, I looked into the face of something I hadn’t wanted to see.

An Ursa Minor had broken into the auditorium. Its massive frame filled with the nighttime sky and stars made it seem like an entire universe in ursine form, out on a rampage. It roared at the top of its lungs, the deafening sound causing even more panic.

“Was THIS what we were supposed to wait for?” I asked the Doctor incredulously.

He said nothing as the beast drew closer and closer to us, roaring at any Troll Busters that dared to attack it. I found it strange that it wasn’t attacking everything in sight as opposed to only those foolish enough to think they posed a challenge to it.

It reached us before we could do very much, and I held my breath and closed my eyes. In my heart, I apologized to my friends for having failed in my mission. This was the end of the line for my time-traveling adventures—an ending that would take place at the teeth of the Ursa Minor.

But of course, I’m not writing to you from the inside of its stomach, am I?

I felt the cuffs break and opened my eyes. Fluttershy looked down at me and smiled. “Am I late?” she asked.

21. Hey, Wasn't Chris-Chan Supposed to Be in This Story?

After a while, Spider-Colt’s map became useless.

There was simply a place on it that he hadn’t drawn, with the words Couldn’t confront the Mayor, Fearless Leader’s orders, good luck guys! scrawled on it. “I guess this must be the place then,” the Doctor said as I put the map back into my saddlebags.

As we ventured further, we began hearing sounds. Soft, humming sounds emanating from nearby machinery, hisses from nearby pipes, and the sound of magic pulsating through wires began to whisper to us. On the ceiling further down were lamps, finally casting some light in this silent catacomb.

But instead of any comfort, the light only added to the eeriness. It was a sickly, “bad moon rising” kind of yellow, and the metal floors beneath it were rusty. On the walls were switchboxes and pipes, most colored white while only a few were painted red. I’m not sure why this detail stuck out to me, but for some reason this coloring scheme was very… unnerving.

If this place were a body, we were nearing its heart.

Suddenly, a metal screech tore through the air. I looked to where the noise had originated to find a loudspeaker. As the static cleared, we were greeted by none other than the Mayor.

“So! Looks like y’all have busted inna my fortress-a-solid-shoes. I been et-speck-ting y’all fer centuries, y’know. Been rulin’ this place fer awhile now. Knew y’all would try ta show up an’ ruin ever-tang.”

I steeled myself. “This is your only chance, Chris. Give up! You’re not going to win this fight!”

A second or so of silence.

“When I got here at first,” he said, apparently ignoring me completely, “I thought y’all was just a cartoon. I thought I was gonna be happy here. Den all dat stuff happened, an—an y’all ruined me. Mocked me, made funna me.”

The Doctor snorted. “So some smart-aleck ponies played some mean-spirited pranks on you. That’s just life, Chris. That’s no reason to do this kind of thing to innocent ponies!”

The Mayor’s voice was hard to determine, since it was warbled even further by the static from the speakers, but it was delivered in a calm monotone. “I wasn’t finished! They put me through hell and messed up my internal clock” (I have not a clue what he meant by this) “and my emotional state—and even what dat damn Celestia did ta me. So I made a world where I could finally live in peace. Hmph.”

“At the expense of everypony else!” I shouted. At this point, the Doctor and I were moving down this hall, as there were several speaker-phones attached to the walls and ceilings, all clamoring simultaneously for our attention. “What about my friends? Why’d you have to kill them?!”

There was a very long silence.

I want to say that at this point, I began to finally piece together the mind of this stranger.

The reason for the Mayor’s behavior? He literally had no distinction between reality and fantasy or right and wrong. I suppose the fact that he had been selected by fate to be sucked into an unfamiliar world, apparently composed of something he previously thought was fiction, had further destroyed his perception of reality.

Furthermore, he had suddenly found himself possessing the ability to travel through time and space, an ability which in itself is unbelievable, even through most modern methods of magic. He had been granted a godlike power while living in a totally alien world, and his mind had further begun to deteriorate as a result. His dementia had accumulated to the point in which his values had been placed in a self-centered, black-and-white worldview. In his eyes, anyone who obstructed his goals in any way was evil—no ifs, ands, or buts—and he had the power to destroy them now.

He was a spoiled child given the powers of a god.

“Space ’n time are mine now,” he drawled, his squeaky voice adopting a chilling tone. “I kin’ do anything I want. I kin’ go back in time, an’ start over. Or I could go a thousand years inta da future and find yer great-great-great grandkids. Maybe even go to anudder dimension. You can’t win, guys. Y’all damn, mocking bastards what shattered mah heart so long ago now… Y’all are gettin’ what’s, what’s comin’ to ya. I’m gonna beat you cuz I got God and Jesus on my side.”

I breathed quietly, a long and silent rasp leaving my lungs as slowly as it entered. This was it. This time-traveling child-god, the god I and the Doctor had created, was preparing for the final battle. The showdown had finally begun: a slow tango between a despot and his enemies, heavy in its finality, was about to commence.

So much was at stake, and so much more could be easily lost. This was not a battle the Doctor and I could afford to lose. For the world his actions had ruined, for every pony he made to suffer, for every life he carelessly destroyed, for the most selfish things he’d ever done…

… For my friends…

… For my brother…

… For you…

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“This ends TONIGHT, Chris!”

A gleeful cackle erupted over the speakers, painting the air around us in a flavor of fear and wickedness. “I’ll say it does!” countered the Child-God Elect, “Enjoy my fun little hallway!”

Several compartments in the walls opened up. There were sawblades moving about the floor and wall, waves of fire being blown down from the ceiling, and for some reason the floor opened up to reveal pits full of spikes.

I groaned at this mind-numbing display of gratuitous dimestore villainy. This was like in one of Rainbow Dash’s favorite action movies (the one about the undercover agent, “Smooth Stealth 007” or something), except even sillier. The Doctor shared my smirk.

I looked at him and concentrated. In a flash of magenta light, we were at the end of the hallway, past every danger in the hall. Suddenly, the Mayor’s laughter stopped. Our smirks grew into wide grins as we heard him make a sound like a motor boat.

“Dat’s—Dat’s CHEATING!!!” he yelled.

“You forgot I’m a unicorn,” I retorted. “I can teleport.”

Suddenly the floor below us gave way and we fell into a pool. Before I could think or scream, I plunged into a murky depth that was thick and stagnant. I fought my way back up for air, that cold air rank with the horrific stench from the ugly water, and saw the Doctor emerge next to me. The Mayor was laughing again. “Let’s see ya teleport out of a SHARK!” he cackled.

My eyes widened in fear as I looked around for anything I could teleport to, only to feel the Doctor poke my shoulder. I looked to him, his coltish face accented by an amusing facial expression. He pointed to several black lumps floating about in the pool…

“You DO know you’re supposed to FEED these things, right?” the Doctor called. “AND clean the tank?”

I put my forelegs around the Doctor and teleported back up to the hallway. I shook myself of the moribund water as the Mayor sputtered some more. “But… but they were alive last Tuesday…” he whined.

The Doctor and I shared a laugh as we entered the next hallway. It was much better lit than the previous hallway, but still with that disgusting yellowish light. At first I thought some large animal had urinated all over the hall. (The smell of the place did nothing to dissuade this assumption.) It was also much longer than the previous hall.

The speakers all squealed again. “So you got past my death traps and killed my sharks.”

“We didn’t kill your sharks, you just neglected them,” I corrected.

“Whatever! I’m workin’ on it! I’M WORKIN ON IT!” A few seconds of silence passed. “Just lemme find dat stupid switch…”

“I think he left his mic on,” the Doctor chuckled. I couldn’t help but grin as we heard the Mayor struggling with something, mewl for a bit, then sigh. We continued our journey through the hallway. This one was, for some reason, a very long hallway; empty too. The whole place seemed so callously vacant, as if left to rot. The only visible things were gears lining some of the wall.

“Oh, DERE it is!”

Suddenly, a loud, metallic clench ripped the air. The sound of gears spinning madly filled my ears. I looked up to see the ceiling descend, spikes suddenly protruding through empty slots.

I focused my internal magic, focusing on teleporting myself and the Doctor to the other end of the hallway. My horn let out a few sparks, and after a pop and a crackle, I looked at my horn, embarrassed by my failure. My magic was being blocked or disrupted somehow.

“I-It isn’t working!” I gasped. “My magic is shot!”

I began to panic as the Doctor began to walk forward. I could still hear the rumble of the descending ceiling. The mayor cackled over the loudspeakers. “Looks like ya can’t just magic yerself outta THIS one! Now, DIIIIEEEEEE YEEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!”

I bolted for the exit at the end of this (by the way, very long) hallway. I looked behind myself to see the Doctor merely walking forward as if he was going for a Sunday stroll. In fact, he stopped to pick up a bit he found on the ground. “What are you doing?!” I shouted. “Hurry up or we’ll get CRUSHED!”

“Twilight,” he said nonchalantly, “what’s the first thing we keep noticing about CWCville and its machinations and architecture?”

“Now’s not the time for lectures, Doctor!”

The Doctor smirked. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the rubber ducky from before, and looked to the wall, watching the wobbling gears that were struggling to bring down the ceiling. He put the ducky between two relatively important gears (Since they were colored red like some of the objects in the previous hallways). They stuck almost immediately, sputtering and hissing.

“They aren’t designed very well,” he finished.

I had stopped running at this point, as the ceiling’s mechanisms were jammed and the ceiling itself stopped. However, there was the smell of smoke as the mechanism struggled and failed to lower the ceiling any further. By the time the Doctor and I exited the hallway, the Mayor had already tried “casting a curse” on us and hoped the ghost of his dog would haunt us. No joke.

So there we were, finding ourselves in a dark room. The whole place had a very thick and malodorous air to it—breathing became nearly a chore here. The Doctor choked a bit as we entered, and I began to sweat from the sweltering, stuffy temperature.

Before us was a flight of steps that led up to a command center full of screens and buttons and levers. In one corner was a small apartment that was lined with toys and other items you’d find in a child’s playroom. From the ceiling hung multiple cords, travelling almost weblike across the room. This was the operation room the Mayor was using to trigger the failed traps before. Only one thing was missing: the Mayor himself.

“Where do you think he went?” I asked. I looked to the Doctor to see him looking up, his eyes wide.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that right now,” he said. “I am terrified beyond rational thought.”

I followed his gaze and gasped in horror.

Above us, the Mayor hung like a fat, box-shaped spider from his ceiling. The cords connecting to him were more of a mass of tentacles. It’s hard to describe what he had become, but the closest I could manage was that he had become some kind of mixture between a pony, whatever he had been before, and a machine. His body, in fact, seemed familiar to me… and then it clicked.

“Holy Mother of Unicorns,” I gasped, my eyes wide. “He’s melded with the TARDIS.”

The TARDIS door opened up and out popped the Mayor’s head, big enough to fill the front of the whole thing. It was a ghastly shade of purple—like a bruised corpse—and his eyes, one greener than the other, were bloated and puffy. He smiled. Right at that moment, I wished Dr. Chuckles were there, as his smile was actually much less scary.

“Never was mah intention,” he said, his voice as squealy and garbled as ever. “I was happy nuff just usin’ da dang ding ta hop from time ta time. But when dat DANG, DIRTY TROLL Celestia decided ta get me back fer killin’ Nightmare Moon, she—she cast a spell on me ta stick me to dis ding.”

He moved—I cannot call it walking, or slithering, or crawling; he merely moved unlike any living thing I had ever seen—from the ceiling to the floor. His bloated purple face contorted into his childish anger. “I don’t see what da big deal was. Nightmare Moon was a threat ta us both, annit was HER fault fer losing da Elements ta begin with.”

I wanted to form words, and argue. Nightmare Moon was a perversion of your sister. You had tried to use the Elements of Harmony you and your sister wielded, and failed, forced to send her to the moon for a thousand years… But instead, he…

The words never came out. I was too terrified to do much. The icy fear I felt that moment was something I could taste and smell and hear. It was like cold water in my mouth and eyes, and ashen snow covering my back. I took a step backward as he advanced on us.

“Yeah, just annutter ting your ‘innocent ponies’ did ta me!” he snarled. “NOOOO, it wasn’t enough ta play a prank on me, like dat one time she got me ta hump the TARDIS—”

“YOU!” shouted the Doctor, so suddenly it made both the Mayor and I jump. “YOU DID WHAT TO MY TARDIS?!”

“Sh-She made me do it. Anyway, so I took over an so on. Of course, dere’ve been several troll efforts ta shame me again an again, but I managed to get em all. So it ends here.”

Suddenly, down from the ceiling came several… Mayors. The ones based on his original appearance as a pony. Some were Pegasi, some were unicorns, some were earth ponies, and some were alicorns. (I even managed to spot the one from the presentation earlier.) Some were skinny, some were fat, some were muscular. Some wore the hobo-harlequin fashion line, others were sporting the Tomgirl look. I suppose he simply couldn’t remember what exactly he looked like since nearly all of them seemed a tad off in their design either way.

The Doctor gulped. “Well, this was very unexpected,” he said.

“And now you will know HOW salty I am!” he cackled. His non-sequitor only muddled my emotions further: from fear to confusion to panic. “Chan-Bots, attack!!!”

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They all moved in on us at once, pulling my mane and tail, dogpiling the Doctor, punching my face, biting my legs… My fear rose to greater levels as I tried to focus my failing magic, but could not. I closed my eyes and prayed to you, that at least I might meet my parents and friends very soon.

“Doctor!” I cried.

“Kinda busy at the moment, Twilight,” he said between throwing punches and taking them.

“In case I don’t make it out of here,” I said quickly as I tried bucking off some of the Chan-Bots, “I wanna say I’m glad I met you!”

“Not the kind of thing to say to a guy when you’re both about to be torn apart by evil clones answering to a giant Spider-Octopus-Chris-TARDIS, but thanks anyway! And I’m glad I got to know you too!”

After taking a few strong blows to the face, I finally focused some of my magic on projecting a small forcefield. The surprised look on the Chan-Bots intensified as I suddenly expanded the forcefield, throwing off my attackers and sending them into the nearby walls. The forcefield burst afterward. I collapsed, thoroughly exhausted.

My magic spent, my energy gone, I laid down my head and closed my eyes. The world around me began to spin as I saw the Chan-Bots get back up and run at me again. There were just too many of them, and at a time in which my magic had become weakest. “I’m sorry, Doctor,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, like a single bolt of light striking through the bleak darkness, there came a voice. It was sqealy, sure. And it had that same Southern twang. But it was the morning sun come to vanquish the horrible night, nonetheless.

“Chan-Bots, I come being da bearer of greatly bad news.”

Suddenly, they all stopped to look up, as did I (drained as I was). There, near the door, was a tall, lank unicorn stallion. His dark brown mane was curly and stuck out at weird angles, while his pelt was a fine white chocolate hue. His general shape and facial features were quite handsome, and his bespectacled eyes were the color of brown honey. He wore a shirt that was as stripey as the shirts the Mayor wore back when he was still a pony, except it was brown-on-light-brown instead of the clownish red-white-blue.

He pointed to the Mayor and said, “Y’all just got trolled by dat no-good impostor, Ian Brandon Anderson.”